I'm The Sidechick B*tch!!

Women are some interesting creatures, now that I sit at the desk and think about it while going about my content management moments.

We are willing to present to the public the most well put together visage, the most demure and ladylike essence in order to convince the world, moreso ourselves, that we are doing the right thing for us, our lives, and our circles.

This all sounds very unlike my usual style of writing so, for now, let's assume I've gained some decree of dignified conduct which is granting me the calm to craft a blog without acting like a full flaming bitch about things that happen daily, but so often we brush it aside.

Good the greeting is out of the way.

Let's get down to business -breaks out in song- to defeat the "Huns"...

"Huns" will be my new name for mistresses.

Yes, mistresses, side chicks, other women, outside tings.

All of that list. Women involved with men (or women in some cases) who are already involved.

Particularly I want to focus on women who are involved with MARRIED men.

Hilarious isn't it, because about 4 months ago I stood accused of the same thing, apparently I have a habit of entertaining other women's men. Even married ones. I mean I'm polyamorous so clearly I have no limits or boundaries whatsoever.

I have issues with the Huns and how they handle things.

Lemme clear the air here now, I do not have any respect for the actions of women who actively pursue married monogamous men, then act silly when they are discarded.

Maybe I should repeat that, I do NOT have any respect for the actions of women, who actively pursue married monogamous men, then act silly, when they are discarded.

Even as a woman with no intent on getting married, you can see the posts on my facebook wall, with a few hours conversation around why I rebuke the concept of marriage itself. I have a fair amount of respect for the principles of matrimony.

To me that is a decision made between two people who chose to spend the rest of their lives together absolutely, choosing to join their families and become one, with a future in mind.

I have utmost respect for people who weather the odds, since about 10 out of every thousand in the Caribbean who get married, end in divorce, mind you, but that doesn't mean I see it for myself but anyway this ain't about my miserable behind.

Y'all women who get told "I can't leave her with the kids by herself," you women who happily start up an entire new life with a man WHO IS STILL ATTACHED to his wife, worry me.

I genuinely worry.

What is so off in your psyche that you invest in a relationship with someone to the point that you practically go crazy ignoring the blatant signs of him stringing you along because he doesn't want to hurt you when inevitably he dumps you?

And then you take it out on the wife.

You see her in the supermarket and sneer, you find her on social media and stalk. You call her cell to fight with her over the man that's right next to her most of the time.

You've lost all sense of self investment in the pursuit of happiness in this man, and blaming everyone but him, and yourself.

Because why?

I always have to ask why.

See, I was never cut to be the one who cheats. I actually know I need the attention that comes with a man outright letting ppl know "Yeah, she's been in my mouth at least twice this month, I've been in her mouth up to this morning." Whether he has another woman or not.

I'm poly for a reason. I entertain poly men for the same reason.

I crave the honesty.

There's no honesty in letting yourself be involved in the cycle of a bored, disgruntled monogamous, committed man.

He's going to lie, whether to you or his wife or to himself, he's going to lie.

That relationship is based on lies. Lies need to be fueled by more lies in order for the initial lie to be relevant.

That being said, what do you think, as a woman pursuing a man who has a wife, makes you so special that he'll tell you the truth, when he's lying to the woman he chose to legally bind himself to, in sickness and in health, til death do them part?

What do you think, as a woman pursuing a man who has a wife, makes you so special that he'll honestly tell you what he didn't honestly tell himself?

The hardest part about some men cheating, is coming out and telling the "Hun" that her time is up, he's done with her, it's time to go back home. She was fun but she's not the essence of the life he made with his chosen wife.

Enter the string along.

Exit all fucking common sense.

What bothers me the most is the fact that some of the most successful, intelligent, educated and well put together women, find themselves exactly here.

Watching this man struggle with the words to tell them he's no longer interested in this version. He rather go home to the comfort of his wife. He had the detour and it's gotten boring.

It hurts him to tell his "Hun" it's over for many reasons, but, only a few men can say they care about her as a human, to know that they're about to scar her but it HAS to be done.

Of course the "Huns" violently and dramatically reject this evolution.

They remind him of the good times... The fire and passion.

They attack the wife during the break up, for the more, her attitude that pushed him away, her sneakiness, she cheated, she was nasty to him etc...

