The David Bowie Conundrum: Social Media Militants and why none of you ain't Shit.

This morning I found my friends list approximately 170 pounds lighter. One of my friends, that I've spoken to (off and on), for the past two years unfriended me. 

Why? 

Well, I happen to like the music of David Bowie. 

As you may have heard, just a few days ago, David Bowie died. I was taken aback being that I've always been a casual fan of Bowie's. So, whenever I like something, I tend to take the time and share it on MY TIMELINE with my friends. It was a show of love and support for the fallen rock star (who is not legendary).

Well, this insipid cow felt it prudent (not even 24 hours after Bowie's death) to inform me that, back in the 1970's, David Bowie had sex with a 16-year-old groupie (at the time David Bowie was 20. At the time rock and roll groupies were as common as electric guitars onstage) and was basically, her words, "A rapist child molester who does not deserve to be lionized" by me or anyone else for that matter.

::Insert confused Scooby Doo face here::

First of all I had no clue that David Bowie slept with a teenager (As I stated before I am a casual fan. I don't follow him enough to know his sexual inclinations back in the 1970's), one (for all of my life he's been with Iman).

Two, unlike Bill Cosby supporters, I know how to differentiate between the artist and his product (MAJOR distinction. No, I am no fan of statutory rape; however, Bowie's art--which I find completely brilliant and hold in high regard--was made for the masses to enjoy).

Three, where in the hell were all of you when Bowie had a thriving career (for the past 30 years)? How is it now that he's dead he's gone from avant garde glam rock star to pedophile child rapist/predator who locks little girls in dungeons in the span of 24 fucking hours? Seriously, where in the hell do you people come from? He's dead and now, suddenly, he's this monster that NO ONE should be able to identify with simply because YOU said so?

The shit wasn't making any sense to me whatsoever...

All I said was, "No, I was completely unaware that David Bowie had sex with an underage girl. However, while I don't approve of that I still enjoy and celebrate his music." 

It is that simple. 

No cognitive dissonance required.
If I based my enjoyment of an artist's work based on their personal lives then I would need to stop listening to music, period.
Yes, I despise R. Kelly and his kiddie diddling ways but if I hear "Honey Love" on the radio I am not going to turn the channel, trust. Roman Polanski did some terrible shit but "The Pianist" is still one of my favorite films. I still watch "Mighty Aphrodite" despite the fact that Woody Allen married his adopted daughter.
It is quite easy to divorce the genius from the madness.
The art is ours.
The pathology belongs to them.

That said...

I woke up to find that we were no longer friends. To that end I texted her a "nice" little note (It said, "Fuck you too. Bye." I am petty as fuck) and let that be a wrap.

But this isn't even about mine and her's "friendship." 

This will be about the type of person that she is, the type of person that I am sick and tired of coming across in the realm of Social Media (that I almost always invariably do).

Who is it you ask?

I am tired of these fraudulent ass Social Media Militants that play this ridiculous pseudo philosophical role of online social justice warrior in their WONDERFUL (yet horrifying) world of: intersectionality, oppression, identity politics, tone policing, and all of those other obnoxious social media militant buzz phrases that are supposed to emphasize the dire straits of the oppressed and tell the so called "privileged" to "check themselves." Basically, ANYONE can fit into this designation, anybody. You can have the tip of your index finger severed and be considered a disenfranchised minority that comes complete with your own buzz words and specific concerns. I despise people like this, completely. And it is always my luck that they befriend me thinking that I am one of them.

Granted, I am all about calling out discrimination and inequality. I occupy my own intersectional space as well (Black, Gay, Atheist, and Geeky, hello?). And I am more than capable of letting people know that, "Hey, what you said is completely inappropriate and offensive to me as a _____" if they are in the wrong.
Racism, sexism, ableism, ageism, and various other isms are an unfortunate part of our reality. We are constantly in a fight against them, which is why I teach people how they need to treat me (if they want ANYTHING to do with the subject of me).
The people who are willing to embrace that and learn from the experience are those whom I like to stick around. 

The other people? 

