#poor things may be barbie for mentally ill people

[agir1ukn0w]

for the record I love all the people making connections between Barbie and Poor Things, they’re both fundamentally similar and yet so wonderfully different, but equally important as films, I think. plus the costumes are fire.

[hoodoobarbie]

Contemplative, Critical Analysis of Social Division within the Black Community.

A research paper by Hoodoo Barbie - published 6/8/21

Prelude 

I am a neurodivergent, spiritual black woman who lives with high functioning  adhd and chronical illness while living in America.  This condition means i’m prone to moments of constantly fluctuating mental agility which makes me able or intensely disabled, at random. A part of this experience is dealing with consistent hyperactive analysis of in my daily life. This can be extremely debilitating at times and has taken years of labor, intensive training and other various resources, to stop seeing this condition as impairment, and begin using it to help myself and others in my professional and private life.  

Lately the nuance of divisive minutiae of racial experiences,  has become increasingly fascinating to my neurodivergent brain. Making me eager to use my gift to clarify these aspects, for the betterment of the collective. This contemplative analysis is currently limited to the American black experience but this may change in the future. In the meantime its important to highlight it is not intended to generalize the black collective globally. My hope is to bring more clarity and light to our systemic issues, by spreading this through out this system, to unravel system racism. 

Non black POC who read this, have permission to use this discourse as educational tool for themselves and their communities. This is not a invitation to speak over, invalidate, or hinder discourse between black individuals. The commentary of non black poc is encouraged, but with the realized expectation that you are a guest in this space. 

White individuals can reblog or spread this discourse, to educate their own peers, but do not have my consent to invalidate, interact, engage, antagonize or offer argumentative discourse with other poc in this space. On this post white social commentary is intentionally limited to discourse and engagement with each other.  

Violators of these expectations should expect to be blocked, bound and handled spiritually by my religious custom.   

Critical race theory always requires mental labor and takes a extreme toll on mental and physical health. Compiling this paper was a monumental, exhaustive act within itself. Therefore, I reserve the right to ignore or block anyone, for any reason as a self respected individual. 

Thesis of Intentional Systemic Division in the American Black Collective 

The collective dialogue on systemic division is currently out of date. This discussion, is heavily reliant on the shared knowledge of previous generations and hasn't reflected the current nuisances of the new generations, our social progress and its changes. It’s important to highlight the experience of previous generations  and not invalidate them, while also consistently update the social evolution of this divide, for each each generation. While this research paper is intended to be educational, may it also serve as a call to action. Systemic racism is always consistently evolving. It’s important to educate each new generation of this expectation, to encourage consistent dialogue to promote our continuous evolution and self reflection and understanding our own experiences.

The current intentional divisional systemic divide of the two groups within the American black collective, has become become unbearable tense and stagnant. This corrosive toxicity worsens communal relations and the growing divide.

 The purpose of this paper is to explain, educate and provide a simple working solution for this issue, for the intent of betterment and unification of our community. 

Understanding The Social Divide - Cause & Effect

The black American collective, is separated by two main social groups, the mainstream insulated black adjacent and the hidden isolated white adjacent.  Each group is socialized to experience whiteness differently within the system, so whiteness can protect itself. A atmosphere of confusion and distrust is consistently fostered, to keep everyone at each other throats. This is blatant ‘psychological warfare’.   

The insular mainstream black adjacent community is given the privilege of being the voice of the entire community, within whiteness. This is done intentionally to cause further division between the suburban white adjacent who silenced and  hidden. This leaves a critical question to be asked. Why ? Looking back historically, we know whiteness will systemically oppress, gaslight and repress any group that poses a potential threat to its construct. 

It’s important to note this nuance because while everyone within the system is oppressed, everyone is not also repressed. If everyone continuously experienced the same thing systemically, it would make it easy to destroy the system. Whiteness survives by perpetuating two means of confusion, to confuse and destabilize everyone. 

Oppression is actively conscious, while Repression is unconscious. This results in creating two marginalized groups, one who is socialized to be consciously socially aware of their subjugated oppression and oppressor and another who is socialized to be unconscious of their subjugated oppression and oppressor which also actively represses them. 

Whiteness consistently weaponizes these subtle psychological tactics, to control the narrative by manipulating and dividing each collective of POC.  This begs a further question, does whiteness see the black adjacent community as less threatening when compared to the suburban white adjacent ?

Regardless these two groups are actively systemically divided, one group is mainstream while being simultaneously is oppressed and the other issue intentionally silenced while being oppressed and repressed.

Whiteness always rewards the mainstream oppressed group by socializing them to contribute in the repression of  silenced repressed. Whiteness rewards the silenced repressed group when they allow themselves to be weaponized against mainstream oppressed. This tricky little tactic leads to a never ending circle of division and gleefully manipulation while whiteness chuckles quietly in the background.

Analysis of the Collective Social Divide of the Oppressed Mainstream &  Repressed Hidden Collectively.

‘Socially Oppressed and Mainstream - Influential, Popular and Hated The Voice of The Black Adjacent Community

The mainstream black community exists in a black adjacent bubble, separate from the full glare of the white gaze. This has considerable pro’s and con’s, in it’s group. This group is socialized to expect potentially deadly macro-aggressions any time at random, so they are constantly on guard. There is also a implied expectation of possible community support and safe places, which may provide a degree of privacy from whiteness. Macroaggressions are influenced by class, especially in lower income communities. Class levels fluctuate continuously due to systemic economic racism. A middle class insulated community, can easily become poor overnight.  Great examples of this include cities like; Ferguson and Flint, Michigan. Middle, upper and wealthy black communities also exist under this threat.  Upper class black communities, that are more stable; live with fear of being completely victims of genocide and total annihilation. Great examples of prosperous black establishments that were destroyed, are Tulsa, Seneca village and Bruce Beach. Microaggressions are barely processed at all in comparison and if they are, they usually seen as less threatening.

Inherited genetic and ancestral bias, is heavily prevalent when dealing with mental health. The lack of acknowledgment, within this is rooted in unhealed trauma and valid mistrust of the racist medical establishment. Unfortunately this breeds a lack of social awareness and education, perpetuating a horrible collective cost and socialized ignorance, when confronted with these issues. The black adjacent community is processed as the only experience in the valid experience within white social construct and is rewarded when they reinforce this ideal, contributing to the repression of silenced suburban white adjacent voices. Black adjacent individuals can make strides against this narrative, encouraging more black medical professionals within their spaces.

Whiteness benefits from this narrative, so it encourages and rewards those who contribute to it. This enforced predatory reward system is intended to to control, manipulate and abuse people, especially those existing in a state of financial disadvantage. This breeds a perfect atmosphere of division and confusion, that destroys everything within it’s path. Intentionally, black adjacent mental health issues are ignored, to influences their control over mainstream black adjacent narrative and media. The white monopoly of the economic resources is constantly used to antagonize, distract and bait. Whiteness doesn't benefit from healthy discourse on the collective mental health issues of the black community because it  contradicts their narrative. This is why unhealthy poisoned distractions are monetized intentionally in black adjacent communities, to influence white and other poc’s perspective of that specific community. This is intended to foster bias, cultivate ignorance, lack of empathy, make it harder to create alliances and poc solidarity .  Luckily more people in black adjacent spaces recognize or call out these effects while working on advocating, educating and deconstructing this narrative. However, this process will take to several generations to sort itself out, as it’s a fairly new development generationally. Since the black adjacent community is given the position of representing of the black American collective experience globally, it’s important  to understand this nuance. .

This is achieved confronting internalized social trauma and unpacking why we are socialized this way. This is done by creating more dialogue of our differences and highlighting the repressed suburban black experience. A great place to start is to observing how black adjacent folks process subtle microaggressions in in contrast to violent, potentially deadly macroaggressions, in comparison to suburban white adjacent. Black adjacent individuals are socialized to be on high alert for  violent macroaggressions, constantly. This creates a different processing experience. When microaggressions happen, these individuals might experience intense feelings of relief, apathetic numbness, subconsciously ignore or may not even recognize when it’s happening. This is drastically different in comparison to the suburban white adjacent.

‘Socially Repressed and Hidden. Silenced, White adjacent and Isolated - The Suburban Black Individual Without Community.’

