Harry Potter and the Magical Mistaken Identity

I was fortunate as a child to have a mother who was a Librarian. She was always up on the latest and greatest in upcoming kids’ books, and we had a wealth of adventures to choose from on our shelves. As social as I was when I was younger, I always sought solace and solitude between the pages of a book. I could become anyone I wanted when I read my stories, and none of my real-world worries or fears could stand in my way. No longer tied to my corporeal form, I allowed my soul to flit between characters, from swashbuckling lady explorers to warrior princesses to ghost hunters. Bullies, schoolwork, teachers, and things of that nature morphed into villains, evil-doers, and natural elements to be conquered. I grew quite attached to the worlds within the words, and more often than not I’d carry on writing my own extended versions of these stories, or I’d write my actual self amidst them. (Yes, that’s right, I’d unknowingly stumbled into a child’s first version of fanfic, though I certainly wouldn’t have called it that back then myself, of course.)

In any case, those magical, immersive worlds would mean so very much to my imaginative, anxious self that they’d inevitably become part of my persona for a bit; books like Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White and Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carroll were childhood fixtures (just as my mom who got stuck calling me both “Fern” and “Alice” for an embarrassingly long time; she was the best, most supportive mom, though, and she let me have those moments as long as I needed). Though I was oft resistant to my mother’s insistence that I read many types and styles of literature, I’d eventually acquiesce and give it a go (admittedly, a lot of it would begin as bribery “read this book and I’ll get you a comic book for a break!”). Turns out, she was really on to something. 

Soon after a while, one obsessive interest would dissipate, and I’d make room to find comfort in new, bigger stories and befriend the characters within them. I would of course fall back to comfort reads and fantasies, of course, but I realized the literary world was vast and immense, and my “fangirl” tunnel vision was robbing me of even more exciting, colorful stories. The more I branched out in my reading, in both genre and author alike, the more exciting life became. Each book allowed me to forge new friendships with the characters and take a vacation in my mind to astoundingly beautiful new worlds. My creativity grew in leaps and bounds, as did my empathy, having “walked in the shoes” of so many different viewpoints outside of my own. Not only that, but my ability to process my own “irl” input improved the more stories I consumed. It was an incredible way to process my inner turmoil and any external trauma.

Storytelling was, and still is, one of the most important things in my life. The harder and more challenging that life got, the more I’d look to movies and stories to help me process and filter out what was going on around me. I needed characters and storylines that would allow me to feel seen, heard, and understood, but be immersive and creative enough to remove me from the real world and escape for a little while. I resonated most strongly with stories of horror, science-fiction, and fantasy. The extremely melodramatic circumstances and presentation of those genres allowed my big, intense, overwhelming feelings to be worked out quickly and efficiently.

Knowing what you now know of my reading habits (and what some of you know firsthand of my personality haha!), it will of course come at no surprise that I, too, hopped on board the Hogwarts Express with its misfits band of characters. We caught the early train to the castle, thanks to Librarian mom (yes, that’s right I’m yelling “FIRST!” because we read it before it skyrocketed up the bestsellers list and was firmly ensconced). My brother and I became so enamored with the work that She Who Must Not Be Named had created (And supposedly scribbled at first on napkins in a cafe, no less! Maybe we could pen such epic stuff one day, too!) that eventually my mom started preordering dual copies of everything so our incessant bickering and spoiler-alert-arguments would cease.

Movies rolled in at second place, but it was a close-call race for first place, so you can imagine our sheer delight and joy upon learning one of our most favorite book series would now blaze across the screen in daring technicolor and CGI. The emotions ran high with each premiere and subsequent DVD release. We categorized ourselves in appropriate Hogwarts Houses thanks to various sundry online “exams” and competed with friends to see whose house was “the best.” It really ran on par with our immersive obsession with Star Wars, if I’m being fully honest, and just like the Star Wars fandom allegiance, the HP interest continued well into adulthood.

