J.K. Rowling and the Potterhead’s Guilt
What are fans to do when the woman who made us believe in celebrating differences and the power of love, turns out to be a transphobe?
My love of reading started when I found a copy of Philosopher’s Stone in my sister’s room. I learned English through Wolfstar fanfics and laughed my way through My Immortal and AVPM. Hell, I even wrote my undergraduate thesis on how HP fanfiction tropes replicate the fandom’s dynamics as a community. I am a Potterhead, through and through.
I am also someone who loves and supports trans and non-binary people. Not despite being a Harry Potter Fan, but precisely because of my love for the saga.
Harry’s story taught me to embrace those who were different from me. It taught me the magic of love, and how to fight against bigotry through the power of community. Imagine my disappointment when it became evident that the author of a series I love so much was dog-whistling trans-exclusionary radical feminist (TERF) ideas on Twitter, and people started pointing out the racist undertones on some of her characters.
I’m not alone in my outrage. There are millions of Potterheads out there, from all races, genders, and sexualities, who are struggling to understand whether or not J.K. Rowling has read her own books.
The legacy of her novels is beyond her control now. It belongs to the fans, and that includes the trans ones she appears to have such a problem with.
Moreover, and while we try to make sense of our fandom, we fear that she is in a position to finance hateful groups. And we feel guilty because we helped her get there.
So how can we move on from our guilt and get into action? How can we continue enjoying the Wizarding World after this? More importantly, how can we show up for the marginalized people who need us right now?
Time to ask ourselves: WWHGD?
Joanne and Harry: Good people and Death Eaters
I find it ironic that a transphobe, of all people, wrote a saga whose core messages are the acceptance of differences and the power of love. I find it frustrating that Harry Potter’s image will be forever tainted by the sins of his creator, both in my head and in the public discourse. And I find it ridiculous that some fans refuse to accept that.
I don’t believe in separating the art from the artist. Unlike science, which can be replicated by others, art is unique to its time, format, and author. And Joanne Rowling wrote Harry Potter. Whether we like it or not, she is the only one who could have written it, as it is and as we love it. Pretending she isn’t, makes up for a funny tweet but a weak political statement.
Harry Potter does have an author. And it seems like she’s a TERF. Let’s deal with it. That means sitting with our discomfort and recognizing this woman is using a platform we helped her built to hurt our trans brothers and sisters. And the first step in that reckoning is to accept that her stories brought magic into our childhoods and that she is a transphobe.
However, that’s not all she is. She is British, and mother, and an inspiration for many, and a TERF. It’s not, “but” it’s “and.” The Harry Potter franchise shaped my values and personality, and it was written by a transphobic person. She is not a TERF but a great writer. She is both: a transphobe and a great writer. These ideas don’t cancel each other out, and we have to reconcile them. Or, at least accept them if we want to move on and do better.
Death of the author, rise of the fandom
By nature, fandoms defy authority. Unlike casual viewers, fans are not content with merely consuming the official story. We analyze it, re-invent it, and make it our own. We create new stories, edits, art, podcasts, and even musicals around our love for the narrative, its characters, and the fandom itself.
In the community, fans (particularly marginalized ones) find the power, meaning, and healing that canon so often denies us. Trust me; I wrote a 90-page thesis on this shit.
The Harry Potter fandom is one of the most powerful fan communities that exist today. Over 12 years after the last book was published, Potterheads have stayed together and organized to become something bigger than all of us individually: a force for positive impact in the world. From political activism to re-reading the books as sacred texts, every day, fans engage with each other and with the story in ways that don’t include J.K. Rowling anymore.
The legacy of her novels is beyond her control now. It belongs to the fans, and that includes the trans ones she appears to have such a problem with. If we didn’t need her permission to ship Drapple, we don’t need it now to say trans rights.
So… What would Hermione Granger Do?
1. Stop supporting Rowling financially
There are plenty of fan-owned initiatives to satisfy our needs for magic without making a millionaire richer than she already is. A millionaire who could give our hard-earned money to dangerous organizations with the goal of hurting an already extremely vulnerable community..
As for the upcoming Fantastic Beasts movies, VPNs, Utorrent, and ThePirateBay exist. Make of that what you will. In the words of American philosopher Wendy Williams, “I’m not gonna suggest that you do that, but look into my eyes and tell me what I’m saying.”
2. Educate yourself
Read up on trans-feminism, intersectionality, and queer theory; watch a documentary; follow trans people on social media and then listen to their stories. Not to answer, but genuinely listen. Try and understand why transphobia is a problem, and how you can help fight against it.
And while you are at it, read up on sexism, racism, colonialism, and capitalism too. Oppression is a shape-shifter that has infiltrated all spaces and layers of our society. Only together can we stop it.
3. Be critical about the media you consume
Question the stories you are watching, reading, and listening. From whose point of view are they told? Do they feature people of color? Women? Disabled folks? Fat people? And when disenfranchised people appear, what roles do they play? Are they fully-fledged characters? Or one-dimensional stereotypes?
Mainstream media is still overwhelmingly male, white, cis, and heterosexual. While we cannot change what others create, we can be more conscious about the content we consume, and about how it perpetuates (or challenges) traditional power structures. On that note,
4. Read more trans authors
It’s okay to continue enjoying the Harry Potter novels, despite… You Know Who. But it won’t hurt to look past the dozens of “problematic” authors you probably already read and heard about a thousand times before.
Dare to expand your literary horizons. Give trans writers a chance. There are plenty of compelling books by trans and non-binary writers you could read instead of trying (and, inevitably, failing) to understand The Crimes of Grindelwald for the fifth time.
5. Give if/what you can
Many young LGBTQ+ folks are rejected by their families and communities, causing them to end up homeless, unemployed, and feeling unloved. So how about using the money you intended to spend on an officially licensed wand, to help another human being?
Perhaps Ms. Rowling’s worst mistake, as a bigot herself, was to teach an entire generation to distrust authority, organize in communities to fight against hate, and love those different from ourselves.
We know trans-exclusion is not what Harry Potter is about. But this isn’t about us nor some fictional wizard. It’s about the very real trans and non-binary folks who are being harmed by the hateful ideas Rowling keeps sharing. More importantly, this is about how the rest of us can stand with them and support them.
J.K. can be as much of a transphobe as she wants. If she desires to continue using her platform to spew out hate, that’s her prerogative. But ours, as a fandom, is to unite (as we did when Warner was selling child-slavery chocolate), and say together: “Not in Harry’s Name.”
