Hollie Harper INK
Published in

Hollie Harper INK

Eff Superman

“We pay Pretty rent, Caretaker rent, Sex rent…but we never rent to own. We think we do but then the goal post is moved.”

INT. Oval Office — Day

Kanye West sits in front of the wife-beating Jim Brown and snot-ball President “Pussy Neck-Bone Spurs-Massa Fat-Ass” Donald Trump

Kanye‘I’m with Her’ just didn’t make me feel, as a guy, that didn’t get to see my dad all the time. Like a guy that could play catch with his son. It was something about when I put this hat on, it made me feel like Superman. You made a Superman. That’s my favorite superhero and made a Superman cape for me.

Cut To : Me facepalming…again

Then a friend of mine went off on social media about how dads need to be in the home and men like Kanye…are a result of that absence.

I totally got what he was saying but the low key misogyny of Kanye’s statement was not missed. Actually it wasn’t really even low key……kinda mid key…or just… key.

Now I know MANY people don’t like Hillary but I don’t give a shit. This isn’t about her. She’s just as qualified and corrupt as every white male president that ever sat his mediocre, groomed from the womb behind in the oval office.

This is about “just didn’t make me feel, as a guy, that didn’t get to see my dad all the time. Like a guy that could play catch with his son”.

Is the president supposed to make you feel like a man? Is that the president’s job? Do millions of dicks go limp when a vagina seeks the highest level of power? Are men able to follow a female leader and still be men?

What DOES it mean to be a man?

Because I’m wondering if for many men, the only way to feel like a man… is to know and see women beneath you. How else would HRC factor into any man’s testosterone level? Is it like — men can’t be number 5 unless we’re always number 4? What IS 5 without 4?

People didn’t like HRC because they said she was dirty…um OK, yeah, we’re not 8 years old anymore. NO ONE reaches that level of power without getting their hands soiled so please…what else is it?

She’s unlikable….Um OK. She’s cold, haughty…arrogant. But then she wasn’t here to bake us cookies. I can’t even imagine what kind of cookies HRC would bake but I can guarantee they’d be better fucking cookies than what we’ve been choking down and sharting out these last 2 years. I’ll tell ya that.

We even, 2 years later, have asshat boo boo la fools still trying to justify not voting for her and SAVING us all, by vilifying her new comments where she expressed that Monica Lewinsky was an adult and NO her husband should not have resigned.

And I agree with her.

Snatch my feminist card, fuck you, try it, but if we infantilize grown ass 22 year old women as not being able to coherently DECIDE to fuck other grown people, then you’ve just made the argument that women aren’t capable of having their own agency. So, what’s that equal rights thing again?

Maybe I’m jaded but when I was young I dated much older men and knew EXACTLY what I was doing. I sat in the car of a director of a coveted theatre company while he smiled at me and I thought “Do I wanna give him some pussy to get that role? That’s a BIG role….Hmmmm, nah…we don’t pay pussy dollars”…. Decision made. I was 22. Not 22 months

I worked at a bar where a waitress plotted and slept with the boss just to get whatever shift she wanted…she was 22.

Hot-ass Women, some 22, get married to sponsors ALL THE TIME and we say “CONGRATULATIONS” or “You married WELL”…. And we call her a “lucky gold-digging bitch” in our heads as get our little piece of cake in a box with the tacky party favor candle and walk to the parking lot and get in our 10 year old car.

We don’t call her a fool because she isn’t one. He has money. She has youth, a pretty face and ass. And she knows it.

That is what I call a subject-predicate agreement.

And it’s OK.

It’s not what I want for my daughter but then I also don’t want her to join the circus. Young women with older wealthy husbands and ladies jumping 200 feet in the air are not victims.

They are just people living another life.

I think it’s time we rethink women…and men.

7th grade, Tuba Lessons

Yes I played the tuba. I was small as hell with a big ass instrument and kids loved to tip me over. But what grabbed me that year, what struck me MOST when I was 12, was my band teacher Ms. LaCourte.

She was gay, butch with no extra show of girliness. No makeup, short hair, shapeless clothes and she was all business.

