Carol Eulogizes Helen

While I have always thought of Helen as “mine,” especially now, it’s wrong to shrink her that way. She was a good neighbor, a good friend to many. In adulthood she became a mentor to younger queer women who were still trying to figure out who they were allowed to be. She sat on the board of New Mexico’s chapter of the Trevor Project. Sometimes I wish I’d known someone like Helen when I was a teenager. Hers was a life that mattered to many people. It would be dishonest to say otherwise.

But she mattered the most to me. She was my mirror, my counterweight, my anchor—the spark of joy in a world that always felt unbearable to me. She was the best reason I had to keep living in the times when the darkness inside overtook me. It did that too often. I wish I could have been more joyful for her.

Helen Umstead grew up in a big lower‑case c Christian family in Minnesota, the eldest of four, with parents who were teachers and members of every committee in town. She learned to cook by ten, learned to break up fights by twelve, and by fourteen she could talk her wild younger brother out of trouble with his teachers. It wasn’t fair that she was parentified the way she was, but maybe that’s why she had the patience for someone like me.

When she came out to her parents as gay when she was a high school senior, it happened over dinner and was met with slightly awkward smiles, followed by her father patting her on the shoulder and saying, “Well, good for you, honey. Hope you find yourself a nice girl. Ma, can you pass the gravy?” 

What she found was, well… me. 

We met after college, working together in a bookstore in Chicago. We didn’t like the same kinds of books at all. Naturally, the banter—mostly gently mocking each other’s taste— was snarky and funny, and it meant we clicked immediately. She was cute and clever. She looked so cool smoking outside the shop, with her six earrings and her little knit beanie. I was never cool. I wouldn’t have even known how to try.

I couldn’t understand why she wanted to be around me. But we spent weekends together, saw shitty bands I didn’t know at clubs I didn’t want to go to—but I wanted to be near her so badly I would go anywhere. We cooked each other dinner. I went to her softball games and summoned my best game face to be friendly with the other girls on the team. She was a fair‑to‑middling hitter, but she had a 67 mph fastball that would ruin any batter’s day. Other teams tried to coax her away, but she just wanted to play with her friends.

There was a goofiness and a humility to her. She never came on like she was trying to impress anyone, and then she’d just knock your daylights out—with a fastball, a coq au vin, or some trove of random knowledge that made her a danger at Trivial Pursuit. Only a real dummy wouldn’t see her for the amazing, one‑in‑a‑million human soul she was.

And I loved her. Almost immediately. I just didn’t think I deserved to be loved by someone like her. Maybe I didn’t. But one night we went for a picnic on a hill to watch meteor showers—because of course she paid attention to when things like that were happening. And I brought wine, because of course I showed up with alcohol. We were tipsy under the falling stars and… well. The most romantic night of my life was also the night I came out, fully, to myself and to the woman I’d been in love with for almost a year.

I would find out later that at some point during our picnic, she surreptitiously texted her friend Angela: “HELP I THINK I’M ON A DATE WITH CAROL!!!11!!”

Kissing Helen was like being a closed flower bud that blossomed because the sun touched it. Opening up—even to let one person in—was the hardest thing I’d ever done. At some point in our increasingly passionate making out, I started weeping because I didn’t know what it was to feel this good. It was pressing on old wounds. But I needed it so badly. Like air. She kissed every tear away. 

We became the lesbians I had never dared to dream of being: constantly together, sharing our own language. We moved in together after a couple of months because we already knew each other so well. She was my cheerleader, pushing me to write, pushing me to believe in myself when I didn’t. She helped me with my querying, because the grind of submitting to literary agents and waiting months for a rejection was more than my depressive personality could handle. 

And yeah, she wasn’t perfect either. She’d get frustrated with me and slam doors and sometimes even go sleep at Angela’s when she really got upset, but I know it would have happened less if I had been better. If I could have been less prickly, less defensive, less needy, less me. We had a gorgeous life, despite my best efforts, and we even prepared to have children together, though we never pulled the trigger. I froze my eggs for her, though.

We had twenty-four imperfect but beautiful years together, but I wasn't there when she fell. I’ll probably never forgive myself for that. But she loved me so fiercely it hurt her, and I never understood that until now. I always thought she was the strong one, the steady one, the one who knew what she was doing. But she doubted herself too. 

