#Albeit in a rather hateful and spiteful way. But in a way it just fuels his own twisted world view | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

southposting · 6 years

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Read your Doubling Down analysis, and I have to say- it's REALLY good. You nailed down most of it, but there's two points that don't fit imo. 1. Cartman seeing Kyle as his equal. You're 100% right about him projecting his shortcomings into Kyle, but he in no way sees him as an equal. To do so would be admitting to his narcissistic, deranged self that he in fact ISN'T superior, something he just wouldn't do. 2. Cartman hasn't toned down his hatred of Kyle in recent seasons-it's grown stronger...

Hello, and first of all, thank you for your thoughts. I appreciate the lack of bias in your response, and the points you’ve presented to back up your statements.

Furthermore, I’d like to disagree with the points you’ve made, and elaborate and justify mine.

“You’re 100% right about him projecting his shortcomings into Kyle, but he in no way sees him as an equal. To do so would be admitting to his narcissistic, deranged self that he in fact ISN’T superior, something he just wouldn’t do.”

I don’t believe Cartman considers Kyle to be equal in the sense that he supposes an individual of comparable prestige, in fact, he very much believes Kyle to be the lowest of the lowest, a completely polarized position from that he sees himself in, as you well stated yourself. I do however believe Cartman considers Kyle to be equal to him, in the very same way that he projects his own demeanor unto him, though I can see how my wording may have proven misleading as stated in my Doubling Down analysis, to quote:

I feel like Cartman projects all of his own corruption unto Kyle. He subconsciously thinks of Kyle as his equal, although he cannot recognize the corruption from within. Kyle’s intentions are never pure in Cartman’s mind, he must always be plotting something against him the same way he himself does to him. To him, Kyle’s purpose in life is to get in Cartman’s way

It’s not that Cartman sees in Kyle someone as worthy of retribution as he is (but a worthy nemesis, granted by their polarized status), but rather, albeit unknowingly, a piece of instrospection into his own psyche.

“Cartman hasn’t toned down his hatred of Kyle in recent seasons-it’s grown stronger…”

“Just- for it to be a crush, there would have to be some element of romance in it that the show just doesn’t give us. The hatred is much too evident. So while I think Kyle does genuinely care about Cartman’s wellbeing, the ladder sees his rival as a sort of toy to fuck with until he inevitably breaks”

Referring to your first declaration, this can be true for many contexts. Cartman’s hatred towards Kyle started off being no different from that he held against the rest of his peers, before gradually increasing to the point Kyle’s become its main target.

The truth is, Cartman’s hatred towards Kyle has its ups and downs throughout the series. It blossomed into the general mutual hatred we know today around seasons 4 and 6, yet its dynamic continued to develop further as the series progressed until the point where they both allow themselves to rely on and trust in each other given the right circumstances, though this fact itself tells us nothing about Cartman’s feelings in regards of Kyle.

In this matter, his fondness for Kyle, be it romantic or not, continues to express itself in small but constant doses each time, by Cartman aknowledging Kyle in a favorable light, a privilege he rarely grants others, point I will elaborate on next.

Cartman’s demeanor towards his peers, unlike with Kyle, is stable, he hates them and he will comment on his annoyance given the chance, but his hatred isn’t strong enough to fuel any important interactions unless he’s been directly provoked. Though rude, Cartman isn’t actively cruel to his classmates if not because it serves a particular purpose, Butters being the only exception.

Butters and Kyle are the main targets of Cartman’s cruelty. However, there’s a substantial difference in the way Cartman aknowledges the two of them that’s irrelevant to their lackey/nemesis position. Cartman’s interactions towards Kyle are always polarized in nature. He will either be crude and cruel, or amiable and engaging. With Butters, this congenial behaviour is nonexistent. Cartman will either be crude, persuading or threatening. One could argue this is due to Cartman attempting to trick Kyle into symphatizing with him for later goals, given that other kinds of persuation that Butters easily gives into prove uneffective against him. However, Cartman’s friendly demeanor towards Kyle is always spontaneous in nature, seemingly serving no purpose to the narrative but to be there. Cartman will often unnecessarily favor Kyle over others, and appears to find enjoyment in doing so, despite this behaviour drawing no benefit to himself, and therefore leading me to believe that Cartman does indeed appreciate Kyle’s company in spite of their hatred.

