Right, So This Is Whats Next.

We all know Wookieepedia — it’s the Star Wars wiki, and an invaluable resource for fic writers everywhere. I’m not telling you not to look at Wookieepedia, but I do need to warn you not to get involved with the community. If you do want to edit it, then never join the discord or get involved with the forums (Senate Hall). It’s a cesspit of bigotry, and you cannot change it.

I tried. Along with a very well-known and vocal user named Immi Thrax, we tried to push back against misogyny and queerphobia. We thought we succeeded. You might have seen supposed “progress” on Wook: the addition of pronouns in the infobox, the addition of an anti-discrimination policy and an apology from the male wook admins for historical abuse towards marginalised editors. We did this. We, along with a small group of queer women and nonbinary editors, badgered the admins to write that apology for months, spoon-feeding them the things they needed to address and telling them that the early piss-weak drafts were unacceptable. We demanded infobox pronouns. We demanded an anti-discrimination policy and worked with them to add a glossary. 

And then they ran us off the website.

We had a side server specifically for women and nonbinary people, with a few channels that also contained men we trusted. A woman (who was voted in as an admin after Immi) took screenshots from this private server and then posted them publicly. The screenshots were taken completely out of context and misrepresented their contents. The woman who took the screenshots deleted messages in them to make us look worse. They slandered us and put us in danger, because Immi has been targeted by dangerous corners of the internet before (which they were well aware of), and we were terrified we would be doxxed. All of the men approved of this, forced Immi to resign, and spread blatant lies about us. Wook users attacked us, and it was deemed perfectly acceptable to do so.

When I wrote the initial forum post about sexism and misogyny on the website, Master Fredcerique, one of the admins, told me that he was in fear of losing his job during 2021 because of discord screenshot leaks, and that "Safety for everyone was of utmost importance" to him, hence requesting I not provide usernames for my examples of bigotry. It is clear that Immi, myself and others in those screenshots do not count in this 'everyone'. I wonder why he wanted to protect the perpetrators of misogyny but was happy to endanger women!

As a result of this horrific breach of trust and privacy, every single queer woman and almost every nonbinary wook editor has left the site. We were too radical, and they had to destroy us. Sure, a woman did this, but I don’t think it’s an accident that a cishet woman who self-describes as a Republican in Florida forced the two loud leftist lesbians off the site. And the men approved of everything she’s done and contributed to it. One (1) man (notably not an admin) stood up for us, and he was banned for doing it. 

"Cishet Republican woman in Florida" is an incredibly broad category and is not doxxing! I genuinely thought the doxxing claim was about quoting Fred because wookieepedia sees talking about wook business anywhere outside of wook as Terrible And Wrong even though wook is a public website, and because wook uses "doxx" in a way that is totally divorced from the accepted meaning of the term.

I was also permanently banned because I reblogged this warning. My appeal to have the block removed or reduced in duration failed.

This wasn't done carelessly or maliciously. I put a lot of thought into exactly what the risks were of boosting the signal, the nature of the information it shared, and whether that risk was worth the likely cost. I decided it was. I reblogged this because I experienced the very personal consequences of Wookieepedia's community, including its administration, deciding their rules about privacy and conduct no longer applied to private conversations used to frame me and someone close to me as something we aren't.

I thought about who could potentially be harmed by not being able to evaluate that specific information about one of the people who poisoned others' perceptions of us by violating our trust and lying about us. I thought about being served up as a scapegoat in the name of "accountability", how it was applauded and deemed an act worthy of "Wookieepedian of the Month", how people were so willing to believe I was secretly expressing violent intentions and secretly keeping others from speaking or gaining power and secretly controlling the community. I thought about how completely wrong I was about what Wookieepedia really is and has always been.

I previously advised multiple Wookieepedians on protecting themselves against doxxing when they were terrified of it back in 2021. I berated a journalist into changing an article to remove Wookieepedia Discord screenshots that were being used to harass people, regardless of how Wookieepedia's rules technically allowed sharing those--unlike the sharing of screenshots from private conversations that were used to harass us. While that specific information is personal to the person it regards and the information was learned in a private context, it is not personally identifiable information that can identify a specific individual's real-life identity. I wouldn't do that and these people I thought I knew should know that I wouldn't. It turns out we really, really didn't know each other after all.

everyone: jesus that sucks

tencent: also here’s an AI art generator that can turn your selfies into anime!

everyone, apparently: fuck yeah let me get in on that

So there’s this old German remedy for getting rid of boils. A mix of eggshells, egg whites, and sulfur rubbed into the boil while reciting the incantation and saying five Paternosters. And according to my prof’s friend (a doctor), it’s all very sensible. The eggshells abrade the skin so the sulfur can sink in and fry the boil. The egg white forms a flexible protective barrier. The incantation and prayers are important because you need to rub it in for a certain amount of time.

