Consider the journey of a changeling.
A changeling finds herself thrown into the human world when she is placed into the crib of a human baby, to be reared by human parents. Why she was placed there, and whether there was actually any human baby replaced (as opposed to magic being implanted into a once-human baby to make a magical one), will forever remain a mystery to her. However, here she is, with no other trace of a fae realm visible to her.
As she grows, she begins to feel the urges to do the natural things that a changeling does. Flap her hands, as if they were wings. Repeat certain sounds and phrases to herself, always muttering, never quiet. Reject certain foods (foods seen as perfectly normal to all those around her) as yucky, refusing to eat them. And, all this time, its parents will demean it, wonder why their child is so weird, why their child is so much more needy and requires special attention, why she cannot be content going through the same pipeline as all the other children.
There is a set pathway that one should reach for to attain one’s dreams, after all. The first generation that moved here works as a chef or janitor, the next generation becomes a lawyer or engineer or doctor, and the next generation after that will be fully integrated, all of them having worked hard to improve their situations, each next generation expected to be uncritically grateful to those who came before.
But it, who has been yelled at for her quirkiness and shoved into a mold designed to make her conform, cannot be grateful in this way, and she will be at a loss as to why she is different, and why the people around her cannot accept her for who she is.
Once she matures, she will discover the seed of magic planted in her nature. She would then be able to feel, for the first time, the ghostly remanents of wings, fur, feathers, or scales. With enough effort, she could even manifest them into the physical world, pulling them into existence from the ethereal realms of magic. However, she will have to learn how to quickly hide them again, lest her inhuman nature be discovered. It is with this discovery that she first feels the pull of a fae homeland.
As she contemplates the magic woven into her, she will think back to the shouts of her parents, in moments of anger, that she “stole” a human baby away, and their demands to know where the human baby went. She always considered the notion of being a “replacement” to be preposterous, but in moments of darkness, she would wonder, too, whether her family would be better off with her gone and a human baby “returned” to her family. (At least, if she was exchanged back, she might be able to glimpse a fae homeland where she feels she truly belongs.)
As she contemplates the European origins of the fae stories she clings on to, she will remember insults like “banana” and “Twinkie” and “coconut” thrown about her. Her parents’ exhortations to fit into society, her rejection of her parents’ culture of hierarchy and conformity, a white society, and the magic of European fae folklore that she carries within her will swirl within her, like oil droplets in a salad dressing. Is it so wrong to treasure stories from white cultures, especially since she does not try to assimilate herself using them? Is it so wrong to reject hurtful aspects of her parents’ culture?
She will, one night, break down crying in these reminisces, yearning for a fae homeland of free-flowing magic where human normativity can be tossed aside. But, in her sorrow, she will remember that she has the power to write her own life stories, too. After all, her very existence is proof that magic can exist in this human world too. Why not weave her own threads of magic in this new land?
And so, she reaches out, cautiously at first, more boldly later, to her queer friends, unfurling her wings and fur and feathers and scales and sparkles, weaving together a magical home in a non-magical land.