Unintended KKK Rally

Children, get some warm cocoa and your favorite blanket caz on this chilly night, mama's gonna tell you a little story about when she was young, a little older than you, but still quite young. I must have been about 26 or 27 years old. It was the 4th of July (Independence Day in the USA) weekend and my then boyfriend an I had gone way "up north" - the Upper, that nebulous place where Wisconsin meets Michigan. Now you children might not know this, but the far north of the USA is about as full of hateful rednecks as the far south. (fun fact) We met with an old friend of my bf and he had a "local" friend -townie- with him (my bf and his friend grew up rich, spoiled kids with a summer home on the lake). They invited us to a "party". So of course we said YEAH! We were young and a party sounded fun. It was even going to be down by the river. Off we go and as we are walking, I happen to note a lawn jockey. Now you kids may not be familiar with law jockeys, so let me get you a picture.

Lawn jockeys are incredibly racist symbols. They were used mostly at southern plantations where slaves were kept and long after just by assholes. The idea was that you tie your horse to it because since slavery is outlawed, you can't just force a black man to stand around all day waiting for your friends to let him hold their horse. Now, back to our story. I started to get a bit jumpy but thought, "maybe they have this as kitsch - for irony" - like it's so racist it's not even racist anymore, you know? Anyhoo down we go and suddenly I see a pick up truck (well many of them). The one that caught my eye was highly flying a confederate flag. Time for another picture:

This flag was the one the south used during the US Civil War and a sign of racism as well. If you don't know what the US Civil War was all about, as you kids say, "Google it." Aha, where was I? Oh yes, I was noting two racist symbols in a matter of seconds. This could not be kitsch and my heart began to race. Just then a man with a clip board, flannel shirt, and bad, bad mullet (one of many) came up to my bf and I and asked if we would like to sign a petition to get the state of Wisconsin to recognize the KKK as a CHARITABLE organization so they could get tax relief and advertise their "trainings." Needless to say, I had to refrain myself from shouting "Hell no!" and just said "No" in a squeaky and totally not badass way.

Sorry, I didn't mean to mislead you, but Billy Ray wasn't there, just his hair on many heads. Now I start looking for an out. Then some other cuntwaddle (this is a new word I learned this week), started shouting (please read in a redneck voice) "I'd drive my truck on the south side of Chicago with this flag and yell at all them niggers to stop taking our jobs." Now, I said a little bit loudly to my bf, "You're so dumb you don't even know the WEST side of Chicago is where the tough gang members reside. And they would eat you alive. You'd run out of there pissing your pants. And which jobs? I haven't seen one person of color since we passed Green Bay." My bf looks at me and says "hush" - we were clearly outnumbered, both in people and loads of atrocious hair. Here's what the women looked like:

So I kept saying to my husband, but louder and louder each time and directed to the rednecks things like "you racists assholes" "you dumb pieces of shit" "you are not fit to wipe my ass with", etc. He reminded me though master martial artist I am, it's doubtful I could kick the ass of all these inbreeds.

I also keep looking at his "friends" because I'm convinced they didn't knowingly take us to a KKK rally. Something I would put on my NOT to do bucketlist. I just know they are as horrified as me. But nope, I look over and they are smiling and drinking and jumping over a fire. When I notice the fire, I say "I wish those girls would stand a little closer and blow the whole damn place up with their gallons of hairspray." I think it might be wise to describe what my bf and I looked like at this time. This was the 1990's - yes way back in the 19's! We were what was termed "alternative" during those days. He had short, spiky hair with 2 earrings in one ear and 1 in the other. I probably was wearing cutoff jeans and combat boots. My hair would have been some shade not known to nature. It was long in the front and shaved in the back. I had (and still have) 5 earrings in one ear and 2 in the other. We looked like what asshats like these would refer to as homos and lezbos. Photo is not us by the way, but something like us. (my bf was a musician, but i wasn't crazy - at least i didn't think so)

I thought my heart would beat outside of my body, so I told my bf, "Go and tell that moron friend of yours we are leaving." Well the dickhole said he was "having fun" and we could leave if we want to. Of course he'd drove us and we'd left our truck (a respectable small sized pick up with no confederate flags) parked at the dive bar on the highway. I was a bit afraid to turn my back on these jerks as they are known to attack people only when the others are vulnerable, but walk away we did. And walk the 2 miles back to our truck. And walk right into that dive bar and order two shots of Southern Comfort STAT!