If we take the most recognized instances of dubious concern, such as those that took place in Imaginationland or Smug Alert at face value, ulterior motives are evidently the sole reasoning behind Cartman’s intervention. However, if we take into consideration the nature of their interactions, one can assume an underlying concern being present despite his active interests.

When I say their hatred has watered down, I make reference to the gradual decrease in cruelties against Kyle that Cartman has actively taken part of(up until Doubling Down), and the subsequent increase of good-natured interactions.

In spite of all this, there’s no denying Cartman’s interest for Kyle takes roots in his own sociopathic needs, as he thrives for confrontation, his own amusement and entertainment, and everything else that comes with it. However, refutting any trace of interpersonal attachment on Cartman’s part, as selfish as it may ultimately be, is, as I see it, an overall simplification of their dynamic.

I’d like to elaborate on why I believe Cartman’s ‘selfless’ (as selfless as Cartman gets) attachement to Kyle flourished, but I would rather not drift away from my main point, and save it for another occasion.

#i like trains too #south park #sp #kyman #eric cartman #kyle broflovski #analysis #Over analyzing stuff #sp kyman #rant #ask

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sonxfcupid · 7 years

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The Callum before the Ztorm || Callum & Z

Callum opens his door to an unexpected visitor --

-- Z tries to change Callum’s attitude

Mustering up the courage to finally communicate with Callum had taken more time than Z would care to consider. It was hard finding the words to accurately summarize all of his feelings without the edges of anger or spite seeping into his syllables. There were too many emotions swirling in his mind to navigate a way to reach out, but as the stakes rose with each week, the need for their meeting became more and more pressing. Eventually, Z couldn’t handle the thought of avoiding confrontation any longer. There was too much caught in the crossfire, so many unanswered questions…so much resentment.

The knock on Callum’s door had been the strongest feat of strength he had managed since trying to drag Fergus’ unconscious form back into the infirmary when he tried to escape. The echo of his not-so-gentle rapping could be heard rather loudly on his side, so he could only imagine how jarring it must’ve seemed on the other side of the wood. He didn’t let up until the door swung open, to which he immediately crowded the man’s space. It wasn’t very daunting, given their height difference, but his stride was unyielding and unbending, fully intent to bulldoze the centurion back into the room if he had to. “This has gone on long enough; we are going to talk.”

Callum crawled out of bed at the knocking on his door. It was mid-afternoon but he had thrown himself onto his bed and dozed off about an hour ago. He had expected someone like Sebastian or Tayla. Maybe even Daisy with her odd weapon requests. Instead, it was his worst nightmare. The sight of Z sent Callum flying back into his room, his face frozen with shock. He had no idea where to start, maybe with an apology or perhaps with an explanation? Maybe an ‘I missed you’ or a ‘I don’t care if you’re Greek.’.“Z. I -- I, what are you doing here?” He said, shying away from what he really should have said. He furrowed his eyebrows at the others words. “What has gone on long enough? Talk about what exactly? So much has happened that you need to be more specific.”

Fear hadn’t been what Z had imagined he’d see stressing Callum’s broad form, but the way he flung himself backward with utter inelegance stroked some megalomaniacal portion of the shorter man’s brain. It only seemed to egg him on visually, his brows sitting lower on his face and his shoulders more rigid than he cared for them to be. As he continued to walk forward, he let one hand fall away to shut the door behind him, though his eyes never left Callum’s face. The aggression he exuded wasn’t angry. It seemed more overconfidence or the determination of someone truly exhausted. And he was. Terribly exhausted. “Well, why don’t we start from the beginning and work our way to the present, shall we?” he started, crossing his arms and looking every bit as sure about his words as he could possibly be. Originally, this conversation was meant to be used with more tact, but recent events had made him less...passive. “I gave you space; I let you lead the both of us in this game you wanted to play, but we were friends, Callum...Through all of the kisses and the lunch dates and the touching, we were friends. Did that just go away when the rest of it had to stop?”