Is it tragic that we couldn’t say some of these things to each other? Yes. Will I probably always grieve some of what wasn’t, some of what could have been, knowing what I know? Yes. 

I don’t expect I’ll ever love anyone like that again, or that I’ll ever be loved like that again. She was my true north, and even if the world hadn’t changed the way it has, most people don’t even get to have that even once. 

They tell me when she was dying that her last thoughts were that she didn’t want me to be alone. That’s who Helen was. With her last breath, she loved me.

Originally this post was supposed to be a reply via reblog to this post, but it got a bit too sidetracked and I felt bad for hijacking OP’s post like this. 

Initially I was just going to say this through the comment section of the original post, but then I realized that I have way too many thoughts to fit into the small word limit of a tumblr comment.

Anyway, that’s why I’m posting a screenshot of the original post rather than just reblogging it. I don’t want to derail OP’s original points or hijack the post and go off topic.

@chaosgranted​ you’re right and you should say it. I’m just gonna elaborate on this topic a bit. Gonna scream into the Tumblr void with hopes that the void won’t scream back.

<long ((and mostly negative)) rant about Dazai, so. Read at your own discretion>

I know I already commented on OP’s post a hundred times, but this got me thinking about the subject and now I can’t stop. So lemme burden you all with my never ending stream of thoughts on this matter.

Before I get into this rant, I wanna clarify something. I do, in fact, like Dazai as a character. I think he’s very interesting. I enjoy when he shows up on screen. This isn’t something I’d say for most other characters, who I’m more neutral about.  

That being said. Pretty much everything about how the fandom portrays him and views him annoys me so, so much.

As OP states here, what he does (leaves Chuuya unconscious and vulnerable in the field after promising to bring him back) isn’t just harmful or mean, it’s borderline cruel. And if it was done by any character who the audience wasn’t obsessed with, that character would be burned at the stake.

Think about Shirase (who I love, but that’s its own thing). Some people like him, a bunch of people hate him, a bunch of people have no opinion on him because he’s not a major character in the anime. Regardless of his Light Novel counterpart, Anime Shirase is justified enough in his own right. Let’s be real, the Sheep (including Shirase) were acting in self defense when they betrayed and stabbed Chuuya. They genuinely believed that he was an immediate threat to their safety. They genuinely believed that if they didn’t kill him, he’d kill them, or sell their information to the mafia, who’d shortly thereafter kill them.

Unlike Dazai leaving Chuuya behind when he was at his most vulnerable state, the Sheep stabbing and betraying Chuuya is not only justifiable, but understandable— and can anyone truly say that they’d do any different if they were in their shoes? I know I can only speak for myself, but if I truly and genuinely believed that someone was about to kill me or kill my closest friends, I would do what it takes to protect both my friends and myself.

The Sheep are somewhat vilified by the fandom (in the rare moments when the fandom remembers they exist). If Dazai had done the same— if Dazai had tried to kill an innocent person because he truly and genuinely believed that that person was about to kill the ADA, not only would he be forgiven instantly (which he should be, as I previously mentioned that’s a perfectly reasonable thing to do), but there wouldn’t be even an ounce of discourse over whether or not he’s justified.

Now, I understand the concept of liking “problematic” characters. (Tbh no character is “problematic”, whether or not the character is a good person is irrelevant, if the character does “problematic” things then that’s literally just how they were written and also intentional and also says something about them as a character. It should be called “good writing”, not “a problematic character”.) I understand the concept of liking the antagonist, heck my whole blog used to be me justifying Edmund from King Lear. Of course I never said he was a good person (because OH MAN HE WASN’T), but I found him very intriguing and so I would rationalize his actions and try to see things from his POV.

The difference between liking or justifying an antagonist and what the bsd fandom does with Dazai is that Dazai isn’t an antagonist.

The closest Dazai comes to filling an antagonistic role is in flashback arcs, which is the only time when his actions aren’t chalked up to “haha Bandage man is doing his thing again!”. When Dazai manipulates the Sheep into betraying and stabbing Chuuya, it acknowledges that Dazai is filling a bit of an antagonistic role there. That scene isn’t played off a  a joke— there’s no comedic undertone in how it’s portrayed. As opposed to when he leaves Chuuya in the field and it goes “haha look at Bandage man always being so silly and goofy!”