Now like every good story, we need a moral. And here it is, children. If you ever find yourself in the deep south or far north or anywhere else the redneck herds roam and someone, even someone you consider a friend, invites you to a party, especially down by the river, get written confirmation that you will not be mistakenly attending a KKK rally. And in case you aren't sure how to identify rednecks, please listen to this helpful guide from David Cross : Good night. Sleep well. (Kiss on the forehead.)

Believe

I am the moon, the stars, and the sun
If only you believe

I could be your everything
Minus a few minor things
If only you believe

You say really, mostly, this is what you want
Except for this and that
And a little bit of something else

And in the long, long, long run
What's so important
That it can't be overcome?

The way I sigh late, late, late at night?
The way I hold the broom in the middle of the day?
The way I want to kiss you every morning?
The way I want others to know you are mine?

So maybe I could be anyone's everything
Even without a few minor things
If only I believe

And I don't need you to validate me
'Cause I could be the sun, the stars, and the moon
If maybe someday
I believe

8 October 2010, 10:07pm

To all the fine, fine men...

I see some of you struggling and I've decided to give you a little heads up. Here, in no particular order, are 15 pointers that come to mind...



1) If you are more than 5 years younger than us, do NOT start off a conversation by saying, "I got a thing for older women." We get the message loud and clear if you are talking to us.

1.5) If we tell you we believe you are too young for us, please, I beg you, don't say, "Age ain't nuthin' but a numba." You are not Andre 3000...

2) Also under the younger man heading, don't claim maturity over your peers and then say some crap like, "I just saw your pic and couldn't stop think of hammerin' that ass." Point proven...

3) Any and all men: sending us a message like, "Your beauty enhances the light of even the brightest day..." It's quite possible, back when we first got the Internet, way back when, back then, we might have believed the first man who typed this, but trust us, we've heard it or it's cousin or step-brother more times than we care to count. Have the decency to at least make up your own lame ass line.

4) If you want to compliment me, actually have something to say that approaches the truth.

5) "You look sweet in your pictures," makes no damned sense. Someone cannot look sweet. Act sweet, hell even taste sweet, sure. Your eyes don't have taste buds.

6) If you "checked out" my profile, you will see that I have listed a whole lot of information about myself. If you can't take the time to read what I've written, well it surly makes me think you just might be illiterate, or (gasp!) only interested in the physical.

7)"I'm not like ALL men!" True, you aren't like all men, maybe just 99.68%...

8) If you ask me if I cam and I tell you no, don't think you can convince me by offering to do a strip tease for my entertainment.

9) If you check out my pics and notice that I'm fully clothed in all of them, do not comment on my singular body parts. If I'm spread eagle on a bed in boyshorts and a bra, by all means, feel free to comment.

10) If on my profile I've listed many favorite books and ended with "Too many to count. I'm reading constantly; it's my passion!" And under the heading of "favorite books" you've written, "lol, i dn't lk red-in"... uh, yea, probably not a good match...

11) Unless my profile picture has me in a diaper, refrain from calling me "Baby".

12) If my status is listed as "single", don't ask me if I'm married. And then act surprised and say, "wow, how could a woman like you be single?" uhhhh, probably because the eligible partners are just like you... oh sorry, I mean 99.68%...

13) If I say I'm athletic and love participating in sports and the last physical endeavor you have mastered is the one handed pole vault and/or egg toss, yea, let's just leave it there...

14) Don't think you can cajole me into meeting you by claiming my resistance is because I am "afraid" of you. I have a black belt. I teach self-defense. I can kick your ass. The only thing I'm "afraid" of is early onset dementia and swallowing some of the swill you are attempting to sell me.