M Y    T I M E    H A S    C O M E

You guys don’t understand how excited it made me to read this post, I literally wrote my master’s thesis on this exact topic.

STORY TIME

Sometime in the 10th century in Anglo-Saxon England (for context, this is before the Norman Conquest and near-ish to the reign of Alfred the Great), a dude named Bald asked another dude name Cild to write a book. Not just any book. A leechbook, which was essentially the medieval version of WebMD for practicing doctors. BUT NOT JUST A LEECHBOOK. This leechbook was gonna be the damn Lamborghini of leechbooks. This thing was going to be split into two parts, the first dealing with external medicine and the second dealing with internal medicine—something that was unheard of at the time. It was going to be organized (head to toe, like all the good leechbooks were). It was gonna be nice (leather and vellum). It was gonna use all the best ideas (from all over the known world). And the whole thing was going to be written in Anglo-Saxon. Now, a few medical books had been compiled in Anglo-Saxon before, but none like this. This one was going to be EPIC. And it was—and still is.

Bald’s Leechbook (also goes by the more boring but more informative MS Royal 12 D XVIII over in the British Library) contains a lot of medical remedies. A lot of them rely on things like prayers and chants and odd charms, like one for a headache, which recommends plucking the eyes off a living crab, letting the crab back into the water, and wearing the eyes about your neck in a little sack until you feel better. However, it’s worth pointing out that the really wild remedies, the stuff that makes absolutely no freakin’ sense, is most often recommended to treat ailments that are hard to treat even today—migraines, toothaches, cancer. These things are really painful or deadly and, without modern medicine, almost impossible to treat. So are you going to make up some nonsense to make your client at least feel like they’re doing something, and hey, if it sort of works, it works? Of course you are. You want to help people. Even if it sounds crazy, what else are you going to do? You have to try something, and the people who are suffering are willing to try anything.

But there’s also things that make complete sense. To echo concepts that have been mentioned by commentators above, there is a recipe that calls for the recitation of the paternoster while boiling a honey-based salve meant to treat carbuncle. The book instructs the physician to bring it to a boil, and sing the paternoster three times, and remove it from the fire, and sing nine paternosters, and to repeat this process two more times. A century ago, historians read the use of the paternoster as a magical incantation, but today, most agree that in lieu of a stopwatch, the paternoster is just meant to make sure you don’t burn the honey.

BUT THAT ISN’T NEAR THE COOLEST THING.

Now, this book was compiled by a master physician (we don’t know if it was Cild himself or if Cild was the scribe for an unnamed author) who was compiling recipes that had been written down for some time, and had, as many things do, gone through various permutations over the years. Many came from Greece or the western Mediterranean, and had been adapted for local English horticulture and herbs. Some came from around what is now Germany, and some ideas came from farther away in the Middle East (King Alfred was a sickly king; some scholars believe that he had his physicians seek out cures from all over the world in an attempt to treat himself). But there is one recipe that has only ever been identified in England. Not only has this recipe only ever been identified in England, it’s only ever been identified in this one manuscript. When translated into modern English, it reads as follows:

Work an eyesalve for a wen [stye], take cropleek and garlic, of both equal quantities, pound them well together, take wine and bullocks gall, of both equal quantities, mix with the leek, put this then into a brazen vessel, let it stand nine days in the brass vessel, wring out through a cloth and clear it well, put it into a horn, and about night time, apply it with a feather to the eye; the best leechdom.

For those who don’t know and/or are lucky enough to have never had one, a “wen” or a stye is a bacterial infection that manifests like a boil or a cyst that on the eyelid. They hurt something awful, and can cause larger infections of the eye. They are usually caused by Staphylococcus aureus. 

With me? Okay. Fast-forward to 1988. A former biologist turned historian called M.L. Cameron decides to take a look at this old medical leechbook to see what he can see. He takes a good look and says “Lads I do believe these Anglo-Saxon leeches weren’t nearly so daft as we thought they were” (he did not and probably would never actually say that, I’m paraphrasing). Cameron was particularly interested in the recipe above. As a scientist, he knew a few things:

Garlic and cropleek (leek or onion, or another related plant) have been known to have antibacterial qualities for centuries.