Well, they can go about their merry way. I also realize that not everyone is a horrible person, some of them simply don't know any better. Change is a daunting task but if the individual is making the effort, and I was the unwitting catalyst for that, then I am flattered.

I lead my life this way AND in the realm of social media. Who I am online is who you will meet offline, period. I don't just talk about it. I AM about it.

These other niggas?
These online social justice warriors who probably won't utter a peep about half the shit they talk on these outlets are a whole other story entirely...

For the Social Media Militant there is no redemption for ANYBODY!

Do not pass go.

Do not collect two hundred dollars.

In their eyes you are the enemy if you even make a typographical error that looks like an affront to them. Everything is a trigger phrase. Everything is a personal slight. Everything is a fucking think piece waiting to be born.

"Cotton Candy offends me as a militant homosexual Nerf Herder" by Militant Homosexual Nerf Herder, The Huffpo)

If you are not one of them (Basically, if you don't fit into the exact same intersectional identity and possess a dire worldview) then you are their enemy, period. Even a slight difference of opinion is taken as an affront to their person-hood. Everything hinges on you being sensitive to every single aspect of their person hood or else you risk being "drug" by them and their acolytes (the hangers on who act as the chorus to their madness).

"By celebrating David Bowie's art you are enforcing rape culture!" (No I'm not. I like his music. I don't support a rape culture by doing that. Statutory rape, bad. Moonage Daydream, one of the greatest songs ever written).

"You are Triggering me!" (If you can have a nervous breakdown from posts online then social media is not the place for you. That's a whole other therapy session)

"If you don't agree with me then I have no use for you!" (I bet you won't say that to anyone else outside of your online collection of bodies...excuse me, "Friends")

And so on and so forth...

I always fall out with these niggas, always. I finally know why now. I know that the world is nuanced. I know that there is no such thing as all or nothing. There are shades of gray and not everything is either or. That is not real life. And I pride myself on being a realist.
When I hear people speaking in absolutes all I see is them swimming in their cramped little fishbowl that they concocted for themselves within the realm of social media. 

Yes, I am quite aware that we need these spaces where we can simply go and be ourselves (I support forums that cater to niche groups. Everyone needs somewhere to belong. We are not as original as we like to pretend to be). However, when it is to the point where you cannot see beyond those parameters then what good are you to ANYONE (well except sitting alone to nurse your narcissism)?

Hearkening back on this I am glad she unfriended me. I don't think I could possibly stand to be around someone that impossibly: stupid, myopic, narcissistic, and self centered.

To that end I am sick and tired Social Media Militants and the inanity that they bring to the online community.

Anyway...

Here is how to spot one...

• #BlackLivesMatter is all over their FB page. You gotta have the hashtag to let everyone know you are down (when in actuality you won't catch these niggas in the street. Too busy taking selfies and pretending to be about the cause).
• Their whole life centers around their intersections. You can't meet them at the stop sign even if you pulled up in Metro Bus.
• They say "Intersection" or "Intersectionality" at least three to four times in a sentence.
• You're a misogynist if you think a woman's dress is ugly.
• You're a transaphobe if you hate Caitlyn Jenner.
• You're enforcing black hetero-normative patriarchal values if you think Jaden Smith looks hideous in a dress.
• You gotta look the part too, like you just came back from an Afropunk festival. No fade or perm. You gotta be all natural.
• You must loathe Beyonce (seeing as she wears blond extensions and has a lot of money).
• You support a rape culture if you happen to bop along to R. Kelly's "Ignition" when it comes on the radio.
• If you don't agree with them you are a: rape culture supporting, heteronormative, patriarchal, transphobic, homophobic, misogynistic, misandrist, pedophile, and all around horrible person.
• If you aren't maudlin and wallowing in the misery of the discrimination that your intersection creates then they hate you, period.

Seriously though?

As I've said before I am going to keep my eyes peeled for these fools because I am not investing my time or conversation in another one of them.

Yes, I am a Black Gay Atheist Man in America; however, my physical identity is not the sum of all my parts. And I refuse to view life solely within the context of my tapestry of identities.

Prince Todd.