And Every. Single. Time...

He still leaves, and most often goes right back to his wife.

And the damage is done.

At some point, us women are going to have to  question our value of ourselves.

Cuz the answer cannot be wallowing in infidelity and deceit.

Bully Beef Stews

*insert excessively dramatic sigh*

*adds a flounce for proper effect*



Picture if you will.

I grew up, gangly and lanky, glasses, buck teeth, sickly and too book smart. It meant I was an automatic target for the cool kids, who had to compensate for the fact that when the teacher called on them, and they stood up to offer not only the wrong response, they would have to do it loudly as our teachers demanded vocal clarity, meaning no one would let the fact that the word "achieve" is indeed spelled with the 'I' before the 'E' be forgotten until the end of that week, and the teachers would call on either myself, or two others to give the correct answer, because without fail, we already knew and were literally nodding off to sleep because we were bored waiting on the obvious.

I ruled my primary school, or so I thought, because I was the brightest, most charming, best mannered, one of the three titans who grasped sarcasm, satire, irony and cynicism with the adults around us from fairly young and we employed it ruthlessly at the expense of our classmates egos.

I never got physically bullied at primary school because I was taller than everyone, and honestly my mother was scary.

Of course primary school did not last forever.

I soon discovered that I was of average intelligence on the secondary school scene, not to mention I was ugly, poxy, buck toothed, and wore glasses, with short picky hair (I chopped off fourteen of my eighteen inches during the summer holiday because I wanted to start fresh for the new school) and absolutely no ass (at eleven years old, I had a period, mosquito bites on my chest and no ass, I was a failure in the highly sexual world of prepubescent buffoonery). I was 'bully bait', by the end of the first year I was shattered that no one found me smart, or charming for that matter, I was already accustomed to no one finding me attractive.

I was fucking shattered that no one cared about
my damn Sherlock Holmes leatherbound
collection. The nerve. 

No one gave a shit that I could bring to school literally, dozens of books or quote Shakespeare on the whim, no one cared that I was the top student at my school, in fact that was pretty much the thing that shattered me, the day I announced on introduction that I scored the highest in my school, and my classmates "stupsed" and informed me that they were on the lower scale of intelligence by passing to this new school.

Instantly defuckingflated. I shut down, tried to study, tried to soothe my wounded ego but there would be no rest for me, as I for the first time in my life got 67% on my end of year exams, and came 13th in class.

I cried for a week straight staring at that summer vacation. I was a dunce. From coming first or second in class, to thirteenth. From being everybody's favorite to being told in class that my sarcasm was an indicator of a weak mind that tries to hide it behind the weakest of wit.

Then the bullying REALLY kicked off.

Few guys tried the lunch money thing, but my mother was still not giving me money in first form, so that failed.

Then came the girls, the flat out laughter at my height weight, lack of shape, teeth, and glasses. Followed by the lines about my period and challenging me that I was diseased on occasion.

Of course there were the teachers who joined in on it, not realizing that they were creating the very same monster who would see them retired in a few years.

By the second term of second form, I had hit a wall and had a mental break of sorts.

I became outwardly aggressive as a norm.

My first fight in school I got my ass kicked by someone who would grow up to be a close friend afterward because my mother was not having none of our school beef coming home.

I told Josh about his mother, and Josh choke slammed me into the ground.

As I lay there, I had several thoughts, and not one of them was "But you gonna hit him back right?" I was at that point, outclassed, disadvantaged, and wrong, but the one thing that ALWAYS gets me in trouble isn't the fact that I am aggressive, or that I am dogged in my pursuit of justice, but always that I am an abysmal loser.

I hate to lose to the point that I simply will NOT compete, thus will never lose. Apply to everything.

So up next was turning this loss into a win, my first conscious attempt, at being petty.

* insert whimsical sigh *

I was such a brat. An entitled, obtuse brat.

Anyhow, took a few years to get over it, and few fights with people I was on par with, and people who were bigger and stronger, with their friends, but I didn't care. I was now taking my power back from people physically. Every time anyone tried to bully me I shunned a crew and stood alone, sometimes I cried about it, like when my period wouldn't stop and every day I had to change uniforms, when I sucked a dick because sex hurt and he talked about it. When people would tease me to kingdom come about my mum kissing me on the forehead and I still got affected, but it all fueled me.