Wine (alcohol) also has antibacterial qualities.

Bullocks gall (literally bile taken from a bull) is known to have detergent properties, and has long been used as an additive to soap for particularly tough stains.

A brazen vessel, or a vessel made of brass, contains a good amount of copper in it. And that copper, when left to sit around for, I don’t know, about nine days, would have plenty of time to react with the acids in the onion and garlic and the tartarates in the wine to create copper salts. 

Coppers salts, as it happens, are cytotoxic, meaning they kill everything: tissue and bacteria.

What an interesting find.

Fast-forward again to 2015. A paper is published by a team from the University of Nottingham, who’ve been working on an ‘Ancientbiotics’ project to investigate ancient medical remedies and see if they actually work. They’ve turned their sights to the Anglo-Saxons, and are, as was Cameron, particularly interested in this recipe for an eye salve. Without boring you with the finer details of the experiment and its various trials (read it yourself!) I will spoil the ending by telling you that they discovered a few things:

This recipe, which was over 1,000 years old when they tested it, worked.

It worked well.

It worked extremely well. 

So well, in fact, that (in a lab setting) they even got it to kill Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus, or as it’s more commonly known, MRSA. MRSA is a modern superbug that has built up a resistance to the antibiotic Methicillin. And this goddamn Anglo-Saxon witches’ brew freakin murdered it.

Now, as an advocate for modern medicine and sound scientific method, I’m not about to say that we should go throwing this salve on everything in 2019, because it is, if anything, just a starting point for modern scientists. This salve is still incredibly crude by modern standards and comes with a lot of potential problems. But as a historian… it works, you guys, it really works.

Medieval physicians were not idiots. They believed in magic, they believed in all things supernatural, they believed in all those things that are ‘unreasonable’ or unpopular today, and they practiced them too. But they also interacted with the real world with brains and intellects as sharp if not sharper than yours and mine. They were smart, they studied, they talked to each other in Latin and Greek and Arabic and Anglo Saxon. They made old recipes better and came up with brand new ones. They tried dumb stuff and they tried smart stuff. They didn’t have access to even the smallest fraction of the information we have at our fingertips today, and yet they created things like this. 

To this day, no one knows who created the eyesalve recipe. And no one truly understands why this is the only copy of it. If it worked so well, why isn’t it plastered to the headings of every medical textbook from Alfred to Victoria? Speaking personally, I would argue that it has to do with language. Not so long after Bald’s Leechbook was written, the French invaded England and took over. Latin and French became the language of the court, and while Anglo-Saxon lived on throughout the country, and certainly lay doctors would have used Anglo-Saxon books daily, the language of formal English medical education was Latin. Oxford and Cambridge were late to the medical ed game after Salerno, Bologna, Paris, and Montpellier, and naturally fell in step with continental schools as a result, using Latin almost exclusively, and sometimes Greek or Arabic. 

Point being, by the time medical licenses and medical college degrees are a thing in England, not only does almost no one of university-eligible class speak Anglo-Saxon anymore, no one has use for those Old English texts, because they don’t get you your degree, and you can’t make a living as a doctor without a degree and doctor’s license. And no one’s going to translate an old Anglo Saxon text into Latin when Avicenna’s newest old hit, now in Latin, is fresh off the boat from France.

All that to say:  Never write something off because it’s old. 1,000 years is a long time ago, but human ingenuity and intelligence are hardly modern inventions. The science of the world hasn’t changed; only our tools and our perspective.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk

Further reading:

The 2015 Ancientbiotics report: A 1,000-Year-Old Antimicrobial Remedy with Antistaphylococcal Activity

NPR: ‘Ancientbiotics’ Researchers Look For Old Fixes To Modern Ailments

Mental Floss: 20 Anglo-Saxon Remedies from Bald’s Leechbook

Read a paper about how scholars are building on the work of the Ancientbiotics project to better understand how to apply ancient ideas effectively to modern medicine.

Look through Royal 12 D XVIII for yourself! Bald’s eyesalve recipe is on f. 12v and looks like this:

It’s that–

It’s that the book is so much bigger and so much smaller. So much more.

It’s that We All Help One Another Against The Cat. And that saves an entire civilization, in the end. And it saves the life of a single little boy. And those things are equally important in the end.

In Mrs Frisby And The Rats Of NIMH, everything, the whole world, comes down to this in the end: No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.

