Missed Opportunity

Since my alone day spent poolside was rained out, I decided to sit down in a quiet, (err…. other than the resonant snore of my dog), house and see if the blog that’s been in my heart for a while will come to fruition. I’ve blogged about something similar before, but this has a twist.

I have seen The Vagina Monologues performed locally twice. Once at the McKinney Performing Arts Center and once at The Guitar Sanctuary. I read the book MANY years ago in one sitting. I just couldn’t put it down. I’ve noticed this book/play always evokes a strong response among women. Typically, men don’t even know what it is and are scared to ask. My husband went with me to see it performed once. I’m sure he would’ve rather been somewhere else but he went for me. I don’t think he saw it as man-hating, or at least he never gave me that impression.  Most women have at least some sort of idea what it is. I always think it’s sad if they’re very “anti” and have never read or seen it performed. I’ve gathered that it is considered feminist by some. I don’t see it that way at all. I think it’s ignites unity and is a celebration of women – mind, soul, and body. As the show progresses, you can feel the energy in the room shift. You can begin to see what can happen when we band together. I believe in lifting other women up. I believe in supporting other women. I have never had to dull another woman’s sparkle for mine to be brighter. I wouldn’t want to. I believe if you think a woman is beautiful mentally, spiritually, or physically -- you should tell her. At the risk of sounding super crunchy, I do believe in the power of sisterhood.

Full discloser, the play’s audience is mostly women with a few men sprinkled throughout. You always assume they’re faithful husbands dragged there by the women in their lives. I see women of all ages relating to the same stories. I see women of all walks of life laugh and cry at the gut-wrenching monologues. I see women nodding in agreement that their own bodies are a mystery to them, too. So yeah, I just see unity. Oh, and it’s racy as all get-out so don’t act like I didn’t either acknowledge it or warn you about it. Yes, every euphemism for ‘vagina’ will be heard. If you blush easily, this ain’t for you. It’s not for everybody – that I get. Believe it or not though, that’s not what this is about. Bear with me.

A few weeks ago, Jason and I enjoyed a date night at a little wine bistro. As I sat enjoying our overpriced brie platter, I saw one of the cast members from The Vagina Monologues. She has a very distinctive look so she’s super recognizable. She is very tall, has short super-blonde spiky hair, and is thin -- very modelesque. I remembered reading in her bio that she is originally from California, she has kids, and once lived in Thailand. I read that while sipping a vodka tonic waiting for the show to start. I remember thinking how cool it must’ve been to live in Thailand and wondering what in the world took her there. Her monologues were fantastic. She was excellent in the show and clearly memorable.

While dining at the bistro, I saw her exit the back door and she walked right by us. I recognized her immediately. I looked at Jason and reminded him who she was. I told him how badly I’d love to walk over and say hello. He strongly encouraged me to do so. I wanted to tell her how awesome I thought she was in the show. It’s funny when we stop ourselves from approaching a stranger to say something nice. We can create a list of reasons why it’s the dumbest idea we’ve ever had. “Naaaaaah. They’ll think I’m weird. Some kind of stalker.” She stood for a moment in the archway of the final exit. I sat and debated walking over to her. I would physically almost rise and then talk myself out of it and sit back down. I noticed she had on teeny jean shorts. Her legs were tan and went on for days. Time was lapsing. As this internal struggle went on, my focus temporarily shifted to a table of three ladies to my left. I saw them see her. I dialed down the volume of the surrounding conversations and turned up theirs. I could tell by their physical behavior they were not as taken with her as I was. They noticed her shorts. They each took turns with their snarky comments and judgmental glances as they sipped their sparkling wine. Their snarled noses and shifty eyes made their high-end pastel summer ensembles look so much less appealing. Coordinate with all the Damier Azur Louis Viuttons you like, ladies; you can’t mask that level of bitter. All she had done was walk by and they already had her sized up. I secretly began hoping one would choke on her prosciutto flatbread.

