Dangling Threads

There are a lot of dangling threads in my brain right now, and I’m going to weave them together into the fabric of this post.

I’ve had a lot of time on my hands recently, and that generally means I’ve had time to THINK. A lot of these thoughts have revolved around myself and how I show up in the world - and the unhinged ways people respond to that. I’ve been replaying conversations and scenarios over and over again in my head; wondering what I could have said or done differently, analyzing what signs I missed, giving myself grace for not realizing that certain people didn’t have my best interests in mind, but also wondering what I ever did to deserve such ire. And the answer is - I didn’t.

The intersection of my personal life and pop culture is one of my favorite things and you’re just going to have to take this ride with me. There’s been a lot of talk about Janine from Abbott Elementary recently. Abbott Elementary is one of my favorite shows, it’s only second to my other favorite workplace mockumentary Parks and Recreation. On one of our several, several, re-watches my mom and I were doing the “which character are you” game and my mom leveled her gaze at me and said, “ You want the world to think you’re April Ludgate, but you’re really Leslie Knope”. And she wasn’t wrong. My crazy hair and tattoos and heavy eyeliner are just armor to hide the ADHD, led by kindness, lover of the world, and ridiculous optimist inside me. Which means I also fucking love Janine Teagues. In fact - I once knew a friendship was not what I wanted it to be because said friend called me an Ava Coleman. I’m dramatic, but I’m not Ava. Janine has been slandered online for being aloof or goofy or annoying. Janine is none of those things. She’s just not the stereotype that makes people comfortable. Tillery, on IG, did a much better write up than I’m going to do and I don’t want to steal her work, so take a second, look at her slides, and come back.  https://www.instagram.com/p/DVv-jmnDcuz/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ==

I had never heard the term Spirit Murdering before, and now indebted to Tillery to introducing me to a concept that has happened to me over and over and over again. And it goes right along with a concept I talked about in my last post - Pet to Threat. See, there are a handful of stereotypes the world is comfortable to see black women inhabit. The Mammy (a sexless and obedient caregiver), The Jezebel (the hyper sexualized woman), The Angry Black Woman (aggressive, argumentative, and esmaculating), The Strong Black Woman (the superhuman labor machine who never needs any sort of support), and the Welfare Queen (the lazy, dishonest, dependent). And Black Women are allowed to float between these stereotypes, depending on the needs of the person they’re talking to, but we are not allowed to step out of these boxes. It makes people uncomfortable - but not at first. At first, you’re a novelty when you’re a Bubbly Black Girl. It’s cute that you march to the beat of your own drum. It’s precious and noble that you stand up for others. Your joy lights up the room. Your expressionism is delightful. Until the second it doesn’t. The shift starts slowly. You’re too much. You can’t just let things be. Why don’t you bring it down some? You’re so arrogant. Why don’t you act Black??

I have always idolized the Bubbly Black Girls. Tillery’s post even included a handful of my favorites - Freddie from A Different World, Sinclaire for Living Single, Denise Huxtable from The Cosby Show, Ms. Grotke from Recess, Joan from Girlfriends (even if I’ve always felt like a Lynn on the outside). I have spent years nurturing myself and allowing myself to be the Bubbly Black girl of my dreams, and I’ve been punished for it time and time again. Personal relationships, in school, at work. People have routinely tried to destroy my dignity and my joy and bring ME back down to a place that makes THEM feel comfortable. 

I keep coming back to Olivia Rodrigo’s song, Lacy. Stay with me - dangling threads, remember? Lacy is a song about a girl that Olivia Rodrigo is obsessed with - Olivia admires her beauty to the point of envy and self-loathing. A lot of people latched onto a perceived queer theme in the song, and, in my opinion missed the point of the song completely. Rodrigo herself has distanced herself from this interpretation. See, this interpretation misses a key element - Lacy is described in the song as being white and Olivia Rodrigo is a woman of color. Go back to Driver’s License and the line about the blonde girl. Yes, the lyric was changed, no it’s not about Sabrina Carpenter, but it’s an important parallel when viewed as a line written by a woman of color. How many BIPOC women are brutalized by European beauty standards and comparisons to white women? How many BIPOC have poured themselves into relationships, only to maligned, and then left for a non-BIPOC woman? We’re damned if we and damned if we don’t - BIPOC women, and Black women ESPECIALLY, have to remain in the boxes that make other people comfortable, and we have to perform our stereotypes, and we’re still always going to be second to non-BIPOC women. And this spirit murdering so often leads to envy, self-hatred, and personal destruction.

I am working against this. Actively working against it. I never deserved to have my spirit wounded to make other people feel better. I don’t have to fit into a little box or check my personality traits off of a list that are desirable to others. I’m not a commodity. I’m a fucking person and I’m allowed to show in the world the way that I want to, as long as that does not harm anyone else.

In this time that I’ve been blessed with recently, I’ve really leaned into doing burlesque and growing myself as a performer. I’ve always been at home on the stage. - I did theater and dance my entire childhood and majored in Directing theater. Burlesque is a reclamation for most of us performers. Of our bodies, our sexuality, our politics, and how we show up in the world. Burlesque allows me to be my fully embodied self - it’s not always sexy even if it nude; it’s funny and honest and political and expressive. Building an act from the ground up to tell a story using myself as the tool is giving me back power that I haven’t been able to wield. The burlesque community isn’t perfect and also has a long way to go in how it treats black women, but for now my performing isn’t for the community, it’s for me. 

I can’t control the way other people show in the world. I can’t control the way they show up in my life. I can’t control their reactions. The only thing I can control is myself. And I choose to continue to be my bubbly black girl’s girl.