A sour taste formed in Callum's mouth as Z Spoke. He had hoped that they would just grow apart and their friendship would have just faded. It looked like he meant to much to Z for him to let this happen. Callum hated this, the whole situation and the confrontation. “I feel betrayed because you never mentioned your Greek heritage! Unfortunately, that is something that matters to me and we never spoke about it and then for someone in my Cohort to tell me that I was basically dating a Greek, that was the worst.” He began, trying to defend himself even though he knew that it was no excuse. Callum had lost himself and had formed his new self around the one fact he knew, that he blamed Greeks for his friend’s death.“I can’t go from being together to just being friends Z. Why would I purposely torture myself by spending time with you, knowing that I can’t be yours or have you?” His tone was rather steady and firm rather than scared or surprised like his facial expression clearly showed.

“My heritage is not a reflection of the person that I am!” he fired back, with the same amount of fervor as the tone of voice that was being used against him. Z’s eyebrows were set and the corners of his lips had turned downward in an expression he found himself seldom using. Though, everything about this interaction was relatively new ground for him. “I’m certainly not going to apologize for what god decided to bed my mother twenty-nine years ago; and, if you can’t understand how that has nothing to do with me, then you shouldn’t have strung me along after you found out.” The moment the words left his lips, he could feel his heart sink from his chest down into the cruel acid of his stomach. “Weeks...For weeks.” His teeth pierced the flesh on the inside of his mouth and he could taste raw blood seeping through. He had to stop himself from saying more on that matter. After a moment, he lifted his brow, though the line remained furrowed. “I don’t know what happened between you and the Greeks. I’ve only recently learned that the wounds on either side are deep, but that gave you no right to do what you did...but I didn’t ask to be your friend after you called this off. I wanted you to treat me like a person—like someone you grew to know—and you couldn’t even look me in the eye. You still barely can.”

Callum knew what Z was saying to be true, but it wasn’t fair on Callum either. Information had been held back from him, and to find it out from the Cult and then being told to take advantage of it, that was the worst. “What do you want me to do about it?” He asked irritated. “It’s not like you’re still willing to be my friend now after this. You seem to be pissed at me so why would you still be friends with a terrible person like myself?” He had grown some confidence in the argument and stepped forward towards Z, stopping him from pushing Callum any further into his own room. “It was great and you will always have a special place in my heart. But -- “ He began, knowing that the next sentence could destroy them forever. “ -- I used you that last day. I didn’t mean to lead you on, I just wanted to toy around with you one last time.”

Perhaps the most frustrating part of this was that Z knew that no matter if he’d fought tooth and nail now or if he allowed himself to once again submit to the other man’s whims, he’d be left every bit as empty as the aftermath of their last conversation. No matter how tough he made himself look or how thick his skin had become over time, his heart would always be made of glass. “Answers” he replied, eyes not daring to look anywhere other than directly at Callum. The gaze he provided was heated in all the wrong ways. It was as if at any moment, Z would call for the centurion’s spontaneous combustion. “I came here to air my grievances and to figure out what possibly compelled you to be so cruel, not to mend some friendship that you didn’t even think was worth keeping.” Callum’s stepping forward didn’t falter the determined set of Z’s form. He would stare into the eyes of a lion if he had to. “I didn’t need a degree in Psychology to know you used me.” The words were practically spat out. “I replayed your words in my mind too many times to count. I dissected every syllable, the way your lips turned downward as you spoke, the look of disgust in a layer so thin beneath your worried brow...but, no matter how many times I reasoned with myself, I couldn’t come up with why. What did you receive from what you did to me?” He shoulders rose upward. “Did it make you feel powerful? Did stringing me along make you feel like you were finally sticking it to the graeci? Only that can’t be it…” They dropped then. “...because you ran and you hid. I don’t have the right to demand to know what happened to make you so angry toward the Greeks, but I do have a right to be treated with respect as a person you actively sought after. I had no qualms about leaving it as fooling around, but you pressed further. You wasted my time.” The moment the last statement left him, his fingers flexed and he blinked for longer than he had any time prior. It was a flinch, albeit schooled.

