Now, Be A Good Girl, Sit Still And Look Pretty
I had a conversation with a dear friend yesterday, about knowing something yet unable to express it for fear of bringing more damage than good. But what if it was killing us inside, this thing that we know — we feel — and had to be kept hidden to maintain a collective ‘peace’? Newsflash: free speech has a ‘Terms & Conditions Apply’ label on it.
Recent national events have made this even clearer. So many of us know and feel what cannot be publically stated because it would be like fanning a raging flame. My experience during that one particular big event 18 years ago wasn’t as full frontal as some people but I, too, still remember vividly the panic that took over. That feeling of suspense and confusion, rage but helpless, seeing glimpse of fear my father’s eyes for the first time in my life. And last night, I sense seeds of what might happen, again. Last night, I wanted to say something, lots of things, but I bit my tongue and suspended my thumbs.
What if I did say what needed to be said? What if I abandoned all courtesy and considerations? What if I forgot the names on my social media friendlists which needed to be ‘respected’ and opened a pandora box that was my heart? Would I be adding fuel to fire? Should I just keep quiet? Sit still, look pretty, be a good girl and let society shut me the fuck up.
I am envious of those names on my friendlists who without a care in the world could spit out random biased opinions about what they don’t really understand — simply because they could. Villains are the new heroes and my words are forced to tiptoe on eggshells because godforbids I speak my mind that would be one-sidedly interpreted as prejudice. “Yeah, we can co-exist and be best friends as long as you pretend to forget and forgive the unresolved hate crime inflicted on your people 18 years ago”, is the message — loud and clear — if you read really closely between the lines.
My question is, why does it have to fall on me to maintain orderly conduct? When everyone else’s fingers are quick to type, I have to remain prim and proper with all these emotions and viewpoints blocking my airways. Be the better (wo)man. Hush now. Silence is golden — especially if you’re prone to be the victim.
In all honesty, I smirked last night when I read few friends stating that they felt uneasey and unsafe because they were in locations where they were not the majority. I wanted to reply, “Oh, Honey.. U scared? Take a number and have a seat, enjoy the ride that has been basically my entire live (insert a smiley emoticon).” But I didn’t.
And when just-stay-home-just-to-be-on-the-safe-side has always been the go-to approach following any national uproar, I also had to sit still and nod away as friends tried to coax me to not cancel plans. “It’s all good, roads are clear now!” To that I’d like to reply, “Well, yeah, it’s all good to you whose skin complexion and eye-shape are not what they’re targeting on.” But I didn’t. Had my head on straight and let it go. I was being a good girl. I sat still, I let it tamed me — whatever ‘it’ is. So why do I still feel this itch to say something?
Perhaps even this very-toned down piece would stir some pots. Or maybe no one will ever read it. I suppose intentionally writing and publishing it on another platform other than the usual social medias is just my pathetic attempt to somehow make these words felt less vulgar. Despite my tendencies of writing down my mind, and not to mention my desperate lack of patience towards imbeciles, I have no desire to contribute to an already angry mob.
So, this is where it gets tricky for me. My outspoken rebellious self would most probably drop a link to this piece somewhere around the world wide web, but how do I get things off my chest without disturbing the peace that has been carefully constructed by a society that is both dominant and submissive? Should one triumph the other? Could both really balance each other out? Should we remain a smiling porcelain doll with a concealed stance bubbling inside? Oppression is alive and well.