“Can you get out of my way please?” she responded.
“Buy me a cup of coffee”, he demanded
“I’m not going to buy you anything. Now you move that shopping cart out of my way and let me pass.”
“Walk around, bitch.”
“What?”
“I said walk around.”
“Black bastard”, she muttered as she walked around him.
The man ran behind her, grabbed her arm, and said, “Damn, am I so dirty that you thought I was black? Look at my hair.” He removed his scarf and she was shocked. “See,” he said, “My hair is long, stringy and blond, just like yours.”
“Let go of me,” she said. “Here’s a few dollars, get yourself something to eat OK?
He let go of her arm and accepted the money. Walking away in high spirits, his dirty face gleaming, he could not stop laughing and repeating “Black bastard, black bastard” over and over again.
“Tried to trick me,” she said to herself. “White people aren’t homeless. He’s probably a news reporter posing undercover for a story.” When she finally reached her office building, she was relieved. She looked at all of the smiling white faces going in and out of the building and felt overwhelmed with a since of comfort.
She really loved working as an accountant for Farr & Associates. F&A was a small web design company that was on its way up the commerce ladder and when she got on the elevator, surrounded by all white people, she felt that the very reason for the company’s success was that most of the employees were indeed white. Well at least all of the executives were.
“Any messages?” she asked her secretary.
“No, Ms. Larrieux, but your 9:00 o’clock with Tim has been rescheduled to now. He is waiting in your office. I explained to him the situation with your car and gave him coffee and told him you would be here in a few minutes.”
“Thanks Amy. So how do I look? I’m going to go freshen up a bit.”
“Like a damn fool” Amy answered giggling under her breath as she smoothed her strawberry blond hair and began putting on lip balm at her desk.
Ms. Larrieux went to the restroom to see if she was looking her best because Tim was not only the company’s Chief Financial Officer but he was handsome, successful and single, not to mention white, which was an absolute must.
She looked in the mirror and said, “What a morning. Boy that train ride was something else. Then I get off just to be greeted by a couple getting high and a homeless white man. My nerves are shot and I know I must look really frazzled.” She smiled adjusting the collar on her silk blouse to make sure it fit nicely over the collar of her pinstriped jacket. "All will be well now," she thought. "I'm here, at work, surrounded by successful, working white people. No Mexicans, or Asians, or niggers to make me feel uncomfortable. My car will be fixed today and I'll never have to experience what I've just went through again." She looked long at her broad nose and full lips and thought about how she would have all of that changed as soon as she saved up enough. She batted her stunning blue contacts and fixed specific strands of her blond hair weave to cover up the tracks that were showing. Before turning to leave, she stared extensively at her black skin and hoped that one day her blond hair, blue eyes, and financial status would be enough.
Her hazy reflection looked back at her from the mirror and laughed. “Nope, it'll never be enough. Diane, you fool, haven’t you realized that no matter how much you change your appearance, or how much money you make, it will never be enough?”
As Diane turned to walk out of the restroom, she could hear her reflection pleasantly amused with non-stop laughter. Then Amy pushed open the restroom door and said, "Ms. Larrieux, the mechanic's on the phone. He said something about your car not being ready for the next couple of days."
Diane Larrieux gazed at her reflection as it laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.
CHAPTER 19 – THIS FACE
This Face
In the midst of day dreaming
I find myself in a place I don’t recognize.
I look in the mirror
And don’t’ even recognize the reflection staring back.
How and when did I become so shallow
That I cannot tolerate myself or my people?
When did I start to look down upon you people
That share my heritage, as well as my bloodline?
I must look deeper, search high and low
In order to recognize, Who I am.
I can start by taking out my ocean blue contacts,
And getting rid of my silky straight, platinum blond, synthetic hair.
Then and only then will this face, look familiar to me.
CHAPTER 20 – IN MY SKIN
In My Skin
I am a heart that explodes with love and joy
Until I ask myself am I a girl or a boy.
With a mind that can produce both song and verse
And wonder why mines doesn’t look like hers.
Made into something that is not who I am
Crying but no one hears me and no one gives a damn.
The looks, the stares, the snickers, the jeers;
The pain, the fears, self-hatred and tears.
Inside my body functions, the same as yours,
I put my pants on one leg at a time, and walk upright through doors.
I may look different from without, but I’m the same from within
And just like you, I’m trapped in my own skin.
But unlike you I will escape from this prison;
Of social constructs, biases and inherited decisions.
Ignorance, miseducation, intolerance, shame;
I’ve learned to be happy in my skin, can you say the same.
CHAPTER 21 – GENDER BENDER
Gender Bender
My name is Terri Anderson and I love women. From the top of their heads to the bottom of their feet, from their arched eyebrows, to their pedicured toenails, I love the smell of their perfume, the softness of their voices, and the swagger in their hips. I know these things normally characterize a normal, warm-blooded, heterosexual male, but my problem is: I’m a woman. I can’t help the way I feel. I’ve tried to be with men and be in “normal” relationships but I always end up being more attracted to their mothers or sisters than I am to them.
