...and as much as I hate the "real women" qualifier (what the hell are fake women, anyway?), I'm pretty sure I've got that part down pat.
...and yet, a close friend recently informed me that perhaps the guys in my life don't see me as a girl. Not the way I'd like them to, you know? This has caused me to re-evaluate the time I spend with my boys. I've come to the decision that I play one of two roles that come quite naturally to me around them: either hanging out as just another one of the guys, or as a worried protector motherly type. I'm either in the middle of watching a football game or debating the ethics of strip clubs, or worrying about a new injury and whether they're getting enough sleep. I suppose neither of these things is inherently sexy.
I told said friend that I don't see how me hanging out with a few guys I'm close to is any different than me hanging out with a few girls I'm close to, and she says that therein lies the issue. Should there be a difference?
I don't see why. I'd rather be thought of as being ME than as just a girl.
Inside the mind of a kind of quirky, pretty stubborn, way too opinionated, twenty-something, heteroflexible Black female newly employed up-and-moved-to-DC Princeton GRADUATE who's just trying to sort out her life. An uninhibited celebration of all that is me, this blog is an exercise in self-discovery and live-with-your-heart-wide-open-ness. Though I make respect a habit, I will not always be politically correct, and I believe in the power of making audiences uncomfortable to inspire change.
Friday, September 24, 2010
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