P.S.

And don't you EVER get on my timeline and tell ME what I can and cannot post, ever.

My ___th Class Reunion: Why I wish I'd never gone and Why I am so glad that I did...

Despite this being my first blog post I will spare you the traditional David Copperfield, "I was born..." introduction (that will probably be the next entry).

With that said I'd like to talk about my __th year class reunion and how much I: hated it; why I'll never attend another one; and why I am thankful for the lessons that I learned simply because I went.  

Alright, so let's just begin from the beginning...

I was not the most popular kid in school growing up. As a matter of fact I was the complete and utter antithesis of popular. I was the kid who was popular for being UNPOPULAR. My adolescence was a sheer and unadulterated hell (I am talking 7th level Dante's Inferno type shit) in high school. 

I was: painfully shy, extremely introverted, artistically inclined (I was into the arts and played violin. This might have worked for me had I not grown up in a predominantly African American neighborhood where all boys were expected to play: football, basketball, and other "manly man" things), thinner than a praying mantis, awkward (so awkward I'm still surprised I could tie my own shoelaces), and closeted about my quite obvious homosexuality (but given the homophobia in my school even if you were obviously gay you still said you weren't). 

Needless to say I was the proverbial dork who was mercilessly taunted in every single John Hughes movie, except for the fact that I didn't wind up taking the prettiest girl in class to prom (not that I wanted to anyway. I wanted to date one of the Junior Varsity basketball players, hello?). I was teased mercilessly for the way: I looked, the way I walked, the way I talked (I had a terrible speech impediment), and occasionally the air I breathed. Moreover, even the "friends" I hung out with (we'll just call them "frenemies") made fun of me and they were unpopular too! 

Again, it was Hell, pure living Hell.

So naturally when I got the invitation that my ___th Reunion was happening I was quite ambivalent about going. What reason would I possibly have to go? After all, I think I spent the entire four years of high school holed up in my room. That and I seriously hated everyone there.

However, after some thought I came to the conclusion that, "You know what? I am going to show all of them that I'm still here and I'm doing better than any of them thought that I ever would do!"

Since high school I've grown exponentially. 

I grew out of my awkwardness.
I grew into my facial features.
I developed a fashion sense.
I graduated college.
I moved onto a career path.
I've even traveled to some great places throughout the country (and I am hoping to see more).
Overall, I've made a really cool life for myself and I am still cultivating it.
No, I didn't go onto become Bill Gates or anything but I'm doing better than anyone thought that I ever would.
So, I pulled out some really great threads, my cute fedora, and took off work early just so I could attend reunion. I wanted to show that they did not get the best of Prince Todd.

Like Romy and Michelle I was gonna go back there and "Blow them away!" 

Basically, here is a bullet point list of what I discovered attending my very first High School Class Reunion (and subsequently what I learned from the whole bloody affair)...

• None of my Frenemies showed up - While I had zero real friends in high school I did have a few frenemies (as I mentioned previously), people that I didn't particularly care for but hung out with to keep up the illusion that I wasn't completely anti-social.
  Yeah, none of them showed up. I think they all knew that it would be pointless. Me? I always gotta see for myself.
  Anyway, when I got there, I was inundated with a bunch of people that I didn't (disqualify barely completely. Barely would mean you had an inkling. I seriously didn't recognize 96% of the people in attendance) even know. So, basically, hearkening back to my previous point, all of the unpopular kids, except me, declined to repeat the fresh hell that was High school. Shit, in retrospect I don't blame them. Which leads to my next point...
• Who Are You People?! - Upon entry I walked past my Reunion because I thought I was in line for the wrong one, initially. Everyone, except me, looked at least 48 years old (Even though host of the reunion asked me if I was supposed to be there, until I showed ID. Yes, I got carded to go to MY class reunion). When I found out that it was in fact my reunion all I could think was, "What drug rehabilitation facility released all of you for the reunion?" Seriously, most of my class did not look so hot; and they had all apparently been doing some really hard living (in addition to marrying and having children, which will age anybody).
  The Cheerleaders were about 30 pounds heavier and incapable of pyramid formation.
  The football stars were bald and had exchanged their abs for beer bellies.
  The beautiful girls had lost all of their luster and everyone else who was at the pinnacle of their importance ___ years ago came back to clamor for that last vestige of the spotlight. It was actually pretty sad.
• The drinks were watered down- Don't need to go into any explanation.
• Faking It - I decided to play a game. I walked around pretending like I knew everyone just to see who would pretend to actually know me back. It was hilarious watching everyone scramble to say, "Oh yeeeeeeaaaaaaahhhh I remember you from..." and knowing full well that they completely ignored you in school, completely. I suppressed my initial, "You's a got damn lie" reaction. That would have been rude.
• The Popular Bitch - In high school there was always that one girl who was: super popular, really pretty, and beloved by ALL of the ultra popular (and just as disgustingly reprehensible) people. But, when they weren't looking (or even when they were looking) she would go out of her way to ridicule and humiliate you (because you know how bitches love to give performance).
  
