My Sticky Mess

Well I'm a bad butt cowgirl living in the wild midwest, wicka wicka scratch, yo yo bang bang. Me and Artemis Clyde Frogg gonna save Salma Hayek from the big bad spider. Enjoy!

Tuesday, June 28, 2005

A Lesson in Three Parts… Part Three

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Learning to Speak My Mind

I very rarely say the words as they appear in my mind, and to illustrate that I present to you the following conversation. My thoughts will be presented in Italics. My words will remain normal. Enjoy!

SK: Well she’s gorgeous, so she can do what she wants.

Douglass: She’s only gorgeous by American standards of beauty, I personally don’t find her attractive.

SK: Oh, you don’t have to do that here.

Douglass: Do what?

SK: That thing you just did. That hipster “we are the world” thing where we expose the truths. That thing where we are the exception to the rule because the rule must be broken. That “I’m not a part of America” thing. Because you are, and even if you don’t subscribe to its values, it doesn’t matter, because you’re not in control.

Douglass: I don’t understand.

SK: What I mean is that, like, you can say what you want, because I’ll always get what you mean. On the surface anyway. You don’t have to be politically correct when it’s just us, because I get it, and if I don’t, I’ll ask. (What I’m trying to say is that he doesn’t have to say “most” because I know when he says “all” he doesn’t mean “all” he means “most”. He doesn’t have to convince me that he’s not generalizing, or stereotyping even when he is, because I know he’s not).

Douglass (smiling a little): All I said was that I didn’t find her attractive.

SK: MmmHmm. No, what you said was you didn’t find her attractive in contrast to American standards of beauty by which she would be attractive. This means that you know something that America doesn’t in regards to these rules, which is true and false at the same time. Because you finding someone unattractive that America finds attractive doesn’t make you cool or special. Especially if you don’t really feel that way.

Douglass: Please explain further, I think this is the beginning of a very interesting conversation.

(This is when I started to loosen up a little. I’m always a bit uncomfortable around Douglass because I’m insanely in love with him, but that comes later.)

SK: There was this guy that worked here a couple of years ago that I was totally in love with (I was totally talking about Douglass). He was soo smart and funny and tall. (Douglass got my Night At the Roxbury mention and laughed a little. I loved that he knew that.) He was also dead gorgeous, and I love nothing more than gorgeous boys so I had to become friends with him (Douglass gives me this, “oh you!” head shake, but listens intently). So I was telling my friend Jerrod about this guy-

Douglass: What was his name?

SK: Jacob (sorry J, I was reading your blog when this all happened).

Douglass: And did you become friends with him?

SK: Of course I did, but it was harder than I initially thought. You see the weird thing is that I’m not at all uncomfortable around gorgeous guys. (and I’m not), because in the realm of things, they have but one thing going for them. The fact that they’re gorgeous. And they know that they’re beautiful so they don’t really try to learn anything else because they know their beauty, for the most part, will see them through. So it really puts a cap on where I think a relationship could go, and since there’s no relationship, there’s no awkwardness. Usually they’re not that interested in me like that anyway-

Douglass: I find that hard to believe (I die a little inside of sheer joy. I will remember him saying that and play it over and over again in my head). You’re pretty great, I don’t know why they wouldn’t want to be with you…

SK: Because I’m black and fat and in Lincoln, Ne. Because for every girl like me, there’s a girl that will put out, or give them money, or let them get wasted and act a hot mess in front of them. In my hotel we see this a lot, so many girls apologizing for their boyfriends behaviors, and like, I’m not your mom, either learn how to hold your liquor and not be a complete jerk, or don’t drink, but don’t expect me to apologize for you. It’s not that these girls don’t have standards, it’s just a different set of standards.