The point is, the woman being scrutinized is the antithesis of everything those women did. Of all the women to be judged so harshly, it’s a woman that is all about acceptance and love for other women. Then again, maybe that’s why she fights so avidly against it. Maybe that’s why she promotes it on a grander scale than most. Maybe she gets this a lot. Maybe it’s because she’s tall and thin. Maybe it’s because women are really hard on one another. I’m guessing she knows that. I know that, too.

I never got up to tell her I thought she was magnificent. I got distracted by cattiness and lost my opportunity. I looked up and the archway was empty. In that moment, it came full-circle WHY I should’ve gotten up. This is a clear-cut case of irony. I should’ve gotten up for the same reason the play exists. Build each other up because those eager to tear down come in much higher numbers.

Little Boxes On The Hillside

I felt compelled to blog this morning because something has just crawled under my skin. I guess I need to have a good, old fashioned venting session. Lately, I feel overwhelmed with the very image-conscience area Jason and I reside in. Some days, I walk through the neighborhood and feel so blessed to be here. It is beautiful, it is safe, it is aesthetically pleasing, and the schools are superior. The truth is, Jason and I have been fighting to get into a community like this since we moved here. We used to leave our little apartment in Dallas, go get ice cream, and drive through the nice neighborhoods. We’d drive up and down the streets, looking at the beautiful houses, dreaming, and planning. We used it as motivation to, hopefully, get there someday. We were just two poor kids from Arkansas, looking for the American dream in the sprawling suburbs of the big city.

We are, by no means, the upper echelon of anything in these parts. There are neighborhoods surrounding us that house real-live millionaires. Homes so grand, you are free to ogle but you must do it from a distance. You can get no closer than the gilded gates surrounding the perimeter of their very own private utopia. What Jason and I consider our brass ring, would be a long descent down for them. Even still, the people in our sector, aren’t exactly living in squalor. We’re just not at the top of the food chain, is my point.

When we moved into this community, I felt like there was some big mystery that would be solved for me. I’d finally get to see how the other half lived. I guess this blog is about, how not pleasantly surprised I am. Don’t get me wrong, if you go for a walk, the neighbors smile and wave. Every lawn is manicured, everyone has a dog, everyone has a golf cart, the birds are singing, and it quite literally feels like something out of a movie. It appears to be everything I ever wanted. But when you get a chance to peer inside the true beliefs and concerns of the people who reside within it, it can be a little unnerving. It’s hard to believe in a place so lovely, those living within it aren’t always so lovely. Most everyone around here is aware of and uses the Nextdoor app. For those unfamiliar, it is an app that was designed for neighbors to connect. It is very convenient for lost or found pets, items for sale, recommendations, and local events. Yes, but that’s not always what it’s used for. It’s really just another social media source to voice complaints, whine, and argue. It’s a lot of first world problems. It is a place to call out your neighbors in a public forum. It is essentially a virtual town hall meeting. The problem with that is, there’s still an element of anonymity. You know it’s a neighbor but not necessarily the guy directly next door. If he’s a few blocks away, you’re safe to resume usual keyboard warrior antics. When not speaking directly to someone’s face, a person will always be more brazen and say things they would almost never say, otherwise. Neighbors will post photos of someone’s car who has parked in their driveway but blocked the sidewalk. They will post photos of neighbor’s who have a dead patch in their lawn. People are put on blast on a regular basis. It is not a feeling of united community; it is divisive. One women once went on a 5-paragraph tirade about leaves on lawns. These things, to me, are not problems. When Jason and I used to drive through these neighborhoods, I wondered what the residents worried about. Here’s the big mystery solved. What they worry about…

Actual collection of titles to post rants:

“Golf carts on the sidewalks!!!”

“To the lady in the white SUV that cut me off and flipped me off!”

“Suspicious looking man walking on Cotton Ridge!!!”

“Rake your leaves, people!”

“Dog not on leash!”

“Drone in the sky!”

“There were pan-handlers at Kroger!”

“Private airport pilots flying below deck!”

