I used to love dystopian books, that was MY genre of book. Hunger games, divergent, dark inside, anything I could get my hands on. But then I stopped seeking them out, and even started avoiding them. Reading was supposed to be an escape. And when I was younger those books were an escape to a world that was wrong but the protagonists worked hard to make things right.
And then I became a minority, a queer disabled kid. I always was queer and disabled, but didn’t fully realize it or have the words to describe it until I was about 12. I loved dystopian books, but it was impossible to pick them up once the pages reflected my life and the world I lived in.
I was told dystopian books were a warning for the future. They were written to give us an idea of morality, of right and wrong, and how grey that really is. They existed to criticize past and present, to protect the future.
I wasn’t told dystopian books would feel like looking in a mirror. Seeing yourself right there fighting to stay alive, even if the circumstances were wildly different. I was told they were written for us to keep in mind in the future. I wasn’t told they reflected the present. It wasn’t until I became the attacked that I realized we live in that world today. That it isn’t just a warning or a reminder about the past. It’s a call to action, not a warning.
