Imperfectly Non-binary
Living non-binary is progress, not perfection y’all — for realz!
Being non-binary would be so easy if it didn’t include living under a microscope part of the time, and being invisible the rest of the time. I’m exaggerating, of course. There are the amazing moments where I am just there being and not needing to argue my right to be. There are times I’m not viewed as novel or a fetish. I get a rest from begging others permission to be who I am. I have the love and appreciation of friends and family. It doesn’t totally suck to exist outside of my assigned gender. Often, even with the nagging bullshit, it’s liberating and exhilarating. This is way superior to living in hiding. Amen if you know what I’m talking about.
Perhaps it’s all in my head, but I’m not gonna sit here gaslighting myself. Facts: I am misgendered every time someone calls me sir. What recourse do I have? Should I correct every stranger who assumes by my physical appearance that I am male or a man? Should I fire my shrink, who after several months and four thousand dollars in treatment, still gets my pronouns wrong? Why do I feel inclined to explain myself to people? It’s not about feeling bad. It’s just the not knowing how to respond when it happens. I missed the class on how to de-conform my gender. I’ve spent most of my life practicing (at least publicly) exactly the opposite.
Still, it can’t be about perfection. Facts: I make mistakes. Maybe other people can spend 50+ being trained to understand gender as penis = man/ vagina = woman, and then turn around and self-re-program their headspace to operate according to a different set of standards. I embarrassingly misgender myself (especially if I am telling a story about myself in the past tense). I misgender my non-binary and trans friends, including to their faces. I feel shame at not understanding enough about gender to have a conversation that doesn’t come off as uninformed. How can I expect others to “get my gender right” when I can’t even wrap my own head around it?
I’m not complaining here. This is some really fascinating shit when you drill down. Why is it so important for me to even gender people? What crucial information does it bring to the table? Perhaps if there weren’t so many assumptions made about what it means to have a penis and/or a vagina (yes, some people have both). I’ve been ripped apart for not having the right language to talk about sex and gender. Sometimes I’m blasted for equating them and sometimes I’m chastised for even acknowledging sex or gender.
Is it possible to be unqualified to live? The contradictions. The contradictions! My guess is, all I needed to be me, my momma gave me. It can’t be conveyed or revoked. All the “act like a man,” “that’s for girls,” and “what are you” in the world make no difference when acknowledging reality. I am. Period. I experience myself and get to name/label that experience. I’m gonna just trust myself more and worry about it less. It’s not a perfect world and I’m not the only one trying to figure out who they would be if they could be their authentic self. I doubt most people know what that is. I will give them slack, but insist on their consideration.
Loving Gynecomastia
I am finally coming to terms with having breasts, y’all — for realz!
If you have never heard the word gynecomastia, the clinical term for “male” breast growth, it’s no surprise. That there is even a medical name for it surprises the shit out of me. Some of you may already be tittering (no pun intended). In truth I see lots of male passing people walking around breasted. It’s like six out of ten people (more than half!) designated “male” at birth, have the genetic predisposition, estrogen levels, or other condition to spur breast growth to the extent that breast develop. Period. The majority of “men” have boobs that they could be working instead of shirking.
People get mad at me. “Can’t you do something about them?” You’d think my tits were gonna jump out and attack, the way some people react. Most people just kind of stare and drool. “Hey, you! My face is up here!” The shame I experience over having a gorgeously adorned chest has been carefully and externally constructed. I get why society is so fucked up about “men” with breasts. It debunks myths about gender altogether. The hard division between what we call male and what we call female gets blurred when we look at how little difference exists between what we label, male and female bodies. So-called female and male genitalia are actually the same parts rearranged. For example, the penis is actually an exceptionally large clitoris! Testicles and ovaries are close cousins in the gonad family and some people are born with one of each. Fact-check it!
Yes I could, if I wanted to spend the time, money and undergo the risks of surgery, I could get a mastectomy. It’s call “corrective” surgery or “sculpting.” There are hormone treatments. I could invest in compression garments. Exercise is not a solution. Building chest muscle will likely accentuate the developed chest flesh. Weight loss can have the same effect of accentuating the breast tissue as the rest of the body shrinks. I could end up wasting all my valuable resources, changing my body to help other people feel comfortable. Sure, it might help my self-esteem, but if I’m that concerned, it ain’t just my titties that are the cause. I don’t wanna go down that road.
I’ve found the most effective cure for gynecomastia has been to love my tits. I still have the impulse to hide them occasionally. It’s not so much because I’m ashamed to have cute and kissable boobies. I guess I have a similar awareness of my chest that ciswomen (more on cis another day), and trans men have. Knockers have been deemed, at least in the United States, as not for public consumption. It is still a violation in most of the US. Last I checked only six states have repealed restrictions on women’s breasts in public. In NYC, where baring breast is legally protected, you might still get harassed by the cops.
To quote adrienne maree brown, nipples are magic. If you are blessed with sensitive nipples, woohoo! Breasts are glorious, wherever they appear. My rack has brought me, and those lucky enough to encounter them, a lot of joy and pleasure. They have become a huge part of my “self-love” ritual. I call mine “two” and “three.” They are the second and third most sensitive erogenous spots on most bodies. Your breasts deserve worship and attention. There is no shame in taking pleasure if you were gifted with nipple sensitivity. Fact: Nipple stimulation lights up the same area of the brain as the genitals.
So, if you got ‘em, I say flaunt them. They are there to get attention. It’s highly likely the person who appreciates my body as it is, will know best what to do when they are gifted the opportunity to experience my body. Don’t hesitate to offer directions.
Rules for Dating Crazy
Somebody needs to write a manual for dating crazy, y’all — for realz!