I became a physical enforcer type at school. I had my moments of being a bully too, but, I never had the taste for it, picking on inferior or weak people was never my thing, too much work, little to no pay off.

I instead, chose to battle the bullies. To stand up to them and show them that for all their trash talking, picking on first formers asses, they weren't shit.

I had good days, when I was loved by my friends, and annoyed the hell outta the guy tryna cut in front a first former aggressively tryna get lunch from Mrs. Hope because my big ass mouth was the first one to raise the "NOT TUHDAY BADDY" cry. Breaking up fights in the junior school with Jubei because we really didn't want to have to deal with our year head interrupting our classes for the fifth time that week.

I had bad days, when I hit a young lady with a hockey stick and went to beat her down for wrongfully hitting a boy she thought hit her only to hear my best friend screaming from her spanish class telling me to put the hockey stick down and think about my exams. When I laughed along with the guys at the younger kids trying to be cool, and ending up physically hurt because of "kicks and bites".

I walked a different path, and to this day, as an adult, I appreciate it.

I don't have some elevated sense of justice, I get a feeling of satisfaction when I stand up for someone who didn't think anyone would, sometimes I let it fill me with light, other times I just move on from it because I know I got some fucked up standards at times.

The one thing, that I will maintain to this day, is there is nobody who I will let bully me, or anyone I care deeply about. I have left jobs based on this premise and I regret nothing.

I have a clear definition of what bullying is to me, and why ever so often you would see me NOT get into things to defend anyone that people assume is being bullied.

We tend to think someone getting attention and not being forgiven for their actions, being called to answer for their actions is bullying, but that's not really it.

Bullying cannot be used to describe a reaction to bullying.

Bullying is when you have the power over the individual, and you exert that power, trying to force the individual or group, into your will at their own comfort's expense. Trying to humiliate them so they no longer feel confident in their world.

Attempting to have them ostracized by threatening other people with implied (or other) consequences if they decide not to join in on the intimidation or support of said actions.

To me, bullying is you trying to hurt me by erasing my sense of self worth.

Bullying isn't you coming and telling me "I think you're a bitch". That's merely a strong opinion you're voicing. I don't have to agree with it, on the spot I can reject it and walk away from it and be cool.

I can reference it, and make light of it, because it was given a voice.

Bullying is after I remove myself, you come back, to again inform me, "I think you're a bitch!!" This time, you're making more noise, and invading my space. You're calling friends to come watch the show and join in on it, actively endorsing the action in order to displace my sense of self, you're trying to diminish my own comfort levels.

My reaction can be to ignore you, or strike back, but be christ, my reaction would not be bullying because YOU went out of your way to come to me, to make me uncomfortable, not just once, but again, with intention.

You gon take what you get though.

Big Booty Problems Again

Being a former adult entertainer (technically you can still call me one because of what I tend to base my writings on) gives me a small advantage over other women in regards to our relationships with men, in my opinion.

Being objectified for pay, helped me to understand the animal that is a man, while helping me to understand the animal that I am as a woman.

I'm not the most gorgeous girl, BUT, I am notably sexually attractive, it is just me, and it helps that I am aware of that “power” as many would put it. That was what helped me to survive dancing in a club and move on to dancing for private parties (better money, less stressful, safer for me, that was my experience) rather than stay in the club struggling to keep it on the hush, and being repulsed by the men who kept coming back trying to woo me with promises of a better life (I've checked their girlfriends and wives, life ain't get nuh better!!)

Anyhow, the reason any of this is important is because my interactions with men from the strippy, is what has set the foundation for my interactions with men today.

I am fine being objectified, I am a sexually attractive woman with body parts that men find themselves attracted to, well, men and women if we're going to be honest.

You would not believe the fanclub this
big old ass has. 

What I am not fine with, is starting seriously relationships based on the fetishism of my body by a man.

Something I KNOW from the club scene, is where most men's minds lie.

I have a great ass, my great ass, makes men want to be involved with me, they themselves tell me, “I would love to wake up next to that ass”, which I'm sure they believe is a compliment, and I cannot take it personally because most women generally respond to such flattery quite positively.