I didn’t like her at first. She confused me. “She’s a bitch” I thought upon my first lesson.

I thought I could fudge my way through 45 minutes with half ass effort. “Do the scale again” she said plainly

I half assed it, hitting several wrong notes. She got up, took a sharp breath and said “You’re a disappointment Harper. I heard good things about you.”

Then she stared at me for a response.

I was struck by 2 things. One, she called me Harper… like a dude. No one had ever called me Harper. My elementary school band teacher Mr. Bew called me “Honey” for two years. I didn’t mind. He spoke softly to me. When I was not getting a note right he coaxed me through. I actually cried one time in the middle of the lesson.

He put his arm around me and wiped my tears with “Sweetie don’t cry. You’re too pretty to cry”.

I loved him. He called me “Pretty” and “Sweetie” and “Honey” and “You look so nice today”.

When it came to Race, Mr. Bew was a HARD CORE bleeding liberal in the best sense.

I was new to our Trumpland-ish town of Cape May, New Jersey a few years before. I was ALWAYS the only the Black girl in class, sometimes in my grade. Mr. Bew told me he liked Kool and Gang one day in a feeble attempt to connect with me.

Mr. Bew — Hollie Honey, I love that Kool and the Gang!!!

Me — Uh…….OK

He taught our music class as well, and every Friday one student would get to play a song they loved on the little record player that played 45’s.

Kids brought in Rush, J. Giles Band, Aerosmith, Journey, the Go Go’s. I brought in “She a Bad Mama Jama”. The minute the music started I regretted it. Every little white kid in class, which was everyone, turned their necks and looked at me like “What the hell is this shit??”.

I sank down in my chair and looked up to see Mr. Bew ROCKING THE HELL OUT, singing “She’s a bad Mamma Jamma!! Just as fine as she can be!”

I thought I would burst into flames.

Mr. Bew I LOVED.

Ms. Lacourte?…..damn, bitch, can you crack a smile?

What I wouldn’t grasp until many years later was that Ms. Lacourte wasn’t here to SMILE for anyone. She was here to teach band. Her refusal to make those unspoken social shows of girl-iness JARRED ME.

“Do it again!” she’d say after a passage of music. Again!! Again! Again! AGAIN!!!

One time, under pressure, I started to cry. She was pissed.

“Don’t cry Harper, master it, master it, MASTER IT!!! When you get it you will have EARNED it. Stop CRYING, sit up and get to it”.

She pushed me. She believed in me. She believed in Girls.

She wasn’t here to be cute or make friends. Excellence kept her warm at night.

We all hated her, but under her guidance I made first chair all county band. Just 2 years earlier I was choosing an instrument.

But that’s something that often happens with women. We don’t like them when they don’t make us “feel comfortable” by smiling, or laughing at dumb jokes, or being impressed by an mediocre idea or fussed over or cared for or “Ooh are you feeling OK? Let me fix you a plate”.

I once had a friend ask me if I fix my husband’s plate and serve him. The serve part fucked me up…but I do. I fix his and the kids plates and then mine last. I don’t know if its patriarchy or just me wanting the hottest food (sneaky).

But I watched my grandmother serve my grandfather and my mom serve my dad. My grandmother NEVER wore pants.

I was 9 years old in South Philly and it had just snowed up a storm. STILL my grandmother insisted we shop at Gimbels downtown anyway.

Me — Grandma, please wear some pants it’s snowing outside.

Grandmom — Babygirl I don’t HAVE pants! What am I gonna do with a big ole pair of man pants?

Me — Um…be warm

She wouldn’t hear of it. She was Old School feminine to her core. I used to watch her put her red lips on before gentlemen callers came by late afternoons.

“I need my lips for company” she’d say. She’d sit in front of her huge vanity mirror and apply her lips with surgical precision. Then she’d put the same pair of red lips on me.

“What’s rouge? I’d ask, looking at the gold pot… “Is this lipstick?”

“This is how you catch a fish without a hook” she’ say…. “Smile. Remember to always smile and speak softly. They’ll have to lean in to hear what you have to say. Then they are RIGHT…THERE…Fish without a hook”

She really could have taught a class but I grew up feeling like a loudmouth in the wrong body


I had a hard crush on a boy named Darrin. I was obsessed so I consulted my best friend Randy and told her of my idea.