Callum finally found the courage to look Z back in his eyes. He felt the rage roll of the shorter man, fueling Callum's own emotions without his permission. He grits his teeth behind shut lips and glared back at the other. “What if it did make me feel powerful huh? What if it made me feel good to mess a guy around?” He spat back, trying to tower over the other male. “Or maybe I was just horny and you were a way to make ends meet?” He lied. He had told himself this over and over, hiding the real truth deep down in his memory. So far down that Callum had almost forgotten it. Almost.He didn’t have anything more to say until Z’s words cut him deeper than a sword ever would. ‘You wasted my time.’ Was that what Z really saw it as? A waste of time. He wished that the anger inside of him would solidify into lasers or something. That’s definitely what he felt coming out his eyes. “You know what?” He literally paused and spat on the floor in front of Z. “Let me help you. I’ll take away any feelings you have for me and it would be like we never met. No hatred, no love, be it real or fake.” He advanced forward towards Z, threatening to do it, but hesitating at the same time. Callum wouldn’t be able to take away his own feelings and he’d have to live with the fact that he would know what they had but Z would have no idea and forget him entirely soon. “Stop me or leave.”

The anger began to boil over in his veins, igniting levels of adrenaline hidden underneath his exhausted surface. Callum took a step forward and Z jabbed his index finger directly into his chest. “You don’t get to take my anger away,” he growled, brown eyes being washed over with bright pink. Like a switch, his powers were humming just beneath his skin. He knew that the moment his lips opened again, they’d be laced with it. “You have the gall to be angry, when this was all on you?! No! You are going to stand there and you are going to listen to me, you insufferable little prick.” He pressed on, taking a step forward into Callum’s space. “I waited...I gave you the time to act like an adult and come to me about what could have possibly hurt you so badly so that we could talk it out and you were too much of a coward to do that. I spent so long forgiving you for how you acted and what you did, but you can’t even give me the respect I deserve by not bothering to try and play some stupid fuckboy card here. Who do you even think you’re fooling with that transparent deflection?” His head rolled back as he spoke, nostrils flared as his bubblegum colored irises stared daggers into the taller man. “All you want to do is hide behind these stupid false idols. Your powers, your status as a Roman, you're imposing size, but really you’re just a Grade-A tosser who’d rather puff up his chest than admit it’s time to think of someone other than yourself! Mr. Centurion has the weight of the world on his shoulders, better not let anyone in. Except you did, and then you iced everyone out when it was convenient for you. And I let you! I sat back and gave you all the more reason to do that and for that, I can’t apologize enough, but you’re the one who took it too far...because this…?” Z gestured at Callum in vertical waves of his hand. “...Is a desperate cry for help and all you’re doing is pushing people further away.”

Callum was shocked by the other's persistence. He stood there in awe, listening what the other demigod had to say. Z’s finger had been pushed hard into Callum’s chest and although it hurt, he refused to reach up and rub the area, in an attempt to null the pain. Instead, he stared straight back into the man's eyes before he could no longer keep the stare. When Z had finished his reply, all the anger and energy had left Callum’s body and he felt weak and sick. Z was right and Callum couldn’t keep the fake facade up anymore. He was doing fine, blowing people off, burying himself in work and even training by himself. He was doing ‘fine’ until Z had called him out for it all. He had hurt so many people in his attempt to protect them. In a way, he was no better than the Greek that allowed his friend to die. His legs cried out to him and he slowly walked over to his bed before sitting down and bowing his head, hands grasping at his sheets.He sat there in silence before finally muttering, “There’s nothing I can say and there is no truth. I just lost myself, and hurt all the people close to me in my attempt to protect them.” He felt nothing, not even sadness. Just emptiness, like his soul, had left his body, not willing to put in the effort anymore as if Callum wasn’t worth emotion and didn’t deserve to feel bad about everything. “I can’t even say sorry because it’s too late.” The sentence was almost inaudible and was shaky.

