My name is Nymphadora Tonks
Mar. 3rd, 2015 01:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alt_nymphadoraAnd I am a member of the Order of the Phoenix.
I'm other things too, mind. I'm a mum. Former shop-keeper. Hogwarts alum. Rather terrible cook.
I remember what it felt like when I was first approached by a close friend, someone I trusted, and I was told that there were other people out there who thought like I did – who were horrified by the cruelty and restrictiveness of the Protectorate, and who wanted to change things for the better. Until that moment, I don’t think I’d ever realised just how hopeless and alone I’d always felt – and what an enormous relief it was to know that I wasn’t the only one who thought that way.
I was worried at first about what I’d gotten myself into. Whether the people I was throwing my lot in with would be just as brutal and cruel as those I was trying to fight against. But when we have meetings, we drink tea, sometimes something stronger, and eat biscuits with jam, and argue, and think up solutions to problems, and try to figure out how best to move forward, and laugh, and mourn, and really, I don’t think I’d ever imagined how shockingly normal it is.
And how wonderfully freeing.
I was forced into hiding a few months ago. And I've had time to think about what this change has meant for me and my family. For instance, I find it really telling that now that I’m a fugitive, I feel more free than I ever have. I don’t have to worry about my children seeing others being tortured and killed because of compulsory attendance at some sort of ghastly circus, or that they’ll be subjected to cruciatus if they get in trouble at school. I don’t have to watch every word I say. I don't have to be careful in case my neighbours see me reading a forbidden book, or listening to the wrong station on the radio. I don’t have to worry about whether I’m bribing the Watch enough so they won’t break the windows in my shop, or whether the graffiti across the street will get me arrested.
It doesn’t have to be this way, you know.
It hasn’t always been like this, after all. It was different twenty years ago, and it can be different again.
One of the things I’ve been particularly struck by since I’ve taken a step back from the Protectorate, as it were, is how deeply afraid everyone is about everything. Including the people in charge.
Here’s what I mean. Do any of you lot know someone who is perfectly capable of passing judgement on other people, but can’t stand it at all when the same is done to him? The second someone says anything critical about him, he’s looking to throw a tantrum or pick a fight. Awfully insecure chap, isn’t he? Thin-skinned. No sense of humour.
And if I were to say, for example, that the Lord Protector wears frilly knickers to bed, or that his lifelong ambition was to decorate cakes, only he was absolute shite at it, so he decided to torture everybody instead because he was a petty, sick bastard, that’d be rather juvenile of me, to be sure. But it’s clearly a joke, isn’t it? It’s meant to poke fun at a powerful man. Which is something people do, by the way. And have done pretty much ever since we started writing things down.
Only we can’t do that here. It’s not allowed. And the only reason I can get away with saying this where other people can see it and not get dragged in for questioning or punishment is because I’m in hiding.
Awfully insecure of them, isn’t it? Almost like they’re afraid, or have something to hide. Frilly knickers, perhaps? Who’s to say. All I know is that a place that doesn’t allow free journalism, that shuts its borders, that doesn’t have a fair system of courts, that imprisons and tortures its citizens, and that has no bloody sense of humour, that place is a dictatorship, not a paradise. And even though the person in charge is powerful, he is just a man.
That's all for now. I hope you had a bit of a laugh. I think we could all use one from time to time, don't you?
I'm other things too, mind. I'm a mum. Former shop-keeper. Hogwarts alum. Rather terrible cook.
I remember what it felt like when I was first approached by a close friend, someone I trusted, and I was told that there were other people out there who thought like I did – who were horrified by the cruelty and restrictiveness of the Protectorate, and who wanted to change things for the better. Until that moment, I don’t think I’d ever realised just how hopeless and alone I’d always felt – and what an enormous relief it was to know that I wasn’t the only one who thought that way.
I was worried at first about what I’d gotten myself into. Whether the people I was throwing my lot in with would be just as brutal and cruel as those I was trying to fight against. But when we have meetings, we drink tea, sometimes something stronger, and eat biscuits with jam, and argue, and think up solutions to problems, and try to figure out how best to move forward, and laugh, and mourn, and really, I don’t think I’d ever imagined how shockingly normal it is.
And how wonderfully freeing.
I was forced into hiding a few months ago. And I've had time to think about what this change has meant for me and my family. For instance, I find it really telling that now that I’m a fugitive, I feel more free than I ever have. I don’t have to worry about my children seeing others being tortured and killed because of compulsory attendance at some sort of ghastly circus, or that they’ll be subjected to cruciatus if they get in trouble at school. I don’t have to watch every word I say. I don't have to be careful in case my neighbours see me reading a forbidden book, or listening to the wrong station on the radio. I don’t have to worry about whether I’m bribing the Watch enough so they won’t break the windows in my shop, or whether the graffiti across the street will get me arrested.
It doesn’t have to be this way, you know.
It hasn’t always been like this, after all. It was different twenty years ago, and it can be different again.
One of the things I’ve been particularly struck by since I’ve taken a step back from the Protectorate, as it were, is how deeply afraid everyone is about everything. Including the people in charge.
Here’s what I mean. Do any of you lot know someone who is perfectly capable of passing judgement on other people, but can’t stand it at all when the same is done to him? The second someone says anything critical about him, he’s looking to throw a tantrum or pick a fight. Awfully insecure chap, isn’t he? Thin-skinned. No sense of humour.
And if I were to say, for example, that the Lord Protector wears frilly knickers to bed, or that his lifelong ambition was to decorate cakes, only he was absolute shite at it, so he decided to torture everybody instead because he was a petty, sick bastard, that’d be rather juvenile of me, to be sure. But it’s clearly a joke, isn’t it? It’s meant to poke fun at a powerful man. Which is something people do, by the way. And have done pretty much ever since we started writing things down.
Only we can’t do that here. It’s not allowed. And the only reason I can get away with saying this where other people can see it and not get dragged in for questioning or punishment is because I’m in hiding.
Awfully insecure of them, isn’t it? Almost like they’re afraid, or have something to hide. Frilly knickers, perhaps? Who’s to say. All I know is that a place that doesn’t allow free journalism, that shuts its borders, that doesn’t have a fair system of courts, that imprisons and tortures its citizens, and that has no bloody sense of humour, that place is a dictatorship, not a paradise. And even though the person in charge is powerful, he is just a man.
That's all for now. I hope you had a bit of a laugh. I think we could all use one from time to time, don't you?
