Sometimes I wonder what happened to fairy tales after they end. It’s not a novel thought by any means. Countless artists have imagined aging housewife Disney princesses, broke-ass and fat superheroes. It is a core concept of Buddhism. Our suffering doesn’t end as long as we still desire a fairy tale ending.
If you ask 15-year-old me, or any middle-class (poor) brown queer kid growing up in a developing country, my current life seems like the end of a fairy tale ending. He lives in a 2-story castle. He drives a Japanese carriage. He has an amazing role in leading others to deliver advancements in technology to the people. He is married to a Prince charming (or sometimes a Sleeping princess, depending on certain days). At almost 40, he has a bomb haircut and still looks decent in Speedo. It’s a pretty good life.
So why this nagging feeling of not living up to himself, of being joyless at work, and of being isolated in a world full of people?
There are lazy explanations.
– Maybe it’s social media. Seeing all these fabulous people, traveling the world, not having to work or navigate the corporate world complexity and politics. Seeing all these people that are beautiful, that have time to go to the gym, and see the world and write stories.
– Maybe it’s the post-pandemic anxiety. The world is returning to normal, and I, somehow, miss the time we can be at home, work from home, bake cakes, make art, and not have to socialize with people. Yet, we zoom, connect, and talk to our friends. Isolation in a world full of people.
– Maybe I’m just incapable of being happy. Hardship is all I know and hardship is how I thrive, grow, and become amazing. I hang on to pain as if it means something as if it’s worth something.
Or maybe it’s deeper than that. I’ve been doing a bit of soul searching. It wasn’t the answer I found. It was a question.
Whose fairy tales is this?
It’s not even the case of “Be careful what you wish for”, it’s “Did I really wish for this?”. I grew up in a heteronormative environment in a poor nation in a poor family. So the house, the car, and the job make sense. The marriage, the child, and the desire for a fairy tale ending make sense. But is this for me?
I don’t have answers. I know it’s irresponsible to be leaving a fairy tale for an unknown.
But then again, all my life, all the unknowns have led me to all the fairy tales I have ever had.
Pace Fine Arts 