The same goes for Dazai’s treatment of Akutagawa in The Dark Era arc. When he shoots at him, attempting to kill him with no knowledge that his ability can theoretically stop the bullets, it’s not played off as a joke. However, in the dungeon scene, Dazai says that his new subordinate is “far superior” to him, and the show plays it off as “haha Bandage man made Emo kid angry!”, even though what Dazai meant by “far superior” is that Atsushi got lucky enough to be taught by Present Day Dazai, and so he’s more mentally stable and more sure of himself than Akutagawa, who’s still very clearly getting over the trauma of being literally brainwashed mentored by Mafia Dazai. Ability wise, Atsushi and Akutagawa seem to have equally strong abilities. The only thing that Atsushi has that Akutagawa doesn’t is a semi-healthy mindset. And you know who’s responsible for both of their mindsets….? This statement ( “..far superior..”) is the equivalent of punching someone in the face and then calling them ugly for having a black eye.

But the show keeps playing off Dazai’s outright cruelty to the people around him as a literal joke. And “he’s on the good side now!!”, so, to quote a song we all wish we could forget, How bad can he possibly be?

I think the first real sign of Dazai’s, for lack of better terms, tendencies..,, is in the second episode. That was the point where I was like “Oh. So he’s an asshole.” In that episode, Atsushi states that although he’s grateful for Dazai’s help, he’s not interested in joining the ADA. Dazai tries to pressure him into joining but he politely refuses. Dazai then makes it seem like he’s about to get him an interview for a different job, when suddenly he drags him into a supposed bombing and seemingly forces him to put his life on the line for an organization that he wants nothing to do with.

Atsushi is a kid who can hardly stand up for himself. I’m surprised he even turned Dazai down in the first place, but that just goes to show how badly he wanted nothing to do with the Agency. After discovering that it was all a test set up from the start— a test which he passed, now making him qualified to join the ADA— he still remains unwilling to join. Now what does Dazai, our resident master manipulator, do? He makes sure to give Atsushi a friendly reminder that sure, he doesn’t have to join, but if he doesn’t he’ll surely either die of starvation on the streets or be captured by the cops for his horrible tiger crimes against humanity. At that point of the episode I was like “ah. A manipulative asshole. Lovely. I’d like to see him get punched in the face.” (And thanks to Kunikida he does get punched. Not often enough for my tastes, but whatever.)

If you’ve never watched BSD and are only learning about it from this post, you’re probably thinking “but Edette, this guy is clearly a horrible person. And I understand that people simp for him, but just how delusional do people have to be to pretend none of this ever happened?”

Well there’s a very simple answer to that, my friend.

The whole show plays off his.. ah, let’s call them “silly little shenanigans”.. as just that. Silly. Little. Shenanigans. It shows him being manipulative and using every innocent person he comes alone to advance his own goals in one way or another. But that’s all perfectly fine! Because the show says it’s actually really funny, so it must be, right?

As OP says. Chuuya trusted him. Chuuya listened to him when he told him to activate his ability which nearly kills him. Chuuya was willing to throw his life away, endure pain beyond anything anyone could imagine, all on the hope and trust that this person he shares so much history with will be there for him and protect him when he’s left in his most vulnerable state.

But Dazai uses corruption as a tool. He uses Chuuya as a pawn to win the battle. And if you want to argue that Chuuya’s not a pawn but a knight or queen or some other chess piece then fine. Nice chess analogy. You do realize that’s irrelevant, right? Either way, as he says himself in 15, he’s not a king. He’s not the piece that will be protected at all costs. And no matter what piece he is, he’s just a game piece, just like everyone else Dazai comes across, and Dazai is the player.

And after the battle is over? Well, his pawn is of no use to him anymore. So good job Chuuya, you did it, you won. Soukoku won. But only one half of Soukoku gets to enjoy the victory.

For the record, I do believe that Dazai cares about Chuuya beyond simply being intrigued by him. I do believe that he wouldn’t have folded his coat and left it where he could find it if the person he was fighting alongside was just anyone. But that’s not even close to the bare minimum of what Dazai should have done. This is just a testimony to what sort of person Dazai is. Even with someone who he arguably cares about, he still treats him this horribly.  

And

It’s

Played

Off

As

A

Now I can finally get drunk on noctluna.