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City of the Dolls
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Tag: princess
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Stop Pointing
you aren’t the boss of me
no one is
doing what pleases me
pleases me
sure others can’t get away with it
but some of us
don’t have to be bothered
with what is required
so stop pointing out
what you consider to be the right way
this way is my way
so get out of my way
let those who have to obey
obey
let those of us who are above
that sort of thing
do what ever we deem fit
and you can deal
with the mess we leave behind
at least we’re leaving you something
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Yes Is Meaningless
Law 28: Enter Action with Boldness
Take 1
what have I got to lose
this is opportunity
not solution
this is a move in a direction
right or wrong
doesn’t matter as much as
this is a move in a direction
I have more to lose
by remain still
by keeping safe
all I have to lose
……
Yes Is Meaningless (Take Two)
I say no
without anger
it’s not meant to punish
to teach anyone a lesson
it means exactly what it says
no
I don’t want what I don’t want
I don’t want that item on the menu
I don’t want to walk any further
I don’t want to talk about it
once I’ve said no
I’m not open to negotiation
any more than you are
in your eagerness for a yes
there are time when no is pointless
I can say no more shit
but it keeps coming
from people who don’t ask for permission
they take thing into their own hands
pick up the gun
don’t make excuses apologies
bold brash trigger pullers
teaching us the lesson
that tolerance isn’t acceptance
that the law
can’t legislate thoughts
there are no thought police
only pundits
to say how terrible it is
after the fact
after the fact
it’s too late to be bold enough to say anything
even though before the fact
it was bold enough
to celebrate ourselves
our skins
our agency as humans
after the fact
it’s too late to say no
I say no when I mean no
I don’t explain
apologize
don’t condition it as a potential yes
I’ll repeat the no
but if it takes more than one repeat
to be heard
I say nothing
I walk
because if you can’t respect my no
then my yes is meaningless to you
It took two tries to get into Law 28. To me ‘bold’ at first meant a sort of brash pushiness that calls attention to itself – an act that is a departure from the norm – fashion forward with deliberate changes in shape or fabric that challenges. The first take was feeling out the expectation of being bold within the safety of no change. I liked this start but it wasn’t bold enough for me 🙂
One of the boldest things, for me, is to step away from people pleasing without the need to please at the same time. There is a power in saying NO. As I’ve heard in recovery ‘No is a complete sentence.’ The ability to say NO without also having to make an apology to go with it takes practice. Often I’m not sorry when I say No Thanks so why pretend that I am.
There are those who feel NO needs to be justified or that if you say it you are merely saying ‘convince me.’ ‘What do you mean No?’ Some of this reflects the notion of consent – just because I meet a guy fro coffee isn’t consent to coming back to my place, coming back to my place may be consent to sex but not to getting tied up – no amount of sweet talk is going to get me to say yes to what I said no to.
Of course we always don’t have agency – I never said yes to crowded subway cars but if I want to get there I have to fit into that car. I was also thinking about event she may be powerless over like the Orlando Pulse shootings. That shooter didn’t ask permission he acted boldly. Laws that try to protect can’t in the long run. Laws are often a way of enforcing a NO – to control behaviour but as the piece says they can’t control thoughts.
It returns to the more person level in the end with boundaries – No is a boundary – some people feel it is perfectly okay to ignore a boundary if they feel they know what is best for you or if they they can change your mind because it’ll suit their own ends as yours are clearly wrong – they feel somehow victimized when you don’t compromise. They can’t respect your decision to say No, if they don’t – move on. Now that is bold.
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Faultless
Faultless
it wasn’t my fault
she made me do it
all she had to do was smile
to thanks me for the complement
let me touch her hair
such a simple thing
just a kiss
just a peck
but no she resisted
she was dressed to be noticed
I couldn’t help myself
it wasn’t my fault
it was society’s fault
for telling me that as a man
I had the right to act on any opportunity
to make my sexual interest
in any woman known
that she should welcome it
that it was flattering for her
to be so desired by men
that was her only role in this world
to look attractive
fresh clean
pretty
available
without resistance
and when she resisted
I killed her
it was her fault
entirely
for ignoring me
for leading me on
by saying nothing
by being born a woman
at least she was a real woman
it’s not as if I’m some sort of perv
it’s not as if I killed some dude
struggling with fluid gender identity
I’m just a normal
healthy average heterosexual male
who did the normal thing
the expected thing
when a woman disrespects
my honest cock
by showing no interest
by not even acknowledging my presence
even when I say Hi pretty lady
as politely as possible
all she had to do was reply
all she had to do was admit how much
she wanted me
but no she didn’t even look in my direction
even as I followed her
even as I taught her the lesson
she’ll never distain another man
so it’s not my fault
my hands are clean
This take on Law 26 gave me chills when I first wrote it. I put myself into the head of the victimizing blamer – in this case the whole rape justificationist. Some of the defences of the protagonist are ones that I’ve read, heard one the past year – not old fashioned notions of toxic masculinity that have been cast aside – they seem to be cast in stainless steel in the mind sou too many men.