Z’s anger never faded away completely. Even as the nerves controlling his eyebrows gave a little leeway to allow his brow to rise slightly, his eyes were still as bright and dangerous as ever. His hands were now balled up at his sides with Callum no longer in his space. He watched, coldly, as the man moved over to his bed. Pity was what he wanted to give him. Callum deserved nothing more sympathetic than that disgusting emotion, but that’s not what he gave him. The anger was too strong. A fortnight and a half of emotions had already ripped themselves out of him, and until the last drop fell away, he only had it to offer. “There is something you can say!” he called again, voice rough. He didn’t do much shouting. Such was evident in the way his voice always sounded full of air, soft and cloudy. Now, he was a hurricane. “Even if it falls on deaf ears, even if I never forgive you, you never said it! You never said sorry! Was it that hard? Was I...was…” Z gasped and it scared him. His eyes were wide and wild, one hand clutching at his chest. His next words lacked any flame. “...Am I not worth that much?”

Callum lifted his head but refrained from making eye contact. “You deserve the world Z. You’re worth so much more than I can give you. I’m sorry that I hurt you and I’m sorry I wasn’t there and that I lead you on. I’m sorry that I was a prick and I’m sorry that I didn’t apologize.” He met with Z’s eyes with his last word before dropping his head again. He felt like a child being scolded by their parents, having nothing to say because it would only make it worse and sitting there in silence, waiting for the lecture to be over. Of course, this was way more than that. They weren’t children and Callum had no right to play around with people’s emotions like he did, even if his dad was Cupid. “I don’t know what else to say Z.” He shrugged. “Tell me what I need to give you to help?” He hoped he wasn’t being as ignorant and naive as he felt he was being.

Just like that, the last red petal fell and completed a bed of crimson. There was no more anger or frustration. It had been drained away to be replaced with the ebbs of exhaustion once more. Z had tired himself out. Feeling something, anything, was tiresome. Every fiber in his being told him not to bother with them. He was a child of Hypnos, after all. The only emotion he needed to exude was the calm before slumber. This always made moments like these so hard to maintain. He couldn’t carry a tirade long enough to wage war. He could only garner enough power to fight in a single battle. This one was already over. “I need you to talk to someone,” he said finally, chest rising and falling slowly as he reasoned with the words in his head. He wanted to tell Callum that it was alright, or maybe that he needed him, but he couldn’t do either. Z had already spent so much time trying to forgive Callum and making excuses for what he didn’t understand. The things the man today proved that he didn’t deserve it. Not yet. “This isn’t you...You’re edgy and a little too confusing, but you’re not...unkind. Don’t let yourself only get worse by shutting the world out. That won’t do you any good.” Another very long breath. “I started falling for another you and I’d hate to see that person disappear forever.”

Callum sat, getting lost in his own thoughts, distancing himself from the reality he was facing. Z’s voice was in the background, but he still heard every word the man said. Z was right. Sure, Callum had zero respect when it came to toying with other people's emotions and sure, he could be a heartless warrior, but there was no way he was a cruel person. He shouldn’t have judged and treated Greeks like he did, he shouldn’t have pushed his Cohort so hard in the last couple of weeks. He shouldn’t have been so harsh during the raid either. He let out a sigh before meeting with Z’s eyes. What they had was over, even if it was one of the best things that had happened to him. “He won’t disappear Z. I just forgot who I am. I got caught up in all this mess with the Senate and feeling useless that I started myself on a warpath. I don’t need to speak to anyone because I spoke to you and you are the only person who’s helped me so far.” He felt as if he’d cry, or should be crying, but some entity still deprived his body of emotion, feeling as if a blackhole sat inside of him, drinking up every ounce of energy he had. “I’m sorry Z.”