There is no community for any poc in suburban white adjacent space. Suburban folks are socialized to believe in cooperative integrative existence and the false promise of safety spaces within these structures,  under every present threat of assimilation. There is no privacy place from the intensity of white gaze, as every day is constant masked performance, outside of their home. Suburban black communities within these spaces are myth, and do not actually exist. The suburban black individual experience is isolated and restrictive.  All forms of communal growth are processed as a threat within the system, because whiteness has no interest in actual integration outside of cultural theft.   To progress, individuals existing within these spaces must learn nuances o as a means of survival and to assimilate. White adjacent exist in state of oppression, while also being heavily repressed. Their experiences are often invalidated because whiteness refuses to the same standing as those who are black adjacent. Here, whiteness prefers passive pretense of social tolerance so it can vehemently deny it’s aggressive. This drastically differs from it’s more openly aggressive stance with dealing with black adjacent individuals or their communities.  Black adjacent folks who are not socialized to be familiar with this drastic adjustment may be lulled into a false sense of security, while experiencing feelings of irritation, confusion, and jealousy when dealing with suburban black individuals who are white adjacent or in their spaces.  

Microaggressions in the white adjacent space, are intended passively tone police while gaslighting and disguising the veiled threat of a potentially deadly macroaggressions.  White adjacent individuals who are aware of this, are socialized to be on high alert for both micro and macroaggressions constantly. They are also more consistently micro aggressed, then their black adjacent peers in these environments due to their proximity to whiteness.  The mental health toll of this is massive and contributes to a culture of shame, repression and silence. However there is some hope! Because of this some white adjacent individuals may be more prone to reach out for help when it comes to their mental health, as a survival mechanism. Unfortunately this experience can also be very traumatic due their proximity to whiteness because often the mental health professionals they seek are only available in black adjacent communities, which isolates them even further.

 Meanwhile White people, in these spaces are socialized from birth, to feed into a state of ignorance and historical revisionism, which forms a bubble, to seduce, isolate, infantilize, brainwash, confuse and foster attitudes of cognitive dissonance, creating a perpetual state of aggravating white fragility.  This mindset isolates and punishes white individuals who attempt to break free of it  within the system and also gaslights POC who attempt calling it out. This creates a state of plausibility deniability as a means of distancing itself from responsibility. As a daily occurrence that suburban black folks experience differently individually, while lacking real communal structure, it’s destabilizing and demoralizing. Generally white adjacent are socialized to have no social defense and may not even recognize micro or macroaggressions, while experiencing them simultaneously. This may seem incredulous to black adjacent folks, who have been trained to be on high alert from birth.  Adding insult to injury this is further weaponized by whiteness and often these unassuming white adjacent people are used as violent pawns, against the black adjacent. The few white adjacent individuals who do become socially aware of this, then experience the violent consequence of awakening within the system, while enduring increased stress of white proximity. This usually results in a inevitable mental breakdown where these individuals are then forced to pick a path.

They are forced to choose or deal with the following, 

1) Assimilation for economic benefit, furthering the social divide and becoming more isolated as they are weaponized against the black adjacent collective. This usually results in massive mental breakdowns and the possibility of various physical ailments due to the stress of keeping up this façade. This always ends horrifically without a positive outcome.

2.) Mentally ill social advocates. These people are often aware of the nuances of their social experiences and want to bring more awareness by deconstructing and unpacking them. Their proximity to whiteness often gives them crucial insights black adjacent people may miss or lack. These people may or may not assimilate into whiteness.

3.) The stagnant, who exist in a state of confused neutrality. These are people who’s mentally health issues in white proximity may have become so severe they are mentally trapped. The people don’t possess the means to do anything about this situation, because they are so severely disabled by whiteness. 

In Conclusion - Presenting  A Solution

The social division of these two groups in the black American collective, is obviously intentional. The division of their social differences is weaponized by whiteness as a protective mechanism, sowing seeds of distrust, to prevent the total unification of the collective. 

Insulated black adjacent communities, do not understand their value as their voice within black American community, while being actively oppressed. They have a responsibility to uplift the suburban black voices, while confronting their own internalized biases of the hidden white adjacent suburbia. They need to call out and dead harmful perspectives, while actively contributing to their repression and silence. Gaslighting, needs to be called out and unlearned especially they have been socialized do this as reflex by whiteness.

White adjacent black individuals must learn to speak up and find their voice, while being actively repressed. They cannot expect the black adjacent to understand them automatically. They must overcome their own systemic naivety and fragility by understanding why they are distrusted. They also have a responsibility to educate other white adjacent individuals, so they aren't weaponized by whiteness. 

All of this labor is extremely exhausting but necessary to completely deconstruct the systemic structure. 

Both sides need to understand that whiteness fears this discourse and change because it will lead to the complete unification of the black collective, which is why whiteness has a vested interest in the continued social division of these two groups.

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

10. Bathroom wall a.k.a. a queen bee, Prince in the shower and a backup Casanova (Part Two)

Finally, that Donna Summer song is over… Although disco is not my favorite genre, I have nothing against her generally but now… the part in which she’s repeating “Hot-hot-hot-hot stuuuuff” reminded me of the sound of the rototiller which would break down in every single winter and my grandpa would always have to try for hours and hours to breathe life into it in spring. And the music was also way too loud in comparison to the fact the clientele of this place consists mostly of exhausted truck drivers who only want to chill to Chris Rhea’s Road to Hell. If they wanted noise, they would go to a strip club to see Miss North Carolina ’86 dropping her clothes to something from AC/DC. Probably Highway to Hell. Variations on a theme. But probably this little dump doesn’t even have a proper strip club.

Luckily, this shabby roadhouse has a separate room for pool tables; it’s pretty hidden and easily approachable without being noticed. Not that I don’t like hanging out with the guys… okay, that’s also a part of it, we’ve been basically locked in a tour bus, concert venues and hotel rooms since last September. We’re each other’s company all the time, the only place where I can spend a few hours by myself is basically the ever-changing setting of my incoherent dreams. Only mentally, of course, since basically there’s always someone snoring around. And of course, they also keep showing up in random scenarios and with people they don’t even know but that’s the point of dreams, your brain forces you to put jigsaw puzzle pieces together that don’t match. Or they do, you just don’t know about it… Long story short, there’s no way to get rid of these dudes… Okay, it sounds as if they annoyed me… shit, they do annoy me more and more often and I hate this feeling. We’re basically friends; we wouldn’t be able to play in the same band if we didn’t get on well. But before we started touring, we’d all had our own circles including friends and colleagues, different hobbies, natural habitat… and music and the band had been only the intersection of them. We met when we had to do something as a band, we spent time together to write songs, rehearse, record… and in the remaining time, everybody lived their own life. That we don’t have anymore.

Usually, I try to not see only the dark side of this situation but now, I’m not feeling able to put on a smiley face. Maybe the fact that my whole digestive system is burning doesn’t help either… I bought a cola at the gas station next to the bar and smuggled it in under my jacket. That’s the only piece of advice of the doctor that is also useful under tour circumstances. I mean, I can’t just drop everything and lie down when the pains are coming, I can’t spend my evening sitting on the loo when I have to play a gig and who cares about diet when you can’t even eat or sleep on a regular basis? But cola is always there, no matter where I am. It’s the only thing that eases my nausea effectively and isn’t very conspicuous at the same time. And this one is as cold as ice, it feels good to press the bottle to my stomach as I’m crouching in fetal position in this armchair. Although the doctor probably wouldn’t approve, I spiked it with a few drops of rum. To be honest, they were bigger drops but I finally wanted to empty my flask. I decided to give up drinking spirits, beer makes me unpredictable enough and mixing drinks only fucks my digestion up too.

“Here you are, finally! I knew you were somewhere here too!”

So much for hiding…

“Hi, Karrie…”

“Man, you’re missing the best parts… some local chicks started courting the guys, they even got them to dance…”

“Awesome…”

“Mike, can you hear what I’m telling you? I said the guys were made to dance… I mean, the guys such as Jeff, Dave and Stone… and dance, like, moving the body rhythmically to the music… Although the girl who picked Stone had a difficult job…”

“Let me guess: she failed.” I remark in a bored voice and shake the bottle in small circles not to waste a drop of my drink.

“Mike? Is something wrong with you? Normally, you would basically drop everything and rush there to see the end of the scene but… yes, something’s wrong with you...” she answers her own question with a concerned face sinking down slowly onto the other armchair.

“I’m fine…” I mumble as I embrace my knees and lean my chin against them.

“Mike, I haven’t known you for a long time but I’m pretty sure that sitting alone curled up like a hedgehog is not your normal state. The pains, again, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t like being taken for an idiot. Ninety percent of my job basically consists of watching every move of yours and trying to figure out your needs before you would even think about them. Do you think I haven’t noticed you’re suffering?”

I should have known. She usually stays in the background, doesn’t meddle in the business of the others but she’s all ears and eyes… she knows everything about us.

“All I know is that it must be something with your stomach or intestines… I don’t know exactly how serious it might be but it seems to be serious enough to be treated…” she goes on ignoring my stubborn silence. “Have you already seen a doctor? Have you already been diagnosed?”

I’ve seen several ones. I have a diagnosis. But I doubt she wants to hear the detailed description of my medical history, in particular the analysis of that delightful feeling when objects are being put up into your butthole.