Those are just some examples of some of the MAJOR concerns. Doesn’t seem too horrendous, right? These are things are laughable so they’re nothing I can’t simply scoff at and move on. However, it is the elitist posts that I find so disheartening. Last year, there was a brutal hail storm. Pretty much everyone’s roof had to be replaced. A man posted on the 4^th of July that he couldn’t understand why there was hammering and banging going on during a holiday. His neighborhood was listed with the post and it was one of the pricier sectors. He couldn’t understand why they couldn’t just take a day off. He went on to clarify that he wasn’t sure if Mexicans celebrated the 4^th. The list of things incredibly out of touch with that post could go on for days. People immediately noticed the Mexican comment but quickly pretended like it wasn’t said. However, no one noticed he just assumed someone had the luxury of taking the day off. I’m glad he has the privilege to do so. It personally annoys me because I am the person who, if I don’t go to work, I don’t get paid. If I don’t get paid, I can’t afford lawncare, and then he’ll post a photo of my yard. See how that works? It was a complete lack of touch with the real world. He literally couldn’t see beyond his circumstances. Never-you-mind the peasants rowing below deck. Isn’t everyone in a corporate position with a 6-figure salary and paid leave? No sir. No, they’re not. The view from the top is obviously distorted.

This next part could be misconstrued but the “suspicious person” posts get me. Pretty frequently, someone is seen walking that a resident decides doesn’t look like they belong here. What, about a person, that makes them suspicious is usually pretty predictable. I’ve decided if you’re not dressed either business casual or in upscale activewear, you’re a suspect. Make no mistake, I’m always grateful when someone posts video from their Ring Cam that caught legitimate bad activity around their house to alert their neighbors but that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about someone simply being spotted and seen as too lowly a person to possibly live here like the rest of us. Naturally, they’ve come into our Shangri-La to rape and pillage. Had he had some golf clubs, he might’ve avoided some scrutiny. Because who doesn’t have a Tuesday afternoon free to play a few holes? A guy once posted he saw a suspicious looking guy walking down the street and he doubled back to follow him. He just assumed he didn’t belong. He was commended for keeping us safe. He mentioned some guys playing basketball late at night. It was speculated they were there selling drugs. No real evidence, just not looking up to snuff.

This morning’s post rant was a doozy. A man wrote a long diatribe on how to prevent rental properties from happening in your neighborhood. It was a detailed list on how to make the landlord’s and renter’s life a living hell. It was a bullet point “how-to” on how to spend every minute of your waking hours focusing on the downfall of someone you don’t even know. Someone we can assume is here to mar the perfection. Someone automatically assumed to be inferior. Someone clearly, beneath them. The commenters were very eager to join the ranks. They had their pitchforks and torches at the ready. The mob has been summoned. The renter peasants will not prosper. They will learn their rightful place in the slums on the east side. They do not belong here and nor do apartments. Apartment dwellers are referred to as low-income families. There is no place for them here.

In the end, it feels like no one is interested in obliging a single mother, who can only afford to live in apartment, but wants her kid to attend the same schools we want our kids to attend. She somehow got confused and thought she had the right to be here. How do you improve your standing when people who’ve already achieved their goals do everything to keep you from getting there, too? That post today was a mission. It was a mission to shut people out. It was a conscious effort to keep someone down; to make sure they know their place. Their place isn’t in our pristine community, that was clear.

Lately, it’s not a club I’m so sure I’m enjoying. I get no pleasure from watching anyone being made to feel inferior. I’ve been made to feel that many times in my life. Inside, I will always be a poor kid from Arkansas just fighting for a better life. Do I belong here? Perhaps not but I made my way here. I’m not so sure I’d pass muster if my neighbors got to judge if I’m up to par. I don’t begrudge anyone else their right to be here beside me. If you can afford the rent or mortgage or the HOA dues in this zip code, you belong here as much as anyone else. It deeply bothers me to know someone is just trying to get a leg up and others are working diligently to make sure they fail. Who am I to deem someone unworthy? I don’t want that for anyone. I hope we all make it. A lot of my looming questions from my little Dallas apartment days have been answered. What do they worry about? Very little. That’s the problem.