Z wanted to feel the sympathy he knew he should’ve. He had rehearsed this interaction a million times over in his head, and with each encounter, his capacity for empathy had been beyond mortal comprehension. Reality wasn’t nearly as forgiving. No matter how hard he tried, his subconscious upset kept him from wanting to feel compassion. It was a way to protect himself. So long as Z didn’t open up the floodgates, whatever dreamy, whimsical love that his two-cent heart was beginning to feel for Callum once before would only come back full force. The younger man did not deserve those feelings. Not yet....perhaps not ever. Pink eyes had transmuted into the color of cream, a ring of dark brown surrounding the iris to offer a contrast against the sclera. It melted away back into his natural eye color. “You need to speak to someone because this isn’t a one-step process...and I can’t keep pushing down your door. That’s…I can’t do that for you,” he said, arms crossing over himself again. “I can’t forgive you just yet.” The statement came out softer than he wanted it to, betraying him. He immediately took in a breath and spoke with more conviction. “Promise me you’ll talk to someone; and, not just anyone. Maia...or Sebastian...or someone else that you’re close to.”

Callum began to get restless as if he had been pinned down to the floor by the other for too long. He was itching to move around, to escape his room and go for a run or a shower. “I’ll talk to someone, I promise. Just not them. I don’t --” He stopped himself before he gave Z more ammo to fire a few more rounds at him. He wanted to say that he didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of his bad decisions. He had accepted that their friendships would never be the same and he had made himself be okay with that. “I don’t want to bother them in this time of unrest. Everyone just needs to calm down.”

They had known each other intimately enough to know generally what the other was feeling, but Z could not allow that to distract him from administering the advice he so rightfully deserved to give. He didn’t want this to happen again. “No. Everyone needs someone who can be there for them right now and you’ve ignored them for too long. Whatever you did...” he replied, taking a step back and looking up at the ceiling instead of letting his attention focus on Callum for too long. “...however it made them feel...it needs to be handled together. New Rome is divided enough among strangers; don’t let that happen with people you actually care about as well.” He nodded to himself, then looked down at his feet. “Again, at least.”

Callum sighed, eyes flickering all over the place, purposefully avoiding the man in front of him. His heart was beating fast and screamed at him, but his brain said no. To Callum’s dismay, his eyes landed on Z’s hand. It then traced his outline up to his face. Butterflies causing Callum to feel sick, he stood up and stepped closer to the man, taking his hand. “I’m truly sorry Z. I really am.” he wanted to say but, but he wasn’t going to change his mind, but he wasn’t going to change his political views, but he was still in love with the man in front of him. “But, I want to speak to you about it. No one else, they won’t understand. And -- “ He licked his lips, using his right hand to tilt Z’s head up, “And you won’t judge me any more than you already have. You’ve seen my worst side.”

“How can you be so sure that I’ll understand?” Z whispered, words too dangerous to utter in full voice. He felt as if he spoke them into the world, the answer would be far more severe, but he truly didn’t know the answer. Callum had been a rollercoaster of emotion. It was one Z had thought he’d seen the tricks too, though things are seldom that easy. After hearing what had been done in the raid, and the listing of his absence in most other aspects of his day-to-day relationships, the neurologist wasn’t quite sure what awaited him next on the tracks. “I want to help...I want you to find some way of normalcy but I—” His fingers curled into fists and his eyes were locked on Callum’s, unable to look away even for a moment. “This is difficult. Complicated.”

Callum flinched at Z’s sentence. “This is difficult. Complicated.” He repeated, almost pulling away from the man. “It doesn’t have to be Z. I’m —“ he bit his lips. “I’m really sorry. “ he ignored the tugging in his gut, the constant nagging of his Roman pride, telling him to stop feeling things, stop wanting to be with a Greek. “But,” He said with a sigh of realization, “It is complicated. And you’re with Wally now. You’ve moved on, and you’re happy. I’m the problem here, not you.” He still didn’t move away from the man, his hand still under the man's chin. “I will talk to someone, I promise. And you’re right, it shouldn’t be you. I shouldn’t hold you back any more than I already have.” He realized that he had been all over the place in this conversation, and it must be confusing Z, but it was partially not his fault. “So I’m going to give you back something I stole a while ago, something that feels like it was taken a lifetime ago.” He lent in and planted a passionate kiss on Z’s lips, one that even sent sparks spreading across his own lips. He bit Z’s bottom lip before breaking away and manhandling Z, moving past him and walking towards the door.