Douglass: This is the only place I’ve known where being black is a sole hindrance. (Douglass is from Atlanta originally, then he moved to San Diego, Kansas City for a while, then New Orleans, and now here for school.) Usually you have to be black and lazy, or black and clueless. Being black has always been a hindrance, but it’s usually an additional hindrance. Everywhere I go I hear things like, “He’s the biggest thief, and it doesn’t help that he’s black.”, or “He has the most terrible grammar, and he’s black too.” Well not those exact phrases, but variations. They hate you because you’re black and because of what you don’t have. This place, they hate you because your black and that’s it. It’s different. (In the moment this was a perfectly valid inclusion. It doesn’t seem to work here on the page, but it has to do with flow. He knew what I was talking about, and responded to that, and not just what I said.)

SK: I think you just summed up my life, for the most part.

Douglass (gives a little chuckle): That’s funny. Anyhow, I didn’t mean to interrupt, please continue.

SK: Oh, uhh, where was I? (I must admit it was a little test, because I kind of knew where I was, I just wanted to see if he did. Every now and again I like to know people are listening.)

Douglass: There was a boy you liked, and you were explaining about how you’re never intimidated around handsome men. I’m very interested to see how this ties into our first conversation.

SK: Well it mostly does, but you’ll see. So anyhow, this guy was gorgeous. He was tall, about your height and beautiful and on top of all of that he had a great voice. And I’m a sucker for a great voice, it’s the reason I love Bob Costas.

Douglass (cracking up at me): Bob Costas?!

SK: Yes, Bobby C! Because he looks a little like Ferris Bueller, but he has this great smooth voice. The first time I ever saw him was on the 1996 Olympics on NBC. He was commentating but I had the mute on for some reason. I thought he would sound like Ferris, but when I depressed the mute button there was this man-voice being thrown at me. It was awesome, and I’ve loved him ever since, solely for that reason.

Douglass: Okay, Bob Costas, wow.

SK: Don’t hate. So as I was saying, since I don’t think about gorgeous boys as being potential mates, I try to be cool with them. Because just because we probably won’t get together, doesn’t mean we can't be friends, (or that I can’t crush on them, or have dirty sordid fantasies about them, but that’s something I didn’t feel needed to be said). So with gorgeous boys it’s always easy to befriend them because really all you have to do is make them laugh. Just say a bunch of black things and make them chuckle and it’s lovely. You ask them questions about themselves and they answer and the next time you say something that included their previous answer so they know you were listening, and you’re in.

Douglass: So you and this Jacob (sorry J) became friends because he was gorgeous?

SK: Not exactly. First of all, the gorgeous thing only applies if you’re not a fake jerk. Even real jerks and I get along because at least they’re being who they are. Fake jerks annoy me. But I couldn’t apply these gorgeous rules to Jacob (who we all know now was really Douglass).

Douglass: Why not?

SK: Because Jacob was gorgeous, and he was incredibly smart. Like super genius. And he was the biggest nerd, but it was a nerdiness that worked for him.

Douglass: Oh, so he wasn’t cool enough for you!?

SK: Oh no, the opposite actually, because he was too uncool for me. I can’t handle that. When people are truly uncool, it like circles back around to them being awesome again. They talk about things that I understand, but I don’t get. (Meaning, they talk about Schodinger, and I understand because I know who that is, but like, I only know from school. I don’t know from reading additional works. So all I know is about his bells or cats or something, and that’s it. I can’t pull from any other sources and therefore can’t join the conversation the way I want to.) They make jokes about certain comics that I enjoyed but can no longer remember. They have fond remembrances of Magic: The Gathering, and Myst and Riven, and like I was there, you know? But because I was black, I had no one to talk to about those things for years, so I’ve fallen out of touch with that side of myself.

So I struggle for things to talk about. Then there’s the realization that this guy is a nerd, and he’s absolutely gorgeous, so I just freak right out, because he’s just uncool enough to want to be with me. Because I’m the sort of woman who would truly love him. Which means that there is a relationship possibility which again freaks me right out.

Douglass: That’s nuts [Sticky Keys]! I mean look at me. I’m totally into sci-fi and punk rock, and I’m a biochemical engineering major. I make jokes about chemical reactions! (He does, and they're hilairous. I'm biased of course) I’m the biggest nerd in the world and you’re not in love with me.