“Do the others know about it?”

Oh, sure… like the inexhaustible source of Stone’s stupid anal jokes needed any feeding…No, thanks. And enlightening the others about the fact that pissing in the corner and running around naked aren’t the only sorts of accidents happening with me from time to time isn’t one of my top priorities either.

“Look, Mike, you’re an adult. Legally, leastways. I can’t tell you what to do and I’m finished with the heart-to-heart, I promise but… come on, all I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to feel ashamed and you can live a quality life whatever your problem is, for example Effie…”

“Effie?” I try not to sound like a maniac but I almost kick the table over as I jump back in regular sitting position. “You mean she…?”

“Hasn’t Judy mentioned it?”

“What?” I ask so far as I’m able to speak at all due to the lump in my throat that grew out of nothing of the mere mention of her name.

“She’s been waiting for new kidneys, or at least one new kidney for months. It’s pretty difficult to find a suitable donor for her… but she’s optimistic, as always. And also angry a bit but it only helped her move on.”

“May I ask… what happened to her? I mean, I understand if it’s not public or…” I try to form coherent sentences, which is not that easy at all after this shock therapy.

“It’s not a secret, it’s the result of medical mistakes.” she starts telling the whole story. The chain of her ordeals is more than simple misfortune, and honestly, as I’m trying to recall that compelling but still playful voice, it’s difficult to believe her life depends on permanent medical help. “…and that’s where we are now.” she finishes with a deeps sigh.

“Poor girl…”

“She’d cut your throat if she heard you. She hates being pitied and tries to keep her life in the normal track very hard, limits and obstacles have always annoyed her… but she’s not that kind of girl to whom you can explain that life can be complete without sky diving, rock climbing or space travel too.” she shrugs with a bittersweet smile.

“Does that mean she keeps going on with her studies and…”

“That’s the problem. She’s suspended her studies, gave up her student jobs but she’s already regretted it. And Annie, I mean, her mom is overconcerned and wants her to rest and stick around until the transplantation will have been carried out. And that’s one of the reasons why I recommended Judy as my replacement…”

“They need money…”

“Yup. But the point of my coming up with Effie’s case is to make you understand you’re not alone, having an illness is not a shame but I hate clichés so I rather shut up. I don’t want to lecture you, I would just feel guilty if I didn’t even try to talk about it with you.”

“I have already heard so much about her… do you have a picture of her or something? I’m curious… I mean, it’d be nice if I could connect a face to all those awesome stories…” I hear myself talking. Gaah, I don’t want seem to be pushy or a psycho stalker but I need to see her face.

“Uhmm, I used to keep a few family photos in my wallet, if you’re lucky I still have them…” she begins to rummage in her purse. “Ah, here it is. But no, that’s an old one.” she puts the picture back before I could take a look at it.

“NO, I WANT TO SEE IT.” I grab her forearm. “Please…?” I soften my voice seeing her puzzled expression. So much for avoiding deranged behavior.

“She was like seventeen when it was taken, it’s the yearbook photo from her senior year I guess.” she hands it to me.

I don’t know what I was expecting or if I was expecting anything at all but one thing I know: I wasn’t prepared for THIS. Judy mentioned she was blond and had blue eyes and normally, I would pair this combo with a Barbie-type girl in my imagination. But she’s everything but a Barbie-doll, her clear, shining, honest eyes stare into the camera with some cautiousness but if you examine her face carefully enough, you can discover hints of impishness playing around her lips and those tiny freckles around her nose and her skin that was still wearing the last kiss of late summer sun when the picture was taken… Jesus ‘Cready, you’re not a poet, you’re not even sane. Yes, I must have lost my mind, I’m hearing music in my head… “Drea-ea-ea-eam, dream, dream, dream…”

“Mike… Mike… Miiiike…” I find myself in the reality again when Karrie snaps a couple times with her fingers in front of my face. And I realize I didn’t grow a DJ in my mind, the song of Everly Brothers is actually playing in the bar.

“I take this now back, I found another one.” Karrie has to basically disentangle my clenched, grabby fingers from the photo but my eyes are still glued to the face in it, greedily collecting the tiniest details until it disappears in the wallet. “Here.” she pushes the other picture in front of me. “It’s from last year, I think, her hair is curlier here but that’s her natural look, she doesn’t have it straightened too often.”

The second photo gives that human tornado, that young woman clearly back whom I’ve imagined so many times since that very phone call and of whom now I know that she’s officially out of my league. It’s definitively confirmed, not that I had any chance to meet her in real life or at least talk to her again…

“You know what? You should consider talking with her about it. I think she’d understand it better than any of us.” Karrie remarks casually while sliding the pictures back into their place.

Oh. Yes. Sure. Why not call this angel to tell her I’m a disgusting pig who doesn’t have the slightest control over his metabolism, lets out disgusting sounds involuntarily and shits in his pants at least once in a week. Yes, that’s something I would totally chat with her about…

“It’s just an idea, I’m sure Judy would help you find a way to get in contact with her… of course, only if you want to…”

“Houston, we have a problem… Karrie… there’s a situation… we need you…” Scully basically falls into the room breathlessly.

“Jesus, what happened?” she jumps up terrified.

“It’s Judy… you should go after her…” he gasps pressing his hand against his right side. “I’ll tell you on the way…”

“Sorry Mike, we’ll talk about it later…” she shouts back on leaving.

At least my interrogation is over and I can spend some time alone since the others seem to be busy with that “situation”, whatever it is… Maybe I could practice pool tricks, I still haven’t given up my goal to beat Stone at least once in this lifetime. Even if we aren’t playing against each other, he keeps bothering me with his sarcastic comments and doesn’t let me try things in my own way, I can’t really improve my pool skills when he’s around.

After playing a few rounds against myself and winning, of course, I realize the pains have almost gone… It’s so weird, you immediately notice discomfort but you’re always unaware of the lack of it for a while, especially if you manage to direct your thoughts on something else. I guess I should look for the others, I hope Judy’s okay…

“Sorry” an unknown female voice addresses me with a short cough “have you got light?”

***

„So… what’s the plan?” Dave asks leaning on the counter with his elbows facing towards the tables.

“What plan?” I ask back positioning myself in the same way to be able to take a look around.

“For the evening… with the ladies.” he winks meaningfully.

“I don’t know… I guess we’re just hanging out. But why are you asking me? It is you and Jeff who are allowed to have any plans with any ladies… I have a beautiful girlfriend at home, remember…” I answer and I feel my lips pulling in a wide grin; I can’t help, I’ve developed this instant reaction that occurs whenever my gorgeous blondie is on my mind.

“How could I forget… you’d never miss an opportunity to rub this fact in our face. Anyway, Jeff doesn’t seem to be interested in them either, for obvious reasons…”

I squint at the pinball machine where the two second fiddles whose names I’m simply unable to recall are trying to break their personal records. I don’t really get why they think screaming helps them keep the ball on the play field but at least they prevent Jeff from falling asleep; he’s suppressing one yawn after another while stealing glances alternately at the basketball match on the TV screen and the table around which Scully, the slightly deranged leader of the girl bunch and our pocket-sized roadie are having an apparently deep conversation.

“He shouldn’t torture himself, his obvious reason doesn’t give a fuck about his awkward performance.”

“You can never know. Maybe she ignores intentionally that he’s ignoring her intentionally. But I guess you’re happy about it, the super professional band leader who’s against within-band hook-ups…”

“You know my opinion…” I shrug. “Just think about Fleetwood Mac and what happened to them.”

“Uhm, they became a world-famous top rock band?”

“You’re right! Come with me in the restroom, NOW!”

We both burst out in a dirty, tipsy laughter and it takes a few minutes until we calm down enough to be able to speak again.

“So, what are your plans?” I nudge him still shaking of warm-down snorts from time to time.

“I guess if the dynamics don’t change very quickly in the opposite direction, Jeff will vanish in less than ten minutes… and I’ll have to sacrifice myself and keep both chick entertained in the rest of the evening. But I don’t mind, they’re both cute.” Dave takes a sip of his beer wiggling his eyebrows satisfied.

“Both chick? What about… Caledonia?” I nod towards the black-haired alpha female of the trio.

“Her name is Claudia, geez man, you’re hopeless… but no, thanks, her behavior reminds me of that psycho woman in Fatal Attraction too much.” he frowns. “Stoney, be a man and do what you gotta do.”

“…which is…? Jesus, I’m not interested in any random girl I encounter and as you said, she’s totally insane, while we were dancing…”

“… while she was dancing…”

“… I felt as if I had been caught by a boa constrictor that was squeezing me tighter and tighter and I swear, it must have been an extended, super long version of Hot Stuff, I thought it would never end, like, it was at least three minutes longer than usual…” I go on since I’m not willing to react to his undisguised reference to my dance talent.

