Frankenstein

Stillness and Solace
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Stillness and Solace

Victor Frankenstein’s monster stands before the fellow traveller, towering above them.

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“I am an unfortunate and deserted creature, I look around and I have no relation or friend upon earth. These amiable people to whom I go have never seen me and know little of me. I am full of fears, for if I fail there, I am an outcast in the world for ever” (Shelley).  The monster does not look at his new acquaintance when he speaks; his eyes remain on the looming glaciers around them, glowing in the moonlight. His words, which linger heavily in the chilled air like their warm breath, are met with silence. The traveller peers at the figure next to them: “flesh torn apart and sewn together again in a shape other than that in which (he) was born” (Stryker). Each carefully selected piece of skin and bone fits together to form a uniquely beautiful, abstract puzzle. They had only just met, and yet, each stitch woven into the bodies of the traveller and the creature was spooled from the same thread- a rope of pain caused from society’s purposeful ostracism.

Finally, the traveller interrupts the comfortable, contemplative stillness. 

“Like (you), I am too often perceived as less than fully human due to the means of my embodiment; …my exclusion from human community fuels a deep and abiding rage that I, like (you), direct against the conditions in which I must struggle to exist” (Stryker). 

The monster did not have the chance to respond, and the traveller would never hear his response, both robbed of the conversation and solace.

Victor Frankenstein shot his creation- once in the head and once in the heart- leaving the traveller alone again.

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A monstrous matryoshka

As I had read Susan Stryker’s article on trans rage and the comparison of Victor Frankenstein’s unfortunate monster, I found myself following each word closely. I had so rarely seen anyone talk so openly about the pains and sorrows that are hidden about transgender identity. The discussion in class presented an extremely important point on who is allowed to show and vocalize strong negative emotions like rage and pain. As a person of color, as a queer and transgender individual, my permission of showing these emotions has been quite small, but looking further inward I know that there are other reasons I am not one to show these emotions. For my last post I call upon Stryker’s voice of these negative emotions and a monstrous identity, but not for my transgender identity, but one I am coming to terms with existing within me. I open up the physical patchwork body of mine to see inwards, within the darkness I see a cage chained to the ground. Moving closer I can hear the rattling of anger, I peer inside the cage to see a gnarled and patched up figure, teeth unnaturally pointed and sharp objects partially embedded in its body. I instinctively know these objects were brandished weapons with the purpose of subduing and killing this figure, but they have failed. This figure was human once and I can’t help the sadness I feel seeing what has become of them.

“What happened to you?” I ask cautiously.

The pause feels deafening.

“I’d think you’d recognize us, not many come back from the war of trauma unscathed.”

It’s said that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but no one should be forced to be this strong to the point of being caged in fear.

As an echo to the original article, my comparison of monstrous identity in regards to trauma is not one to be used against all who have trauma. This is my sole reclamation of my past and should never be used against individuals who do not wish to do the same. This post will include raw calls to mental health happenings in response to traumatic experiences. Though there will be no details of happenings, there are insinuations of abuse on varying levels.

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