I wonder what others consider crazy. I wonder at the word. I find it more genuine than neurodivergent. I typically associate that fancy word with autism. Seems like autism is the fashionable neurodivergence—the cool kids. There are industries (for example the tech industry) actively recruiting for autism spectrum disorder (ASD) for characteristics like single-mindedness and intense focus. ASD and popular friends OCD and ADHD are a Holy Trinity.
When I talk about crazy it is shorthand for any condition in the DSM, even the ones that scare the shit out of people. Neurodivergent doesn’t seem weighty enough to describe borderline personality disorder, clinical depression, anti-social disorder, psychosis, schizophrenia, or other mental conditions that strike terror in people’s hearts.
You might be on the verge of a relationship with someone who has come out as mentally ill. You may be in a panic over introducing this person to your friends. You prolly need to get over that. In case you are looking for a psychotic partner, I humbly offer the following advice.
Don’t assume you’re special, kinder, cooler, or anything else-er because you do or once did, date someone with mental illness. To me that’s creepy like thinking you are cool for dating someone of a different race or culture. Prolly not a good look.
You’re not doing the crazy person a favor. You’re not this person’s alpha and omega. They’ve likely got family, friends and professional support. They won’t break if things don’t work out with you. Plenty “fish” in the sea.
You take care of you. State your boundaries (do that with all your significant relationships). You and your mentally ill romantic interest can benefit getting what you need. Your relationship (if it gets there) will thank you.
The crazy person isn’t stupid. They’re prolly really smart. Fact check yourself. There’s nearly a two-hundred percent chance your smart friends, at least the top two percent smart friends, have a mood disorder.
Listen to the person, especially when they explain triggers and health needs. They are not trying to control you. They aren’t accusing you of anything. Be honored they felt safe to share it with you. Be grateful, even.
Crazy doesn’t mean violent, perverted, uncontrolled, or extreme. Most seriously mentally ill aren’t dangerous. Crazy folks are targets of violent acts (by sane people) more than perpetrators of them.
There will be episodes. Side effects from meds can be unexpected. No one tricked you or withheld information. They may gain weight (more to love). Some effect performance (including sexual).
It’s not about you. Unless you are being a schmuck. Being schmuck is all on you. Their illness isn’t your challenge—it’s theirs. For sure, the crazy person is not “doing” their crazy to or at you.
Ask questions. Don’t, however, put all of that work on the person. Do some research on your own. Don’t expect answers to all of your questions. If the person doesn’t want to discuss details, respect their boundaries.
Be patient. It takes time to build trust in any relationship (romantic or otherwise). Mutually, people (even non-humans) learn to maintain a safe environment together over time.
This is no way an exhaustive list. It responds to bullshit I encounter trying to date while crazy. Don’t take my word for shit. Fact check—for realz. Also, I’m not trying to say crazy people are harder work. It’s basically don’t be rude. Crazy people can be jerks sometimes too. Don’t let their crazy stop you from calling out their bullshit either. Just be real, be honest and move through it with love. Did I miss anything critical? Feel free to dhime in.
No More Normies!
I’m done with normies, y’all — for realz!
Some of you are like, “What’s a normie?” If that’s you, you well might be one. My wild guess is that anyone following these posted musings already have an idea what I mean by the term. Others of you don’t know what I mean, but the hairs on your neck stood up, your palms are starting to sweat, and you feel your defenses kicking in. Your arms are crossed, and you think it’s now my job to convince you. If you believe the latter, you are sorely mistaken. This ain’t for you. You might try some remedial reading...on everything. Know this, I am not studying you!
First, yes it is pejorative AF. It’s like how Black people frequently used the term “Whitey” for anyone who classed themself along with Europeans as superior to others. Whitey captured the resentment, fear, frustration, and other reactions of Black people (and other non-Whites) toward people casually participating in systemic violence and oppression. Normies casually participate in the routine oppression, marginalization, and persecution of atypical, neurodivergent and otherwise mentally extraordinary people. I gag at the oblivion of people around mental health. It’s an area lacking the empathy and concern, and often meeting contempt of others, even those identifying as woke, or considering themselves part of other oppressed groups.
Every time I use the term, "that’s crazy" as a catch all for anything that doesn’t go as I expect it (or doesn’t seem right to me), I reinforce the idea that there is a way people, places and things are supposed to be, based on my own sense of normalcy, using my own comfort as the baseline. Thinking or behavior that doesn't fit standards of normalcy (meaning comfortable) is labeled inferior, invalid or at it’s worse, a target for violence. Considered historically, normal people can be extremely dangerous. This is especially true when gathered in a crowd with their attention directed towards the unfamiliar, insinuated as a threat.
Maybe you’ve faced twisted mouths, bulging eyes, the sucking of teeth and whispers behind hands. In the same way people get boxed and exploited for gender, race and other marginal identities, crazy people experience violent attacks and other forms of aggression. Their “right way” thinking is propped up by media, culture, institutions, and other levers of repression. The very worst thing about normies, and it is true of every one of them, is their belief that they are normal. Firm in that belief, they are prime to be manipulated into demonizing., scapegoating and otherwise pathologizing anything they do not understand. It’s a pretty unsophisticated and inauthentic way to live.
keep in mind that people took the Third Reich as normal. People took enslavement as normal. Normal scares the shit out of me. That’s just me. I want to know what others experience. I don’t expect anyone to out themselves as mentally atypical, although the more out we are, the less the normal argument holds water. Perhaps people can share some of the forms of prejudice and "crazy" phobia as it manifests in their day to day. This will likely not be the last on the subject. Get at me.
Back After Hiatus
It's been way too long, y'all — for realz!
