Lately it seems that more often than not I am reminded of how different I am from my acquaintances rather than of how similar we are. I wonder how people see me.
A couple days ago I was telling a professor about some of my negative experiences with other professors in the classroom who failed to be an ally when I needed it most, and those who just failed altogether at being intelligent. He pointed out to me that it sounds like a fair number of professors and students have found a way to make me into a cartoon image by displacing any kind of controversy on me. Way too often have I been used for controversy, and have been placed in the defensive in classroom discussion.
Plain and simple: Don’t tell me racism, sexism, homophobia, or any type of oppression doesn’t exist because I will have to prove you wrong. I am living proof that oppression still exists. And so are you.
Even outside the classroom where people attempt to wear their “true” mask – the one they put on when being someone’s friend, instead of the stuffy intellectual asshole mask I see so often in the classroom – people find ways to trivialize who I am. People make accusations of my interests and thoughts. “I know you think I haven’t changed at all,” someone coldly stated to me while cutting off our friendship. How the hell does he know what I’m thinking? I suggest watching a movie and people say, “Oh, I don’t like gory movies.” I like gory movies? I didn’t even know that! People point out my piercings and tattoos in shock, disgust, mild interest and try to get me to explain them just because they demand it. Anything that makes me physically unique somehow is a free pass to making judgments about me without consulting or getting to know me first. Not once has anyone asked me, “Angelica, why do you engage in body modification?” Or, “Why don’t you do drugs?” Or , “Why do you talk so much about X, Y, and Z?”
And then there’s the gang of women who have confessed so many times throughout my life that they were mean to me because they were scared of me. I don’t understand what is so scary about me – and better yet, why bullying is the proper response to fear. I don’t believe violence is the answer to anything and I would never do anything to hurt anyone so long as I can help it, so why do people think I’m going to beat them up or commit an offense? Women have taken one look at me and proceeded to treat me like a rotting skunk corpse. One of these women I have recently befriended and she said I was too outspoken. I told her that I had never spoken to her or in her presence until way after she mistreated me. She then said because she knew I was from the inner-city. How did she know that? Do I look inner-city? She couldn’t answer. I’m just scary to people on the outside apparently.
I try my best not to get bitter about any of this but it is difficult when my desires and passions, my internal and physical identities are placed in direct opposition to what society considers acceptable, or even pleasant. I literally wear my beliefs on my sleeves and it scares people away! I must confess I feel awfully lonely because of this.
Choking back tears and frustration, I continue attempting to communicate with people in a multitude of ways about my experiences and passions, my love for life and human connection.
[am I speaking your language?]
I love it when people are passionate about all kinds of things, even the things I don’t appreciate – like chick flicks, or horse shows, or pop music.
[how about now? am I speaking Your language?]
It’s true that I can be aggressive at times, but I’m just trying to sift through superficial barriers and restraints.
[do you Like this?]
The thing I love most is humility, the moments of enlightenment – or, rather, enlightened confusion: As Speed Levitch said it, when people go “dancing with [their] own confusion.” Let’s cut the crap and just dance!
[can you hear Me?]
I wish people would tell me in more detail what it is they are thinking, why they think that, and engage in some real human connection with me: that is, discussion. Because unless I tell you, there is absolutely no way you can read my mind or tell me who I am.
Please tell me, I wanna know
How do you see me?
