Dr. Mercury in Winter

Dr. Mercury is the aspect of me that does what she wants, when she wants. She is violent, sexual, truthful and intelligent. She spends time with the people she wants and ignores the rest. She’s a power fantasy.

Dr. Mercury

Dr. Mercury – Photo by Rae Winters

One of the things I’ve learned from writing about Dr. Mercury is about breaking rules. There are rules and expectations that do not work for me, and sometimes, these are rules I’ve made for myself.

Dr. Mercury is the voice inside me that dares to ask “Is this rule useful? Should you REALLY be following it?”

My mother, whose birthday it is today, is part of the foundation for this attitude. Raising a child with a disability, learning how to be an artist, she has told me this: “If I don’t like a rule, I just pretend it doesn’t apply to me.”

I’ve used this for all kinds of formal and informal rules. You know, the ones that say: “You are too fat to get your picture taken.” or “Two girls can’t go to the prom together.” or “Women can’t play games.” or “You should expect to get harassed if you dress stylishly.” or “New writers can’t get published.” or “No one can make me look good in photographs.” or “You have to start training before the age of ten to become a contortionist.” or “No one will ever hire a person with pink hair.” or “You can’t go out with him, he will only break your heart.” or “This club will end when you graduate.” or “You can’t work full time and go to grad school.” and I could go on and on.

The part of me that built Dr. Mercury, that voice that I’ve nurtured, that’s my answer to all of those rules and naysayers. It’s a voice that’s made me consider whats best for me, and never to feel bad about it. Even if I break my own rules to get there.