In case you were wondering what happened, I was enjoying the daily posts, and thought, while I was creating all this content for Facebook, why not put all these musings down in one place? It turned into a book. Actually two books. However, now that they are both in the editing phase (someone else's job), I'll have time to start posting here again. A gurls gotta stay sharp. Speaking of the gurls, my tits are looking awesome these days.
Things will likely get controversial. If you have a weak stomach, don't read my shit. If you become easily triggered (meaning you get off on virtue signaling by calling out others who haven't been privileged enough to have taken a lot of Liberal Arts race, gender, class, and other social theory courses), danger Will Robinson. If you are prone to using your education to bully people (never a good look), please move on. That goes double if you thrive on flaunting your ignorance. Go. If you are up for some thrilling dialogue about issues that I happen to find interesting, without claiming to be any type of authority, get in here and mix it up.
What I have been reading: Octavia Butler (all of it), bell hooks "All About Love," adrienne maree brown "Pleasure Activism" and "We Will Not Cancel Us," Sonya Renee Taylor "The Body is Not an Apology," Stacy Haines "Healing Sex," and a bunch of random authors, including Samuel Delany, who may be my favorite science fiction author these days. I’ve screened a lot of films after making a list of all that had brought me joy. I’m committed to watching all of them. I’m on the P’s.
I've continued to play Dungeons and Dragons, although, over some bullshit, I got booted out of my campaign, cause our facilitator got all weird. Warning: Don’t mix team activities and romance. If things go wrong with one, it is bound to spoil the other. I’m in a new group now where we made group agreements at the outset, including how we would handle conflict. Remedial shit, you know? First World problems. I’m working through it with my therapist.
I started posting the rants at the outset of the Plague. As the world recalibrates, I pick up where I left off. We have a new President. I won’t have nearly the amazing material that came with four years of [name your poison]. I look forward to how many times folks will cancel me, which is hilarious since I’m a fictional being. Lol! Still, yes, I do tend to stir the pot. If no one stirs, all the good stuff will sink to the bottom and burn. We’ll see...or this could be the last post ever.
R.I.P. Cicely Tyson (1924–2021)
Cicely Tyson worked, y’all — for realz!
I’m sure there’s gonna be thousands of pieces about Cicely Tyson over the coming weeks. I wouldn’t be surprised if a biopic were to materialize on Netflix. Netflix is good at seizing a moment. That ain’t hate. Netflix gets it that life doesn’t revolve around Western-centricity. But this is about Cicely Tyson—or, at least, the impact the Cicely Tyson had on this crazy queer black radical.
When I was in elementary school we watched The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman. We howled with laughter as she shuffled up all bent over, mimicking the quivering mouth of an old woman at the end of the film, drinking from the water fountain that was for “whites only.” It was hilarious, while at the same time we welled up with tears because it represented something that for us was as make-believe as the make-up job done on Cicely to make her look old. The possibility of that kind of equality was as absurd and as desirable an idea as anything we could imagine in the mid-1970s.
Every year, my pre-teen ass would be on the edge of my bed, gripped, watching the movie Sounder. For me it was a movie about a lost dog. It was about so much more. I had no idea what sharecropping was, and it would be until Anna DuVernay’s 13 that I would really understand what the institution was even about. It was after watching the lesser known, but more in-depth film Slavery By Another Name, that I really got the picture. I think Sounder was for Black people, what The Wizard of Oz is for queer folks.
Then there was the Roots thing. Who’d have believed Sandy Duncan, Miss Wheat Thins, of all people would play such a despicable witch. Every Black person must have got such a thrill when “Binta”—played by Cicely Tyson—curled up her lips, in similar fashion to Jane Pitman, only instead of taking a sip of water from that tin cup, she deposited a great big gob of hawk spit, then handed the cup back to Duncan who swallowed it all down. Ill!!! I bet White folks thought twice about accepting anything to drink from a Black person. I’m probably re-traumatizing a lot of White people just mentioning it. Good!
Every time I saw Ms. Tyson in anything I was thrilled. Hearing about her joining the ancestors doesn’t sadden me at all. Mother did what she had to do! Wasn’t shit tragic about Ms. Tyson. Ms. Tyson was our (and if you don’t know who “our” is, it ain’t you) Katherine Hepburn, Meryl Streep, Liz Taylor, and Angelina Jolie. Cicely Tyson was everything. When they carted out Cicely, bitches stood at attention. It wasn’t an accident when they cast Cicely Tyson to play Viola Davis’ mother on How to Get Away With Murder. Who else was gonna give birth to such a cunning and ruthless figure as Annalise Keating?
Yes, mo’ fo’s take all y’all hats off to the one and only legendary queen, sister, actress, model, trailblazer, Emmy, Tony and Academy Award-winning, married to Miles Davis, kin to Louis Farrakhan, beauty, poise, and class personified, work until you drop ass diva! You best respect!
“Skytzofrenic”
I knew people had bias again those of us with mental illness, but some people can’t even hide that shit, y’all — for realz!
First of all, before some of you get all judgey, I use Scruff. If you don’t know what it is, it’s a dating app, and I’m using the term dating very loosely. To be frank, it’s a hookup app. It’s used primarily by self-defined men seeking men, but is also used by the trans and non-binary community. It’s similar to Tinder, but at least Tinder pretends to be about finding a mate more than a booty call. Tinder is actually a rip off of Grindr, another queer/gay sex app—let’s call it what it is—which I also fully admit to using religiously.
Let’s not get into the minutia. I’m a recovering sexual compulsive. I have had sex compulsively, but I also have compulsively avoided sex. I figure it balances out. I’m sure most people reading this post, either know how to get their rocks off or wish they did know. For some folks, sex may not be their “drug” of choice, but I’d bank on the fact that, when it comes to the more universal of the human urges—one built in to ensure the survival of the species—there are very few Virgin Marys out there.