  For me that bitch was Michelle B. (won't give the rest of her name). From 4th grade up until graduation I hated her. Looking like some bizarro world, overly painted (I think she had about 24 gallons of foundation on at the reunion. Talk about a painted hussy), Tootie from "The Facts of Life" Michelle constantly went out of her way to: tease, berate, and humiliate me in front of all of her popular friends. No matter how inconspicuous I attempted to make myself this bitch would try and make me feel lower than I already felt. Seriously, I would go home and cry because of this Bitch.
  I hated her then and I hate her now.
  
  Anyway...
  
  About five years ago this bitch friend requested on Facebook, as if nothing had ever happened between us, ever. Well, my inner teen came out read her the riot act. Then I blocked her. Needless to say we saw each other at the reunion and she didn't say a word to me.
  Good.
  
  She was a horrible, evil, and merciless bitch who did not stop to think for the last second that I actually had feelings.
  
  The best feeling that I ever had was letting her know that she was NOT in fact beloved by all.

Anyway, after seeing three people that I actually knew I left after approximately 45 minutes.

Yes, I spent nearly 50 bucks on 45 minutes of absolutely nothing. At first I was angry about it but then it dawned on me...

I realized that, as one of the social pariahs in school, reunions aren't meant for me (us). Reunions are meant for the High School demigods: the cheerleaders, the class presidents, the jocks, and the all around "cool" people. Reunions are meant for the present day losers whose best years are behind them. They were the celebrities of our classes, the ones who had mythologies attached to their names. The ones who were on the covers of all of the school magazines and papers, voted most likely to succeed and never did. Reunions are for the people who mattered back then, the ones who walked in shells of their former selves to revel in their glory days, even if it was just for a few hours. Real life whipped a lot of my classmate's asses. It showed in their faces and the wear and tear on their bodies. 

But, for one night, Reunion night, they had the opportunity to clique up with their old pals and pretend that ___ years hadn't happened.  For one night they got to jump back into the fishbowl of high school.

In some odd way I was happy for them. They all looked so pitiful and jaded that it made me feel good that they could have this moment.

Me on the other hand?

Yes, I admit that I've been kind of bitter for not having that idealized High school panorama experience. I never went to a dance. I never had a real boyfriend in school. I was never acknowledged nor was I ever fawned over the way these people were.

Instead, I saw the bigger picture. I knew I wanted to be an independent adult. I knew I wanted to graduate college. I knew that I wanted to do so many things. I knew that I wanted a full life. Most importantly, I knew that I wanted to learn how to love, accept, and embrace myself in totality.

So when I walked out I patted myself on the back.  I have accomplished all of that and then some. Whether they could recognize it or not no longer matters. They haven't mattered to me for years. Despite reunion night not being for me I am sincerely proud of the man I've become since then. Back then I was invisible, ignored, damned, lost, and forgotten in their eyes. However, I am no longer bothered about appealing to their collective gazes.

As I walked out of that reunion door I made it up in my mind that I would not attend another reunion nor do I want to revisit my high school years ever again.

It is over.
I survived.
I am whole.

Prince Todd.