Most women aren't ex strippers who are accustomed to being observed as tits and ass and the tricks her ass can do, along with other body parts, that make her somewhat of a legend.

Confident women don't care if you say it, but we KNOW you see it.

I had an experience with a sweet, kind guy, he ain't a good boy, he ain't a nice guy, he ain't a bad boy, he's just a guy, who liked me, and wanted to try a relationship with me, and for a while we did try.

I just couldn't commit to it, because he was not hiding the fact that the only thing he was attracted to on me, was my ass. We never had a single conversation about how I handle life when we're not around each other, never once really got deep into our parenting lives, as we're both parents. He never even really looked at the idea of us spending time together outside of his bedroom.

He was affectionate, adoring and somewhat respectful to me in all the right ways, but, he treated my body like the only purpose it serves was to sexually satisfy his yearning for a big old ass to rub on.

He spent more time complimenting my ass alone than he spent actually in discussion with me about anything, yet, we were supposed to be in a regular boy friend/girlfriend relationship. It frustrated me because as a woman, I can recognize a good guy, he was indeed a good guy, but he was also only capable of seeing me as the big booty girl he always wanted to test run.

Sex was difficult for me because, as much as I happily claim my slut status, I need to connect with my lovers. I had no connection with him. There was little to no real foreplay for me, and I ended up disinterested in sex with him. For the first time in my life, I craved cuddling and non-sexual physical contact to make me feel like I was genuinely appreciated, rather than sexual contact to show me how much.

Don't come at me thinking you got some
exotic stripper, and think I won't treat
you like some lousy john. 

I decided to get out of it before resentment set in, one of the things the process of becoming self aware has gifted me, is my ability to predict how I will react to situations, and with him I could see I was about to become bitter and angry because he was doing exactly what men who paid me to be their entertainment, so they could get off on watching or touching my ass would do, but he wasn't paying me.

He was hurt, because he knows he's a good guy, here I am telling him he's a good guy, but yet he was not “good” enough for me.

It's only now I can write this out, months after, and I can understand it for myself. I do not want to be fetishized to the extent that all that a man sees is my body parts.

I am a whole woman, with a brain, heart and body together, I use each of them to exist, and I tend to prefer my lovers to appreciate the presence of each of them.

Sure, rub on my ass and bite it, but at least care about what goes on in my mind, at least show me that you can rub that ass cheek, while talking about the reason I never fall asleep with a man's arms around me.

Treat me like a stripper, and I'll treat you like a fare. 

Motherhood Really Ain't For Everybody At Every Time

Understand I was into 26 weeks gestation, only thing that looks pregnant
is my nose. 

People throw their expectations and fantasies on other people so easily.

I've lost babies.

Not a baby.

Babies.

I forced myself to endure my last​ pregnancy. I forced myself to smell my own skin and take the subsequent repulsion, and hurl memories of food I tried to consume, straight into whatever was present, because I knew I could not live with myself if I had to cancel another life, because it was again taking my own. I forced myself to prepare mentally, even though inadequately, for 40+ weeks of nothing but fear and rebellion, knowing that I would do it alone, having lost everything I ever had, having lost my home, my "friends" and basically my sanity at some points. I forced myself to walk the path to motherhood. 

When you come from my size down to 60 lbs lighter including the baby, in 6-7 months and some cunt on a thread starts talking about how pregnancy was the best thing to happen to you and how grateful you should be to be able to carry a child, because "other women..." You feel the frustration build up as the incredibly ignorant, selfish individual keeps going on and on.

Annnnnddddd then they toss in the complimentary "I love my children" like if you don't fucking love yours. I mean I survived vomiting blood, going days without eating anything other than ramen and drinking the essence of the moon and this bitch, gonna look at me and act like she's the only one who loves her child. I made it through being so weak all I could do was roll over and throw up, tears streaming down my face because I can't remember when last I felt the baby kick, and I can't even muster up the strength to drag my backside down the stairs to get something to eat or even bathe, for this bitch to think she loving her children, somehow cancels out my love of my child because I refuse to have another one, or even that it cancels out another woman's right to refuse to have a child of her own. 

Trust that humanity ain't done with you yet.