Getting laid is indeed a challenge for most of us. There’s not only finding the opportunity, but the vetting—regardless of how minor—that goes on to be sure the person you are connecting with is gonna provide what you need, and not turn out to be Mr. Goodbar (look it up). That challenge goes way up when one is neurodivergent, especially if one insists on transparency. Y’all know me by now and I try to let it all hang out. It was during such an exchange that I encountered Joey. No names will be changed. No one here is innocent.
I was telling Joey about my writing and that one of my books was about addiction and the other was about finding love as a person with mental illness. Why I thought Joey would be interested is a fool’s game. Joey was looking for “a man with a since of humor” according to his profile. That should have been a red flag. Joey proceeds to tell me about his experience with a guy who was “skytzofrenic” (his spelling) and how “scary” it was. Poor thing. I assured Joey that however scary he found his time screwing a schizophrenic (I hope he noted the correct spelling), it was probably just as scary for the person with schizophrenia navigating the situation.
After attempting to school Joey on how ignorant he was coming off, without actually using the word ignorant or even being accusatory, Joey made it clear he had no interest in getting involved with someone with “psych issues.” He didn’t seem to realize that, for me, it was the equivalent of him saying, “I dated a black guy once and I’ll never do that again!” Anyway, I let Joey know I wasn’t interested in meeting anyone during COVID anyway. I was just here for the chat, as most people are these days.
I did do Joey the favor of telling him the word he meant was “sense” and not “since.”
Defending the Year 2020
I'm about to stand up for 2020, y'all — for realz!
This might be the one that loses me a lot of readers, but I gotta go in on the folks who keep hating on 2020. I appreciate that COVID-19 blind-sided everybody. Who expected a pandemic, right? But when you think about it, things could have been a lot worse. If you ask me, we got off damn easy. That the planet can still sustain life at all is damn near a miracle.
We know we've been overtaxing the planet for a long time. Many have been waiting for the government to intervene on our behalf like the good mommies and daddies we think they are. Anyone who's been paying attention, however, has been expecting some kind of disaster. We’ve been climate crisis mode for at least the past ten years wondering how we’ve managed to avoid catastrophe. Still, many have buried their heads in the sand like the darkness will make it less painful.
I don't want to diminish the suffering that people have gone through due to COVID-19. A lot of our family and friends aren't here due to the virus. When we highlight 2020 as a particularly bad year though, we ignore that there have been conditions around the globe that have made every year a bad year. There are people getting bombs dropped on their heads on the daily. People forced to watch their kids perish from hunger and easily curable (or at least preventable) illnesses.
Certainly, in the United States, where I imagine most of you reading this are living, the last four years have been a nightmare. People at the border have been detained in cages for the past four years. Communities have been increasingly under siege. George Floyd tips the iceberg for Black Lives Matter—a movement ignited almost 10 years ago with the death of Trayvon Martin in Sanford, Florida, in February 2012, and exploded in 2014 after the police killings of two unarmed Black men, Eric Garner and Michael Brown (let me name Sandra Bland, Philando Castile, Freddie Gray, Laquan McDonald, Tamir Rice, Walter Scott, Alton Sterling, and Breonna Taylor). It took until 2020 for most White people to get on the bandwagon. For Black Americans in particular, the last four-hundred years have certainly been no picnic.
So, no, I'm not gonna hate on 2020. For me 2020 was a time of course correction that we needed. The last four days have revealed to the entire world, what has been only too clear to a lot of us. America, the whole world, has been gaslighting oppressed populations pretending nothing was wrong and telling us to “Get over it!” Now, we all know: the lights were actually dimming, Paula. You aren't crazy after all.
Connecting Election Dots
F*ck a conspiracy theory, y’all, let’s just play connect the dots — for realz!
I don’t wanna add fuel to the fire. There’s plenty doin’ that. But I can’t help but see how damn foolish the thinking around that fool in office continues to be. I get it that people have their news targeted at them by a social media algorithm that understands people will gravitate to outlets that confirm their bias. I get it. But there’s certain things you gotta know even if you don’t follow the media (which I, frankly, don’t).
To steal an election, you need the money to finance the scheme, people capable of pulling off, and a ton of hutzpah. Now, Joe Biden has a key worth of about $10 million according to a 2019 Forbes article I was able to find in about two seconds. Forbes places Cheetos net worth (which is plummeting in recent years) at about two and a half billion. In case you are bad at math, like I am. That’s 25 times the wealth of his opponent.
Hilary, by the way, is worth about 120 million if you count Bill’s money too.
As far as personnel to get it done, sure it’s possible that Joe Biden has ties to someone out there with a media machine powerful enough to skew election results. If you point me to the evidence of that, I’ll be the first to be like damn, I didn’t know he had it in him. Joe’s son Hunter was alleged to have used some connections to his dad to curry favor from two businessmen—one in China and one in the Ukraine. I don't know that you could buy either of those countries'' assistance at that scale for the whole 10 million. For now, I’m gonna give Joe the benefit of the doubt.
The Don, on the other hand, plays a hefty financial role in economies in Ireland, Scotland, India, Turkey, China and Russia. Donald’s business dealings are international, giving him global influence. Grumpy’s chief election strategist (the first time around) was Steve Bannon, who was executive chairman of Breitbart media, a film producer, an investment broker and (what do you know) former Vice President of Cambridge Analytica, the British political consulting firm that got caught influencing hundreds of elections globally, most notoriously in the Facebook–Cambridge Analytica data scandal.
