Dear one, There is a movie that was made 30 years before you were born. It stars a white lady singer who became insanely famous after popularizing, or perhaps appropriating, the dance culture of LGBTQ people of color. In it, a nice married woman from the suburbs puts on a black leather jacket, hits her head on a lamppost and loses her memory, and is mistaken for the film version of this edgy pop star. Things, as you can imagine, unravel from there. Mobsters chase after her in search of some valuable jewelry, people suspect her of murder, she is expected to be the front woman for a very hip band and fails miserably. At one point, she is mistaken for a prostitute. Eventually, when she returns to her true identity, she realizes how unhappy she was with her good, clean life, and abandons it in pursuit of something messier and brighter.
"You will find out soon enough that I, like most women, save most of my abuses for myself. But you do, I have to admit, make me want stop them. Though I have to remind myself it is not your job, you make me want to be a better person to myself, on your behalf." THIS THIS THIS. Crying at the computer. Thanks for this. Thanks for Max. Thanks for mothering alongside me and teaching me so damn much in the process.
Woof!
"You will find out soon enough that I, like most women, save most of my abuses for myself. But you do, I have to admit, make me want stop them. Though I have to remind myself it is not your job, you make me want to be a better person to myself, on your behalf." THIS THIS THIS. Crying at the computer. Thanks for this. Thanks for Max. Thanks for mothering alongside me and teaching me so damn much in the process.