Me — I’ll ask “Do you wanna kiss me?!”

Randy — (gasping) WHAAT?! You don’t SAY THAT! You sound easy

Me — But I wanna kiss him

Randy — I know dummy but you can’t act like you want it. You have to let him convince you

This was when we decided maybe we shouldn’t run so fast while we played Catch a Girl Kiss a Girl during recess.

Ohhh Rape Culture…nipping us right in the bud.

One time I slowed down for Darrin during the recess Rape Culture Game and as he gained on me he said “nah, too easy”.

Me — I have asthma!!

Then cried in the girls bathroom til Randy busted in looking for me and the hall pass.

I knew I should have listened to my grandma

Grandma grew up in the stranglehold of white male patriarchy, the Deep South. South Carolina to be exact. She HAD to play the cards she was dealt but it wasn’t without the sharp edge of Female Inferiority as an accepted belief.

Over the years I realized this lie that’s been passed down since they told us Eve ate the apple, has not just become an accepted belief but an accepted belief that affects every facet of modern life.

There are millions of examples.

But, for starters, it wasn’t until 1975 that the first Sex Crimes unit was formed in NYC. Rape were investigated by detectives that investigated robberies and muggings. In fact your case would only be taken seriously if your rapist also stole your tv cause that’s um…property.

But Vagina?…..well we don’t really know WHAT happened right?

Rape victims had their names, age and address in the paper. And next to nothing would happen if you didn’t have a witness, because …what’s HER WORD?


I’ll tell ya why.

The unspoken WHY is that women are here FOR MEN. How can you be ROBBED of something that doesn’t really belong to you anyway?

Our shit is on loan to us from them. We are here to give BACK smiles, comfort, meals, babies, hugs and ass right?

We pay Pretty rent. Caretaker rent. Sex rent…but we never rent to own. We think we do but then the goal post is moved.

“I just don’t LIKE her”.

“Why is she bossy?” in her position as the boss.

“I’m sure he’s qualified”.

In fact, once it’s been decided a white man will lead, we often fail to go hard to question IF he’s qualified.

In one of the arguably greatest American films ever made, “The Godfather”, Connie is not taken seriously until she buttons up, promises to take care of Michael, kneels down and kisses his ring. THAT is how she earned her keep.

She ain’t got shit to do but take care of his little evil ass. But then….what ELSE was she gonna do? Dazzle them with her business acumen?

Two cards……. Madonna…and Whore

So next time a female presidential candidate comes down the pike who’s a qualified cold ass bitch and on the right side of history, VOTE for that qualified, cold-ass Bitch.

Bitches like HRC, Kamala Harris, Ms. Lacourte and every woman that leads (big or small) had to swallow a LOT of shit just to get to that place.

They are qualified as FUCK.

And (some of) the boys don’t want her there because they don’t want YOU there as well.

They know that if a She plants a flag, more she’s will follow.

Vote for her like you’re voting for YOU. Vote for her to have the option of NOT smiling while she gets shit done.

STOP looking for a perfect female candidate while men run for office with mediocre college transcripts to Ivy League schools they were admitted through LEGACY and not merit.

STOP failing to factor in their corrupt pasts and filthy dicks.

STOP all that shit and your decision will probably be a no brainer.

Leave the Kanye Wests of the world to figure out their own masculinity without minimizing women in their bullshit narrative.

Brotha Kanye can’t play catch with Saint because a VADGE is running for president? Get the fuck outta here and take Kim with you.

Let the boys feel the sting of defeat, like we do when we know the ONLY reason we didn’t get a job or promotion was because we bleed down south.

Give men a RUN FOR THEIR MONEY and don’t stop til we run the whole fucking bank.

…………….Then turn around and tell them to smile.





Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store
Hollie Harper

Creative Director. I’m a writer, I act, I dig my kids, I talk a lot of smack, #YesIAmThatMom, Twitter @hollieharper5, fb-Hollie Harper (the black one!)