Sure being POTUS is one hell of a brass ring that takes a pretty big ego. Both of these guys had the nerve to wanna be president. But cheating to get it? Only one in this year's race (and the race four years ago) demonstrated the necessary ruthlessness, as well as a contempt for both the law and the political process. That’s not necessarily evidence of a willingness to completely overthrow the government by effectively stealing the election. You’d have to be pretty damn unscrupulous. I don't know the man well enough to accuse him of that.
I, personally, ain’t convinced it’s even possible to steal an election. Too many moving pieces. I don’t know sh*t about it. I do know that if I was a conspiracy theorist, prone to make connections where they didn’t exists, I’d have to be pretty thick to start with the Biden campaign. The numbers and the circumstances don't add up. As for the other guy...? That’s just me, though.
Over Social Justice For Good
I’m done with social justice, y’all — for realz!
Seriously, what does that even mean: social justice? I looked the shite up and found something like “justice in terms of the distribution of wealth, opportunities, and privileges within a society.” Really? They need a special term for that? Calling it social justice makes it sound like some luxurious afterthought.
After all the important stuff gets taken care of. After all the real justice gets dished out (justice at the hands of perpetrators of some of the most unjust shite in the history of the world, mind you) you can then take the time to think about the social part of justice. Social justice is a specialty item you can take or leave based on your political leanings. It’s justice that’s debatable.
I’m calling bullshit. Think of the crimes committed, especially in the United States, by western cultures against the rest of the world. Shoot, giving back what was stole from Africa, Asia, the Southern Hemisphere in general is just plain justice if you ask me, which y’all never do. When you look at images of that history, it’s one hell of a snuff film. From all the lynchings in the American South, to stories of the trail of tears, to the annihilation of those two Japanese cities full of innocent civilians.
The west has never, and probably will never, be held accountable for the campaign of violence it’s waged against the rest of the world. The idea of a “fair” distribution of the loot that got stole from people who now get to live as second-class citizens on their own planet—that includes women, who have been having their labor stole for millennia—is frigging ridiculous!
So, no, I don’t wanna here shite about no social justice. Give me my shit back, please. That’s all the justice I need.
we won’t cancel adrienne maree brown!
Bad news adrienne maree brown, we already canceled us — for realz!
I’mma start saying I’m a big fan of adrienne maree brown. I’ve read and re-read Emergent Strategy and gifted a lot of people with it. Pleasure Activism is my jam. We Will Not Cancel Us left me a little baffled, though. I was down with adrienne’s analysis of the call out and cancel culture. I was like “about time.” Honestly, adrienne has been touching on that phenomenon since Emergent Strategy and warning against its destructive effect on movements.
I didn’t get why adrienne felt the need to back peddle and, frankly, apologize for telling the truth. Mind you, I ain’t read the original post that became the core of the new book (which I read in a single sitting). I take it some people found some of adrienne’s metaphors problematic. Likely people with degrees, and who make their living pointing out the ways other people’s thoughts are problematic. It would take a masters degree to understand the apology couched in We Will Not Cancel Us and, fortunately adrienne is adept enough to bob and weave through the theoretical mumbo jumbo.
I get why cancel culture is the way it is. People who have converted to a certain analysis have to prove and reprove their allegiance by posturing. It’s like pack animals vying for the position of alpha—only instead of the fittest beast getting to be in charge, the one with the most honed rhetorical skills wins. People who lack those skills don’t even get to play. And even though these aren’t battles of physical strength, the loser often suffers a kind of violence.
Like adrienne makes clear, it’s not about speaking truth to power. I’m pretty sure everybody who gets what I mean by call out culture knows I’m not talking about a tactic to restrain oppression. People know I’m talking about the bullshitty catching people saying something that might be found offensive if the person has studied up and gained enough political savvy to recognize. I’m also not talking about troll hunting, where someone is intentionally speaking to offend.
What I’m talking about is what I am damn sure people who are in the conversation most likely get and that is it’s damn near impossible to have a thought that doesn’t trigger someone. The idea that we could live in a world where no one was ever triggered is privileged thinking. I have to get well enough to understand what about this person’s words has me about to snap, or cry, or leave. Often it ain’t even about what that person said, but something that happened to me long before I met that person. I can’t make that person pay for what my father did, or what my boss did, or what that assailant did.
Still, We Will Not Cancel Us was a good read, although I don’t think the people who need it most will even bother. For them, I’m sure adrienne maree brown was canceled long ago.
Cuffing and Banishing
Be careful what you ask for, y’all. Rootwork ain’t no joke — for realz!
So, my client was having trouble with one co-worker and trying to “cuff” another. Cuffing is getting someone you are sweet on to respond in-kind. It’s cuffing season anyway and I figured the cuffing would be easy. A lot of that is just instilling confidence in the client. You know, “the magick feather” effect? I pulled cards as usual and confirmed this was work the ancestors want me to take on. I got a clear yes, so I had the client put the person’s name in a sweetening jar and plant a petition. Zip zap zop, they were planning a first date.
Warding someone off is more complicated work. You don’t wanna bring down bad mojo, and the spirits aren’t personal assistants, they do what they think is best and sometimes it ain’t what you had in mind. I carry some guilt about some pretty awful things that have happened to people who’ve crossed me in the past. I wasn’t doing work on them, but just having had bad thoughts can manifest some harsh consequences. I believe that. I was pretty specific when I wrote the petition to protect the client from harm. I didn’t tell the spirits how to do it, which might have been my first mistake.