Rewind further to before you decided to sacrifice your health and sanity to carry a child for the 5th gatdamn time, you're scrolling through some social media platform's time line and come across the usual ignorance about abortions and how they only ever drag out the baby with rudimentary forceps, annnnnddddd you're going to scroll on past it but you realize the nincompoop who posted it, IS A MAN.

AND HE HAS OPINIONS HE SWEARS ARE VALID.

Being the young dumb idealist you are, you engage him, full of emotion, knowing full well it will end badly, but at least you can expect the support of other women, as you know or so you were convinced up to this point, that only a woman could be able to fully grasp the physical, and psychological trauma of having a fetus removed prematurely from your body, especially under the weight of societal expectations, which bear solely on your shoulders as a woman. Men never have to hear that they murdered babies after they insist they aren't ready to be fathers, or they can't afford to have a child with you. Yet here this jackass is, adamant with the support of other women, that any woman who terminates a fetus for any reason including her failing organs and the baby's severe underdevelopment, (diagnosed by actual medical professionals), is indeed a monster for killing HER baby.

You cried yourself to sleep again, because you still get haunting dreams of a toddler pulling your toes and laughing while running out of the room, dreams of the extra weight you never got to feel on your front side, but here is this dude talking a bunch of shit about how women were built to carry babies and any woman who doesn't fulfill her purpose is a waste and should be imprisoned.

I hated him and the women who followed his dumb ass so much that the other day when I saw his face in the court section for one of the most stupid crimes ever, a small smile of karmic appreciation spread across my lips.

Fast forward to present day.

Look at us now, we're mommies. We made it. For me it was an irresponsible decision to make, but there are no regrets, I decided to suffer what I had experienced four times before, and carry on MY legacy.

I did not expect anything of her sire, as he was incapable of feats of honesty in any way, straight up until the last time we held discourse between ourselves, last Mother's Day, almost a year ago when she was still four and again I extended the olive branch of peace, to attempt to give him the chance to consider being a parent. We still here in single-parentdom.

Yet, everyday I still hear and see women, chastising other women for NOT choosing to sacrifice their minds and bodies to bare children, what baffles me is the fact that it is mostly single women doing this. Everyday I watch these inconsiderate heffas downplay the plight of women who chose not to torture themselves, who could have tried but have to face the reality that it is NOT going to be in their future, not financially, not physically, not even hopefully, to carry a child. Everyday child raring is reduced to simply stories of pretty morning sickness that everyone can look back at and laugh. 

Never mind the fact that more of us have nearly died than we care to admit, never mind the fact that we can write you volumes of our fears brought into reality, when we slipped and fell, or the car hit, or our placenta detached before it's time, or the baby stopped breathing because the cord wrapped around her neck and we're halfway through labor, or we developed diabetes and didn't even realize it and now we can't feel anything from our left hip down. We are supposed to WELCOME this madness with open arms "because women..." Right?

Single women, who have sired bastards, and complain BITTERLY about the lack of support they get from the fathers of their wards, are the ones who complain about other women, refusing to walk or possibly hobble the red mile. Every day they try to convince the women who are busting ass to be better career women, better educated women, better aunts, better children, that to be whole women, they must be mothers.

28 years old, 65 lbs underweight, uncomfortable,
self conscious and eating everything in sight. 

And all of me is confused as fuck, because I am a mother, and the only thing I am better at than those unshackled women, is hiding how much duct tape I'm using to hold my life together most days. 

#TellItToTheJudge so we #ARMAllWomen and see #NoWomanLeftBehind

At the end of the week before International Women's Week, I got tired of seeing people still not understanding what is available to them in terms of combating the harassment we face as women, I posted an excerpt from the Barbados Minor Offences Act to my Facebook wall followed up with an interview with my current favorite online news publication (yes, yes, I am biased, I'm allowed, they have so far shown a habit of keeping up with the right things, while maintaining their ethical standpoint instead of the usual habits of sensationalism and the infernal click-bait moments)

We as a country (B A R B A D O S) have a lot to do, a lot of unpacking, sorting, throwing out and repacking to do. 

We have the laws in effect as I showed in my facebook post that prompted Loop to interview me, but few people seem to have an understanding, well to be honest, a functioning knowledge of the laws. 

