The Dangers of Oppression by Repression

This is the second of my Potter themed entires, a third one is in the works as well

JK Rowling isn't exactly the most subtle of writers, and, expectedly, she has received some flak for this from more "serious" authors and readers. 

I, however, have no problem with this whatsoever.

Her gift, I believe, is more on how she makes concrete complex ideas and concepts. What she lacks in subtlety, she makes up for in layered representations that are still immediately accessible. It's much too easy to obscure "deep" ideas in vague abstractions, far too many literary works already function this way. Her talent is that she brings forth these ideas to readers of all ages with stunning clarity without stripping away depth and complications.

In her original book series, the dementors are a perfect example of this. 

Dementors, a physical manifestation of depression, were the sinister presence that loomed over the wizarding world. These dark creatures suck all the happiness in its surroundings as their air chills in their presence. Their kiss, their deadly, but not fatal form of attack, sucks the souls of their victims, leaving them hollow shells of who they are. Quite apt for a creature that represents the very absence of happiness. 

After all, isn't it considered to be true that there is really no such thing as darkness anyway except the absence of light? And what of the clever antidote to the biting frigid emptiness that the dementors bring? A piece of chocolate. We know that warm glow of comfort that emanates from a piece of chocolate that slowly melts in our mouths. And note the brilliance of that choice of remedy. The immediate relatable comfort that we recognize, the magical simplicity and commonness of chocolate, and the prescribed dosage, just a small bite. 

This highlights the idea that it takes so little to shake away the specter of darkness, and the ideal commonness of the solution to sadness. Of course, she is not suggesting that we eat chocolate to chase the blues away, but rather it suggests that we allow ourselves to feel that thing that brings us the true happiness, the warmth of loving and being loved.

Ah love. That all so powerful magical force that raises us from the death of a life not lived. All too common of a solution that it has become a cliche. But no less potent. No less real.

Of course, to love is not so simple. It is, if you follow my treatise on the matter, quite counterintuitive. It requires the surrender of one's self to another. It necessities that one lets oneself to become vulnerable to pain, nay it demands that you feel hurt in order to feel the reassuring warmth and comfort of being loved. It is by all measures of human experience, the scariest thing we could do as creatures of logic. 

Thus, it is easier to run away in fear. To ignore and suppress. It is far more reasonable to do so anyway to deny one's self of such entanglements. 

In Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Rowling explores this idea in a new creature of darkness, the obscurus. The obscurus is a parasitic force that is created when a magical child's true nature is suppressed or repressed. At first, the obscurus is dormant and simply exists in a noncorporeal form inside the child, but as the child develops a stronger sense of identity and self-recognition, usually before adolescence, the pressure exerted on the child to repress his true nature has built up to such a great extent, that the obscurus forces itself out into existence in an explosive, often fatal event.

Based on Rowling's screenplay, obscuri are described as "oleaginous" which paints it as something richly covered in oil. The imagery of oil is quite appropriate as oil is created from the physical and temporal pressures exerted on beings and creatures which have long since passed on, and as a substance, it is slick, sticky, and difficult to remove, much like the feeling of self-loathing brought about by the guilt of being something you don't want to become.

It is easy to see and equate the obscurus to sexual repression, among other things of course, but being a gay man and knowing her advocacy for LGBT+ rights, it is no great stretch of the imagination to see that Rowling could very well be alluding to these issues. Things like gay conversion therapy among conservative religious groups is a very clear parallel to the abuse experienced by Credence Barebone under his adoptive mother, the anti-magic zealot, Mary Lou Barebone.

However, I am more fascinated with the what feeds and triggers these obscuri. 

One part of course is the external pressure from the parental figures and society at large to repress our tendencies. The primary argument falls along the idea that your true talents or feelings are unnatural, sinful, or wrong. This doubled-up with the argument that if you entertain such thoughts, you are being selfish and that nothing can be done about it, except suffer through it. It is your own fault after all. 

If repression is successful, each time your true nature and feelings, you are overcome with an overwhelming sense of guilt. Now, guilt as an emotion is quite neutral. If what you feel guilty about is authentic,  such as when you hurt someone. You apologize, and try to make it up to them. Ideally make it better than it was before. In that case then your chosen course of action should relieve you of your guilt. However, if it's a self-perpetuating guilt, then perhaps you are creating your own obscurus. 

In the case of Credence, his perpetual self-denial is a process of suppressing his feelings and powers, feeling them bubble up again, layering on another layer of guilt and self-blame for having said feelings, and then another round of suppression. No different really from internalized homophobia. Self-loathing is a masochistic and senseless cycle. Like adding more and more carbon dioxide into a bottle of soda. The ensuing explosion is an inevitable fact. As well as the self-destruction and harm to others that it will cause.

I too have an obscurus within me. It's usually dormant. However, when I was in a relationship, which I now recognize as simultaneously loving and cruel, the darkness and the rage, they just kept bursting out. When the relationship is emotionally abusive, such as withholding affection, cutting you out of the decision-making process that affects you both, condescending tone, it can and will get to you. 

The guilt in my case comes from the love. Perhaps I'm not considering his point of view enough. I should be more understanding. And yet, I did not allow myself to acknowledge that he is not considering how I feel. Issues were always done his way."I will think about it myself." or "That's how I do things. There must be a logical explanation. I will answer it in my head." This kind of cutting me out was not only hurtful, I believe it was abusive.

And so the darkness grew within. The rage simmered slowly, as I used up all my strength to be patient. And when everything came to a head. The obscurus takes over.

At first it's tunnel vision. Like the world has shrunk around you and converged at one singular point ahead of you. My hand moves on its volition, raised, poised and ready. 

But then a moment of lucidity. Guilt and self-loathing overcome me. Shame.

And then everything turns inside out and descends upon me. 

The obscurus implodes.