It’s also a culture in which people seek to evade responsibility but finding fault with circumstances but not with their personal choices in those circumstances. Some playgrounds now have padded surfaces to keep parents from suing them if their children fall down on the actual earth & hurt themselves. Someone spills a hot coffee not themselves & sues the coffee shop for selling them a hot coffee that spilled on them.
As a gay guy I’ve interacted with men on on-line gay sites who get pissed off if you aren’t interested – after all they’ve been generous enough to show an interest in you so why be so stuck up. When I was first active in Toronto my self- acceptance was so low I did end up with guys simply because they were interest not because I found them attractive. Those days are long behind me but – this to me, reflects, the sense of male entitlement – ‘I’m attractive, interested, you must say yes.’
My piece deals with rape culture & that sense of toxic male entitlement. In some cultures women are still considered only in the context of male control, even in USA female reproductive rights are dictated by men. Here in USA/Canada, where there are supposedly equal rights, perpetuators still get offended when forced to face that they are in the wrong and won’t be let of the hook because they were polite.
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Re-created
this is how I started
a small fear filled child
a bit moved across Canada for a generation
a new home every year
each new home a new opportunity
but never enough time to develop
to make friends
finally settling
the only child
a small fear filled child
discovering things about himself
that weren’t what he observed
in other children
children with rough tumble values
gender roles unquestioned
reinforced by parental and scholastic approval
mine rarely reinforced
opting for invisibility
those moments when I was observed
winning an art prize
flunking miserably at math
art devalued
math venerated
the first invention
the arty poet uninterested in approval
bravado rather than conviction
the shield of music
flowed into the the drunk
the numbed to identity
the first man on man sex
wanting more
but with more to hide
inventing to we did drunk sex
so it doesn’t count
the writer published
the man escapes from
with his life
not another new world
once again the new face in town
remade into the timid bar hopper
manic dancer
reinvented as the sober housemate
the lover for life
the return to the word
the uneducated director
set designer lighting sound tech
discarded to be replaced
by the novelist poet
spoken-word performer
spun into the out spoken queer
This was an interesting law to work with – I did take it rather literally for a change – first by looking at the ways I was reinvented by the culture I was growing up in. There was a fair bit of moving until we settled in Sydney Nova Scotia. Even there we moved at least three times before my dad bought the house I grew up in. All that moving made it hard to learn how to interact with others.
I was also small, blond, a bit spoiled and fearful. My final height growth didn’t happen until after I finished high-school. I’ve written about my east coast growing up extensively but never from this particular point of view. Even then I did feel the pinch of never being the ‘boy’ my Dad would have liked – sporty – my younger brother took that role on.
I did want to be a writer from an early age but that was never seen as a viable or suitably masculine role for me & so it was never really encouraged. Learn to spell first was a frequent admonition. No one knew about spellcheck in those days. Oddly enough the ability to spell was seen as girly – maybe that was why I resisted it. Girls could be smart; guys could be dumb.
Things then that I didn’t really question but felt shame around – this cultural coding of what gender meant as a value judgement. All I knew was my fear at being found out, called out & mocked. Some of those fears were realized in high school being designated as a gearbox – one of those olden day terms for queer – fairy was also used but I preferred gearbox as it at least sounds a little butch, right? 🙂
This follows the changes in identity over the decades, the fearful drunk, the quiet rebel who was hidden but resolute all the same. Writing, painting where modes of expression that probably kept me alive. Same with drinking as other hidden gay guys I sort of knew killed themselves. I survived. Some of these changes are way out culture reinvents us from cute young thing to handsome older to doddering dirty old man.
One of the comments about my After The Falling chap book is that there was no clear through line – that each of the pieces, as well written as they were, came from different writers. Which to me says I have a multi-layered world view that reflects a more complex person than my image may project at any given time, or rather, than you may project on me at any given time.
The most recent re-invention is #DadBodHot.
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