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i love poetry, politics, and people i would be better off staying away from.

Monday, January 17, 2011

Celebrating with Censorship

I've been pretty silent so far about the Huck Finn N-word removal story that was recently in the news, and I figured, what better day to talk about it than MLKJ Day?  So, here's my take, as a writer, as a white person, as a woman, as a Christian, as an American, and as me, specifically.

There are things in the history of "my people" that I wish I could blot out.  Things I would love to erase and replace with happier things.  I can't do that.  There are things in the short 10 years of my adulthood that would be great to erase and replace as well.  But I can't.  Even if I could do that, to remove those parts would be to change who I am today.

I've been one to stereotype.  I've discriminated against people. I even dropped the N-bomb.  And I don't mean when singing lyrics to a song when I'm by myself in the car.  I said it to a person, about him.

I've also been on the other side of the table.  I've been discriminated against.  I've been abused and mistreated and even went back to the one who did that to me.  I've been cheated on.  I've been lied to and lied about.

Now, by no way am I saying that I personally have had to endure anything like the segregation, mistreatment, or hardships that blacks have.  I suppose I'm just saying that there are things that have happened in my own history of adulthood that are uncomfortable to talk about.  That doesn't mean you change the words to make it sound nicer.  That means when you talk about it, you use it as a learning point or teaching point to see where you've been and how far you've come.

Our nation has set aside this day to celebrate the life of a black man who took massive strides to ensure that all people will be treated fairly.  And while there is still a long way ahead of us, we've certainly come a long way from the time when my mom was in her twenties, which was when Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated, and we've certainly come a long way from 1884, which was when Huckleberry Finn was first published.

I can see major changes in my life from how I was 10 years ago to how I am now.  And while I try not to dwell on my past, I'm not closed off about it, either.  I don't use prettier or more acceptable words when explaining what's happened to me or what's happened to others because those parts of our history (whether our own or our country's) aren't pretty and aren't acceptable, but they're accurate.

A dear friend of mine, Kailei Higginson, who happens to be one of my favorite black men that I know, said as we were discussing this issue "history is dirty and pretty at the same time. . . The removal of the word 'nigger' is offensive to me.  It's like saying my history didn't happen."  I feel the same.  I'm horrified by some of the things that have happened in this country.  However, I'm not going to act like it hasn't happened.

I suppose that if people are so afraid to talk about the uglier parts of our history when reading classic lit to our children or just afraid to face it when reading it for themselves, then go ahead and change the words for them, but then the book should be labeled as an adaptation, perhaps The Adaptation of Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn by The Society to Produce a Prettier, Politically Correct History, and not pawned off as "the real thing".

Some people are content with a generic, watered-down version of life or books or what have you.  I am not.  I prefer the full flavor of a book and of my life, even though that flavor is sometimes sour or bitter. 

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Faulty Pheromone vs. Dishonest D-bags


"I saw ev'ryting.  I tell you."
Do you remember the episode of Mad TV with Ms. Swan as the eyewitness?  You know the one where the rookie cop is trying to get her to describe the perp and she's the only eyewitness and even though she saw everything all she keeps saying is, "He look like a man."  No?  Well, Youtube it.  How about when Austin Powers attacks Basil's mom and says, "That's not your mother, it's a man, baby!" and when Basil explains that, no, it really is his mother, Austin replies, "Well, she is rather man-ish"?

The fact of the matter is that some people look like men.  Most men do.  Some women, as well.  I, however, DON'T look like a man.  I have some crazy big, womanly hips, perfectly plucked eyebrows, and the full, pouty lips of a fat Angelina Jolie look-alike.  No, I don't look like a man at all.  Thank God for that one.

I don't smell like one either.  As much as I like the guy on the Old Spice commercials for entertainment value as well as the sheer joy of eye candy, I have no desire to smell like him.  To smell him, yes, but not to smell like him.  I prefer a more girly scent.  I like fruity shampoos and body washes and love the smell of Vicky Secret perfumes and body sprays on me.

However, I've recently found that my look and smell really sets off this radar in certain guys.  *Note:  I said guys, not men. I apparently have a unique pheromone or something that tells guys I make a great "girl on the side".