“Just go back to her, have a polite chat with her and say bye in half an hour… maybe I can keep Jeff here and you can use each other as excuse for leaving. I’ll be here and keep an eye on you and in case she gets out of control, I call the local herpers to catch her.” Dave presents his concept about the strategy I should follow.

“Herpers against herpes, it sounds like the name of some non-profit organization... Okay, approved but if I start yelling “red code”, you launch the rescue operation, that’s the signal.”

“Just go finally, the sooner you begin, the earlier you can get out of here.”

I grab my beer and walk to the small company around the table but as soon as I arrive, all its members fall suddenly silent.

“What’s up, Scully? Hi Claudia.” I greet them and get a dark look from the third person whom I’m trying to ignore to get away with the situation as simply as possible.

“Scully… what kind of name is that at all?” Claudia mutters listlessly; for some unknown reason her energetic behavior has gone; she’s playing with her hair bored leaning her face against her palm.

“There are some who call me… Tim.” Scully uses the occasion to crack a Monty Python joke.

“Tim the Enchanter.” I finish the quote basically swallowing the last syllable since I hear the other girl uttering the same words simultaneously.

“Is that some inside joke of yours?” Claudia mumbles unwillingly.

“Kind of.” I answer in the same style. “But his real name is Timothy, that’s the truth.”

“Anyway, these weird nicknames are pretty common in your crew. Scully… Stone… I wonder how you got this one.” she goes on in a monotonous voice. It’s strange, she doesn’t sound like someone who feels like having a conversation at all. Maybe she’s that depressed type of drunk.

“Guess what: from his parents.” the annoying little smartass answers instead of me raising one eyebrow.

“Oh, really? Your name is almost as bizarre as you.”

What. The. Actual. Fuck. I don’t mind if she spares me an uncomfortable talk and leaves me alone before I would ditch her but why is this turnaround?

“Judy, you promised you were going to play foosball with me! Come, the tables are finally free!” Scully jumps to his feet pulling his colleague by her hand.

“What? I didn’t promise anything, I…”

“Come on, you have a mind like a sieve, of course you did! We could invite the others too and you could teach us those mind-blowing tricks!” he drags her enthusiastically in the direction of the foosball tables; she seemingly protests a little but finally gives in and follows him reluctantly.

“Uhm… I hate to admit but she’s a first-class player.” I speak up with a sentence I didn’t want to say at all but the urge to break the awkward silence was strong enough that my mind forgot to look for better topics.

“Wow.”

Gosh, I’ll need anti-depressants, if she goes on like this.

“I everything okay?” I try to look in her eyes. “I mean… you seemed to have fun when you came over, you even danced… but now… I mean, if it’s a private thing, you don’t have to answer…”

“Stone… you are a really nice guy and all, handsome, actually funny but… I don’t think we would match.”

Thank God. But something I can’t explain makes me ask for the reason instead of confessing I’m not available anyway.

“Oh. I see. And… what makes you think we’re too different?”

“I don’t know… there are just so many antagonistic characteristics… For example, I don’t like animals. I mean, I just can’t get on well with them, I don’t even like watching documentaries on them.”

“I love them, I have a cat called Red and I love dogs too, my family has always had dogs. But I know there are people who feel strange when animals are around, I’m okay with that… what else?” I inquire; the suspicious feeling keeps telling me something’s not okay here, something’s FUCKIN’ not okay here. Maybe if I ask further questions, I get closer to the reason of her behavior.

“I don’t eat red meat at all.”

“Haha, then we have something in common. I have vegetarian phases from time to time and I’m right in the middle of one. I have nothing against meat but I only consume them at special occasions.”

“But that’s the point, I hate these special occasions!” she blurts out passionately. “And I loathe even the smell of beef, let alone touching it.”

“I repeat, I can live without it.” I laugh. “And… your concern about differences is really sweet but I have to tell you something: I have a girlfriend at home, we’ve been together for months so…”

“I know! And you’re so lucky to have someone who accepts you the way you are, even if your taste is everything but ordinary and…”

Let’s wait for a second… how does she know about Amber? And what’s this babbling about my quirky style? And what was this madness about animals and meat? My mind switches to replay mode and I try to recall the moments of the evening double-time… I see ourselves arriving, them coming to our table, us dancing to the fast-forward version of Hot Stuff, them disappearing in the restroom, them getting back from the restroom and joining Scully and J…STOP! Her. That. Little. Shit. It could be only her. She must have said something about me, something crazy shit, because that’s what she’s doing all the time, she tries to turn everybody against me and ruin my reputation and… Okay, first I have to get rid of Claudia, it’s not her fault, after all.

“Thanks for saying that, it’s very nice from you. And I’m sure, sooner or later you’ll find a guy who really fits you. I hope I didn’t hurt you but I don’t really like to talk about my private life. But I guess my friends enlightened you about the details to avoid misunderstandings…” I squint at her playing the gentle refusal routine. If my presumption is correct, it’ll turn out here and now.

“Oh yes!” she jumps on my words immediately. “Judy told me everything. She cares about you a lot, she’s such a good friend!”

“She is.” A good friend of cheap tricks and pretended innocence. But she’ll pay for this. “Her problems are usually similar to mine so we are pretty much on the same wavelength.” Whatever it is, I throw the shit back at that viper. “But this is so awkward and I don’t want to waste your time so… I wish you all the best and good luck with guys!” I stand up already thinking about medieval methods of torment I would gladly try on that two-faced dwarf.

“Thanks… and be happy with that lucky girl!” she sends a saddish smile and I feel guilty for a second for leaving her alone right when she stopped playing the role of the tempting seductress. But while I’m walking to the foosball tables, my thoughts are going back to my unfinished business with that hypocrite, mean…

“No, Scully, the point is in the right angle, look, I don’t shoot the ball until… hey, Scully, you’re not even watching… oh.” she suddenly falls silent and flushes as she follows the gaze of the pale, petrified guitar tech in my direction as I arrive to them. He was obviously trying to save her ass but I don’t blame him, he hates fights, he probably feels being between two fires.

“You know what? I’m also dying to learn more about your little tricks.” I stop at the foosball table with folded arms.

“Oh my God, I love tricks.” Claudia’s enthusiastic friend chirps from the other side of the table. “What? I do love them!” she whines not decoding the strict face the third member of their bunch sends at her after nudging her to finally shut up.

“S-sure, I gladly show them to you too…” the manipulative little beast stutters.

“Face-to-face.” I cut her off in my coldest voice and I can basically hear how hard she just swallowed.

“Ugh… let’s look for Jeff and Dave.” Scully steers the two confused, reluctant friends of Claudia out of range basically tossing them towards the bar counter.

“So, what do you want to know?” she asks almost cheerfully; what an acting performance.

“Oh, I want to know a lot of things… if aliens exist… where the other half of my favorite pair of socks might be… what’s the equivalent of blushing at chameleons… why Claudia suddenly started treating me as if I was a leper…”

“They do. Probably in Jeff’s suitcase. You can’t embarrass a reptile. Maybe she has finally seen the light…” she lists her answers shrugging nonchalantly. “But I guess it’s a relief for you, so we’re happy now, huh?”

“It depends. I wonder if someone helped her out with some useful information about me…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about… not that it matters as for the result…” she starts spinning the sticks in the table for no reason, since no one else is around, it’s probably just a pathetic excuse for avoiding eye contact.

“You know, I like to decide on my own with whom I want to spend my time.”

“Do you absolutely exclude the possibility of other people feeling the same way? What if she just didn’t enjoy your company?”

“That’s not impossible but the marvelous change in her behavior makes me think something happened either in the restroom or at the table… and guess what? You were there the whole time too.”

“Are you stalking me? Jesus, should I have reported what I was doing at the loo? And I’m even sitting at tables, holy shit, that’s a federal crime.”

“She herself told you on. I haven’t figured out yet what you told her but I know Scully like the back of my hand; he’s obviously trying to cover for you but keeping secret and acting aren’t his strengths. Sooo… you can play dumb but it’ll take me less than two minutes to get everything out of him.”

Her hands stop fidgeting in the second she realizes there’s no point in denying.

“If you’re convinced that much, then why are you asking me? Just execute me here and now…” she stretches out her arms playing the role of the innocent, targeted victim.

“Nah, you can’t get away with it so easily. I wanna know why you did what you did.” I stand in her way since I can see her eyes mapping the possible escapes.

“Why do you want to know why I did what you think I did?” she asks back still keeping the poker face. She still thinks she can win, unbelievable.