I sent the work priority mail, so it would get to the client during the full moon to new moon cycle. That’s the time for letting go and shaking off. Instead of two days it took almost a week. Let that be a warning to y’all that priority mail ain’t guaranteed, so you might be paying extra for nothing. Still, the client was disturbed by that. They were thinking maybe the spirits didn’t want to help out on this one. I think the work needed it’s time to “cook” and was gonna get there when it wanted, not when I or the client thought it was supposed to arrive. Work takes patience. That’s something I am still learning.
The work arrived (a week late, as I said) and that day, the “bad” co-worker called out sick. Sure it’s a coincidence, but is anything ever really just a coincidence? It happened for several days and now a week has passed and my client found out the person was fired. Damn! That wasn’t what I intended and I ain’t about effing with people’s livelihoods. This person had been a pain in the ass—starting rumors and creatin’ drama and shit for my client. The ancestors weren’t having that mess, I guess. I’m gonna send up a petition to keep that person safe, while keeping them away. I’m also gonna send up a big thank you to mom and gran’mom and all them.
Won’t Be Black Today, Thanks
I’m tired of being Black, y’all — for realz!
Lol! A bunch of fools read the lead-in and cancelled my ass. As if they were even on my radar. But, seriously, it’s bad enough I have to speak English and deal with a colonized mind every day of my life, but do I really have to walk around with a label that got stuck on me and people of my general ass phenotype however many centuries ago, by a bunch of people who thought my complexion was offensive?
How is the term Black any different than the term n*99er? Really? They both were meant to degrade people who were not fair skinned. If Europeans had been trying to flatter Africans, they would have called us golden, bronze, earthen, rich, deep, even brown. Black doesn’t describe a single human skin tone on the planet. Langston Hughes wrote about it too, so don’t get mad at me. I dare you to try and cancel Langston! But he pointed out the obvious, that in European culture, black is bad and white is good...period.
Sure, people reclaim, shit and flip it and all that. Whatever. I’m tired of making due with what other people have bothered to toss my way. That’s just a fancy way of saying “Uncle” and acting like you were really just trying to get your mother’s brothers attention. Lies! You cried uncle ‘cause you was licked. You just done forgot you was licked.
Yes, y’all in the game of domestication of Africans in America, Africans, for the most part are not the winners. Get butt-hurt all you want, but if you are walking around doing your best to fit in to the sterile culture White America has modeled for you, your ass has been kicked. That includes White people, many of whom—Irish, Italian, Polish, Jewish, Turkish, Armenian, etcetera —weren’t White when they got to the U.S.
So, no, I’m not feeling the Black thing today. I wanna find a new name for what I am that isn’t something Europe turned its nose up to. I wanna name myself in a way that celebrates the glory that is me. I guess that’s why I’m Notorious Pink! Lol!
Zoomed the F*ck Out!
Y’all, I think zoom fatigue is some bullshit — for realz!
I’ve been reading articles about how all the zoom people doing is slowly making us sicker and crazier (speaking as a sick crazy person). I’m calling bullshit. There’s a subculture been living mostly in the virtual world for decades. I’d be days at my computer in the old chat rooms, look up and see nine hours’d passed: That shit was routine. As a kid, I’d talk all day (literally from morning until evening, or later) on the phone to my friends. Y’all know what I’m talking about!
The virtual world been home away from home, from the confort your own home at least a decade, people putting in hours of screen time on the daily. That’s some situations where you at least get to interact. Television just another version virtual living where the conversation’s totally one-sided. I’m a fan of the audiobook that offers another way to escape where all one gets is words.
Before we was able to capture moving pictures and spoken word, people had to communicate in writing. People managed to communicate that way several millennia. Suddenly, in 2020, the human psyche done become so fragile that losing the subtlety of body language is totally debilitating. We so fragile we get taxed when we gotta depend on the spoken word. Get the fuck out of here with that shit.
People like to complain. That’s the age-old truth. We pampered. We like shit like we like it. We don’t need to know why. We resistant AF to change, even though adaptation crucial for our survival. Shit, even things just the way we want, people find a reason to whine. Just for kicks, search “happiness is bad for you” and damned if I ain’t find an article in the Washington Post from 2012, saying how too much happiness is bad for you.
Reminds me how during the recovery after Hurricane Sandy. Power outages made it tough getting information out. We had almost daily community meetings. People complained about meeting fatigue. So, not being able to see people in the flesh exhausting and seeing people in the flesh also exhausting. But fuck if, after those meetings, the same people ain’t head to the local bar together.
So, yeah, if you stand my ass up for a zoom date talking some half-baked excuse about how you had some frigging zoom fatigue, I will call your ass out. Just tell me you didn’t feel like talking to me and were eager to get back to binge-watching Lucifer on Netflix!
Being Anti-Racist
This one is for anyone trying to be anti-racist, y’all — for realz!
If you White or anybody who’s tired of looking around at a sea of White faces and ready to diversify, here are a few things you can do.
First, stop hanging out in places where everybody White. That means you gotta notice who’s frigging around you. If everybody White in any establishment, it ain’t no accident. That’s been designed that way. If mostly White people there, that space been made to cater to a certain cultural standard that prefer White people and that White people prefer. It’s probably not an anti-racist space even if it’s trying to be.
Next, seek out spaces where White people are in the minority. It ain’t that hard. Go into communities that are mostly non-White. Go to the clubs, shop at the stores, eat at the restaurants, and, of course you can take your ass to the churches where non-White people go. Don’t make a big show of yourself while you there. Just be humble AF and take your ass there, knowing you been living in a White bubble and you need that shit popped like a persistent zit.
Stop trying to change shit to fit your own cultural bias. Don’t get into non-White spaces intent on “fixing” shit. You may think you’re helping but you’re not. You’re just escaping back into what’s safe. You’re making a space that wasn’t made for you, more comfortable. You gotta learn how to sit in your own discomfort until it stops being uncomfortable. Even if you are 100% sure that the idea you have will make everybody better off, keep that shit to yourself. Trust, if it’s that important, somebody done already thought of it.
