I Wish Ill; August 20 2025

Falling out of love with something hurts. Rowling has soured such a large chunk of my childhood with her hate speech, her financial support for anti-trans legislation, that I can barely look at anything ‘Harry Potter’-coded without wincing.

So you can probably imagine that I’m not thrilled when I say, my child’s been introduced to Harry Potter.

She proudly tells me that she’s a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff. She’s asked me repeatedly what House I’m in. She gets excited when she sees HP merchandise and only accepts that I won’t buy them when I remember we can like a Thing, but still not support the Creator. Her aunt’s been reading her the books. She’s disappointed that I donated my old copies, because she understands that we won’t be buying new ones.

I guess I’ll have to look for second-hand copies, but I’m uncomfortable even looking for them. I don’t know how to describe how honestly and brutally upsetting I find this.

Harry Potter cannot be separated from J.K. Rowling. Which means some of the best memories from my childhood feel dirty, now. It feels like fondly remembering playing with your friends only to realize that, in hindsight, you were being snidely bullied by people who hated you.

I’m sad.

And tired.

And I do wish ill on J.K. Rowling, for all that she’s done. For all the lives she’s actively trying to ruin. For every trans person who died too soon and all the ones who will.

And all the people like me, who didn’t figure out until way too late that we were the butt of her cruelest joke all along.