It was another bright morning in Equestria. A young Rainbow Dash and Gilda walked side by side into Cloudsdale Flight Academy. They were only in their second year and were pretty okay friends. Idly talking to each other, they entered the main hall.
A possibly-racist cartoon was posted on the announcement board. Titled ONE IS PREJUDICED, it was drawn obnoxiously stylized using as many colors and lines of detail as possible, depicting two agitated characters, a unicorn and a griffin. They were speaking to each other in unclear language, so it was difficult to discern which individual was racist and which one was meant to be rooted for, if any.
Gilda was the first of the pair to see it. She decided she liked it because though griffins were often accused of racism toward ponies, this picture only implied the griffin might be racist. It was not declaring one way or the other. Gilda thought she could talk of this picture to her friends, and if they did not understand she would know that she was superior to them. She could say it was calling ponies racist to pressure them into associative guilt, or she could decide it was the griffin and make herself seem less racist through self-depreciating awareness. It disregarded what her test scores indicated and proved that she was intelligent.
The school paper yesterday had said it was profound. And she was certain that it was profound, because she didn't understand it. Gilda also knew the pony who had drawn it and thought it would be unfair if he had spent some effort on it and was not rewarded.
She pointed the drawing out to her companion. “Hey, Rainbow, now that is a pretty good piece, isn’t it? It makes one think.”
Rainbow Dash did not like it. She wondered if she should just not say anything. One does not hold their tongue like this, she thought. One must feel a great joy or a healthy terror. One must salute one's own inertia. Let me feel a spasm of dread and I'll refrain. She felt nothing.
She said, “This is not good. It is not successful at what it is attempting. The artist probably feels he is PonyPicasso because the student newspaper is talking about it and everyone who walks by has a guess about what it means. It doesn’t mean anything other than that he’s made ponies guess. The public should never be used as a gauge of greatness.”
Gilda looked at her with a giddy twinkle in her eyes. “You just don’t understand it. You are trying too hard. You aren’t as smart as you are trying to sound.”
Rainbow Dash's voice hinted at no doubt. “If a pony is going to spend their time drawing something, it should be more worthwhile than this. They should present something honest instead of putting it in other's hooves for them to decide.”
“That is too much. It is over the top. You must never have too much passion for your opinions.”
“...I don’t understand.”
Gilda took her by the shoulder as if to include her in some great secret. “You don’t need to, Rainbow Dash. It is just not cool.”
“No, but I mean it. This is what I like, and I said it in a natural way. I wasn’t attempting to sound like anything.”
“Oh okay, you have to be kidding then. What a prankster. I love ya, Dashie,” Gilda chuckled.
“Gilda, don't you know that most ponies take most things because that's what's given them, and they have no opinion whatever? Do you wish to be guided by what they expect you to think they think or by your own judgment?”
“Dash,” Gilda sighed. “None of that matters. Who defines success? It doesn’t matter if a pony’s art is successful, good, ugly, inspiring, witty, or meaning anything at all. The value is in the reactions and that it made ponies react.”
“If you place any object before a pony, they are going to react. Even if it is just conscious awareness," she said. "This isn’t a simple entertaining comic so I assume the pony who drew it must be going for some level of artistic statement. But there is none. It doesn’t deserve the praise it is getting, but simply because it’s in front of so many ponies more ponies have something say about it. People need to understand that.”
Gilda hated what Rainbow Dash was saying. The reasons? It was not necessary to wonder about the reasons. Rainbow Dash was taking liberties she herself did not feel comfortable taking. Flaring out her wings, she said, “Now you’re just being a jackass. Okay, you got an opinion, who cares? No one. Now think about my opinion, and everyone else’s. You got to think about that, you got to take that into consideration.”
Dash squinted in confusion. “But what does that have to do with it? I don’t want to say what you think, I’m saying what I think.”
“Well damn it, Dash, you don’t set the bar for everyone else!”
“I never said I decided for others.”
“Then don’t damn well tell me what you think is important,” Gilda jabbed her with a claw. “This you like, this isn’t good, these ponies don’t know what they’re saying. You’re just one pony! Who are you to judge? Who are you ignore what everyone else likes, to say they’re wrong, to go against the opinions of the crowd?! There are standards and everyone else follows them just fine! Be reasonable! If you’re the extreme minority, who are you to speak against them?!”
Dash insisted, “What do you mean by reasonable? Every pony creates her meaning and form and goal. Why is it so important--what others have done? Why does it become sacred by the mere fact of not being your own? Why is anyone and everyone right--so long as it's not yourself? Why does the number of those others take the place of truth? Why is truth made a mere matter of arithmetic--and only of addition at that? Why is everything twisted out of all sense to fit everything else?”
“I didn’t ask what you thought. I wouldn’t have said anything unless I was asked what I thought, so neither should you.”
Rainbow Dash will probably give a ten page speech.