SK: Please, I’ve been in love with you since day one. No really, I’ve been in love with you since day one.

Douglas: Ha ha. Yeah, so did you become friends with this “Jake”?

SK: Who? Oh yeah… Not “Jake”, Jacob, or sometimes J, but not Jake. It rhymes with steak.

Douglass (smiling): Is that why?

SK: I don’t know exactly, I never asked. I don’t even know if that was his rule or mine, I just knew it was true. (Which was true, I believe, of the Jacob I was talking about, since I had to envision him in my head to keep up with my farce.)

Douglass: I’m that way. I can’t stand Doug. I want people to call me by my full name. (I make a mental note of that.)

SK: So I was telling my friend Jerrod about that, and at the end I said, “Yeah, so he’s this big ol nerd, and he’s black!”.

Douglass: Oh, he was black? (Douglass is black by the way)

SK: Yeah, now remember your reaction to that news. So I tell Jerrod that Jacob was black and he’s all, “wow, you better get that girl!” and Jerrod is extremely uncouth, like totally inappropriate. (When I really told Jerrod about Douglass being black, he said, “Was he a black nigger?” and began to laugh uncontrollably. Jerrod’s black, I should mention, and I called him a black nigger once, completely in jest. I was like, “Jerrod Alexander! You come back here you black nigger!” There’s context around that, but it’s not important. What’s important is that no one black had ever called Jerrod a black nigger before. Sure he’d been called nigga by his boys, and nigger by white people, but just to hear me say it in my Nebraskan accent (of which I never knew I had, nor that one even existed) was the funniest, most country, bama thing he’d ever heard. He became so excited that he called his dad and told him about it, and then tried to make me repeat it several times. I only obliged a few.) so I hang up with Jerrod and I run into a friend of mine who’s out having ice cream with her boyfriend. I can’t stand her boyfriend and this is why, and it’s also how it ties in to our original conversation.

Douglass: Okay, I’m all ears.

SK: I go through the whole Jacob story (again. I notice that I always retell stories because I know so many people who are completely different and will never cross paths, so I have to tell it 5 different times and five different ways, that’s why I like email.), and I say, yeah, “and he’s black”.

My friend laughs and is like, “that’s hilarious girl!” but her stinkin’ boyfriend is all,

“So what if he’s black? What, black people can’t be smart and be nerds? I know plenty of black people that-“ and that’s where I cut him off.

“Ooo no, don’t go there. That’s not the point of me telling you this, and that’s not an argument that I want to have today.”
“What do you mean you don’t want to argue about it? You made a gross stereotype and-"
“It wasn’t a gross stereotype! And we’re not going to talk about it! Not today. Maybe later in the week we can rehash this whole thing and really sit down and get into it, but not right now because this isn’t about generalizations about black people, it’s about this gorgeous guy I met that I’m in love with!” My friend notices that I’m really upset that her boyfriend’s trying to play the race card to steal my boy thunder so she politely tries to swing the convo back around,
“So what’s his name?”
“Jacob (Douglass)” I look at her and try to get things back on track, but her boyfriend ain’t havin’ it!
“Naw, see [Sticky] you do this shit all the fuckin’ time!”
“You better watch your mouth boy!”
“Boy?!”
I look around, “Are there any white folk around here? At all? Who are you trying to defend?! Because when I make a generalization about black people, about MY people, I know what I’m doing. When I say all black folk, you KNOW that I don’t mean ALL black folk, but since I’m talking to black folk who know this, I should be able to speak freely without worrying if we come off bad, because we’re talking to EACH OTHER! Do you understand what I’m saying?” He shakes his head at me,
“No, because you have a responsibility to dispel the myths about black people-“
“TO BLACK PEOPLE?!”
“so that we don’t look trifling and lazy!”
“but we ARE trifling and LAZY!” and I’m yelling now, both at boyfriend and at Douglass, because I’m really upset, “but we got a right to be! After 400 years of captivity we need a BREAK!” My friend and Douglass laughs because she knows that even when I’m upset, I always see the potential for humor. The kindest thing you can do for me when I’m in a mood is make me laugh or leave me alone. This makes me laugh and I think we’re okay,

“What I’m saying is that you’re preaching to the choir when you say things like that, because I already know. I take those things into an internal account when I’m talking to you, so you don’t have to rehash them, because I already get it.”