I grew up in this country, in this climate, where I feel more like meat being parading past packs of starving hyenas most days, than a living breathing woman. I know what it's like to be too petrified to react to harassment or assault. 

It still happens to me. 

Down to Valentine's Day, it happened to me, in plain view of one of my closest friends and I froze. 

See the vendor we were dealing with, trying to buy gatdam' CUCUMBERS and tumeric from, thought I was sexy. I know because he told me this three flipping times since I had passed him twice before my friend stopped to buy the infernal cat scaring phallus shaped veggies, and then to seal the deal, once more by GRABBING MY BLASTED HAND, TO WHISPER IN MY EAR LIKE THE DIRTY OLD MEN OF ALL AGES, THAT HE THINKS I'M SEXY AND WOULD LIKE TO BE MY 'FRIEND'. I for all my tough exterior appearance froze, for many reasons. 

I was not alone, I was with a friend, we were supposed to be going home to her husband and daughter, they were expecting us. He was a fruit vendor, they always have knives on their trays, if I reacted too badly, he might have drawn for it, and swung, what if he caught my friend? I was tired, I had had bad experiences with about seven different men BEFORE him, five of them in the space of Broad Street, two of them along the stretch of George Street, what if I was overreacting? 

Or... Nah. 

All of that thought process right there took a split second before I got enraged, and went to throw my drink on him, but, my built in safety protocols warned me against it, and I cussed his ass right out! The rage built up in me, and I found myself trying to get as far away from him as I could and ended up stepping off the curb into the oncoming traffic that was filled with drivers NOT impressed with the angry, gigantic woman in the middle of their lanes when she had no right to be. 

I nearly got myself killed because of a STUPID man who did not understand boundaries. Okay, that's an exaggeration because I would have been to blame for it, as it is solely my responsibility to make sure my big and tall, grown up ass adheres to the rules of crossing the road. I rescind that comment, it was my fault and I shoulda just threw the drink on him to get it out of my system. 

Right, back on track with my train of thought, the Minor Offences Act. 

My new favorite law!  

In Subsection 2, of Section 2 of this act you find out the definition of harassment BY THE LAW ITSELF: 

(2) For the purposes of this section ''harass" means to

(a) use words, gestures and actions that annoy, alarm or abuse a person;

(b) insult, taunt or challenge a person in a manner likely to offend;

(c) use obscene and profane language to intimidate a person; or

(d) disturb or irritate especially by continued and repeated acts.

                                                   —————

Yuh see da piece ah legislature right dey so? 

MEMORIZE IT. 

There are officers in the force right now, who did NOT know this. It is not their fault, we have HUNDREDS of laws, and that is in Chapter 137, if they never had to address it, they wouldn't even know it's enforceable. I know because I asked. I was told they MAY not be intentionally being dismissive, but it's now time for them to familiarize themselves with these laws.

Here's the —> interview <— in case you missed it! 

Fvck Feminism

Lemme tell you about the reasons I simply cannot be bothered with feminists.

1. If society is a Venn diagram, you can drop in two circles, one for socially acceptable activism, another for popularity activism and a third for savior type activism. Feminists seem about to balance 2 at a time, but don't meet in the middle, leaving an area I will call maverick activism, which is frowned upon because it offends too many people. (This can also be applied to black ass activism). In these sections, you can find the sub sections of the placard holding activists, the highly educated activists who write and present, the mature activists who act for the greater cause, the green activists who want to fix everything and bring everyone together and the desk activists who can drop you link on top of link supporting why there is a need for activism. In that grey area of maverick activism, you find the ones who start the battle cry, refuse to support oppressive businesses regardless of who might suffer, who get into politicians faces and piss off EVERYBODY by slamming doors on people who still want to hold polite rebellions, in case you wanted to be certain, I'm in there. Booty popping, jaw dropping, pugnacious and present. 

And suspiciously cute with it...

2. They don't realistically understand why feminism today, is not going to work with the principles of yesterday. In other words equality has been achieved. We hold the right to vote. We can wear pants. We get paid based on our capability, experience and skillset, hurrah. We still ain't shit to society (men and women, and those in-between). They don't understand that some women WANT to be housewives, dependent on their husbands, comfortable to sacrifice the "privilege of working to support themselves", but that still does not mean they're to be overlooked and forsaken. Feminism does not realistically address the fact that everyone has the right to choose where they want to be, sure some feminists claim that's why they're feminists but their echo chambers would show different.