An elderly mouse sets up shop as a healer, charging nothing, asking nothing in return. The frightened single mother gets free medicine from him. Because she has a doctor to go to, she’s in the right place at the right time to see a very young crow tangled in string, and stops despite the danger to free him. Moved by her patience and courage, Jeremy refuses to abandon her and risk her being killed by the cat whose attention his struggle has caught. He is gracious and polite and humble as he flies her to her home, so she swallows her irritation at his youthful foolishness and speaks to him respectfully, so a friendship is forged between them that lasts longer than a single mutual rescue, so she tells him about the danger her son is in, so he vouches for her to an owl. The owl is interested enough by her nerve and the unlikely bond of friendship between them that he gives her his genuine time and attention and speaks to her for long enough that Jeremy calls out to her by name to see if she’s safe, which means the owl recognizes the name, which means he can send her to the rats–

Simple, understated, mundane, none of them coincidences. All of them a choice. To do what’s right and not what’s safest. To do the hard thing and not the comfortable one. To act with compassion even when you’re annoyed at the deviation from your plans.

Justin opens a cage door for eight little mice who mean nothing to him, who he’s never met before. Nicodemus sees the smaller, lighter mice in mortal peril and reaches out instinctively to grab one, two, and the rest are gone before anyone even has time to react. The entirety of A Group having seen what comes of carelessness grimly throws themselves into keeping these two vulnerable mice alive, bracing them with their bodies, holding them close, anchoring them to safe points. Mr. Ages, not Nicodemus, proposes using a screwdriver as a pry-bar. Jonathan crawls through a hole too small for rats and frees them all. Justin burns hours they cannot spare to venture back into the tunnels–

(Having escaped, having reached freedom and safety against all odds but knowing others were left behind, he turns back–)

–Calling, hoping, and they find no one and it was still worth the risk, even if no one was saved, because they might have been. The care he shows for the mice means Jonathan and Mr Ages stay with them past the escape, form a friendship that lasts years. That gives his name such respect among them that when they hear it, they drop everything to care for his wife and son.

Dragon cannot be drugged because they have no mice to run the risk anymore. The rats decide there’s nothing for it–they will work in the open. Risk not only their lives but the discovery of their entire civilization if caught, in order to move a cinder block eight inches to the right, to save the life of a single tiny child, their dead friend’s son. The child’s mother volunteers to run the risk for them. A human boy says wait, don’t let the cat in yet, I’ve caught a mouse because human boys are loud and big and clumsy and it’s traumatizing and she’s hurt but Billy Fitzgibbon saw a tiny vulnerable thing and wanted to keep it safe. And so she remains in the kitchen, and hears about the death of Jenner’s team, and is able to warn the rats just barely, barely in time.

Because Jenner was not a villain, because he was never cruel. Because he disagreed with his oldest friend but Jenner and Nicodemus never hated one another, so they never wanted anything but the best for each other. So Jenner and his supporters defected peacefully. So their terrible, fatal mistake happened in the public eye, not too far away, because there was no hostility between them. Because they only ever wanted one another to be safe and happy, in the end.

And the surviving rats escape, save for one who stumbled and fell as he ran from the gas, and one unnamed who might have been Justin, who might not, and does it matter whether it was someone we knew, does it matter, should we mourn him less if he wasn’t, does his name matter more than that he was kind and brave and died for it? That after being kinder and braver than anyone had any right to ask, he dragged one last brother out of a cloud of cyanide and then went back?

They escape, they survive, just as surely as Timothy will grow up strong and healthy and the Frisbys can now return every year to a safe, warm home and never have to leave it. A civilization deep in the forest, safe and secure and entirely their own, because Mrs. Jonathan Frisby was in the right place at the right time to tell them to hide their machines and run–

Because she was kind to a crow. 

Because she had a neighbor who dedicated his life to helping others.

Because her husband died helping the rats build a home that was their own, that he would never share in. 

Because they were his friends, because he opened a grate for them once, because they held him close and shielded him with their bodies when he was too small. 

Because a rat named Justin opened a door.

Because kindness is hard and scary and hurts sometimes, but it’s always worth it, it’s never wasted, compassion finds its way back to you in the most unlikely ways and even when it doesn’t, when you get nothing in return, it was still worth it to try.

Because we all help one another against the cat.

And how dare Don Bluth look me in the eye and try to say that isn’t good enough.

This means that at the same time that cowboys were reaching their end, so too were samurai.

do not separate them