In fact, it was as recent as 2016 when I finally got to check off a “bucket list” item of visiting the immersive “Harry Potter World” in Universal. I dragged my grumpy boyfriend this way and that as we consumed copious amounts of butterbeer, snacked on wizard candy, dueled with dragons, and listened to frog choirs. I didn’t even have a chance to choose my own wand, we visited Ollivanders and lucky me was chosen out of everyone in the crowd by the wand during the demonstration. (Shut up, let me have it LOL.) My sweet, dear, wonderful boyfriend even sat in the torrential rain looking quite bedraggled under an overpriced “Hogwarts House” umbrella (1. I could’ve bought it at Walmart because it was only red and gold, so fuck you Universal Studios. 2. It wasn’t my house; I was a “Ravenclaw.” 3. If that wasn’t an act of sheer love at the time, I don’t know what else was HAHA!) solely so that my 31-year-old self wouldn’t miss the one chance I had in this lifetime to wave an infrared “magic wand” at things in windows and doorways to “do magic.” I was living my best nerdy fandom life!

And so of course, having read all that, you can imagine the sheer horror I experienced when Dear Ol’ She Who Must Not Be Named decided to really shove her foot so far in her mouth it came out her rear end. How could someone who provided their fans so much joy, so much escapism, and so much validation be so cruel and violent as Voldie himself? Turns out, just like the villain in her wizarding world, the dark seeds of cruelty and despair were planted in her work all along, festering and growing in the shadows of dogeared pages. A second read and examination of both the books and the films, it became apparent where the diabolical author had hidden her own personal agenda and misgivings. Our beloved author had become a Death Eater herself, sucking all the soul out of a once beautiful book series. Sadly, the once vibrant and colorful Wizarding World was shrouded in grey and black clouds, but this time, the people suffering this dark malice were real life, actual Transgender and Genderqueer individuals in the living, breathing world, a group of people already marginalized within their own LGBTQ community.  It was a devastating blow to most of her readership and the fandom, but it was a particularly confusing and overwhelming time for the Queer Bookish Community, myself included.

Thanks to the immersive fantasy worlds I consumed as a child, however, I had conjured up an enormous amount of empathy in my soul. It did not take me long to renounce my hold on the fandom; the living, breathing people in my life were worth more than any fictional character on the page. Identifying as a Harry Potter fan is a choice. Being Transgender is not. There is no way that my self-appointed fandom allegiance and fictional house identity would ever be more important than a living, breathing, real human being. I shed the heavy dark cloak of my wizarding house, and picked up a lighter more joyful banner -- one that supported my fellow humans and fellow Queers. And I was not alone!

Just like the heroes in her now-tainted stories, our community realized we were stronger if we stand together to support our Transgender friends and “housemates.” We could save real lives of living, breathing people if we stood up, spoke out, and formed a line of defense against the evil cruelty of TERFs like JKR. Many LGBTQ HP Fans and allies stood up and banded together, comrades in arms to keep our fellow humans safe against the dark power forming in front of us. It is much easier to vanquish evil if you renounce its stronghold on your soul, and realize that you have more power when you harness that anger, turn it into a hunger for justice, and wield it passionately with companions to fight for equality and a better life for all. We may be molded and shaped by inescapable claws of trauma, but it does not have to strangle us and pin us to the ground. Why chain ourselves to the dark and dingy shelves of the Restricted Section when there are still so many more worlds to explore? (Especially this real one which desperately needs our passion and energy to turn it around before it's too late!)

Just like Voldemort’s selfish assholery and inflated ego led to his own demise, one might even say the villainous author has given us all the tools we need to stand up and defeat her.  We can fight back by accepting that a series of books has brought us together, helped us learn how to be better people, and we can let it go as we evolve beyond it to make a real difference in this world, spreading our magic far wider than the confines of 7 hardbound books.

Everyone deserves the right to live a life filled with love, joy, acceptance, and find their place in this world. We can accomplish more in love than we ever can in hate. Let’s do our best to take back our power and make our own magic in this world, and choose the lighter path towards freedom and equality for all. Always.

Essay by Ellen Avigliano
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