Professor Julian Womble (35:35)
Siding in North America. Achieve new levels of success by joining the James Hardy alliance today. One of my favorite things about this community is that I am constantly learning from you all. And in this iteration of things that Prof. Didn't know, but is learning fridging which I had no idea what that was, but I learned from the comments today and that the idea of fridging is a trope where a woman character is harmed in a way that is seemingly gratuitous to motivate a male hero. And I did not know that was a thing. And that's patriarchy at work. Okay, but this came up in the post episode chat because Brittany said, not gonna lie, I'm a little disappointed. I'm a little disappointed we didn't get into the fact that Ariana was fridged. Listen, y', all, I can't get into things I don't know about. And baby, I've never heard of anybody's fridging of any kind. Again, patriarchy at work. But now we're getting into it. So take that patriarchy. Britt also wrote, I'll shout from my heel that Ariana, Kendra and Lily were all fridged to further Albus's story and give him motivation. And that really needs to be discussed. Conceal, don't feel. Or in this case, conceal, don't heal. That's for those of you who don't know, although I'm sure many of you do. That is a reference to the one and only Frozen. I would sing it for you, but I'm a little jet lagged. My voice isn't quite what it needs to be. And I'm only giving you the best vocal that I can give you. And this idea of fridging is really fascinating. And Andrea, or Andrea, I. I don't know which variation it is. I'm hoping it's one of those two. If not my apologies. As we. My mom always says, charge it to my head and not to my heart. But Andrea, Aunt Andrea wrote Ariana's story struck me as a painful example of how girls, bodies and magic are often treated as commodities. They are something others feel entitled to use and control. And magical society is more interested in hiding the harm than addressing it. It's my turn. It was okay. All right. It wasn't the best vocal I've given, but something. And one of the things that I want to be careful about here is not to replace one assumption with another. We often talk about Ariana as if she never spoke, as if her trauma rendered her entirely voiceless. But the reality is that the canonical text never actually tells us that. What it does tell us is that we never hear her. And I think that that distinction matters here. And when we're thinking about the purpose of Ariana's narrative and this idea of fridging and who are the people who tend to be affected by fridging and who are the beneficiaries of it? This distinction really does matter. There's nothing in the books that definitively says that Ariana is nonverbal or incapable of communication. What we know about her comes almost entirely through memories, interpretations and emotional reckonings of others, primarily Albus and Aberforth. That means Ariana's silence is not necessarily about her inability to speak. It is about the fact that her story is always mediated. Right? So in statistics, there's. There are two different ways in which we can understand relationships, right? There's an outcome, and then you can have a mediation, which means that the relationship that you're looking at between variable A and variable B is informed by something that's happening, an intervening variable. We'll call it variable C. And so that the outcome variable, variable B, a certain percentage of that outcome, is informed by variable C. Right, that. That's mediation. And so what's happening here, right, is that Ariana's narrative, which would be the outcome, her story that we get as readers, is mediated, right, by the who's telling it, either Aberforth or. Or Albus. In this case, we don't get anything from Ariana directly. We get Ariana filtered through fear, guilt, grief. And that mediation happens inside a much larger structure because a person can speak and still not be heard. A person can communicate and still not be understood. They can advocate for themselves and still not be seen as anything other than a problem. And failures in listening are not random. They're shaped by the world around us. They're shaped by our own understanding of whose voices deserve to be heard, whose narratives deserve to be interpreted versus just given to us as they are. And in the case of the Dumbledores, Ariana's voice, whatever form it took, existed inside a family that had learned secrecy as survival, A family that understood visibility as danger. A household operating inside a much broader magical society where disclosure invited intervention and intervention meant removal. So in many ways, even if we did hear Ariana speak, even if she tried to express fear or pain, confusion, need, that expression would have still been constrained by the same logic governing everyone else. Keep it contained. And this is where the Obscurial lore complicates our assumptions in important ways. As I was flying to Rome, I started watching the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the first movie. And we're introduced more fully to the notion of Obscurials, children who are forced to move their magic inward because of some traumatic event that's occurred to them, and it becomes volatile and destructive. And in the first movie, we meet Credence Barebone, and what we realize is that experiencing this profound trauma doesn't erase the person's ability to move or speak or relate. Yes, Credence is constrained and abused