For as long as I can remember I’ve always had these feelings, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve had to hide them. In my family, how the Anderson’s feel about lesbians and gays is a well-known fact. They think they are the scum of the earth and would never even consider the possibility that there might be one in the family.
I’m 28-years-old and my mother is constantly asking me when she can expect some grandchildren. She hardly ever sees me with a man yet she has no clue. As bad as I want to tell her the truth, I think it would kill her or she would kill me.
It’s not obvious to anyone who knows me that I have these feelings inside. I look like any other woman you may see at the workplace, on a college campus, walking down the street or hanging out at the mall. I have hair to my shoulders that I get done religiously and yes I do wear skirts. I really have no desire to dress like a boy with saggy pants and gangster cornrows but still and all, I love women and I need one badly. I’ve been alone for quite some time and right about now the feel of a woman’s breasts against my own would make my year.
My last girlfriend wanted me to come out of the closet and I just wasn’t ready. You’d think with her being gay, that she would understand what kind of pressures automatically come along with coming out. It wasn’t like we didn’t go anywhere together and I even took her with me to family functions. It was just under the pretence that she was only a friend. We spent the night at each other’s house and even held hands and stuff in public, but she wanted more. I’m not afraid of other people knowing about my sexual orientation; only my family. I do not want to be the one who besmirches the family name.
Honestly, it’s getting harder and harder for me to face my mot
her knowing that I am living a lie. I just don’t want to hurt her and I don’t want her to hurt me. I can vividly remember we were at the grocery store one time and there was a seemingly happy lesbian couple doing some grocery shopping. My mother was so rude about the situation I was actually offended. As they were standing at the counter placing their items on the conveyor belt, they happened to start kissing and one of the ladies starting giggling as she handed her lover her chewed up gum back. My mother was rolling her eyes and mumbled under her breath yet loud enough for them to hear, “Ugh. That’s just nauseating.”
I could tell it really bothered her too by the way her whole attitude changed and the way she looked at them was—let’s just say, if looks could kill, they would have dropped dead and everyone within 15 feet would have joined them. When one of the ladies placed a box of tampons on the counter, she looked at both of them and asked, “Well do yall share these too?” Talk about wanting to drop dead. I was super embarrassed by her behavior but also troubled and deeply insulted. I just stood there and bit my tongue in shame and not just because my mother was rude, but mostly because I felt like she was talking directly to me. I was a “Tampon Swapper” too.
My mother is no joke. I love her and I know she loves me, but there is no way that I could ever tell her about my penchant for women. Her thoughts about gays and lesbians were beyond harsh and I already knew with her, I wouldn’t be able to explain my emotions. There is only one person that knows about these feelings and I plan to keep it that way.
Nikki, my best friend saw me looking at her breasts one day and asked me about it and instead of playing it off as just a girl thing, I gave my stupid self away by acting like she had caught me stealing. She just caught me off guard and before I knew it, I was telling her the truth and it felt good. It especially felt good that she understood and we remained friends. In fact, Nikki and I are supposed to go out to the “gay” club tonight so I can try to find me a girl.
********************
We're on our way to the club and as much as I want to go, I can’t stop thinking about the fact that I really need to be honest with my mother. For some reason this thing has been weighing heavily on my mind and my conscience lately. “I’m gonna tell her Nikki”, I say without thinking.
“Tell who what Terri?”
“Ma. I need to tell Ma that I like women so she can stop waiting on grandkids that are never gonna come.”
“Why now?”
“Why not now?” I ask.
“I mean, what brought this on?” Nikki asked with a confused look. “I was always under the impression that you were never gonna get the balls to tell her. I feel like you shoulda been told her. Hell, you a grown ass woman and so what if your life didn’t turn out the way yo momma wanted it to. You have a good job, a good head on your shoulders, and not one, but two college degrees, so really yo momma should be counting her blessings instead of criticizing your sexual orientation because the bottom line is, who you sleep with is none of her fucking business anyway and you can’t live your life trying to please everybody. Sometimes you just gotta do you and say to hell with it and everybody who don’t like it.”
“I know, it’s just that I been lying to her for so long…. I don’t know. I’m just gonna tell her and hope she don’t disown me.”
“She won’t! You just have to be upfront with her and make her understand that you respect how she feels but in no uncertain terms are you going to continue to hide who you are. You don’t have to flaunt it in her face but she needs to accept you as is. And you like women.”
Shit that’s easier said then done. But before I can brood myself into a coma, Nikki turns and looks at me because she is trying to read my mind. Digging as deep as I can I put on the biggest, most shit eatenest grin I can, signaling that I want to drop the subject. “Now can we go to the club and have some fun? I might find me a girl”, she says tickling my leg.