Douglass: So basically, the way this ties in is that I don’t have to pussyfoot around issues with you.

SK: Exactly. Normally I wouldn’t have gone down that long unnecessary route, but for some reason I thought you would enjoy that. (I say this to Douglass, and to you, my patient readers.)
Douglass: I did enjoy that. I always enjoy talking to you. (Then he looks at me with those beautiful black eyes. They’re so piercing but warm at the same time.)

SK: And you as well sir. You know… (and I was going to put this next part in Italics, but I actually said it, and I still can’t believe it) we should talk more, like outside of work.

Douglass: Yeah, I would like that. Philosophizing over what not. We could be unique. Be black and go to The Ross (indy film theater) and then to a coffeehouse-

SK: Not Starbucks.

Douglass: No, definitely not Starbucks, but a hole in the wall coffeehouse with an open mike. And we can order drinks and snacks-

SK: And snap whenever someone reads bad poetry-

Douglass: Especially when they read bad poetry.

SK: Let’s do it.

Douglass: Okay, is Thursday good for you?


And that’s how I learned to start speaking my mind. I’ll let y’all know how it goes.

8 Comments:

At 7:08 AM , Blogger Urban Chick said...

omg...just started reading and realise i need to return when i have a spare 10 minutes to read this! i HAVE to read it! and then i will leave a proper comment

i too am guilty of listening too much sometimes (i think) and sometimes i come away from an evening thinking: what did that person learn about ME? because i don't push talking about myself and will indulge the other person's talking too much sometimes

but if that happens, i conclude: that person is not really a friend because if they were, they would have stopped mid-talk and thought: i need to stop and let her talk

or am i just being passive-aggressive? help!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 
At 11:20 AM , Blogger StickyKeys said...

I think you get it exactly!

This one is really long and it just kind of spewed out of me! Please let me know what you think, you know I live for y'alls comments!

 
At 3:27 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

So interesting! and funny! I've enjoyed it a lot!

 
At 4:17 AM , Blogger StickyKeys said...

I'm always glad to hear from you Petu! Thanks!

 
At 3:39 PM , Blogger Kate said...

Ha! If I were to put my private thoughts in italics a lot of them would just be paranoia! As I read this I wondered: "Am I a "fake jerk"? Am I the kind of person who's too PC and annoys people? I rant about Pres. Bush a lot, prob to people who already "get it" and I'm preaching to the choir...."

In fact, I can hear my husband downstairs on the phone right now ranting about Pres. Bush to our friend Eve, and I know for a fact she hates him too. LOL. :-)

Ah well, we all have our faults. Sometimes you gotta let off steam.

I liked your story BTW, sorry for the tangent. I think that's a great idea to put your unspoken thoughts in italics like that. :-)

How are things with Douglass? Have you jumped him yet? He sounds cool. He also sounds into you. :-)

 
At 4:05 PM , Blogger StickyKeys said...

See, it's one thing to rant, but it's another thing to try and educate you know? It's like telling a homeless person that being poor is hard. He knows! And while it's good to rant every now again, when it gets to the point of debasing the other person (you couldn't have it worse than me because I know something you don't!) then it gets tired.

Pres. Bush hating never gets old. Ever.

 
At 4:06 PM , Blogger StickyKeys said...

ps. I love tangents, they are the allspice in the spice rack of life.

 
At 4:07 PM , Blogger StickyKeys said...

pps. I'll let you know about Douglass (EEEEE!!!!111oneoneone)

 

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