A month or so back, there was an eruption in the "does this matter" universe between Perez Hilton and the rapper/singer Azaelia Banks--and I happen to be thinking of that because I'm sitting here surrounded by a beautiful Northern California afternoon listening to Miss Banks' "Liquorice" (content warning: if you don't know, it's a bit adult).
Apparently Azaelia Banks is one of a growing number of younger people who don't feel constrained, as some of us do, in using certain words, and advocates that the use of them defeats their negative connotations--so she called Perez Hilton a "faggot".
I have to admit that I thought it would be the end of our love affair. I deeply hate that word, I've deeply suffered it and it's been used against me when I'm alone, vulnerable, and it's always meant as a threat, a put down, it stands for hatred. There's nothing good about it.
But I accept that Azaelia may have a point too--and she's quite free as other rappers often are, with the old words for African Americans, and perhaps she's out K-talking in Crown Heights, too--but I don't know. Perhaps walled off words do simply stew in their enclosures, but were that the case, then why use that word as an insult in a Twitter fight? That seems to just justify it's use as an insult.
I've thought a lot about whether people and institutions are who they say they are--if my experience with them reflects with they say about themselves. There are stars in this regard--every time I go to Whole Foods, the fact that I can't speak well isn't an issue to anyone--meat counter, check out, in the aisles. I'm treated like everyone else, which is good, and I've got to give some props to them for that--they don't even blink or act as if I'm at all surprising to them.
I love going to Starbucks in the Castro, because I go with Scott and they know him. Obviously. He's bought enough mocha to put some of them through college--still I wonder--would they be this good to me if he weren't with me? Probably. This is a pretty out and out friendly little shop. They know the disability bears who come through to laze in the 18th Street sun, they know the coolios with their dangling rings in various body parts, they know the middle-aged work out queens no matter in what state of deshabille they happen to be in.
Mollie Stone's on 18th is another grocery were one encounters normalcy--the wonderful feeling that for 5 minutes you're not a circus freak. The tube in your throat is no more an invitation to disdain than the fact that you sound as if mashed potatoes were being mashed in your mouth at the very moment you try to speak. Theoretically, smaller or more expensive grocery stores in San Francisco score well on my customer service matrix--I'll try more of them, and see.
In general, San Francisco is a good place to be disabled. And I know that sounds strange, but I've yet to see a senior citizen not offered a seat on Muni, though it gets dicey when rush hits and its standing room for everyone. I've been offered seats, which frankly doesn't always please me, or rather it does, but I'd rather not attract the notice...yet a couple of times, I've been damn glad of them.
I tell people I'm healthy and feel good--and that's true in a way--but I tire easily. I suppose after losing 35 pounds, having major surgery and traveling 3/4 of the country for phase 2 treatment, I can justifiy that fatigue.But it doesn't seem like it should be me, kind of like faggot. I don't want to claim faggot or fatigue.
There have been plenty of situations where it was obvious that I couldn't expect any help or any empathy from salespeople or medical receptionists, where my need to type some information was seen as some sort of time-eating horror. Those nails won't file themselves, huh? Gotta get back to it.
Those people rarely stand for what their company or doctor believes--they are the typical seat warmers we are all familiar with, having met them within each strata and every company where we've worked. There's nothing like 5, a pitcher of margaritas, payday, the weekend to them--and I like all of those things, but I'm as a worker, I engage Tuesday on its own merits instead of bemoaning that it's not 4:20.
I'm actually very excited for Azaelia Banks to put out her album--so far I've just purchased an EP, and got Scott to buy it--even more unusual as neither of us have rap collections of any size, but she has talent. I love the 8 foot weave she wears in a couple of her videos--that sort of over-the-topness captures my attention. I do wonder if she's who she says she is--I suspect she'd be patient while I type out my request for an autograph--but I could be mistaken. She may be exactly who she claims to be, and a tongueless faggot may be the last thing she needs eating the seconds of precious in her life.
Until proven otherwise, I'll believe her innocent.
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