Learn through observation. Just shut the F up and see what other people are doing. Learn how people are relating to each other. Focus less on what people are saying and just watch. Listening is also important, but in listening, stop trying to translate shit into words you can understand. Don’t ask questions. Just hear the rhythms of the speech. Listen to the tonality. Learn the music. Understand the custom of what people are doing by seeing it (and doing it, if invited to participate).
Stop commodifying your experience with non-White people. Don’t write a book about how you stopped being a racist. Don’t do your f*cking thesis about it. Stop thinking that your experience with non-White people gives you any damn credentials, especially with White people! I include myself in that. Don’t open a school to teach people how to be “less White.” Don’t do anything with what you come to understand from getting out of your White zone. Don’t even congratulate yourself for doing it. Just appreciate that you are saving your own life by opening yourself and your mind to a more full human experience.
Ain’t no point where you get to be done with this process. Ain’t no degree. You may never see the benefit. Maybe 400 years from now, though, there won’t be anymore White spaces where people are wondering how to “bring diversity.”
2020 Post-Election Fog
Well, it’s about f*cking time, y’all — for realz!
As predicted, Biden got elected by a narrow margin and a nail-biting 5 days of watching the mail-in ballot results drip in. That was a nightmare! I still gotta wonder, what kind of world I’m living in where people looked back on the last four years and said “I’ll take another round of that!” Jesus H. Christmas Kringle! I mean, I guess for some Americans the racism, homophobia, xenophobia and misogyny weren’t so bad and, perhaps, were entertaining AF!
A society raised on reality television, hooked on The Kardashians, Real Housewives and a slew of other nonsense, likely couldn’t tell the difference between the last four years and any other form of televised drivel. Watching Trump troll, must be frigging hilarious when you don’t think you have anything to lose. It’s been like having a real life Archie Bunker in the White House. Why not go for a season two of the highest rated show in television history? I kind of like Fear The Walking Dead.
I stick to my prior assessment that Trump supporters ain’t evil or stupid. They lack some basic critical consciousness. They may lack a little bit of empathy. They may have failed to think about the consequences of their choice on people who don’t look like them or adhere to their cultural norms. They’re not bad people, they just didn’t think that far outside of their own experience. Sure, a few Trump supporters were just assholes, but I think those folks were the minority.
It took hundreds of years for the United States to become what it is. It took a lot of conditioning for people to accept what has become the status quo. It’s gonna take a lot more than a brash talking egomaniac (there, I said it) to frighten sense into Americans. I think even liberals were more appalled by the uncouthness of Trump than they actually experienced the trauma of his presidency. We’ll be getting over it for a long time to come—Trump and the culture that gave birth to him.
This may all be premature. There’s gonna be a lot of fallout from the election of 2020. Why wouldn’t the final months of what some consider the worst year on record be a nasty ass mess? I don’t see it that way. I’ve seen much worse than COVID-19. I came of age at the dawn of AIDS. I was hitting my prime as an adult when 9/11 shook the US out of its false sense of security and isolation from the rest of the world. Things could get a lot worse and face it, the left has moved so far to the right, many Democrats are indistinguishable from their Republican contemporaries. Facts! I take this moment to reflect on what we’ve endured so far and the resilience we managed in the face of it all.
I’m not gonna tempt face with no “Bring it on!” bullshit. I can be done, please. I do wanna appreciate the little things. We made history, electing a Black woman to the highest office yet held by a woman in the U. S. more people voted than ever in U. S. history. We can turn the page on what will live on with the likes of Richard Nixon’s resignation speech and George W. Bush reading to that kindergarten class, instead of excusing himself to address a national emergency on 9/11. As for the rest of the mess: This too shall pass.
Landslide or Call it a Loss
Unless it’s a landslide, it don’t really matter to me, y’all — for realz!
Let’s face this shit. If anywhere near 50% of the U.S. population votes for Donald Trump today, it’s already too late. I don’t wanna make it sound like people who vote for Trump are evil or stupid. That’s not the case, and people need to stop fooling themselves into the comfort of thinking intelligence equals progressiveness.
A lot of very smart people was perfectly okay with slavery. A lot o’ very rational folks was fine that women wasn’t allowed to vote. A lot of smart, kind, loving, spiritual, concerned and rational people voted for Donald Trump. People that a lot of liberals likely call friends, probably voted for Trump and just had the sense to keep they mouth shut about it so they liberal friends wouldn’t cancel them. There’s another “fine” effect of the cancel culture, people lie to protect themselves from people whose friendship is conditioned by submission.
We live in a society that seem to be content long as most people is comfortable. Liberals is okay long as we all keep pretending BLM. We live in a society that seems pretty okay with violence done on our behalf. Donald Trump affirm anything’s acceptable (even the wild spread of a lethal virus) long as commerce run smooth. I’m under the impression even people who think of they selves as progressives, wouldn’t give up a single creature comfort to save the life of a sweatshop worker in India.
So, I ain’t going into today with any confidence about the outcome of the election. I’m pretty sure Biden’s gonna win, but that shit’s cold comfort, at best. I ain’t that confident he gonna win by a margin to renew my faith I’m living in a world with enough of a conscience to see the difference between equity and expedience. I’m nervous even a third of the country just don’t care that much about the fate of the planet, racial justice, the rights of people to choose who they love or any of the shit I stand for.
I hope I’m wrong AF. I hope we get to the end of today and only a fringe minority pulls the lever (or checks the box) for anything but a change in the Oval Office. I don’t care about partisanship. For me today ain’t about whether the Democrats or the Republicans win. Today, for me, is about whether America is more than just a football game where people get to root for their side every four years.