15) If our skin colors are of a different palette, don't assume or suggest that I don't want to date you because you are "not white"... Idiocy knows no color, no race.



Bonus!

16) If you came across more than 4 words in this diatribe that you didn't know the meaning of (including "diatribe") and you thought it was acceptable to "just skip over them" because you'd still get the overall gist, then you definitely don't want to meet me.

Catcalling the Lioness

Before I moved to Belize, I was never once subjected to whistles, hissing, hey babies, or provided commentary about my physical attributes and actions of such on the street. Now riding my bicycle to work elicits at least one pejorative utterance from the teeming testosterone enhanced masses. Never mind I'm wearing a uniform and school ID. Never mind I'm probably teaching his sons and daughters. No, my crime is being on the street, shamelessly brandishing female secondary and primary sexual characteristics. Sometimes, depending on my mood and the obscenity level of the comment, I'll respond with humor. Once a young man called after me, "Teacha, teacha! I wanna go back da skool!" My immediate response was, "Hmmm, bwai, you wa fail!" We both had a chuckle and went about our days. At other times, the bile rising so quickly to my mouth, I'm surprised I don't vomit at his feet. Take for instance the man I met one Sunday morning walking hand in hand with his primary school aged son and daughter. As he held their hands and passed me, he made sure I knew exactly how and where he'd like to lick me. It's no wonder that many of our young females walk around, head bowed in shame or alternately with a weighty chip on their shoulder, one that drives them to respond with cursing and backchat. Men rarely seem to understand our frustration, citing we should be flattered or even amused. "Don't worry when they're calling. Worry when they stop!" And, "It's one of the pitfalls of being beautiful." It's more like one of the pitfalls of having a vagina, I say. I guess I misspoke earlier because it's really not breasts and pubic hair that set these men off because if it was we'd not see uniformed police officers hissing after uniformed primary school girls. When this is mentioned to some well-meaning and enlightened men, they will admit that the first time their prepubescent daughters described how a man verbally assaulted them on the street, they were angry and disgusted. "I guess becoming a father changes us," they say. Well, hell! Weren't you ALL sons at the inception? As India Arie sang, "When you talk to her, talk to her like you'd want somebody to talk to your mama..." And do we really need to channel Aretha and start demanding our R-E-S-P-E-C-T every time we venture to the corner shop, the bank, the dentist, the daycare, the workplace? Do we have to turn our society into some kind of militant feminist off off Broadway musical just so we can reach our destination unmolested? I remember the first year I attended Sisterhood Camp: one week in Cayo with 50 girls, 8 female staff, 3 female cooks and a male owner and a maintenance man who kept out of the way until suppertime. At one point I realized my usual "walking about" tension was gone. I felt free, relaxed, light. Then I realized, I hadn't been hissed at in 5 long, glorious days. I shouldn't have to exile myself from the co-ed world to feel this peace. I shouldn't have to feel this way at all. She shouldn't have to feel this way. You shouldn't have to feel this way. Guys, we women DO think some of those same things you say. Trust me, we are sexual beings and we see a man sometimes and THINK - "Damn......I'd like to a, b, c...and even z with him..." But that's where it ends. Somehow we have a special thing called self-regulation. Well, maybe it's not really that special. I don't think it's attached to the X chromosome. I'm sure have as much as we do. Use it. Everything you think doesn't have to come immediately spewing from your mouth. Unlike some religious dogma, I don't think lusting in your mind is a sin. Enjoy the visual stimulation without resulting to verbal provocation! If you want to greet us, a "Good morning, Miss." is fine. Most of us even don't mind a "Good morning beautiful/lovely." It's the "baby, sexy, fine piece of ass..." we dislike. When you are out with friends and they make a comment like this, please tell them it's not cool to do that. Also, talk to the women you love and respect. Ask them how that kind of harassment feels. Then listen to them. We can all get along just fine, as long as we respect one another. Remember, every woman is someone's daughter, sister, aunty, granny, and mother... Talk to her like that.

Self-Defense in Belize

CJC Self Defense Club performance at CJC Expo 2010

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