Liberty and Bare Legs

By famed Britannic fashion designer Trixia Sinclair

Featured in Hudsonite Magazine, 2869 Issue #9

Back in the early 2850s there was a prevalent trend among young girls in the Kingdom of Windsor Britannia: small, brightly coloured bracelets of silk flowers, which one wore on her left wrist as a sign that she was a fan of a then-popular serial, Nikki and the Flower Girls. It was a childish fad, but one that I valued highly in my youth. It was my first introduction into the cultural phenomenon of fashion: the ultimate expression of identity, and, in many cases, a celebration of the liberty we Arterrans enjoy in our daily lives.

The corporatist collectivists go on and on about pluralism, about a multicultural society, but such a harmonious existence is only possible when that society embraces capitalism, and consequently, commercialism. In a commercialist society, a woman’s identity is not based on her ethnicity, her spoken language, her mother culture or her genetic history; instead, she identifies with her interests, the kinds of products she buys and uses, and her own personal style, all of which are things that can unite infinitely diverse groups of people. In a capitalist, commercialist eparchy, the preppy students will congregate because of their manner of dress, and that group will transcend race, ethnicity and background. The goths will find their peers, and even the frumpy, fashionably challenged will be in good company. Their random biology becomes irrelevant. The define their groups by the colour of their clothes, not the colour of their skin.

Fashion is an art form, one that a woman displays on her body and takes with her wherever she might go throughout her day. And because art is freedom of expression put into action, fashion, too, goes hand and hand with liberty. But just as there are those in this Interstellar Convergency who are quite vocal in their call for the end of freedom of expression, there are those who would silence us by denying us the freedom to choose our own manner of dress. The collectivists criticise a woman who chooses to dress herself in Arterran style—many times, bearing skin in the right places as to be beautiful and elegant, but not tasteless. Such slight exposure of the neck, arms and calves are apparently disrespectful to the Shatarin religion that has no reservations about disrespecting the religions of others. A woman’s freedom of expression is, to them, an affront to Shatarin rights, an offensive slap in the face of 'chaste' men whose false god demands that they rape children but avert their eyes to women. They even go as far as to claim that the display of a fit, athletic body is an act of heinous bigotry, as it is insensitive toward the obese and unshapely. Every radical assertion made by the collectivists is manufactured to give certain groups special treatment, and to rob the majority of us of our right to speak our minds, and to express our identities through fashion.

Many people, especially young people, can fall prey to this twisted kind of thinking when prominent celebrities chime in and express their support, because their corporate masters order them to. Celebrities are fashion icons and trendsetters, making them all the more attractive as slaves to the corporatist collectivist elite. Political leadership has an iron grip on these stars’ so-called 'talent', though these actors, singers and 'artists' are nothing more than a motley collection of puppet hacks! A true artist would never succumb to collectivist pressure, and would do everything in her power to promote a free and open society. She would not add fuel to a repugnant movement that claims to be so far removed from bias that it alone has the wisdom to dictate what constitutes hate speech and can consequently be outlawed. Banning any sort of speech short of calling for violence is an abomination that no artist could possibly support, as to do so would be to ban art itself, even when expressed in unsavory forms.

I believe it’s about time we give these self-proclaimed artists a taste of their own medicine and boycott their hate speech—the only difference is, we’ll just turn a deaf ear to them, and not lobby to criminalize the verbal refuse they spew all over television and radio. It can only rightfully be called hate speech, because it is so hateful, so disdainful of any opinion other than ones that support a monstrous government with the authority to control every aspect of your life, that they’re willing to slander any and all opponents with public accusations of racism and intolerance. Perhaps they should take a good, long look at themselves and take notice of their own tolerance of intolerance: their blind eye toward the genocidal commandments of the Shatarin religion, their blind eye toward the anti-liberty positions of a government that would decide what is right and what is wrong to say, and a blind eye toward people who sneak their way into others’ countries—not for a chance at a better life through hard work and self-respect, but to live off the hardworking native peoples of the worlds they infiltrate.

Just as we express ourselves through our own sense of style, we all must speak out in words against the myriad atrocities committed in the name of political correctness and false tolerance. We have a God-given right to dress as we want to dress, without concern for the sensitivities of others, because if our self-expression is offensive, then they’d better get used to being offended. We shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells—and we certainly shouldn’t do it without Lutetian heels, even if they do trigger the Communal crybullies and their pious paedophile friends.

J. D'Urso

Aether Press, LLC