and silenced, but he's not absent. He is an active participant in so many of the things that are going on in that first movie. And as I was watching it and thinking about the episode and whether or not I would do a Prof. Response, I thought to myself, wow, there's a lot here for us to think about as it pertains to Ariana, because we actually don't know what Ariana's capacities were. We don't know how or if she tried to communicate. We don't know what she asked for or whether those requests were heard. We don't know whether or not these outbursts were the only way that she had to express herself, or simply the only ways that were remembered and thus communicated to us later on. This is the problem with fridging, right, is that when your narrative and your story and your trauma are only used for the purposes of moving along the narratives of the dominant society, the nuances are lost. So all Aberforth and Albus remember are these big, explosive moments. The moment they lose their mother, the moment they lose their father. And that's reasonable and understandable, but what about everything that happened in between? Do you lose your sister and who she is even after the accident, because all you focus on is the parts of her that are no longer what you think they should be or are the parts that you have to hide? And so, because you're so used to secrecy and hiding things, the only thing that you can think about are the things that you're hiding. And I don't think it's because Ariana lacked an interior world. I just think it's because there isn't one that's given to us. Her whole story is told through people who were afraid of the institutions, of exposure, what her pain and power might unleash. And that fear shapes how her behavior is interpreted, what parts of her are remembered, and which parts are set aside. So Ariana becomes someone who is managed rather than cared for. Her unpredictability is documented. Her danger is emphasized. The interiority is left completely and utterly uninterrogated. And that pattern mirrors exactly what we've been talking about. Institutions. Just as the Ministry reframes harm as liability, the family reframes expression as risk. Just as institutions manage instability rather than heal it, the narrative presented to us about Ariana manages her rather than listening to her. Secrecy operates here not just as a policy, but a lens, one that determines what kinds of voices are legible and which ones are inconvenient. I think about this a lot. One of the things I was going to do if I didn't record this new episode was I was going to post a bonus episode that I did for the chronic overthinkers and the deep divers on the history of magic. And we spend a lot of time talking about history and talking about, you know, the victors go, the spoils go to the victors. Right? And that the narrative that you get to understand about a person is based on who gets to. Who gets to. To tell the narrative, who is privileged enough to be able to tell the narrative. And Ariana's narrative is one that she doesn't get to tell. And that is in and of itself telling. And that's why I want to be clear. Ariana's silence is not proof of incapacity. It's evidence of a world and a family that did not know how to hear her without endangering themselves and. Or a group of people whose unresolved trauma, in navigating her trauma, meant that they centered themselves in a narrative where they were on the outside and in doing so, removed her from the narrative altogether. And this is the violence of mediation, because Ariana's suffering is real, but it is also always understood through what it did to others. We learn how it shaped Kendra's fear and Percival's rage, how it shaped Albus's guilt and Aberforth's resentment. But we don't learn how it shaped Ariana herself. And when a victim's experience is entirely filtered through the consequences they produce, what gets lost is not just their voice, it's their humanity. And so the tragedy here is not just that Ariana had nothing to say. The tragedy is that everything about the world she lived in, societal, institutional, familial, was structured to ensure that whatever she said, if she said anything at all, would remain contained in, translated, and ultimately unheard. And that's what secrecy does at its most intimate level. It doesn't just hide the harm. It also teaches us which voices are safe to listen to and which ones remain inside the bubble. We've now come to the part of the episode where I am going to reflect. I want this reflection to be one that invites us to sit with Percival and Kendra Dumbledore not as symbols of anything, not as moral foils, but as people doing an extraordinary amount of work inside a world that gives them no real viable options. Because one of the things that becomes clear once we take away all of the sheen and shine and kind of what we're putting out into the world so that people leave us alone. What we see once we take it all seriously, is that Percival and Kendra are not responding to one crisis. They are responding to a stack of systemic failures. Institutional, social, cultural, all at once. So let's start with Percival. Percival's retaliation against the boys who harmed Ariana and is often framed as an emotional excess, as a man who let his feelings get the better of him and paid the price. But that reading only works if we assume that the Ministry of Magic would have done something meaningful had he not acted. And there is no reason to believe that the Ministry's response