Fasten your seatbelts, it’s gonna be a bumpy night!
You F*ck the Police…I’ll Watch
Hazing cops may be fun for White kids, y’all, but it’s trauma for Blacks — for realz!
Okay, I’m generalizing, but I see White kids showin’ they asses in front of cops way too often. It’s beyond me. What do people get out of it? You know that cops are restrained by procedure from showing excessive force, and the last thing a police officer want to get caught on video is batting a petite White 20-year-old upside the head. It may look cool going nose to nose with a cop holding a shield, but actually it looks pretty lame when you consider all the factors.
I was talking to a family member who happens to be White passing (like it ain’t the point). They was miffed ‘cause a Black member of a group taking an action, spent twenty minutes lecturing everybody about behavior in front of the cops. The family member agreed it was an important issue but not worth shutting down the whole meeting. I was like, “Maybe not, but what you think happens to Black people when White people act out against the cops?”
This family member hadn’t considered that, while White folks go hang out after an action, drinking beers and congratulating themselves for being “part of the solution,” many Black people go home to neighborhoods where they’ll get overly policed, and where the police can take retaliatory action that won’t affect most White activists. I doubt, based on the prevalence of the behavior I see, White activists think about what happens in Black communities during times of social unrest.
I also doubt White people engaged in police hazing think about the trauma caused when Black people imagine how those police officers would react if it was a Black person in they face cussing them out. As a Black person, I have to relive violence suffered at the hands of the police when they see White people acting out and getting away with it. Maybe it’s unreasonable for me to feel that way, but it underlines the disparity when White people bear arms, while Black children get shot over water-pistols.
I hadn’t ever voiced an opinion about it before this family member brought it up and before I knew it, twenty minutes had passed and I was still ranting. I was all ready to apologize when I caught myself and just let the lesson land how it was gonna land. Now I’m sharing it with y’all and hopefully I’ll hear what y’all think about it.
The Racist Sh*t We Step In
There’s a lot worse than stepping in some racist dookie, y’all — for realz!
I’m serious, doh. You ever have an interaction with somebody and you can just smell the racism emanatin’ off them like stink lines on a Robert Crumb illustration and shit? I was on one of the apps and I see this guy who looked familiar. I may have met him or maybe I seen him out at the clubs or whatever. Detroit’s a big city geography-wise, but it’s a small town. The queer community small, fo’ sho’. I’ve been looking at the same forty-ass thumbnails the past ten years. I know all these faces. They ain’t changed at all.
Anyway, back to the story. I ask this guy from the yellow app with the cat face, if we met, and he was like “I doubt it.” Shady! Now, he coulda’ meant a lot from that, but it just smacked of, “I don’t know any niggas, so I sure as fuck don’t know your black ass!” That might o’ just been my read, but for realz, y’all, you get a nose for some racist ass bullshit when you grew up in Amerka. You have to! It’s a matter of your survival. You have to know the place that’s not safe to be in ‘cause people thinking about draggin’ your ass out into the woods and starting a bon fire.
It’s usually not that drastic. Usually it’s standing at the counter, waiting your turn, and then having the clerk skip you to call on the White person who just walked in, even though you been standing there ten minutes. It’s usually about not being seen, which I guess is preferable to being singled out and targeted with some racist vileness. Being ignored can feel a like violence, doh. Getting dismissed can feel pretty brutal as well.
I think of it like this: You know how you’re walking down the street and find a big bill—big enough you know somebody is kicking themself for losing it. That’s how I think of myself. I’m that big bill only somebody who pays enough attention where they going will be lucky enough to find. The rest of the people can rush along. In the meantime, I can just remember to enjoy myself. I can spend me on me.
Anybody got time to be mean or dismissive, probably ain’t got time for the joy or the love I got. I hope you get yours.
Au Revoir Les Enfants
Nazis are not the worst, y’all — for realz!
Watching Au Revoir Les Enfants. That’s some heartbreaking shit to watch. Little kids gettin’ snatched up by the Nazis. When I was the age of the kids in the movie, I’d of thought “What, villians the Germans!” Now, I’m smarter than that. The Germans—the Nazis—were messed up, but that’s not what makes a Holocaust. What makes a tragedy like what happened to the Jews, was a whole lot of average people—most people—doing jack shit.
We live in a world where awful shit happens because most would rather not do something. It’s not even tragic. It just is. That’s kind of why I find it easy to forgive the Hitlers (and the Trumps?) of the world. As bad as they might be, it’s the sheer mediocrity of the rest of folks that makes them—the monsters among us—even possible. It gets to be so easy blaming the wrong-doers, meanwhile we let the do-nothings off the historical hook. We even demonize do-gooders for failing to be average.
Get burned up as you want. Most people you know would not have raised a finger to stop a single atrocity history has served up. Most people have even tried to stay the hands of people (stop people) who want to get involved in ending social ills. That’s one that keeps me scratching my head. Serenity is being able to live with any peace of mind in a world where most people don’t share your morality. How do we continue living with a sense of wholeness, as one among many, when we know full well the whole body is a basic bitch?
Fortunately nature has a way of righting the balance and whatever is out of whack eventually implodes in itself. That don’t mean we should make it any easier for the bullies. I just don’t need to feel like it’s all on me—or any number of us—to restore order. That’s the consolation in all of this. A lot of people will suffer the tremors of human nature, but for the most part the same basic bitches that won’t raise a finger to stop a wrong, won’t raise a finger to do one either.
It’s best we live in a world of the ordinary. A few out of balance on either side makes it all work, I guess. What do you think?