Fairy Godmother Tell All
Take notes, hoes.
Article by Emma Devlin, art by Veronica Gibson
I’m a stranger to you, but hopefully my words resonate. I’m sure they’ll be in your best interest because I have a perspective you don’t. I’m sure about that because I’m a character woven into your reality. Yes, like a story, but in your subconscious. No, I’m not God. Fairy Godmother, if you will. Though I’m more like a voice in your head. We haven’t met before, but I heard you’re in need of advice. I’ll help you find your current purpose, but understand, it’s always changing.
Look in the mirror. Yes, please take a look. What do you see? Yourself? Did you expect to see the fairest of them all? A ghost? Those things don’t exist, unfortunately. The world would be more exciting if they did. But, what’s real? Here’s a hint: being real is recognizing your existence. Yes, it’s quite complicated, but that’s just how we are.
What do you think is real? I’m aware it’s a difficult question. That was unfair of me to ask so suddenly.
Imagine you’re at your worst. It’s the part of the movie when everything goes wrong and the hero loses all hope. Perhaps you were rejected from your top-choice college. Perhaps, after hundreds of dollars spent on Accutane and two years of clear skin, you wake up on the day of prom to the biggest breakout on your face. Or you get a phone call from a stranger, who tells you, I’m so sorry, but she passed yesterday in her sleep…
Are you okay? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I want you to imagine what I’m saying because only then will you understand what’s real. Do you need a break? No? Alright, I’ll continue.
When I ask this question, most people don’t think about tears. But I start my explanation in this manner because it’s a little off-beat and grabs their attention. It rubs people the wrong way. I can tell because they may lick their lips dry or bite their nails, like you are. No, no! Keep biting them if that comforts you. I’m not your mother. I can’t tell you what to do. I guess I am telling you what to think, in a sense. But I’m different from your mother in that I can’t force you to agree. She may tell you repeatedly that if you bite your nails, you’ll look like a slob. And eventually, you may believe it because people believe people they know well. At least, usually.
As I was saying, tears make people uneasy. They don’t know how to stop tears. They ask themselves: Should I hug them? Should I leave them alone? Should I give them advice? Should I get them help? Should I cry too? It’s as though the “soother” has unknowingly entered a shark tank without a cage, without knowing how to swim, and without an escape plan. Not knowing what to do is a perfectly rational response. The emotional shift can be so sudden that the “crier” often fails to realize they’ve been forced to experience reality straight on. Let me explain. Humans are quite strictly trained to limit emotional expression. When people do cry, it’s normally unplanned and perhaps unwanted. Crying is real because it breaks the everyday rhythm of life. It’s real because it makes people reconsider what “normal” means. Strange, really, that humans are expected to behave completely against their nature.
Now might be the time to explain what I am. I do not have a clear answer. Do you know who you are? Exactly. Yes, I said I’m like a Fairy Godmother. I show up when people need help - a reality check - and I provide the best advice I can. I certainly can’t turn pumpkins into carriages or rags into ball gowns. Still, I would argue that an outsider-looking-in notices a lot more about a person than they do about themself. In that case, I’d say what humans and I have in common is our natural instinct to observe and make sense of the unknown.
What defines human nature? I’ll tell you my own definition as someone who is not entirely human. Please note, it derives from a number of different sources and conversations, taking several years to form. And still, I think my definition could be better.
I believe human nature is the manner in which people process and react to their surroundings. But it’s more than just surroundings, it’s the little things, too. It’s how they react to change or disaster. It’s how they laugh at irony and celebrate good luck. It’s how they observe, maybe unintentionally, every person in the hospital waiting room, asking themselves, what’s their story? It’s how they feel the need to protect the vulnerable—siblings, animals, children. It’s how they sigh deeply after they miss a flight or stub a toe, how they set five alarm clocks and sleep through all of them. It’s how they become somewhat lost during a transitional period, from high school to college, college to the working world, dating to marriage. It’s how they let complete strangers pet their dogs, telling them, he likes it when you scratch his ears. These are simple scenarios, but there’s more complexity than what I’m capable of telling you. See, nothing is black-and-white. Things are gray and tan and violet and royal blue. It seems that the majority of humans work tirelessly in hopes of earning a well-paying job, but a number of them (and this number seems to grow everyday with the rise of Gen Z) are seeking a relaxed lifestyle. Go with the flow, you do you, let it be, life is life. I think the latter type of person is happier, but then I ask myself, are they fulfilled? And my question returns to my first point, which is that human nature is complex. People aren’t only happy. I think they’re mostly happy-sad or happy-tired or happy-silly. There are loopholes, special cases, irregularities, and human errors in real life. But above all, I want you to understand that people are imperfect, emotional, and moldable. Unapologetically human.
How do I have all this knowledge about a different species than my own? I don’t. Not really. Maybe I come off as confident, but I’m only telling you what I’ve learned over time. Someone else could give you entirely different advice based on what they’ve experienced.
I want you to imagine you’re at Tony’s on a Friday night. A man has been inappropriately touching your best friend. He finally hits a nerve in you when he hands her a cloudy drink, his hand gliding up her back. Gross.
At this point, your friend is nervous, paralyzed. Enough is enough. It’s your chance to step in. You don’t really know what to do, but you feel static. No thoughts, just emotion. Bam! Sucker punch! Right in the face! The man falls to the ground with a bloody nose, some blood still on your knuckles. You suddenly grow wings. You feel amazing and scared and proud and disappointed. You notice the impressed faces of onlookers, but you also notice a frowning bartender walking towards the crime scene. You wish your wings were real so you could fly away.
Not everyone can stand up to a random assaulter. It takes a certain lack of fear. People are just people at the end of the day, no more special than the next. When put like that, no one’s that scary.
You don’t know how to feel after a traumatic or spontaneous event. Perhaps you should feel guilty after punching someone in the face (even if it’s awesome), but I think you feel something else entirely. In situations like these, you become hyper-aware of yourself. You’re not feeling a reactive emotion, rather, you’re feeling yourself in the flesh. You feel real. In the example above, you may start fixating on your bloody hand, your heavy breathing. You’ve hijacked the social rhythm and brought reality front and center. All eyes on you.
I provided this example because it shows that you’re not always in control of yourself. People are not perfect beings and, truthfully, they don’t understand what they are. I’m not human, and that position allows me to view humanity in its most unbiased form. Humans don’t like to acknowledge themselves; it makes them think too hard. So, I’ll do it for them. My perspective on the human race is illuminating, I think, because I can see the things humans are capable of even when they can’t see these things themselves. And frankly, that ignorance keeps humans sane. To answer your question, realness connects to human nature because human nature is complex, and that complexity is what makes things real.
At the moment, this is my perspective on human reality. It will change many times because I am always learning. You brought me into your mind to give you answers, but my thoughts come from what you already know but haven’t yet realized. Yes, in a way you are self-meditating. It’s important to sit down and grasp your humanity. Talk to yourself, if you please. Next time—and there will be many next times—I may not be the one talking to you. If I am, my advice will change because you will have gotten older, wiser, and a little more willing to understand yourself. You’re waking from this daydream (perhaps it’s more like a hallucination); your conscience is straining to regain control. I’ll say goodbye, but hold onto my words. Your existence is only starting to take place.