“Well… it’s just interesting. Jeff and Dave danced with those girls too but as far as I can see, their popularity hasn’t decreased, I wonder why…” I turn around for a second and nod towards our table where the guys are laughing hard at something with Scully and Claudia’s friends, Claudia seems to have been vanished in the meantime, though.

“Because they don’t have girlfriends...” she remarks earnestly staring at them, not even noticing she broke the character.

“So that’s it? That’s why you did it? You think I can’t even look at other girls since I’m not single?”

“You just shouldn’t. I mean, you found a girl who meets your special needs, you wouldn’t have such luck once again in this lifetime.” she sits back on the high horse again.

“What special needs?” I ask eagerly hoping I can finally put the whole picture together.

“I don’t know, four boobs, tiny brain, large bed, I guess…” she goes on with the bullshit.

“That’s you theory about my needs? Wonderful… So you think I would have cheated on my girlfriend without your machination?” I raise my voice.

“I didn’t say that…”

“Did I kiss her?”

“You didn’t but…”

“Did I hug her?”

“You didn’t but…”

“Did I grope her?”

“You didn’t but…”

“Then what the fuck did I do that bothered your sensitive soul so much that you dared intervene in my business?” I lean over her making her back away.

“You laughed and…”

“What?” I scream. “You think me laughing with someone wearing skirt makes you entitled for shit-talking? You’re insane. You know what? You can play the self-proclaimed moral police of the crew or Seattle or the whole fuckin’ universe, I don’t give a fuck. Just leave. Me. Alone. Mind your own love life. Oh, wait? You don’t have one? Maybe that’s the problem?” I cover my mouth with my palm pretending shock.

“Screw you, Gossard.” she whispers hoarsely and tosses me away with her shoulder rushing past me.

***

I catch her at the entrance, in front of the building. Scully was right, she seems to be pretty upset.

“Shit, shit, SHIT!!!” she shouts emphasizing the last “shit” by kicking at full strength in the dumpster standing on the side of the road. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” she bounces with painful groans on one leg until she almost loses her balance and limps back to plop down onto the curb.

“I heard that Converse was planning to launch steel toe sneakers, first I thought the brand managers were tripping on something but seeing you it totally makes sense.” I remark as I take place next to her with the moves and in the pace of a seventy-year-old woman; this position is anything but comfortable for my permanently aching knee.

“Ha, very funny. I should have kicked him in the balls. With steel toe boots…” she mumbles taking her foot in her lap. “I hope I didn’t break my big toe.” she tries to make a diagnosis by palpation.

“If I’m not wrong, you’re talking about the genitalia of Stone Carpenter Gossard.”

To my biggest surprise, it’s not the anatomical term that catches her attention.

“What? Carpenter?” she asks snickering but she also wipes out an involuntary teardrop with the back of her hand from the corner of her eye in the meantime. Whatever happened, it must have actually hurt.

“Yes, that’s his middle name. But: you didn’t hear it from me. And, I know the temptation is huge but try to keep this information until you can use it with cool head.”

“I’m as cold as an icicle.” she sniffles bitterly.

“As a melting icicle.” I stop a next teardrop rolling down on her face with my thumb. “Come on, what happened?”

“Nothing. I’m just so sick of it. So sick of him.”

“What has he done?”

“You mean apart from getting addicted to oxygen twenty-something years ago?”

“Did he say something?” I ignore her sarcastic response.

She laces her arms around her knees and begins to examine her shoes.

“Did he do something?”

She insists on remaining silent and resists my interrogation pretending the patterns on her socks require all her attention.

“Or didn’t he say or do something? That’s the problem? Look, I don’t have to care about your childish quarrel. I just wanted to check if you’re okay since Scully was worried about you. But frankly, maybe too many people are already busy with trying to keep your war over sandbox toys under control.”

“You could finally decide on whose side you are…”

“Obviously on Stone’s. But it has practical reasons, Mike mentioned once he had drunk expired beer during a gig with his previous band and he��d vomited in the amplifier…” I try to ease the tension. “But Jesus, Judy, joke aside, I’m on nobody’s side, of course. I’m just trying to help but if I don’t know what happened, I can’t. And I’m helpless since believe or not, I know he’s a really great guy and I also know you’re an awesome chick and honestly, I have no clue why your arrival has turned him completely inside out.”

“So it’s my fault.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I’m just… so sick of him.”

“You’ve already said that.” I fish a tissue out of my pocket and hand her so that she doesn’t use her forearm to clean her nose.

“You know… he’s not the first smug prick I have to deal with, I met enough of them at Juilliard… but usually, I just ignored them.”

“Then why don’t you ignore him too?” I ask although I know there are several reasons that make this idea extremely difficult.

“I’m not in the position in which I could pretend he’s invisible. And inaudible. I mean, letting it slide sounds like a way that could be even effective, maybe he would get tired of torturing me after a while… but it’s not like high school bullying, I don’t have years to get rid of him, at least you have a glimmer of hope every year there that maybe the bullies find a new victim in the freshman class… But… despite what this whole situation looks like, this is the adult world. This is my job, the management is my employer and if the band is not satisfied with me, I’m going to be fired.”

“But they are satisfied with you…”

Her disbelieving expression makes me correct my sentence.

“They are not dissatisfied with you…”

“Stone is. And he’s the leader and main songwriter of the band so if it came to a dealbreaker… guess who would draw the short straw.”

“Who talks about a dealbreaker? At this point, you’re my trainee. You’re under my protection.”

“And you know what’s the most irritating part? That I’m trying, I’m really trying… I do everything to fulfil his wishes…”

“…which are often ridiculous, let’s be honest. I mean, he’s an immensely talented musician but he… all of them have to learn that being loud and raw isn’t the most important thing…”

“Exactly… I just want to turn up the volume until his monitor box explodes and then just shrug, like “you wanted this, fucker”.“ we both giggle recalling the awkward moments and the looks we exchanged at sound checks. “But what’s your strategy? How can you convince him?”

“Well… I don’t try to convince him with explicit arguments… somehow I learned how to make him believe that my suggestion was originally his idea.”

“Clever… but ah, I couldn’t make it… he disagrees with everything I come up with… it’s like an innate reflex at him.”

“Aaand you’ve just caught the point!” I snap with my fingers.

“…which is… that it’s a reflex and he can’t help it?” she frowns.

“No, the other thing you said… he disagrees with everything that comes from you.”

“…aaand…?” her hands circling around each other urge me for getting straight to the point. “Yes, I’m the problem, I know, there’s nothing new in that.”

“NO! And actually… I’d rather keep you in the dark about it. Namely, we’ve got a plan.”

Two plans actually, in case plan A doesn’t work…

“We? You and…?”

“Schmitty, Brett and Scully. None of them is particularly good at keeping secret but this time they are holding on, I’m very proud of them. But as far as I know you, you’d ruin everything if you knew the details.”

“I can’t wait… if it doesn’t involve a pair of dirty, stinky socks getting stuffed into Stone’s mouth, I’m not interested in it, anyway… whatever… sorry for being skeptical, the guy is smart, he smells plans and tricks from miles… and even if he doesn’t, he ruins your self-esteem and drives you into series of mistakes and then” she claps suddenly making me start ”he gets you and makes fun of you.”

“You don’t need to exaggerate, he’s not Satan itself…”

“Are you sure?” she narrows her eyes meaningfully. “I had finally gained some confidence by the time I graduated from Juilliard, I mean, I finally believed that being admitted and receiving a degree there meant I could really… achieve something… and now... I feel like I’m at the start again.”

“The situation is certainly out of your comfort zone… but you came from a different world… and his world is strange for you too and…”

“If it was only about this!” she cuts me off. “He’s mocking me permanently, at everything. Everything. Like in elementary school, he makes remarks about my look, my dresses…”

“But you mock him back!”

“… my love… life…” she goes on in a thinner voice. “Or… rather the lack of it. Rude remarks.”

Whoa, that’s new. Obviously, I’ve heard him cracking jokes about her innocent look and Jeff’s admiration for her that he rather disapproved than encouraged, by the way… but he hadn’t humiliated her publicly only for being single… I need a context.

“What did he say exactly?”

“He told me not to put my nose into other people’s business… and that I should to stay away from his private life and insulted me by saying I didn’t even have a love interest…” she recalls in a bored voice like she was reciting a textbook.

“That doesn’t make any sense… what happened before?” I inquire. Something tells me that’s only the second half of the story…

“We had sort of a… disagreement.”

“You don’t say…” I squint at her. “Come on, don’t make me pull everything out of you word by word!”

“Can I have a cigarette?” she asks out of the blue.

“But you don’t even smoke!” I protest.

“Do you want me to go on or not? Just give me a cigarette, please.”

“Oookaaay…” I hand her the pack with my lighter in it.

“So… there were those girls who showed up in the bar… they sat down to the guys’ table…” she begins as she hits the pack with her index finger a few times to set a cigarette free.

