While wandering around Paris, my friend mentioned that we weren't far from Oscar Wilde's tombstone, and since our hopes of going into the catacombs had just been squashed by an enormous line, we were provided with the perfect opportunity to visit Mr. Wilde.
Some important things before I continue: First, The Picture of Dorian Gray is one of my favorite books and I have seen The Importance of Being Earnest several times. Second, as a writer I still hold on to the delusion that authors can be celebrities like Oscar Wilde (or Byron or J.K. Rowling, to name a few). Lastly, you may know that Oscar Wilde's grave is covered in lipstick, because it is tradition to kiss his tombstone.
Now before everyone (who has forgotten to wash their hands before eating, has honored the five second rule, and/or shares drinks and hairbrushes on a regular basis) claims that kissing a lipstick-covered tomb is unsanitary and disgusting, consider that Oscar Wilde's work is so moving and personal that readers have fallen in love. That's not an overstatement; Wilde's words evoke passion and hope. If you have never reacted to literature in that way, I pity you and ask that you at least try and imagine such an experience. A person in love does not care about germs, especially when it is socially acceptable to express your love by kissing an icon.
I am aware that some people kiss the tomb as a way of jumping on the bandwagon, because they think it's quirky or weird or cool. But the fact still remains that there are those who commit this quirky, weird act do so out of deeper feelings for the author.
Hopefully you've caught on to my appreciation of this romantic worship, and can understand my rage when I saw that the tombstone had been cleaned and a seven foot glass wall set around it. On this barrier there was a plaque, ordering people to respect the memory of Oscar Wilde by not vandalizing his grave.
Over the last few weeks, and after many discussions with my peers about the tombstone, I can see why some committee thought it was a good idea to block people from kissing the grave. Like any form of friction, lips can break down stone over time and others may want to preserve the cold, lifeless piece of rock erected in honor of a great author. It's much better to snatch the well-loved teddy bear from the adoring child and put it in a box where it can be safe from wear and tear. I'm sure Oscar Wilde, the sensual and radical writer, would much more appreciate a clean, respectable grave, one that looked like every other tombstone in the world than one that stood out and questioned the way we respect the victorious dead. And, most importantly, Oscar Wilde was gay, so it's silly to think that he would want women kissing his grave. Because we all know gay writers only write for gay people and it's an insult for straight women to be moved by his work.
I don't believe in vandalism. For instance, someone broke the penis off of the angel-like figure on the tomb. That's vandalism, and if the wall was built to protect the grave from brutal castration, then I would fully support the decision to save it. But the fact that preservation workers cleaned the stone of all lipstick shows that they made no distinction between hate or violence, and love. The same distinction should be made between street art that promotes social awareness and graffiti that reinforces racial slurs and profanity.
I was most surprised that this censoring happened in Paris, the city of romance (although since Oscar Wilde isn't French; the wall may have been built by the demands of the British). As we left the graveyard, I asked my friend who I should complain to if I wanted my thoughts known on the subject, and my friend (who is French) thought I was being a silly American. I suppose freedom of speech (a.k.a. freedom to complain) is something that is more strongly instilled in a young American then in the youth of other countries. Hence this blogpost, which is one of the most passive-aggressive expression there is.
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