The moment Wally’s name escaped Callum, Z could feel it curl around his stomach. Things with the other man had been easier to grow accustomed to, but a fair deal harder to realize. With Callum, passion and mystery moved them. They had known nothing about one another at the start and experienced everything together as a first. Callum had lost his virginity to Z; Z had gone on his first ever real date with Callum. It wasn’t about hooking up out of necessity like it had been for any of the older male’s other relationships. Wally was different. They were familiar with each other in intimate ways that were already muddy before Z agreed to see more of him, though this time, the man made sure to guard himself. They weren’t exclusive, even if it seemed neither had any other people to whom they shared a bed. It wasn’t as consuming as it had been with Callum. “I—” his thought was cut short by lips pressing against his. Instinctively, Z’s hands moved up to touch the taller man. He was going to push him away—at least, that had been the intention—until he felt his eyelids betray him. They closed and he melted into Callum, body, and heart laid bare to receive the glory of warmth that radiated into him. Until it was over. Callum pulled away and Z’s lips chased absently just before his brain caught up with him. Once serenely closed eyes shut tightly and Z held himself. “You don’t…” He turned, something unknown calling him to watch as his ex headed for the door. Before he could stop himself, his feet carried him to Callum. His eyes were stormy, laid in mist as tears threatened to spill like rain down his cheeks. “...You don’t get to do that!” His hands latched onto Callum and he mustered all of his strength to spin the man on his heels and he pressed their bodies against the door with a dangerous thud. Z’s body worked on autopilot as his own stance changed to shift his weight onto the balls of his feet enough for him to catch Callum’s lips for himself. The kiss he delivered was strong, filled with emotions he couldn’t say or do much of anything about at the moment, but they had to be expressed. He kissed until there was no more breath in his lungs and he gasped when they parted. “You...you don’t get to do that.”

#para #c: z

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nofomoartworld · 7 years

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Hyperallergic: Scathing Comics About the Crisis of Being Jewish Today

Eli Valley’s Diaspora Boy: Comics on Crisis in American and Israel (all images courtesy OR Books)

Jewish identity is not straightforward, at times feeling like a series of external projections rather than a source of solidarity. Artist Toby Millman, who has done a great deal of work exploring the relationship between Israel and Palestine, coined the term “off-white” to describe Jewish racial status in the United States. As a member of the Jewish diaspora who has often “passed” enough for white to be exposed to acts of anti-Semitism, ranging from casual to outrageous, I can identify with this shading. Comics artist and polemicist Eli Valley explodes this off-white status into a stunning range of shades (eggshell! linen! Nazi tears!), adding scathing and critical complexity, in a new anthology of (mostly) previously published work from the past 10 years, Diaspora Boy: Comics on Crisis in America and Israel, released by OR Books. In the book, Valley analyzes the deep conflict, contradictions, and crisis lodged within the heart of Zionist ideology, and how they’re an indictment of members of the Jewish diaspora (of which he is one).

In a lengthy and well-researched introduction, Valley sketches the tenets of Zionist philosophy. First expounded in 1896 by Theodor Herzl, Zionism is based on the idea of Jews reclaiming their ancestral “Land of Israel”; it blossomed with the post-WWII relocation of European Jews and the formation of Israel as an independent state. The introduction also raises some of the issues that make Valley’s work controversial in the Jewish community, including the broad disinclination of American Jews to criticize or even acknowledge the Israeli occupation of Palestine and the hypocrisy and lack of empathy inherent in this infliction of human rights abuses, from a people who recently suffered the same.

The compendium is printed in an oversized format, which not only gives gravitas to Valley’s grotesque and goofy imagery, but allows enough room to read his text-heavy sequences. These are not action comics, despite Valley’s many visual references to early superhero culture; his characters are more aesthetically aligned with R. Crumb’s psychedelia and MTV’s Oddities, using the sequential-frame soapbox to deliver scathing monologues, like politically energized sock puppets. Diaspora Boy is not a book to curl up with, nor is it an easy read (whether you identify as Jewish or otherwise), but it represents a crucial and unflinching unpacking of contemporary Jewish identity.