3. White feminism is not inclusive of the needs of black women. No no, don't start telling me oh but it's universal, white feminists want the same thing. By their privilege ALONE they definitely can't be wanting nothing for me, but to move out my fucking way, and lemme get some of the rights they've skated on for decades.

4. Intersectionalism heroics is a thing. The privileged middle class feminist using the keywords "oppressed urban women" as her go to conversation for why she's a feminist, is pandering. She has realized if she comes forward to be the savior, chances are people will remember her name if not her contributions, which really aren't ever that poignant, but hey she uses her voice selflessly for the more oppressed, right? Wrong.

5. Oppression Olympics within intersectional feminism is significantly MORE annoying that playing pin the offense on the wypipo. We're all women, but, you're really going to tell me that you as a working class woman, educated and wise, cannot understand the full reasons why you can't speak for upper class housewives, or lower class sex workers? Yet you want to use the moment these extremely marginalized groups finally do come forward to finally give voices to their struggles to show YOUR own oppression? Cute.

6. Feminism still hasn't evolved to recognize that men don't need feminism. We're claiming that men oppress us, right? We don't need to explain certain things to them, right? Problem is, feminists are woefully idealistic about how men will react to women passively sneaking "power" away from them. I'm going to be honest, working with feminists helped me to realize why certain freedom fighting slaves were okay shooting the slaves who were afraid of absolute freedom.

7. They tone police the ever living fuck outta everybody who doesn't speak their individual bullshit diatribe. This isn't exclusive to feminists, I've seen wypipo do it, where they're all for George Lopez, but Dave Chappelle is too crass. Feminists like to throw around words like "problematic" and "divisive" to describe ANYONE who uses common methods, and vernacular while debating against their bullshit. Comically, they'd then turn around and attempt to convince the very people they have told to shut up, that they're supporting them. I mean, STFU, but I'm here for you.

8. Too much time spent arguing with idiots, not enough time spent educating themselves to recognize an idiot, and simply shut it down. Say what you have to say in the simplest ways instead of trying to sound like a fucking philosophy major, when your major is "Juno". Recognize that you don't need to address EVERY. SINGLE. INSTANCE where a man repeats the same damn commentary you KNOW you've argued against for years.

9. They can never smell their own bullshit. In my own experience, for years, feminists will sit down and argue the most counterproductive shit, going on and on convincing themselves that they're winning arguments. When all they're doing, is screaming look at me, I'm a woman, therefore I'm worthy. If you have to announce your worth, in a circle that cannot see your worth, you're kinda not really capitalizing on your worth, you're wasting it. You're bullshitting for the audience. Why are you so entitled that you must advertise not your awareness, but your worth?

10. I'm way too aggressive for feminists. I will call you on your shit, at dawn, at dusk, while riding your dick, getting my hair braided, delivering your baby, ordering soup or picking up the children from school, whenever. I will not accept platitudes of dismissal, masquerading as pretentious moments of acknowledgement. Fuck all that. You doing shit, being passively divisive and I'm going to tell you. Then I'll move back to my chill setting and carry on. I don't have time to dwell on every moment that someone feels I'm so angry with them that I must stay in that moment reliving an unnecessary loop of anger until they feel satisfied that I am aware my anger worried them. I got angry, I said my piece, I moved on. I did what I needed to do to make peace in my own head. Fuck off now. We supposed to have work to do.

This is the beginning of it, I have huge issues with feminism, or even being identified by that title. Trust issues, experience issues, lots of collective bullshit that has seen me lose my shit, to the point that I began to question if I gave a fuck about women's issues or not.

To me it's like, if Feminism is the answer, who the fuck is asking that question?

Cuz I'll be real, I certainly cannot see any place for me, in a feminist world.

This One is For The Rough And Tough Women

It's at this moment, Miley KNEW, she fucked up.