“Yes, I saw them, they even danced with them, it was hilarious!” I giggle. Honestly, not only the recall of the scene cracks me up, her fumbling with the lighter is hysterical too.

“One of them… Claudia… she hit on him. I mean, on Stone.” she utters with disgust as she succeeds in lighting the cigarette for about the sixteenth attempt.

“Oh yeah… she seemed pretty pushy.”

“Pushy is not the right term, she was just shameless! I encountered her in the restroom, she started asking questions about him, you know, if he’s single, what kind of girls he liked, stuff like that. And I… ahem… I told… ahem-ahem… I told her… ahem… I told he had a girlfriend ahem-ahem-ahem-ahem…”

Even the first drag drives her on the verge of choking.

“Are you sure you want to smoke it?”

“Yes, I am… ahem… I’m okay… I’m just… ahem. Okay. I think it’s over.” her breathing calms down finally. “So” she takes another drag, a perceptibly more cautious one “long story short, she didn’t even care… and that asshole didn’t even resist.”

“I didn’t see him reciprocating her approach… What should he have resisted?”

“Everything? OUCH!!!”

Due to her outraged hand moves, she managed to drop the ash onto her forearm.

“Okay, you give that to me…” I grab her by the wrist and take the cigarette between my own middle and index finger. “When you’re smoking, you have to ash it regularly to avoid accidents like this. It also burns while you’re talking, just sayin’���”

“Damn… but it’d feel really good to hold a cigarette in my hand while I’m flailing…” she whines still rubbing her forearm.”

“Here. But don’t even try to light it. We can pretend you’re smoking it. Go on.” I hand her a fresh cigarette and begin to puff the one I confiscated.

“And I got just… so angry! I mean, how can one be such a slut?” she gestures on with wider moves.

“Well, a lot of girls just want to have fun and…”

“No, I’m talking about him! He’s got a girlfriend… who must be beautiful and smart and perfect and… “

“Wait, you don’t know anything about her…”

“That’s true but guys like him obviously wouldn’t date any girl…”

I’m dying to know what she means by “guys like him” but maybe this is not the right moment to ask it straightforwardly…

“But he didn’t do anything particular with that girl…” I try to defend him effortlessly.

“Were you there too? Because I was. And trust me, without my intervention, a lot more would have happened…”

“Wait, your intervention?” I perk my head but receive no response. “Judy??? What did you do?”

“I… I might have said her a few things… about Stone…” she confesses with burning cheeks.

“Things like…???” I claim a detailed explanation. Maybe she’s not as innocent this time as I thought…

“I told her things about… what he likes…” she answers reluctantly.

“Like beer or dogs or disco music or what the hell? Tell me the whole fuckin’ story or I leave, I swear!” I flare out at her.

“Things… he likes in… bed…”

Oh. The idea of Judy disclosing Stone’s bedroom secrets sounds dangerous enough to make me choose my words wisely.

“But you… you don’t know what kind of sex he likes… do you?”

“Jesus, of course I don’t, I don’t even want to think about the fact that that freak has sex at all! Jesus… not even in my worst nightmares…” she rolls her eyes staring in front of her.

“But then… how did you know…”

“I… used my… imagination…” she sums up with a brief shrug.

I’ve never heard a more euphemistic synonym for lying. “I used my imagination…” Wicked woman.

“Oh my… and what was your intention with that?”

“To make her reconsider her choice… and to defend Stone from her… you know, I wanted to help him getting out of this situation, guys just never have the strength... I basically did him a favor!”

Of course, Judy helping Stone. I could even imagine it but strictly only after the arrival of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

“Thinking back about the beginning of our conversation, he couldn’t be particularly grateful for the helping hand…”

“Well, the thing is that the nature of our relationship sort of… influenced my word usage…”

“Judy, I’ve known you since your birth, you don’t need to use vague sentences… just tell what you told her finally!”

“I told her he liked watching animals, I might have mentioned mating animals. For example, watching David Attenborough video tapes before he…”

“I get it, I get it… but that’s not that extreme, thank God you didn’t say he liked animal porn in which people do it with animals…”

“Maybe I mentioned further preferences too… maybe I said something about him liking eating from the girl’s body…”

“That can even be hot, a lot of people are into it, that’s not that bad at all, Judy…” I snicker.

“…unusual food… like bloody steak with Worcestershire sauce… with knife and fork…”

I immediately stop giggling and freeze because I have the sinister feeling she still has something to confess.

“Uhm… I thought you were talking about potentially erotic food like strawberry and whipped cream but in case the girl likes steak too…”

“…and it’s possible I said things about his… performance too…”

“Oh, no.”

“I remember mentioning… he needs, uhm, special actions to become… motivated.” she fidgets with her shoelaces absent-mindedly, wrapping them around her index fingers.

“Okay, whatever, go ahead, I’m prepared.” I cover my eyes with my hands as if they could prevent me from visualizing her bizarre ideas.

“As far as I can recall… I claimed his main turn-on was watching the girl doing her business…”

“You mean doing the business? Like… pleasing… herself?” I ask back since don’t want to believe what I heard.

“I said doing her business… on the toilet…” she repeats with a miserably groan, reddening and avoiding my gaze.

“Judy… you know I’m always ready to defend you from anything or anybody but… it’s no wonder Stone attacked you again.”

“No wonder? He deserved it! After all that bitching…”

“He deserved it? Helping hand, of course… you basically humiliated him in front of a girl!” I scold her trying to keep a serious face, which is not easy at all.

“Do you think I went too far?” she asks innocently with sincere concern. For a second, she turns back into the ten-year-old version of herself who was scared of everything and everyone and it costs me a lot of restraint not to hug her. “Anyway… thinking back… it was so funny, you should have seen the girl’s face.”

I admit, this is the most hilarious shit I’ve heard in the last few years and Stone does deserve some payback from time to time but I don’t want to confirm her behavior. I’m sticking on my plan about getting them to make up or at least to normalize their relationship.

“Judy…” I begin with a deep sigh “Most guys are very sensitive as for their masculinity and sexual abilities, even if they are not typical machos. When they are joking about themselves – that’s okay, a guy with a healthy amount of self-irony is usually considered funny or even attractive. If another guy teases them with sexual topics – they just fire back, with words or their fist. But if it’s a girl who makes fun of their performance – they just freak out, they can’t hit you, they can’t assert they are sex gods either, their only way to defend themselves is attacking back verbally and they try to be at least as rude as you were. Or even ruder.”

“Oh, please, Karrie, I don’t need to be lectured on the psychology of men. He didn’t even know what I said exactly, he wasn’t there of course.”

“But it was you who said he’s smart, he probably figured out the point of it, the chick didn’t seem to be a rocket scientist and she probably didn’t even realize she got in the middle of your death match…”

“Or he was just taking shots in the dark and had luck. Scully was there and Stone was about to torment him so that he would tell him everything word by word… poor dude… So everything will turn out, anyway. By the way, Stone immediately thinking that I’m the potential reason of him being refused by a girl is insulting but also flattering at the same time…”

“Judy, I’ve never denied that it’s pretty difficult to bear Stone’s remarks without saying a word. But getting a taste of his own medicine only gets him fired up all the more, he always wants to have the last word, he’s simply just like that. And if you want to be the quicker one and make his jaw really drop, you have to get your shit together. But to be honest, I’d be happier if you’d keep your quarrels on the level of innocent teasing…”

“It was already everything but innocent in that very moment he heard my name for the first time. It didn’t depend on me, it’s all his fault and he has to face the music at least once his lifetime!” she declares determined.

I better activate plan A as fast as possible before someone gets killed.

***

I can’t wait this terrible day finally come to an end. I just want to take a shower and have some sleep… but I don’t even know how I could get myself to close my eyes, this place is a mess. What if cockroaches come out of their hideouts in the second I turn off the lights? But I’m so tired… what if I asked the driver to open the tour bus for me? Sleeping in the bunk bed sounds definitely safer… but what if he’s already sleeping? I don’t even know his room number and the reception desk was empty too; I don’t feel like looking for the staff in this haunted house. I better start with a shower, it always helps clear my mind. I’m so busy with my own thoughts that I basically bump into Beth in the hallway who’s walking sleepily towards their room; she must be coming from the shower judging from her wet hair.

“Already back here? It wasn’t a long evening…” she mutters in a tired voice.

“I’ve had enough of it. Is everything okay?” I examine her resigned face.

“Yes… uhm… Ed was typing lyrics the whole evening and then he passed out… so I had a shower and I’m about to go to bed too.” she rubs her eyes. “Carefully with the water tap, I almost scalded myself due to that crap. It’s better to wait at least thirty seconds before standing under the water and be careful when you try to change the temperature, there’s not much transition between ice cold and scalding hot, I had to mess around a lot until I could find the optimal level.”

