Pig PensWhere was my fucking owl?
Look I don’t know if I should be voicing this opinion while in the beautiful city of Edinburgh, but I have a problem with JK Rowling. I know she’s beloved here, I know she wrote some of the books in that cafe where you can queue up for an hour to eat a bad pie, but I have an issue.
And this isn’t to do with the whole “Dumbledore is gay, but we are not going to show it” fiasco. Although, if you weren’t paying attention, JK did publicly and proudly announce that Harry’s mentor was part of the community, only to then remove any trace of that identity from the Fantastic Beast Films. It’s almost as if she knew she could win fans by off-handedly putting that out there, but also knew she could lose them if she put anything actually gay in her movies. It’s been Avarda Kedavra to that part of Dumbledore’s character, and that is the reason I will not be buying a ticket to “Fantastic Gay Plot-lines and How To Suppress Them”.
But that’s not what I’m here to complain about. I think JK Rowling has done something truly horrific to scores of children everywhere: she’s ruined 11th birthdays forever.
If you, like me, grew up in a post-Harry Potter world you’ll know very well what I’m talking about. When I turned 11 I had already read the first three books in the series and I was looking forward to my eleventh birthday for one particular reason: I knew this would be the day that I found out that I, too, was a wizard.
If you haven’t read the books, that’s when it all happens. A letter from Hogwarts arrives and tells you there’s a reason you haven’t been fitting in with the other kids at school: it’s because you are a superior being with magical powers. Ideally it’s delivered by a giant on a motorbike who rescues you from your cruel aunt and uncle.
Before the books were released turning 11 was just a normal age. Now it’s the day you find out you are not magic. And that is a horrific moment!
By the time you are in your tweens you probably have put aside many thoughts, you’ve maybe just laid to rest the idea that your toys come alive when you are not in the room. When 11 hits, and you don’t get that letter, that’s the final nail in the coffin of your imagination.
By creating a wonderful, wild and involving magical world JK has taken that world away from many young people. And this is why I’m starting a movement: writing letters to any 11 year olds I know telling them THEY ARE IN FACT MAGIC!
And then letting their parents clean up the mess. Join me in my magical movement. Let’s make 11th birthdays great again!