again, this is one of those times where I’ve been wrestling with writing about something and well, lookie here I am.
ready for #feelings? well ready or not here they come.
So this weekend I met up with a friend in the city and watched a Burlesque show at City Winery. I have mad feelings about that too like how the place was super swanky, the burlesque dancers didn’t have any tatts and everything was really clean and all the dancers were like anorexic. I like my burlesque dirty and bawdy. I like my burlesque dancers tatted up, full of attitude and showcasing a wide array of body types. this show was not any of that. BUT it was still entertaining and I saw my first ever male burlesque performer. holy shit, Mr. Gorgeous, stole the show and won over my queer heart. Anywhoozits…
After the show, my friend and I walked from Vandam & Varrick to 14th street. God it was a drunk rich white mess everywhere. I hate dodging drunk white people, especially the rich ones or the seemingly rich ones cuz they don’t give a fuck if they push, stomp or crash right into you. No apologies, nothing but looks that say “you got in my way and you’re probably an illegal alien”.
Look at me judging! Whatever.
Walking, walking, walking and right as we reached 13th street, it happens. I hear someone screaming “Hippo, Hippo!!!” at the top of his lungs. God, I wanted to throw up but instead I scanned the crowd. Now, sidenote, I’m short and thick and my friend is tall and in her own words “Bett Ditto thick”. Just to you know, give you a visual. So I peaked around my friend and spotted this drunk white dude hanging out of a cab window. We locked eyes as he screamed “Hippo!” and then he screamed “It’s two hippos! Hippo Parade. Fucking Hippos!!!” Yeah, all that, while pointing at us, while stopped at a red light in the cab on 7th ave.
the public act of verbal violence, if you’ve never experienced it, is kind of like a kick to the vadge. you know something really fucked up just happened but your body is experiencing too much pain and shock to push you into action.
Fat Shaming is a thing and it happens and no one really cares cuz if you’re fat, it’s your fault and you deserve to be shamed.
1) I feel like I look like a monster sometimes. I’m not in any way shape, form or style what a woman in this world is “supposed” to look like and I know all of you are like fuck that blah blah blah. but that perception of what a woman should look like runs shit in this world and so on a daily basis, I have to convince myself that it’s ok to not be that.
most days I’m successful and then there are days when the brim sits low on my face, the headphones plug up my ears and big black jeans cover my body so I can slip through the cracks in people glances and just get through my day. i don’t want to be seen and you don’t want to see me. I get it. It’s cool. This is life.
2) So when someone shatters through with their hate and abuse and name calling about the way I look or my friend looks or how we look together, it almost feels like that moment in the Emperor’s New Clothes when someone points out the fact that the Emperor is fucking naked. Like yeah, I’ve got charm and personality for days. I feel like I do an excellent job of throwing out a sexy smokescreen and distract people from seeing what I look like by showing them who I am. I feel like when girls hook up with me they’re hooking up with that and not my body or my looks which could be some fucked up dissociative technique but hey whatever works, right? To get called out, like I see you fat ugly bitch, is just such a wrench in the persona, such a jarring act of intentional malice that I wanted to crumble like “oh so you see me…”
3) Why didn’t I flip out and run over to the cab and punch him in the face? Well, truthfully, the drunk white privileged man is one of the most frightening creatures on the planet.
Society wants us to be scared of these guys:
When really these guys are the ones that terrify me the most:
Dudes in the first group will go to jail or get killed by cops for jaywalking, pulling out their wallet or looking suspicious.
Dudes in second group won’t ever go to jail or face any sort of punishment for anything and anything includes: rape, domestic violence and or growing up to sink the economy into the shit hole. When you’re never punished for wrong doing and when your moral character is always given the benefit of the doubt, it pushes you into a feeling of invincibility where there is no such thing as wrongdoing because you are always in the right. right, privileged dbag non-feminist white boys?
BLATANT RACIAL GENERALIZATIONS just happened to prove mostly my crazy little point that a group of white boys wasted is more of a threat to me than the dudes on my block.
note: duh people do bad things no matter what color they are or how drunk they are but fucking whatever, this is my blog and i say what i want.
So me popping off with that drunk white dude and his cab full of drunk white homeboys wasn’t ever a part of my retaliation plan. also:
” a wise man once told me never argue with fools cuz people from a distance can’t tell who is who”
– Hova understands.
I kept it moving and didn’t even pause in the conversation with my friend. Fuck that dude and all of his friends. Part of me hoped that while hanging out the cab window, another cab would rear end them and he’d get thrown from the window, crack open his skull and lay bleeding in the street with the word “hippo” ringing in his fucked up ears.
Anyway, I wish I could say something like “Oh I don’t care what some drunk white boy shouts at me in the street. I’m a strong independent woman and nothing gets me down. I just brushed those crumbs of hate off my shoulders.”
Truthfully, I have weighed myself four times in the last 36 hours. I’ve gotten four different weights with a variation of 10-15lbs. So at this point I don’t know how much I weigh but if the higher numbers are true then mostly, I want to dig a hole and hide in it. The shit is I’ve been ok with my body lately and been ok with sharing it with others and feeling sexy. I’ve been ok with not feeling like some rabid wildebeest charging through life. I’ve been ok with feeling like a beautiful empowered woman.
How does that get stripped in a moment that lasted less than 5 minutes? Why do his words and this act make me want to cut off anyone even remotely interested in me because obvs they haven’t really gotten a good look at me and when they do might just scream “hippo parade” and run in the opposite direction. Why does it make me want to smoke cigarettes and drink whisky until I don’t feel anything but numb and awesome? Is it cuz I’m some insecure little fat girl inside still, STILL after all these years and everything I’ve developed for myself as a life, a personality and a way of being? Like what the fuck?
What the fuck indeed.
So writing this post has helped deal with some of those shitty feelings. I don’t need anyone telling me what I’m not or what I am or that I’m awesome or fuck that dude or blah blah blah. Sometimes we have shitty feelings that we need to sit in for a minute, fester in them and figure out how to pull ourselves out of the fuck. That’s what I’m doing.
Writing about this incident is important for a bunch of reasons. 1- it’s more mature than drinking like a dumbass. 2- maybe someone else will read this and relate and share their story with me. 3- fleshing out the details shows me that I can’t let this moment rip me apart and that digesting it is valuable. cuz there will be a next time and next time won’t feel like this and my response will be different. maybe next time I won’t weigh myself at all and I won’t absorb all of that person’s stupidity into my soul.
maybe next time I’ll pull off my top and shake my goodies at him and make him question his miniscule sexuality…
maybe next time a cab will rear end him.