hatred and beauty
I desperately want to believe that human beings are inherently good creatures...it's the zen way to believe that all beings are of god. but I find myself doubting it lately...becoming a true misanthrope...the kind of person my former self would have thought vile and full of negativity. from the covert racism that comes out when a black rapper has the nerve or balls (depending on who you ask) to question the president on a live telethon...to big mouth exes who turned into hoes after me but still manage to make me look bad...to "friends" who never come around, call, or e-mail anymore for fear my fertility will rub off on them...to clients who call six times a day on sundays even though I told them I don't work on weekends...to american citizens being treated like they were in a concentration camp...I just don't like people. I don't like the giddiness that accompanies evil doing and I don't like holier-than-thou attitudes...I don't like shady bitches. I don't like anybody sometimes...I just tolerate them. except my family...they're always okay...because their love is unconditional and I don't have to work so hard for so little.
I am a great debater and if I feel passionately about something my confidence in discussing it knows zero bounds; however, I've had to start avoiding most of the conversations that have been cropping up around me as of late in regards to this hurricane aftermath. from "why didn't they leave" to "what was kanye west thinking" to "why do you people always have to play the race card" I just deeply loath some people. its an uncomfortable feeling to hate like almost everybody...to have a distain and disgust for humanity in general. I'm not trying to be bitter or pessimistic - although it leads me to brilliant angst-wridden creative places, I don't want that attitude to permeate my daughter's very sweet, mashmellowy, petal pink-colored, simplistic id...like ever. it will be a sad day for me when my serena begins to realize what hate is. so instead of continuing these debates on race, apathy, celebrity privilege, and politics I prefer, at least for the time being, to bury my face in the sand so I can stay sane. I prefer to think about the chocolate brown shoes I need to match the white purse I will talk about in a few paragraphs. I do it because I am lucky enough to force myself into momentary ignorance.
the maddness and non-sensical nature of the world astounds. the post-apocalypic state of what was once one of the liveliest, most beautiful cities in this country. president bush getting the rare opportunity to put not one, but two ultra-conservative judges on the supreme court. the onset of another category four hurricane. li'l kim getting a five mic rating in the source. bet refusing to put little brother's new video into rotation because its "too intelligent" for their target audience. janelle not even getting to the final two on big brother. shit is all.fucked.up.
so lately I have had to search hard and deep for beauty in this world...on my daughter's face mostly...or in music...I have tried to refocus myself on the things I enjoy the most, mainly art-related. and halloween a.k.a. my favorite holiday...its so close I can taste the candy corns in my mouth. I've already found a few costumes I love but finding them above a size 12 is becoming an exercise in futility. see, I have a problem with discrimination against big girls. now...I am not only 5'8" with a 34" inseam - so I have to buy my jeans in tall - but I also wear a size 14/16. I had a baby five months ago ya know...and I wasn't tiny before. so I am in the plus sized, lane bryant and ashley stewart, toccara and syleena johnson category...which is cool cause skinny has never been the flavor. and big girl/thick is not a replacement word for fat here...I bristle at being called fat like all proper chonky bitches do. there are some alright halloween costumes in my size but it's pretty limited and pretty cliche'...as in "I know every big girl in new york will be rockin the same shit in lieu of the typical big girl costumes like the statue of liberty or a nun" limited. shit I have a great ass and legs that go on for eons...great cleavage...just cause I'm not small doesn't mean I want to cover myself completely. halloween is the one time of year where dressing a little whorish is not only accepted, it's expected and even applauded. yet the most creative, sexy costumes don't go above an XL...which is actually what I usually wear in a normal store but for some reason, around halloween, an XL transmogrifies into a 10/12. shit is really irritating. when I called a distributer to protest he said "well our clothing is made in china...they're a small people". when I told him what size I wore he said "yea...that 10/12 won't fit you".
hey captain obvious. the earth is round. supermodels snort coke.
so with that being said and experienced and put into the atmosphere, I've refocused my efforts to begin saturating the world with the kind of beauty I appreciate. the kind of women I feel are sorely in need of representation - something I think I can give by way of my artistic skills. I really dig the pin-up girl aesthetic, from the classic pin-ups a'la bettie page and pre-fame marilyn monroe to the current wave of pin-up dominated by tattooed badasses. I've always been attracted to something that teases moreso then something that just plain out spreads...I'd go into a metaphor about how I always enjoy DC strip clubs less then NY strip clubs because the DC girls get entirely nude, but...I won't...because I just did. but despite the evolution of the pin-up girl, they still never seem to be black or really of color at all. kanye west recently explored the idea in his golddigger video but he ain't on that new shit - I've written about the lack of black pin-up girls as well as celebrated it in my infamous artistic "style" for years now. I just never knew what to do about it - until now.
so...ladies...if you are in new york (or close to new york...or might be in new york soon to visit) and you want me to take your photo, holla. if too many people have told you "you're such a pretty girl...if only you would lose some weight", get at me...I am particularly insterested in photographing thick girls of color...sizes 14 - 18 primarily, big but still shapely and voluptuous...gorgeous faces are the only absolute MUST HAVE. you know if your face is pretty cause people tell you all the time. I want to make you look beautiful. I want to create art for, with, and because of you...my rubenesque, coffee colored muses. you must be over 18. you must believe in my vision...your mind must be as pretty and deliciously engaging as your looks. I want to put you in corsets and hot pants, throw gold glitter across you, and immortalize you. think la perla, agent provocateur, and trashy meets pam grier and tamara dobson. you must be willing to pose artistically nude. this is the remix.
come to think of it...H&M's new line is described as "gwen stefani meets empress josephine on the set of dangerous liasons". that means affordably priced corsets and lace trimed jackets with poofy sleeves. that sort of shit works best on the voluptuous. blue beefed about the summer trend of boho chic - long hippie skirts and peasant shirts - I guess it sucks to see your style trendied-out, but I am excited about corsets coming into style because the good ones are usually way out of my price range.
it's so hard for me not to spend money on clothing, which is devastatingly shallow considering our current state...but depressed people shop. when I feel like I can't control shit else, I just wanna at least be able to look good. that's the "single black female addicted to retail" in me. it's hard enough just going into old navy (a.k.a. my favoritest store on earth) and leaving with a gold-specked white purse with a chocolate brown chunky handle when I really wanted 10 times that. I dare not even peep my head into H&M. the only thing that saves me from spending hundreds in there is that most of the shit that catches my eye stops just before my size. I've grown out of the days where I bought something too small in hopes of fitting it "later...ya know, when I lose weight". plus...I got bills...and I'm a responsible mom an shit now...and I can't feel good shopping when I have bill collectors sweatin me.
its 6pm and its time to leave work. christopher and beans should be outside my office right now waiting for me so we can venture to whole foods - expensive ass bullshit, but damn that food is good. I blame blue for introducing me to the indian food bar, really.
(fyi: I will NOT update my site until this entry gets it's due attention. I don't care if it has to sit here for a year. )