“If I can’t work it out, I’ll just shower with cold water, that wouldn’t be the first time.” I wave.

“Ugh, if you’re a masochist…”

“It’s not the most pleasant thing I can imagine but at least it’s not dangerous either. It can be even refreshing sometimes.”

“Oookay… as you want... And there are no hooks in the shower either, by the way. But no bugs there so far either… Good night!” she pats my shoulder with almost closed eyes and totters to their door.

As I unlock the door of our room, I reach in with one arm to turn on the light and wait for a few seconds before entering; I don’t want to see my little roommates running in the corners. I lift the blanket on my bed only to realize the bedclothes aren’t the cleanest and there’s no towel prepared for the guests. Thank goodness I didn’t listen to Effie when she tried to dissuade me from bringing my own one; she claimed hotels always offer towels and travel-size personal care products… So much for Effie’s assumptions. Of course I also brought my toiletry bag decorated with treble keys and musical notes containing small bottles of shower gel, body lotion, a tiny tube of toothpaste and… due to the foresight of Effie, my “emergency package” now includes also gratuitous amount of condoms that stare at me accusingly every time I unzip it. I decide to leave my clothes in the room since I don’t like when there’s no place where I could arrange them properly, I don’t want my sleeping shirt and boxers to get wet either. There’s no living soul here, no one would see me walking a few meters only wearing a towel…

But when I pull it out of my backpack, I realize there’s one thing I didn’t take into account: I brought a smaller towel to spare place for other clothes. As I wrap it around my body, I have to trick for a while until I can arrange it in a way that it covers both my chest and my backside at the same time. Since it’s not only narrow but also short, I can forget the ordinary method of walking, I can basically only waddle pressing both arms tight to my body without exposing anything. I try to exercise this ridiculous way of moving pacing back and forth between the two sides of the room a few times and I end up sitting back on the bed hesitating if I should dress up again. I’m at a public place, after all. But fuck it, I’m tired, I had tequila and this day can’t get any worse, anyway. I peek out to the hallway to make sure I won’t get unexpected company and I set off to cover the longest twenty meters in my life. In duckwalk. But my bravery pays off, I encounter no one so on entering the shower, I finally allow myself to relax.

I put the toiletry bag on the classroom chair in front of the sinks in the forefront and fish out the shower gel bottle. I leave my glasses on the bag and head towards the innermost compartments. I decide to hang my towel on the wall separating the opposite compartments and after turning on the water, immediately jump backwards to safe distance. Beth’s advice on the adjustment proves to be useful and a few minutes later, I’m already enjoying the pleasant, warm water. Of course I brought my favorite, rough sponge too, it always helps refresh my blood circulation.

I catch myself rubbing my body stronger and stronger as I involuntarily recall tonight’s events. What a prick. Of course he deserved everything, I don’t have to feel ashamed about anything. It was him who looked for trouble. His girlfriend would have felt terrible, if she’d seen that disgusting scene so I did the right thing. His huge ego just can’t accept, this time someone was smarter than him. It’s so pathetic when a man needs this cheap kind of confirmation to feel his masculinity ensured. But come on, Stone Gossard’s name referred in connection with manliness and masculinity is the most ridiculous idea in the world, he’s got the body and mind of a thirteen-year-old.

I turn off the water and spill a few drops of shower gel into my palm but as soon I touch my shoulder with it, I hear a noise. A squeaky noise. A squeaky noise of an opening door. Oh no. No, no, no. The smacking sound of slippers on the tiled floor leaves no doubts that I have a visitor and the lazy, shuffling steps are approaching. I pull in the corner and don’t even dare breathe, I’m shivering but not only of cold, shit, what if it’s a stranger? What if it’s a man? What if I make some noise only with my mere existence? I got trapped here naked and… The sound of steps ceases and the water starts running right in the shower cubicle next to mine. Luckily, the wall is high enough to hide me although I can’t check the other person without revealing my presence either. A few seconds have gone by when humming gets mixed into the sound of water… Oh shit, it’s a male voice. The humming slowly turns into singing and my blood runs cold when I realize: I know this nasal bleat.

“If you didn’t come to party, don’t bother knockin’ on my door…”

[trashweavings]

July 29th, 1996, 7:24 AM, a baby was born to two poor, Vietnamese immigrants in Fountain Valley, California’s Regional Hospital. The baby was promptly declared a girl, and that may have been the worst thing that could have happened to that baby. Because from the moment the hospital said, “it’s a girl” that baby became a “she” that she would never be able to live up to, and within our patriarchal society, being unable to live up to your gender is one of the worst things you can do.

Her parents chose to give her the name Natalie Ngoc Duong. Ngoc, the middle name given to her and her two older brother meant jade. The middle name was chosen in hopes to give the child a chance of wealth that her parents didn’t have. 

Duong, the last name, was taken from her father to indicate that she belongs to the father and will continue his lineage.

Natalie was chosen because her father admired the actress Natalie Wood. He wanted his daughter to not be trapped by her Vietnamese status and able to assimilate better into the white culture he admired in America. He wanted his daughter to have the grace and beauty and femininity of an old Hollywood actress.

See, when a parent names their child, they’re putting their hopes of what that child will be into those words. Those words aren’t just what that child makes those words to be, but also, they shape the child. Many people may think, “a name is a name. It doesn’t make a difference. It’s just a word,” but when they say that, they fail to understand the fundamental power that language has. That girl was me. Or maybe that girl “is” me. I’ve felt the weight of what my parents wanted from me before I could even explain what it meant to feel pressure. 

Kleinman touches on this in her text “Why Sexist Language Matters.” In that text, she talks about the pervasiveness of male-coded language, and why it is problematic. Saying the words “you guys” , “freshman” , “chairman” , etc. as the default is dangerous because despite people saying it is innocuous, in reality, they are saying that the default in our society is man. Using “you guys” to refer to a full of group of women isn’t an innocent act, it inadvertently reduces women into nothingness. They can’t even be acknowledged if they are the only in the room. Language is how we describe and experience the world around us. People say they’re just words, but where do the words come from other than our human selves and the way we treat and view others around us.

So, the name “Natalie” was never right for me. Maybe I could still be the me that I am now with that name, but when I changed my name to Ryn, it was like all the weight of my parents’ gendered expectations on me were lifted off of me. It was like all the times that people looked at me in confusion when a queer body introduced themselves at Natalie was erased from my history, and I was rewriting my narrative. 

I think it disappointed my family when I changed my name. My parents wanted so badly for me to fit the mold of a girl. For a while I really wanted to be that too. Not just for more parents, but because I didn’t know I had any other options. From the moment I was born, from the moment a human is born, the world imposes endless amounts of expectations and standards on that person. Gender is taught and enforced onto a person often even before they were born.  

I figured out I wasn’t good at being a girl when I was 5 years old. I liked to play with Barbie dolls growing up, even when I was allowed to play with my brother’s Legos and transformers, I always chose Barbie dolls. In my Kindergarten class, a boy made fun of me for playing with my Barbie dolls because they were girly and weak, so I pushed him over and he started crying. I got sent to time out for making him cry, but I was so mad. Boys got to push each other all the time. Why couldn’t I?

Because girls don’t get to be boys. Girls have to be sweet. They have to be soft. They have to be gentle. They have to be all the things I couldn’t make myself be no matter how hard I tried. 5 years old was the first time that I realized, I was never going to live up to the name my parents gave me, and I felt endless guilt for it. 

The reason doing gender wrong is one of the worst things you can do is because of the patriarchy. Our society centers around the power dynamic between men and women. Our social practices, our economy, our media, everything can relate back to patriarchy. In a patriarchy, everything is structured around the power dynamics between white, cisgender, heterosexual men over everyone else. As Allan Johnson describes in his text, our patriarchy is a capitalist, white supremacist system that is “male-dominated, male-identified, and male-centered.” Meaning everything in our society is structured out of a power differential between men and everyone else. Our gender binary is so problematic not because gender is problematic, but because it is a binary structured to empower men. Our gender binary enforces this by teaching boys how to be more powerful than girls, by teaching girls how to subdue themselves and make themselves smaller because that’s what they are supposed to be. 

Not only does a patriarchy have this expectations for everybody, it also creates real world consequences for people who do gender wrong. This can be seen in the grooming practices women subject themselves to despite how troublesome and harmful the practices are can be. Sheila Jeffrey’s describes in “Making Up is Hard to Do” how women who don’t wear makeup look less “healthy,” “heterosexual” or “credible.” This means, women who don’t subject themselves to this one aspect of gendered expectation they literally have less access to intimacy and wealth. Intimacy because if a woman is heterosexual and does not mark herself as so, she could pass up the chance for a potential partner, which as a human, can be really painful. Furthermore, in our capitalistic society, it is so difficult as a woman to sustain oneself without a partner who also works. Especially if a woman wants to have a family. There’s even less access to wealth because a woman is viewed as less credible without makeup on. This affects their ability to get hired, and their perceived job performance. 

