By Duna Haller (IG: @dunahaller)
Previous: "Untitled", by Irina Tall
My family comes from a land of fairies, Galicia, in the north of Spain, and we’ve always been told these very contradicting messages about the fairies: they protect children, they steal children. They’re innocent, they’re ruthless. They’re always changing, they’re so literal. It is incredibly fascinating how neuronormativity, social conventions and the understanding of what’s ‘reasonable’ shapes our understanding of the Fae and their behavior. But I’m interested in exploring not what’s incomprehensible (that’s vast and unreachable) or what’s relatable as a neurodivergent queer witch with a personal relationship with their realm. I’m here to honor what’s present. Which, to the Fae, is exactly what’s hiding.
When little faeries hide using the tree branches as a cover, when they push their skin to fade away within the leaves or the pistil to match their chameleonic shapes, what are they trying to hide? The vulnerability of time? The timelessness of their smiles? The eerie and inhumane way in which they laugh at our day to day lives, us always concerned by clock things & boundful frustrations that don’t make sense in the eyes of The Good People? When Thumbelina meets her match, her fairy companion, she’s not scared to open herself up. When the queen discovers Rumpelstiltskin’s name, he sighs: that’s the rules of the game, and he’s bound to it.
Why do fairies hide? A lot of Galician fairytales are very obviously about the crash of cultures and languages and traditions. Pagan and Christian myths mix all the same, profoundly conservative and nationalistic figures share scenery with freedom fighting shepherds. Dying is seen as a way of honoring life, but also a horrible ghost knocking on your door. If we zoom in, though, there is something in common happening, something that fairytales always have hanging: faeries are treacherous, but they’re not exactly deceptive. They’re fearful of humans’ intentions, but they’re not afraid of being vulnerable. They don't use their smile or their tricks as a moral weapon, because when they feel they just let the feelings happen, in a very fundamentally lunar way (which my Cancerian mind definitely feels akin to). Sadness and joy and anger are equally celebrated in the Fae world, and they don't need to hide these, less so the delight of their immortality. Faeries hide only for one reason: so they can play. So they don't have to always be taken seriously.
When little faeries hide using the tree branches as a cover, when they push their skin to fade away within the leaves or the pistil to match their chameleonic shapes, what are they trying to hide? The vulnerability of time? The timelessness of their smiles? The eerie and inhumane way in which they laugh at our day to day lives, us always concerned by clock things & boundful frustrations that don’t make sense in the eyes of The Good People? When Thumbelina meets her match, her fairy companion, she’s not scared to open herself up. When the queen discovers Rumpelstiltskin’s name, he sighs: that’s the rules of the game, and he’s bound to it.
Why do fairies hide? A lot of Galician fairytales are very obviously about the crash of cultures and languages and traditions. Pagan and Christian myths mix all the same, profoundly conservative and nationalistic figures share scenery with freedom fighting shepherds. Dying is seen as a way of honoring life, but also a horrible ghost knocking on your door. If we zoom in, though, there is something in common happening, something that fairytales always have hanging: faeries are treacherous, but they’re not exactly deceptive. They’re fearful of humans’ intentions, but they’re not afraid of being vulnerable. They don't use their smile or their tricks as a moral weapon, because when they feel they just let the feelings happen, in a very fundamentally lunar way (which my Cancerian mind definitely feels akin to). Sadness and joy and anger are equally celebrated in the Fae world, and they don't need to hide these, less so the delight of their immortality. Faeries hide only for one reason: so they can play. So they don't have to always be taken seriously.
Truth is, a promise for a Fae creature is an unbreakable bond, and that teaches us exactly how play works. If we're truly compromised with each other, if we allow each other’s stigma to pollinate our freezy lives, if we are here because we truly want to, then the little faeries ask: what can be more of a gift than to play seek and hide with each other? How can I demonstrate to you that all of this matters more so than by being able to be goofy about it? These little creatures scream: What is play and pleasure if not the radical commitment to each other, now.
For way too long the human rules of contracts and laws and estimations has limited the forests to domestic gardens then to common lawns. But forests make a home in your heart by being truthful. By being spiteful or rosy cheek filled or deeply profound. The little faeries play this hide and seek game cause they understand that we meet each other in play. That in the camouflage of this forest we find gems of understanding. That joy brings with it the catalyst of intense grief, or was it vice versa? The way you say the sentence is not what matters but the truth inside of it will shine brightly, because commitment and playfulness are the same thing when your words mean everything.