Everybody loves to come for us loud mouth aggressive girls, for example, Rihanna once mic punched a dude in the head because he didn't understand not to touch her, and later in life, she was recorded in the incident when she snarled "Move" at another guy who didn't want to understand she wasn't going to have her path blocked by him. Of course there's Nicki Minaj's "Miley, What's good?" outburst at the 2015 VMAs, the COUNTLESS times Mo'Nique has been called an "Angry Black Woman", and the mother of all us ruthlessly, unapologetic un-ladies, Grace Jones.

People stay reviling these women and their ability to take no shit and react, writing them off as loose cannons only dependable for the stereotypical, predictable eruptions of wrath. "Nothing but drama, ugh, didn't have to act like that" is the sentiment they usually echo when describing our flare-ups. 

As one of these women, I realized young, we constantly find ourselves shut out of social circles, professional circles and familial circles, because someone pushed us too far, and we react. 

We're never given a chance because we "live for drama", which isn't the case, many of us do not in fact, enjoy drama or being messy, which is why we react so explosively when faced with situations that could have been avoided if persons had respected our boundaries, opinions, space, time or any other triggers that we are usually transparent in regards to how easily disregarding such things set us off.

People don't like us because we start with being loud and leave no room for them to attempt their bananagans resulting in a buncha unnecessary shit, that we really didn't want to accommodate in the first place. We clip it quickly, loudly, aggressively.

Apparently that makes us problematic. Apparently that means we can not be the voice for certain causes, as we don't represent "the ladies", ours is not the voice that the decent, middle class, decent ones ever want.

They will envy our skill at keeping the crowds attention, they will charge us with starting the fight, because we the aggressive girls, we never back down, we stand our ground and we will drag everybody to good reasoning, whether they want it or not.

We cast aside our own fears, and let our loudest voices speak, for everyone who doesn't have a voice, knowing that it is us, who will be blamed the INSTANT something goes wrong, knowing it is us who everyone considers the drama queens and way too extra messy chicks.

That's fine.

so yall gonna let these heauxs off cuz they speak
softly? 

What about those passive aggressive, pretentious women, who manipulate situations, use and abuse the same aggressive women, then use the fact that the aggressive women are known for their incredibly short fuses to isolate them wrongfully, using a gossamer of convenient truths, to support the view that the loud, aggressive women, are so problematic that no one can engage them without it falling to pieces?

What about those women who hide their unscrupulous, self serving purposes, behind the pretense of being well intended, well behaved, and adjusted women?

Aggressive women get a bad rap, we stand judged based on other people's discomfort in dealing with confrontation, and it is used against us, by people who KNOW confrontation would reveal that there is justification for our aggression. Yet we are the ones who people approach with distrust and anxiety, because we get painted as the ones who have questionable motives, and that's why we blow up.

  

All the while letting the manipulative lil bitches, (who know to prey on the fear of confrontation by the meek and quiet) get away with destroying the image of anyone not forthcoming to being used as their patsies. 

Cute as a button, but pugnacious as a motherfucker

As a loud and aggressive woman, I like to look around me ever so often, and take stock of the people who have remained in my life, not DESPITE of my aggression, but, because of it.

My best friends have been in my life, one since we were 5, another since we were 14, and the final ones came in my adult life. Only one of them has an equally explosive temper matching mine, and he too, learned over the years to temper himself, after being blamed for being the one who always blows up, but, he is a man, the concerns about his temper comes with the presumption that as a man he is SUPPOSED to be aggressive, he is SUPPOSED to be confrontational, that is the way of the alpha male. 

He has stood by me through some flat out bullshit from people, and watched me defy socialization and instead of hiding, I chose to blow up, I chose to let it all out. 

That's what makes me wonder, is it that people see aggressive women as problematic, or is it that society is full of shit, and our tendency to violently reject manipulation, abuse and oppression worries society, first because society likes being manipulated, and manipulating the oppressed, and secondly, because it is known that we are the ones who are the front line in the wars? 

Sure the diplomats talk and dance, looking pretty in the limelight, but it is us, the warriors who put ourselves on the line, beating our chests in defiance, and roaring in the face of anyone who stands between us, and our goals, we carry the weight of being the ones who refuse to be bullied into a corner, yet, we are called bullies, because we discard any pretense of urbanity, and simply let them have "it", as offenders should, in necessary circumstances.