A spread from Eli Valley’s Diaspora Boy, featuring the titular character and his “superhero” counterpart, Israel Man. Comic originally published in Jewcy, 2008.

One of Valley’s most pointed bodies of his work features a personification of the Zionist ideal of the Israeli Jew alongside the bastardized and deficient diaspora Jew — respectively, a superhero named Israel Man and his sniveling, abhorrent sidekick, Diaspora Boy. Subjected though I have been to anti-Semitic sentiments, none has come close to matching the vitriol of Max Nordau, an influential founder of the Zionist movement who’s quoted by Valley as saying, of the non-Israeli Jew: “He has become a cripple from within, and a counterfeit person without, so that like everything unreal, he is ridiculous and hateful to all men of high standards.” As Diaspora Boy wonders to himself, during one of Israel Man’s insulting and demoralizing pep talks, “With friends like these, who needs the anti-Semites?”

A comic dealing with the cognitive dissonance of liberal American Jews, especially when it comes to acknowledging human rights abuses against West Bank Palestinians. Originally published in Jewcy, 2008.

As Valley acknowledges, both in his introductory essay and in notes editorializing some of his earliest work, the specter of the Holocaust and the toll it’s taken on Jews are not to be treated lightly; in fact, they may fuel a kind of collective anxiety that drives Jews to perpetuate a cycle of human rights abuse (in spite of the self-image held by many American Jews of being staunchly liberal). Unlike Valley, I was not raised within the Jewish faith. I did not participate in any but the most dissociated and watered-down versions of Jewish rituals; I did not go to Jewish summer camp; I have never been to Israel. And yet, in place of solidarity or community, it was firmly impressed upon me by the members of my family who narrowly avoided the Holocaust that, in spite of my lack of connection to a religion that no one in my family has practiced in two generations, I might nonetheless be rounded up and exterminated. If American or Israeli Jews demonstrate a dearth of empathy, it may rightly be seen as the expression of a deep trauma that has only had a scant handful of decades to resolve itself. And this in the face of continued persecution — as recently as 2015, Jews were the target of the highest percentage of faith-based hate crimes in the United States.

A comic-book-style lampooning of the social pressure Jews face to maintain a kind of “purity” in their socialization, including marriage and reproduction, which sounds alarmingly close to arguments used for the purpose of ethnic cleansing. Originally published in Jewcy, 2007.

But neither is the Jewish-Israeli perpetuation of the same violence against Palestinians to be treated lightly. Abuse is known to be cyclical, and it is a typical, if maladaptive, coping mechanism for the abused to reenact this violence upon another, weaker target — or to internalize it, in the way of the Zionist’s loathing for the diaspora Jew. Valley is engaged in the bold, necessary, and extremely complicated work of examining this fraught situation. The compendium format of the publication shows the evolution of his thinking, as he continually sharpens his blade for more precisely cutting analyses of the contradictions and hypocrisy attending to contemporary Judaism. He manages this largely with satire — which, according to Valley, is so close to reality as to be questioned as satire by some of his Israeli readership, just as Portlandia might be seen, by those familiar with Portland, as only faintly more hyperbolic than the reality. He’s also given to gently self-lampooning flights of fancy — such as a panel where a beautiful woman, referencing the association between Jewish creativity and subversive forms of entertainment culture, exhorts the artist to “Ravish me with your jungle music and comic books, Jew”; allusions to comic books and the Jewish contributions to that canon; and finally, playfulness (albeit largely twisted and dark). The work is difficult, funny, powerful, mightily subversive, and a testament to the depth of his focus. Valley leaves his readers — particularly his Jewish ones — with the unenviable and uncomfortable moral mandate of attempting to heal generations of trauma and cognitive dissonance, which add, year by year, to the repetition of history.

Eli Valley’s Diaspora Boy: Comics on Crisis in America and Israel is published by OR Books.

The post Scathing Comics About the Crisis of Being Jewish Today appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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