Girls learn from a young age that grooming oneself, beautifying one self, is not optional. This is one of the many ways we learn gender growing up, but here’s the thing. Girls learn about makeup in an unsuspecting way. So many women who do makeup now talk about how their first experience with makeup was sneaking into their mom’s or grandmother’s makeup and putting it on in secret. They talk about a woman figure in their life teaching their how to do makeup. They talk about it with nostalgia, and as if makeup is this beautiful way of bonding with other women that is really empowering. I’ve almost never heard about girls learning about makeup in a way that felt forceful, yet these same women will talk about how they need to put makeup on to go out in public, about how they look like a potato without it. 

This demonstrates how gender can be learned in such inconspicuous, innocent way, yet it’s never just gender. People don’t think about how problematic the way we are socialized in terms of gender is because if you look at it individually and closely, gender doesn’t seem problematic. Marilyn Frye describes this perfectly when she describes oppression as a birdcage. The way a girl becomes interested in makeup is a wire, and it seems like not a big deal. Maybe makeup can make a girl feel less adequate in her appearance, but she can simply get around that wire by using it as play and using it to bond with maybe her mom or aunt or whoever. Zoom out and look at the wires surrounding it you see that makeup is one of the many grooming practices that relates to the oppression of women as a whole. Makeup is wholly white supremacist. Many trends are about white washing and getting a face to conform to European beauty standards. It promotes thin culture where it’s about making your face look slenderer and cheekbones pop out more. It’s classist because women with more money have access to more makeup and higher quality products that allow them to look more “beautiful.” When one simply participates in makeup, they are trapping themselves in this birdcage that relates to all the aspects of the patriarchy. 

Gender feels like a choice, and it is in a way. Obviously, I chose to identify as non-binary. I chose my gender. The problem is, there has been a real pushback and consequence to my “choice.” I have been told by society that I have made the wrong choice. That I am behaving incorrectly for a “Natalie” in our society. I have had to reckon with the fact that I don’t have the same access to love as other people. That people don’t know how to view me as attractive because they only know the heterosexual script for attraction and I don’t fit that script. I’ve had to accept the fact that I will never have the same bond with my brothers ever again because they view my gender as a “mental illness.” I have to accept that everyday is a fight for me. 

I am trapped in a birdcage. I am resisting it, but I will always be bound by this birdcage. I have lost in society’s eye by being trans. The thing is, for someone who is not a heterosexual, cisgender, financially-privileged, white man, there is not winning for me. This inability to win no matter what shows you the truth, gender is not truly a choice. It is compulsory. 

The fact that gender is inescapable makes the concept of dismantling the patriarchy feel hopeless, but Allan Johnson gives space for hope in “Unravelling the Gender Knot.” He describes all the expectations and things that encompass gender as a knot, and that there are things we can do to unravel this not.  One that resonates with me was to “openly choose and model alternative paths.”

I mean, at the age of 6, I made the conscious decision to never wear dresses in public unless I was being forced. Not because I didn’t like them. I love them. As a 6-year-old, they were just another fun clothing item to me. Even at 6, I recognized that people treated me differently when I was in a dress. They told me not to run around, not to rough house. I was supposed to behave even more when I was in a dress. I saw adults coo at me and coddle me as if I was smaller and weaker in a dress, and I hated that. The last thing I wanted was to be treated like I was less capable than the other children around me just because I was wearing a dress. 

Dresses restricted me, but they taught me that I could take control over more body, over my gender expression, and people would treat me different. I didn’t know that’s what I was doing then, but I knew it made a difference when I chose not to wear dresses. The thing is, I still loved dresses, and I would wear them in my room by myself all the time. I let myself feel powerful in a clothing item I wasn’t supposed to feel powerful in at 6. When I wore dresses in secret, I did the things my mom told me I wasn’t supposed to do when wearing a dress. I would run around, jump around, sprawl out spreading my legs with no regard to how I was exposing my body because as a kid in private, I didn’t have to worry about being inappropriate. I could just have fun. At 6 years old, I was going down an alternative path and queering dresses. As Johnson said, “modeling new paths creates tension in a system, which moves towards resolution.”

I don’t think dresses will stop being associated with girlhood and pushed onto girls in my lifetime, but I know that my choice to not wear dresses at 6 was my part in tugging at that one part of the gender knot.

I continue to model alternative paths now. The thing is modeling alternative paths relates to another way that Johnson says that we can unravel this knot. I “choose to make people uncomfortable, starting with myself.” When a queer human wears a dress, and refuses to behave in a soft or small manner, they make people uncomfortable because what they are doing is technically wrong. So, in my life now, I choose to wear dresses. I choose to wear skirts. I choose to wear clothes that are associated with femininity, but I also choose to not allow them to dictate my behavior and posturing within them. 

My shaved head was also a conscious decision to not only take control over my body but to also queer the sight of people around me and make them uncomfortable. I am undeniably queer, clockable from a mile away, and I am forcing people around me to see that there are queer ways of gender expression, and the more we queer the world around us, the more strides we are making to resist the patriarchy. People cannot erase queer people if we “shove” it into their faces. If me shaving my head is to queer my body and deny the expectation of my feminine-coded body to have long hair, then me wearing dresses is reject and resist the idea that my androgyny is defined by claiming masculine traits. When I step out of the house knowing that I chose each item on my body out of an enjoyment for those items and as a way to express the infinity of my gender, I can describe the feeling as nothing less than gender euphoria. 

Along with my gender shifting how I related to myself and my choices, my gender has shifted the way I relate to people too. I mean, people really don’t understand how gender affects everything in our lives. I think people think gender just affects the few things they really noticed as gendered like clothing and colors, but that’s not true. We’ve gendered nearly everything in our society in a way, especially human behavior and traits. Which means, the gender assigned to us at birth teaches us to behave and interact with other people in different ways. 

When I rejected girlhood, and came out as non-binary, I realized, I had to analyze so many things I did and figure out, do I behave this way because I want to, or because that’s the way I was told I had to be. Even if something is the way I want to be, does it still reinforce and perpetuate the patriarchy? All these things have shifted because of my gender. 

When I talk to other people, it has shifted because of my awareness of gender. I am brash, I am loud, I am unapologetic. I don’t let my voice be covered up by men or cisgender people, and I refuse to ever let that happen. Despite that, I am kind, and I am sensitive. I don’t let my voice be covered up by men and cisgender people, but I don’t speak up over people with aggression and deny them a voice. I want to be considerate and caring, but I refuse to let gender and society dictate I can’t be all those things and powerful and assertive too. 

The fact of the matter though is despite these being the ways I resist the patriarchy, I often ask myself, why don’t more people do this? Why don’t more people imbue acts of resistance in their everyday actions and choices when this is what it takes to deconstruct the patriarchy? Going back to Patriarchy by Allan Johnson, Johnson describes this as following “path of least resistance.” People don’t go against the rigid structure of gender because it’s easier not to. It’s normal not to resist. People who resist and do gender wrong, there’s not many people who look like them, they feel isolated, different. That’s just a social consequence though. Beyond that it can be harder to be hired or your job performance is placed into question when you look or act different. That’s a powerful punishment in this capitalistic world. Despite this though, people are resisting now, and people who look like me, who look queer, they are only growing in number. My best friend, Julie, who has always subscribed to heteronormative gender expectations has recently chosen to cut all her hair of. This is something she’s always wanted to do but felt like she couldn’t because of fear of judgement. She has expanded her idea of gender and liberated her choices in clothing and behavior and appearance despite still identifying as a cisgender woman. She is learning from me, how to model alternative paths in her life. She is unraveling gender within in her own life. At the end of the day, of each day, that is what we can do and will do to empower ourselves in this gender mess around us. We can choose for ourselves to make our lives harder and resist gender, and in turn that serves as an example to others as to how to liberate themselves. 

Dismantling oppressive systems is not an overnight feat. It is not a feat I can envision happening, but that does not stop me from taking each small act I can in my life to resist. That does not stop me from helping my other friends feel empowered to resist. I may still be oppressed, but like I said in my midterm “oppression and privilege does not mean suffering or not suffering.” I am finding ways to alleviate my suffering in this world despite still being oppressed, and beyond that the alleviation of my suffering (which often time is related to the parts of my identity that signify my oppression) are part of endless small acts that everyone must take to alleviate oppression. I am certainly happy and not suffering currently because I am choosing to live my truth as a gender non-conforming persons, and that’s pretty awesome to be able to do in this patriarchy.