I’ve thought about the matter of consent many times, and in many ways. You, my readers, pretending you can’t read the neon signs between the lines, have also asked me what I think about consent. I’d started creating a poll on my SurveyMonkey account, but abandoned it as I got busy doing other things. It’s time I asked these questions, and it’s time I told you were I stand.
There you are, a person in this world, minding your own business. You got up this Saturday morning, nursed a hangover maybe, had breakfast with the family or alone, and set off to have a productive day. It was going so well.
But then you went out, and were walking back to your car or reading the ingredients in that jar of pickled pig’s feet (in which case you deserve everything coming your way), when you feel darkness envelop you–or if imagined by me, a beautiful violet light–and you lose yourself in it. When awareness returns, you find yourself changed to enormous proportions, or more to the purpose of this blog entry, turned into a shrunken person/robot/furry/ghost/keyfob.
But wait, there’s more. This is no regular shrunken hero’s quest, there are no tasks connected to attaining spiritual growth, you will not meet a wise old cricket that will teach you rad fighting moves and telekinesis so that you may defeat a formidable foe. Nope.
All that’s there is a much larger someone that wants to touch you, and the poll I created refers to how you feel about those advances. Some of you roam that tiny world on the warpath, undefeated in battle against those my size. Sometimes you don’t even die, or at least have super strength that helps you keep big ones at bay.
Others live in a (mostly) peaceful world where they have the same rights as those of last get size, or at least it’s thought that they should have some rights. Right? I mean, we can’t just go around killing tiny people, stepping on them or popping them in our mouths like candy. They are people! Right? Don’t look at me; tell the poll what you think:
Good. Now I’ll tell you how it is.
I live in worlds where tiny people are naturally born small, and considered human beings the same way most people on this Earth are. I also live in/write about worlds where everyone was once normal sized, and only those of a certain gender or two are made tiny by force. Sometimes I’m the one that gleefully pushes that button. In those stories, published and unpublished, those tiny people are treated with varying degrees of severity.
And there are those stories centered around one woman and one man. She shrinks him without consent, she touches him without asking, and she has her way repeatedly without the least concern for his acceptance in the matter. That’s how it is in my heart and in my head. I don’t ask my shoes if I can wear them when I slip my feet into them. Likewise, I don’t write about characters that ask for permission to shrink, to grab, to love, to use what belongs to them.
I’m an owner by nature, and I let that nature drizzle over what I write as often as I can. I don’t know why I’m this way, and every once in a while I feel a hint of alarm the stems from my strong conviction that this is really who I am, and I don’t just play one on TV… so the people I create in my worlds are equally singleminded. They stop at nothing to get what they want, and offer no excuses or apologies afterwards. My one saving grace (if I can convince anyone to think of it as such) is that there is very little chance I’ll ever gain the power to shrink others or grow myself.
However, I’m quite interested in forcing myself to write from different perspectives, so if in the future you see blog entries and stories that play counterpoint to the aforementioned, just know I’m toying with my brain. For fun and growth. Maybe if my brain grows, my body will follow. Here’s hoping.