Who are you? No, who are you really? What's your real name? Where are you really from? Who's name is that car in, lol? I was in Target today and overheard these two guys conversing.. one referred to the other as Paris. They were obviously gay but I wanted to yell out, "your mom did not name you Paris." I know you think that's cute but it's not.I love to talk and people tend to see me as a safe place so once they open up, they let it all out. I have this talent for reading between the lines and hearing what they're not saying yet they're speaking so loudly. This scares people. It's reminiscent of being caught with their pants down.. and not in a good way. Historically, they open up and tell the unscripted, unrehearsed truth, OR they run, embarrassed that I was able to see them without the make up; and worse without their consent. So much energy, effort, and research goes into playing these roles. In a world where you can change anything about yourself that you want to—your sex, skin color, nationality, socioeconomic status—why do we feel the need to play these roles? The worst part is it's all to impress the boyfriend of the week or people who really don't like you anyways. We live in a culture where at least once a week someone is arrested for impersonating a doctor or an attorney. I mean these fools were doing it long term, like ten years.. for the time they'll spend in jail they could have gone to Georgia State.. they obviously have the aptitude. There's a certain laziness that goes along with lying. It's so much easier to simply assume a persona, then to work at a change.
What is it about love, lust, and this yearning for acceptance that causes people to either completely change or conceal who they are? Lies, exaggerations, omissions, additions... they're all the same. I've been there, trust me. Growing up, my mom used to always tell me, "don't let your friends choose you; you make the choice." Funny thing is so did everyone else's mom, right? There's something absolutely amazing about being chosen... oh to be that dude who KNOWS that there is an entire group of ladies who have been staring at him all night. To know that he could effortlessly have any of them. To know that he could probably get away with having all of them. The secret validation that comes from getting a random note on your car from an admirer.. or the juvenile "he said that she said, you're pretty cute.." Funny thing is even those half compliments create half smiles. You know the ones... "you're cute for a big girl..." or "I don't usually fuck with light skinned dudes, but..." There's something euphoric about idea that someone The believe in what initially seems to be sincerity... priceless. Unfortunately, after being disappointed over and over again, that excitement turns to cynicism. The result: emotional brick walls.
I know this young lady from small town outside Jackson, MS. Everyday as a child, well into her teenage years, she told herself I'm going to get out of this town. I'm going to make something of myself. Her childhood was stolen by abuse. She was ostracised for being smart. So she left. As she arrived in Seattle, WA she wasn't the same young lady. Last I saw her, she had grown locks, developed an accent, and apparently she was born and raised in London. Umm.. ok, do you. Funny thing is, she's a hostest at a national chain restaurant. She's no longer that awkward girl from MS... now she's no one. She's so consumed by her lies that she cannot let anyone get close for fear that they won't like the real her. She got away from the oppression, but she's created a new prison.
I also know this guy who's been trying to break into the music scene for the better part of a decade. Not surprisingly he's a rapper. He's from Upper Marlboro, MD and raps about his hard life gang banging, selling drugs and pimping hoes. I wonder how he kept all of this a secret while he attended an all male catholic school. By day he works at customer service at Home Depot; by night he rocks a fitted cap, sags his jeans, and tries to keep from smiling until his sets are over and he's safely backstage. Couldn't have the world knowing he smiles. Funniest part is he usually ask to go as early as he can... can't be out too late on those Saturday nights.. you know he plays the organ for his church.
I've played the roles. Every pretended to be interested in something in the hopes that eventually you'd grow to like it? Clubbing? Drinking? Promiscuity? I'm a recovering people pleaser. I was that guy, where as long as it made you like me, I was down for whatever.
My main concern has always been how much I'm liked not realizing that I didn't even like the people I wanted to like. You like football? Me too. You like Country Music, wow.. me too! No was not in my vocabulary. I would stay out all night with people who didn't work or weren't in school and was so happy to be "apart of things" that I could not speak up for myself. My biggest fear was being excluded. Not being on the guest list. Being unpopular. How unattractive is that?? Funny thing is most people, quiet as it's kept, love people like that. We want people to fit our molds of the perfect... We want someone to laugh at our jokes, buy us stuff, and go with our flow. Ironically, as I learned the word no, the phone calls stopped. They turned to text and then the text turned into generic Myspace messages, and then it was just me. Initially I blamed "the them." The ex's, the prospects, the friends, the associates. Then I figured something out. I loved me. I loved who I was, how I looked, etc. My fear was that the world wouldn't get me. Well.. they don't, and I'm ok with that.
Atlanta is one of those cities.. those cities where no one has ties since most people are transplants. Who you are is who you say you are. There's this freedom that exist that allow everyone to be whoever they are.. seemingly there's a niche for everyone.. in this type of free culture people take so much creative license with who they are, who they were, and everything in between. My family is well known in Maryland. My brother went to court for some traffic tickets and the judge is a good friend of the family. Our name carries history and value and with that, responsibility. Everything I do, say, or get caught up in gets back to someone and I tend to care what they think. Atlanta is one of those cities where you can wake up on Monday and decide to hook for a week to pay your rent at the end of the month and grand mama back in Louisiana will never know unless you tell her. There something liberating about that kind of freedom, but again with that type of free come comes responsibility.
The worst part about thinking "don't know body know about me," is they all do. People understand the root of your obsession with the gym, or your promiscuity, or your eating disorder even when you don't realize these are problems. Many of these folks find it unbelievable that someone could be interested... especially since they've see you out of costume. The trick is finding that person who not only notices those flaws, but sees them as aspects of you leaving the choice for change solely in your lap. People see through the façade. Will things change? Not likely. Seems so much easier to seek out people who like who you are and what you have to offer right? I'll let you all know how it works out for me.
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