I know Nikki means well and everything she said is true but I know my mother and she has strict traditional values which are gonna make this extremely difficult for her to accept. My mother hasn’t even had a boyfriend that I know of. As far as I know, my father is the only man she has ever been with and he left when I was only a toddler.
No sooner than we get inside the club, Nikki starts dancin’ with what I assume is a woman dressed as a stud. My mind is racing, still on my mother until I see the most beautiful girl I have ever seen dancing by herself. She can really dance too. It’s obvious that she’s dancing alone by choice because she keeps turning people down. I guess she’s just enjoying the music or maybe she’s here with someone. I continue to watch her and she continues to dance by herself through at least two or three songs.
She’s about 6 feet tall and the stiletto boots she’s wearing make her at least 6’2 and I am intrigued by every inch of her. This girl is gorgeous! I mean damn! She has on these jeans that show off a perfect ass and nice, healthy hips and thighs. From where I’m standing her bra size is at least a 38 DD and I love breasts. She has caramel colored skin and her hair is corn-rowed, not the kind that make most girls look all rough and ghetto, but the small ones that give the style some femininity.
I’m looking at this girl and all I want to do is take her home, wrap her legs around my neck, and take in every drop of her female nectar. This girl is special, because my panties are wet. Instantly I become ashamed. What would my momma think if she knew I was at a club, a gay club no less, acting like a hound? But this girl, she makes my insides throb and they don’t throb for just anybody. My palms are sweaty and my mind cannot decide which one to focus on, my mother or baby.
So I decide I needs me a drink, so I can relax. I walk over to the bar and order, a cosmopolitan, my favorite and right when I get ready to pay for it someone behind me says, “I’ll have what she’s having”. I turn around to see who is all in my space and it’s her. I immediately thank my lucky stars while trying to come up with something to say. “Hi”, I say, with the subtly of a simpleton and I instantly force myself to qualify that with a lame “how you doing.” Her eyes are smiling which lets me know that she does not think I’m retarded so with a little more confidence I ask her her name, “Courtney”, she says in the sexiest voice I have ever heard. Then she grabs my hand and asks me if I want to dance. “I need a drink first.” She nods her understanding while swaying to the beat.
The bartender hands us our drinks and I reach in my pocket to pull the money out, but before I can put my bill on the counter, she says, “No, let me”, and pays the man. She grabs my hand again but this time, instead of asking me to dance she leads me to a quiet corner where we can get to know each other in peace.
“You’re beautiful. I saw you watching me dance. That’s why I didn’t stop. I was hoping you would come dance with me”, Courtney tells me seductively. “Stop lyin”, I say with a nervous chuckle. “Why you think I wouldn’t dance with nobody else? I was waiting on you to stop staring and start dancing. But you didn’t so I decided to come and talk to you.” She slowly and methodically draws me out of my shell and about an hour later, which seems like minutes, Nikki comes waltzing up.
“Where you been girl? I been lookin’ for you. I’m ready to go”, she says with a smirk at the same time sizing up Courtney. “Well…ah I kinda”, I can’t seem to get out the words to tell her I don’t want to leave. “Booty call”, she says to me and my new friend before I can finish. That’s one thing about Nikki. Even though she spends most of her time as a single woman, she always has someone in reserve.
I’m not sure if she’s picked up someone here or has been summonsed by one of her many fuck buddies. As if reading my mind she whispers in my ear, “Bryan wants to see me tonight and you know what that means.” Bryan is this guy that she’s been seeing lately and I think deep down she’s feeling him but is afraid of getting hurt so won’t let the relationship get past the “just fucking” stage. As much as I hate to leave, Nikki is my ride so I have no choice. “Courtney, Nikki is my ride so I gotta go, but I
would love to call you so we can hook up sometime.”
She seems to be just as saddened by my sudden departure as I am but writes her number down. Her eyebrows are furrowed as if she is deep in thought. She startles me when she hesitates, as if she has changed her mind about me calling her.
“I’ll take you home,” she says and I am relieved and flattered that she wants me to stay. I look at Nikki with a look that tells her I’m not sure what to do. She hugs me and whispers in my ear “Do ya thang girl, she is cute”, and kisses me on the cheek before she walks off using her thumb and pinky to give me the “call me” sign.
Me and Courtney sit there talking and just enjoying each other’s company but I notice that other women are looking at Courtney just waiting for their chance to pounce. So I do the only thing I can think of and practically handcuff her to my arm. Fuck that. I’m definitely blocking tonight. Call me hater or whatever but this girl is mine. Then I realize I have to pee, so instead of excusing myself, I grab Courtney’s hand and take her to the bathroom with me because just like straight women will fuck another woman’s man when their back is turned, the same thing applies to lesbians. Don’t get it twisted. The grass ain’t greener, just different. After I thankfully relieve myself and of course wash my hands, Courtney and I decide that the club scene is getting a bit too crowded, so I invite her to my house and she accepts.
Urban Diaries Page 12
