ISA Dreamers, Rest In Power
REQUIRED READING: BYSTANDER INTERVENTION TRAINING
TW: Casual Ableism, Alcoholism, Drug Use & Disregard For Human Life
I saw a Documentary Film once called “Miss Congeniality”.
It was written about my Tía, but they had to call it ‘Chick Lit Fiction’ for “People Magazine”, the NRA Lobby, and the FCC.
In this Documentary, I learned about a woman who fought so hard for her friends she was even willing to take a bullet for them. I learned about women who are so dedicated to standing together, that they’d even do Hard Time just to protect their Sisters’ Legal Names.
In this Film, I also learned about White Fragility and Toxic Masculinity, and the depths to which Yt Men will go just to make their Ex-Girlfriend look like the “crazy” one. It reminded me of my first “boyfriend” — the one who slipped his (un-invited) hand down my pants at the Quarry movie theater when I was 13, and the same one who claimed to have “taken my virginity”, as if it was ever His to claim. That movie theater used to be a Safe Space.
Whenever I rewatch my favorite “old movies” of John Hughes, Quentin Tarantino, Harvey Weinstein, Jim Henson, Michael Jordan, and Bill Cosby, I am reminded of the many men who broke my heart with the “harmless lies” they mixed into my drinks without my knowing, along with a “tiny bump of Speed” I would have never ordered for myself. I used to go out dancing at NYC Bars, but then I got a concussion in Chinatown at 3am on the Saturday after my 25th Birthday, and the person who picked up the phone the first time called me a Fake. Even worse, the person who picked me up off the ground called me a Drunk, and his “partner” (who used to be my Best Friend in BK) called me a “Rape Apologist & Liar”.
But an Elephant never forgets…right?
I have too many stories like these — too many to count anymore. My Drinks have been spat in and thrown up onto the pavement so many times, I forget my own identity from time to time. On those days, I try to absorb what’s left of mis Abuelos — the ones I talk with in my lucid dreams, at least on the few Texan Stormy Nights when I’m able to sleep.
I used to sleep like A Champ, but now my nights are tortured by the Grim Reaper: “The One Who Comes For Us Artists & Activists On The Verge Of 27”. He came for Amy Winehouse, Heath Ledger, Kurt Cobain, and so many more whose legacy is now tarnished by the clouds of heroin sizzle that were introduced to them by Good For Nothing Managers and Record Executives who didn’t understand the non-monetary value of Creative Genius. Why does everything need to be monetized nowadays? Some of us just want some Peace & Quiet while our wounds heal.
“It’s Only 4 Years”, they said. “No Beer On Sundays”, they said. “Don’t Drive Drunk”, they said. “Don’t Mess With Texas”, they said. “Don’t Negotiate With Terrorists”, they said. “Tequila Makes Womens’ Clothes Fall Off”, they said. “Don’t Do Drugs, Or You’ll Get Pregnant And Die”, they said.
Well…look where all of those “Good Luck Charms” got all of us Black Feminist Thinkers Down In Texas.
A whole lot of pain & suffering, not to mention the countless COVID-19 fatalities that could have been easily avoided with Strong Woman Leadership in the White House. Instead, we got The Cheeto-Handed Grim Reaper himself.