In the past week, I've been hit-on or had "the moves" placed on me by two different -- and taken -- guys.  One married.  One with a girlfriend.  It's completely depressing, really.  I mean, why couldn't I have a powerful pheromone that says "this girl is worth putting the time and commitment into a relationship"?  Or the one that lets men know "not only is she great in bed, but she'd make a great wife and mom when you guys are ready"?  Hell, I'd even take the "give her a shot as a girlfriend" pheromone over the one I obviously have.

Breathe it in, boys!
 From what I gather, the "girl on the side" pheromone  gives off something that tells guys I'm good for one thing only, and I don't kiss and tell.  I hate to say it, but that's completely inaccurate!  I mean, I am good in bed, I suppose, but there's so much more to me than that. And as for the part about me not kissing and telling, well, anyone who knows me knows that I'm great at keeping secrets . . . as long as they're not mine.  My secrets, however, would end up in every newspaper in the state of Minnesota, but by the time people would read it, it wouldn't be news anymore.

Then again, maybe I don't have this pheromone after all.  I mean, I have plenty of married or taken men that I'm friends with who seem strangely unaffected by my smell or look, as long as I'm not coming straight off the treadmill. Not my finest time of day.  But the married and taken men I'm friends with are just that -- men.  I asked one of my faux-girlfriends (read: guy I dish to) who has a great wife about this pheromone phenomenon.  Here's a snipet of our conversation:

Me:  WTF? Do I have that perfect-for-a-girl-on-the-side look or smell or something?  I mean, WTF!?
Him:  I don't know.  Maybe you just have an electric magnetism about you that [guys] can't resist.
Me: You mean my va-jay-hole?

Well, that kind of makes sense, though.  I seriously have a hard time understanding how a guy could ask me to make a trip to visit him and screw around while his wife is already in the area.  And when I bring her up he just says, "she can stay at home." or how when a guy is going to see his "GF or whatever" (his words, not mine, hence the quotes) in less than five hours, he wants to go further than friends should go.  Is it that they simply can't wait that long between coitus?  (b-the-w, pretty sure that's the first time I've used the word "coitus" in my life.  weird.)  Is it that boring with the same person over and over again?  And if that's the case, why would you put yourself in a relationship? 

I've made my feelings on marriage and cheating and such known on here before.  I think people just need to be honest with themselves and with each other.  For example, instead of asking someone out or proposing and saying that you want to be with them forever, why not try a different approach?  If you're reading this and looking for an honest way to pop the *real* question, I have given you a sample to go off of.  Here it is:

He even looks like a douche.
 I want you to know that I'll commit to you for an undetermined amount of time ranging from three and a half minutes to the end of the weekend, and if something better or even just different comes along, I promise to hide it from you, so your feelings don't get hurt, as well as for my own physical safety because we all know that "bitches be crazy".  I will pretend to love you and will be with you for now because the sex is all right or my parents are pushing it or I knocked you up, etc.  And, in order to avoid any accusations and playing of the "But, baby, I love you" and "But, baby, I'm sorry" cards, I promise to not make any promises at all. I have no intention of changing.  You should know that you can't turn a ho into a husband.  And with that *gets down on one knee* Lillian, will you be casual with me?

I mean, come on!  How can a girl not say "yes" to that?  On Christmas morning in front of the whole family, or maybe when it's just the two of you on a romantic walk and he surprises you with that proposal!  Magical, right?  I've got goosebumps!

So, it's not some faulty pheromone I need to have checked.  It's just that some guys, no matter how great they are or smart they seem or sexy they look, are perhaps selfish, immature, and dishonest.  (Now, not only guys suffer from this dishonesty, but since I've already posted about that one catty, unfaithful B-word who's now engaged, no need to bring it up again.)

To all the guys out there who are reading this -- right . . . like guys read my blog, *Note: I said guys right there again; I know there are some men who read it -- I have a few words for you.  Grow a pair.  If you think you're a man, then you should have the balls to be real with someone.  And if you think you're a man in a relationship, then not only should you have some balls, but you should keep them in your pants and their bigger buddy in your girl's va-jay-hole only, where they belong.

 . . . Oh, and Happy New Year, everyone!