I’ve tried very hard to earn the right to carry the title of contrarian. I’ve challenged convention and spat in the face of conformity. I’ve challenged tradition and pestered already infirm legends about their past conduct.
To me, the only discussion worth having is an argument. No significant exchange of knowledge accompanies the fraternal backslapping and self-ingratiating likeminded conversations we have with agreeable people. If people agree it means there is no new information challenging them to mature their opinions. Bearing in mind that consistency demands of us to be as stupid to day as we were a year ago, who but the stagnant would be happy with agreement?
No! Never! Bring me the heretic; bring me the priest; hell, bring me the pedophile—anything but the torture of having to hear the moderate voice of the sheep-people and their ‘safety in numbers’ opinions. Spare me the unimaginative tales and introspections of the office worker. Deprive me of the wisdom and sayings of housewives and general do-gooders—the sort of peoplewho like to remind us all to smile more often, or that poverty has its own riches.
I want to speak to those who shake the foundations of our understanding. I want to battle with those who drag me out of my comfort zone and force me to use the very best of my knowledge to fend them off. And if ever I am allowed to speak, I hope I, too, can shake the foundations of society’s perceptions and beliefs.
Society needs those who constantly tamper with topics, issues, and matters that the rest of the world demand to be laid to rest in their current state. A prime example of this is Apartheid. Everyone who benefitted from it want everyone who suffered under it to just ‘get over’ the past.
Contrarians are like dentists, nobody likes them, but sooner or later everyone needs the often painful but corrective interventions they provide. And like a dentist I like to scratch the fragile looking parts until a nerve is struck. At this point, many have to hear a message they don’t want to, that they need a root canal done and that while it will be painful, it will be to their benefit.
If I wanted to be popular, I’d write in endless shades of grey that offends neither white nor black (pun intended). I’d saturate this forum with little tips, banal advice, top-ten lists of cliché information, and baseless messages of hope.
Instead, I retell history from the perspective of those who did not get their chance to write it. I expose the double standards, the insecurities, and the misconduct of many who need the silence of contrarians to continue to conduct their clandestine behaviour.
Don’t think I don’t know the price my image may have to pay for my insolence. History and the writing of wise men affirm my fears; I won’t be popular for this course I’ve taken. However, who but the insecure craves the adornment of the masses?
And to whomever has the audacity to ask me who the hell I think I am to write what I do, I pose a similarly insulting question, who the fuck are you that I should even entertain answering you?
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