to harm committed by Muggles is not justice. It's literally erasure. Obliviate removes evidence, but it doesn't repair the damage. And this is a theme that we keep coming back to, and we've been coming back to for Dumbledore, for Snape, that having an understanding doesn't change the outcome. And in this case, removing a memory doesn't change what was done. It doesn't name the wrongdoing. It doesn't acknowledge the victim. So when Percival acts, he is not stepping outside of a functioning system. He's responding to institutional abandonment. Several of you pushed me to rethink this moment. Not as revenge, but as diversion. What if Percival didn't lose control? What if he made a choice? In the Discord, Eric brought up a really interesting set of points about his own relationship and understanding about why Percival did what he did. And I think that there was a time where I too thought, why wouldn't you make a better choice for your family? You had to have known that you were going to pay the price for this. You had to have known that there was a really good chance that in attacking these non magical children that you were going to be the one that was going to pay the price. Eric wrote. Historically, I have hated Percival Dumbledore. I always viewed him as a man who let his emotions get away with him and sought petty revenge and got thrown in the ban when his family needed him most. Now, I'm not sure this episode invited me to read Papa D as actually truly trying to protect his daughter specifically, and his family more broadly. The idea that Ariana would have been institutionalized if the Ministry learned of her condition is a dark one. What if the attack on the Muggle boys wasn't about revenge or justice, but protection. What if P dumby attacked those boys to cover up what happened to his daughter and just how traumatized she was. What if he chose the ban for himself to keep his daughter out of St. Mungo's? What an amazing thing for us to consider here. Because if the ministry is focused on Percival, they're not looking into Ariana. If he becomes a criminal, she doesn't become the case. If he absorbs the visibility, then she gets to remain hidden, she gets to be a secret. And suddenly the ban doesn't look like failure, it looks like a sacrifice. And that doesn't make what Percival did good, but it makes it legible to us. It becomes one of the tools that we have to see a parent who believes that the institutions will not protect his child. And again, I don't want this to kind of come off as a thing where it's like. And that justifies everything. I don't believe that. But I do think that if we look at it through the lens of an understanding of the system, there's something about that that I think resonates with anyone who has been in a position of caretaker and a recognition of what it means now that your daughter is a marginalized person, a victim, and you don't have faith in the system. And I think about this a lot, right? Like I think about the idea of, you know, what it is to exist in a space where you have a very clear understanding that no matter what the institutions say, you know what they're about and what they're not about, and you know what they do, what they will do and what they won't do. And I think Percival understands if you want justice for your kid, you have to do it yourself. Because everyone else is operating from a place of fear and not a place of justice, not a place of protection. And now you've realized what's happened to your daughter, you've got to protect her from these boys, from the government that's going to just lock her up and throw away the key. And now let's talk about Kendra. Because in my mind, Kendra is doing a different kind of work. A more quiet, constant and deeply gendered kind of work. She's a Muggle born woman in a society structured by pure blood supremacy. She understands this. She understands how reputations stick. She understands how easily shame becomes your future. She recognizes that visibility is not neutral, but it is dangerous. And so when Ariana is harmed, Kendra does what the wizarding world taught her. She manages the secrecy. But she is not just hiding her daughter's trauma. She's juggling multiple overlapping risks. Ariana's unstable magic, Ariana's absence from Hogwarts, her own Muggle born status, the future of Aberforth and Albus, the family's social standing now that Percival's in the band, and the Ministry's gaze. This is not just what some might call a maternal instinct. This is a structural labor. This is an intimate and deep understanding of the world around you that really only comes from being marginalized. The unpaid work of compensating for a world that doesn't know how to care for you or the people that you care about. One of my favorite moments in the series is at Bill and Fleur's wedding when Auntie Muriel is drunk off her. Well, anyways. And she starts divulging all the secrets about the Dumbledores that she knows that she's read about in her anticipation for Rita Skeeter's new book. And she recounts a version of events where Ariana is believed to be a squib. And it's interesting because what matters is not whether the story is actually true, but why it sticks. And the reality that the community of magical people know that something's not wasn't right. They knew something wasn't right. They knew something was being hidden, and they filled in the gaps with what made sense to them. Trauma is complicated and abuse can be destabilizing. De what? Destabilizing. But squibness