day 20: say that you believe..
so my weekend wasn't too bad. didn't fight with my father, which was fantastic. didn't really fight with my mother, although she was a dick to me most of the weekend about the hair [on my head, facial hair, and body hair]. i didn't have to spend time around people i didn't like, so that was cool. louis bought me new pants and my period ended. cheers all around!
i really wish i hadn't gone, for the most part. i loved seeing the homies and louis and my sister and mama, but fuck it's almost like i had those 3 days sucked away from me. 3 days i could have spent starting the 2 papers and report i have due very soon, or at least thinking about them. i find it very difficult to think about life in berkeley when i'm in long beach. so i completely ignored all the work i would have to do when i got back. i'm back and feel like shit. kind of want to just go to sleep and forget it all. but i won't. will. not. crack.
when i opened this window i had a lot of things i wanted to talk about. but the wrist and my tiredness have made me less eager.
on the bus today there were these two prostitutes talking about life. i realized that that was the first time i had ever heard hoes openly talk about hoeing [their words, not mine]. but were they the first prostitutes i've ever run into? no. in femsex on thursday night i asked my students, "can you imagine a world without sex work?" and all of them laughingly said no. one of them said, "no, but i can imagine a world where the people pretend there is no sex work." and it was in reference to 50s pop culture and middle class white america family values, etc. but right now i'm thinking about it in reference to myself. i know there's sex work [porn stars, erotic dancers, strippers, phone sex workers, web cam site participants, etc etc]. and yet i completely ignore it. these people have kids too. they go grocery shopping and live lives the same as everyone else [and by that i mean that we all lead such different lives, that their lives aren't any further from mine than a rich person's life. or a person who's on top of their school work. or a person who is very religious, and so on]. it was such an interesting experience, that i had to sit and take it in. i had to check what reactions i was having, what judgments i was making. i can claim to be radical and open-minded and a womyn's advocate all i want, but i've still got a long way to go.
back to louis and the pants. every time i talk about or even mention the fact that he buys me stuff i feel as if i have to make excuses for myself. why can't i just say, "he bought me 5 pairs of pants" without feeling guilt? like, as a feminist, i'm not allowed to have a penis-haver buy me things. i'm not preaching man-hatred, i'm just thinking about all those teachings of self-reliance and how chivalry is such a double-edged sword and how big of a part gender places in everything i do, even though i hate it so much. and it's such a cultural connotation, the man buys the womyn all the shit. and i can't help but feel attacked and a bit insulted every time darbrielle says, "tracie you're such a boss." i know she doesn't mean it like that, but i can't help but think what she means is that i have what all womyn are looking to have: a man to buy me shit. i feel dirty. but when i separate the cultural context from it, it's not like i wouldn't hang out with him if he didn't buy me stuff. it's not like he buys me stuff every time we hang out. it's not like i have nothing to offer him, although sometimes i feel that way. it's not like i ever bug him about buying me something [except for the funfetti cake mix thing]. it's not like he cares. why do i? and even now, i feel like i haven't made enough excuses. like i need to explain myself further because i let my partner buy me things. i'm not making any more excuses. go ahead. judge me.
i'm very tired, friends. it's time for an orgasm and some rest. ♥
i really wish i hadn't gone, for the most part. i loved seeing the homies and louis and my sister and mama, but fuck it's almost like i had those 3 days sucked away from me. 3 days i could have spent starting the 2 papers and report i have due very soon, or at least thinking about them. i find it very difficult to think about life in berkeley when i'm in long beach. so i completely ignored all the work i would have to do when i got back. i'm back and feel like shit. kind of want to just go to sleep and forget it all. but i won't. will. not. crack.
when i opened this window i had a lot of things i wanted to talk about. but the wrist and my tiredness have made me less eager.
on the bus today there were these two prostitutes talking about life. i realized that that was the first time i had ever heard hoes openly talk about hoeing [their words, not mine]. but were they the first prostitutes i've ever run into? no. in femsex on thursday night i asked my students, "can you imagine a world without sex work?" and all of them laughingly said no. one of them said, "no, but i can imagine a world where the people pretend there is no sex work." and it was in reference to 50s pop culture and middle class white america family values, etc. but right now i'm thinking about it in reference to myself. i know there's sex work [porn stars, erotic dancers, strippers, phone sex workers, web cam site participants, etc etc]. and yet i completely ignore it. these people have kids too. they go grocery shopping and live lives the same as everyone else [and by that i mean that we all lead such different lives, that their lives aren't any further from mine than a rich person's life. or a person who's on top of their school work. or a person who is very religious, and so on]. it was such an interesting experience, that i had to sit and take it in. i had to check what reactions i was having, what judgments i was making. i can claim to be radical and open-minded and a womyn's advocate all i want, but i've still got a long way to go.
back to louis and the pants. every time i talk about or even mention the fact that he buys me stuff i feel as if i have to make excuses for myself. why can't i just say, "he bought me 5 pairs of pants" without feeling guilt? like, as a feminist, i'm not allowed to have a penis-haver buy me things. i'm not preaching man-hatred, i'm just thinking about all those teachings of self-reliance and how chivalry is such a double-edged sword and how big of a part gender places in everything i do, even though i hate it so much. and it's such a cultural connotation, the man buys the womyn all the shit. and i can't help but feel attacked and a bit insulted every time darbrielle says, "tracie you're such a boss." i know she doesn't mean it like that, but i can't help but think what she means is that i have what all womyn are looking to have: a man to buy me shit. i feel dirty. but when i separate the cultural context from it, it's not like i wouldn't hang out with him if he didn't buy me stuff. it's not like he buys me stuff every time we hang out. it's not like i have nothing to offer him, although sometimes i feel that way. it's not like i ever bug him about buying me something [except for the funfetti cake mix thing]. it's not like he cares. why do i? and even now, i feel like i haven't made enough excuses. like i need to explain myself further because i let my partner buy me things. i'm not making any more excuses. go ahead. judge me.
i'm very tired, friends. it's time for an orgasm and some rest. ♥