fits into the hierarchy neatly. What would Kendra be having to hide her daughter for if not embarrassment? In a world where no one was recognizing the role that trauma played in your magic, it stands to reason that people are going to go to the thing that would make them feel the most embarrassed and say, that must be what's happening here. And so in that regard, they're not. Instead of asking, what happened to the child, they're asking, why are they hiding her? What is she lacking? What's wrong with her? And what's more interesting here, and I recognize that Kendra is very proud, but we don't get a lot of a sense of people from the community, except for maybe Bathilda Bagshot, checking on her. And the logic then becomes, if Kendra isn't using the resources available to her, then there must be something scandalous to hide. And that does an outlandish amount of damage because it shifts responsibility away from institutions and onto the family. It reframes the withdrawal from society as a confirmation of wrongdoing and allows the magical world to avoid a far more uncomfortable question. Why don't they have the tools to help this child? This is a world that can recognize squibs. It can recognize dangerous, dark, bad magic. It recognizes rule breaking. But a child whose magic has been altered by violence, that possibility barely registers. Everything that happened to Ariana happens in the 1880s. And by the time we get to the Fantastic Beast series, which I believe is taking place in the 1920s, there are not a lot of cases of Obscurials. I think, if I remember correctly, there are two that had happened, like, in a century. So this means that there's a lot of inexperience with this particular part of the magical population, which means that Ariana doesn't just fall through the cracks. She literally exists outside of the imagination of an entire society. Which means they don't have the mental wherewithal to even be able to provide the kind of care that she would need, because they don't even know what that care looks like, because they don't know anything about her. And when a society cannot imagine a form of harm, it can't respond with compassion. It responds with rumors and stigmas and distance instead. And this is where I think Percival and Kendra's choices converge. They are not making opposite decisions. They are responding to the same impossible structure from different angles. Kendra absorbs silence, Percival absorbs blame. And regardless, the cost is catastrophic. Ariana is hidden, Albus is burdened, and Aberforth is trapped in secrecy. Percival is removed and Kendra dies, holding everything together. But also inside, no one is protected. And that, to me, is the final indictment. This is not a story about bad parents or flawed individuals. It's a story about a world that requires families to absorb the cost of its failures and then punishes them for how they do it. And this is where I want to end by bringing it back to us. Because the wizarding world treats Ariana in a way that is not unfamiliar to many of us. In our own global society, victims are routinely blamed, not because their stories are implausible, but because believing them would require us to shift our own understandings of what it means to be in community with each other. It would require us to interrogate the structures that allowed harm to occur. So instead, we'll ask things like, well, why didn't they say something? Why aren't they getting the help that they need? Why aren't they using the resources that are available to them? We look at them, and if they withdraw, we're suspicious. We treat their silence as guilt and we treat their harm as liability. And in doing so, we replicate the same cycle. The people who are harmed remain harmed, while the systems that failed them remain intact. Ariana's story is devastating, not because it's unique, but because it isn't. It shows us what happens when a world is more invested in preserving order rather than providing care, and more comfortable with rumors than responsibility. When there's a higher level of comfort in managing the narratives of victims rather than simply listening to them. And if we take that seriously, then the question this episode leaves us with is not just about the wizarding world. It's about whether we are willing to build systems that recognize harm even when it's inconvenient, and whether we are willing to treat victims not as problems to be managed, but as people with voices that need to be heard. Because until we do secrecy, we'll continue to raise children and keep failing them. Too. Foreign. This has been another episode of Critical Magic Theory. I am Professor Julian Womble and if you like today's episode. First of all, thank you. Please feel free to like rate, subscribe and do all the things that one does where pods are cast. Please, please please check out our listener merch drop criticalmagictheory.com hit the merch button. It will take you there. It's amazing. Let's support these charities, Trans Lifeline, the Okra Project and the Palestine Children's Relief Fund with as much as you can. Please feel free to share it. If you can't give with your own finances. Completely understandable. No pressure, no condemnation. I'm so grateful that we are back. Next week we will be having our two year anniversary. I don't know. I don't know what I'll do. Who's even to say? There will be a post episode chat for this episode and I can't wait to see what you think. Until then, be critical and stay magical my friends. Bye.