The White Beauty Myth........

I was going to post about it earlier but lazyness overtook me. So part of channel 4's race thingy was a programme called Bleach, Nip, Tuck: The White Beauty Myth. During that hour long special they followed three individuals who all wanted one thing: European Features=white skin.


Take Mun, mid-twentys who let me tell you is one fine looking guy, however he blames his ethnicity which is Asian for his lacklustre modelling career. To get to the top he believes that you have to look european,  ( Tyson Beckford would disagree but anyhoo...) so what is he contemplating??? Drastic Facial surgery to make his jaw line more prominent and his nose narrower......As i was watching this i was just shaking my head, he wanted to look more european just so that he could 'fit in'. Near the end of the program it was so heartbreaking to discover that all his ideas stemmed from a traumatic child hood experience where he was racially assaulted. 


Same with Jet, an Afro-Caribbean woman who hates her nose because it made her look poor. she lives in a gated community in Essex...i know Essex....where only 2 other black people live. Dolls let me tell you she made me scream at the tv because her problem wasn't just her nose, if it was up to her she would be white. She constantly rejected her identity because it didn't fit in with her lifestyle......she's a glamour model for fucks sake!  Again she wanted to distance herself from her 'blackness' because she was attacked by a group of black girls. I don't condone violence but some of that shit she said would have easily made the most mild-mannered person smack'er  one! Whenever i closed my eyes and heard her talk it was a white person talking derogatorily talking about black people. 


Next was a  lay from Banghladesh who felt she was inadequate because she had darker skin. to be honest i heard of this 'colour prejudice' in Asia where the lighter you are the prettier...mind you this phenomena exists everywhere. Anyways i heard friend of mines talking about how they can't marry anyone darker than them , or i have one friend who's quite dark and whenever he's playin around with his mates, one of them always had something to say about his skin colour. His face would just look so hurt, you can't imagine how i felt for him. 


That show was just sad, it sickens me that western advertising has made some people actually attempt to de-racialise themselves. All these advertising companies don't know what sort of damage they do, they are literally making some people want to die. As a black person my skin crawled when one of the women who had darker skin said that she thought that having her skin tone was the worst thing in the world, and how a 'black nose' is a punishment from god????

Traumatized and Such

Hangover: Check.

Sore stomach: Check.

Traumatized?: Double check.

Stories to tell: Oh, you best believe I do.

***

It's all a whirlwind of memory. Picture it: Five girls, two suites at the Sheraton in Niagara Falls, more alcohol packed in the car than luggage. A handful of sparkly leis, a series of Bachelorette stickers pasted all over the car, a "Bride To Be" sash for the Sister. Drinking by 4 pm, late dinner, more drinking.

Headed to Peppermints, the male strip club.

OH. DEAR. GOD.

Arrived at around 8:45 pm -- door cost was $5 before 9 am. We were the FIRST PEOPLE THERE. Show didn't start until 9:30 pm...? Started drinking more to kill time. Befriended the wait staff, the manager of the club, and some of the dancers. One waiter was brilliant and so kind to my painfully nervous/panic attacked Sister. He did his best to calm her down, ease her nerves -- even brought her bottled water that he paid for. I gave him a MASSIVE tip later on because I was so thankful for his efforts.

The manager tried to convince us to buy the "Party Package" -- one girl, twenty strippers, one memorable photo. We declined.

Saw WAY TOO MANY NAKED MEN. OH GOD. Like.... I am still traumatized. Granted, I wasn't too shocked -- been to a burlesque show before, so I know what the striptease is all about. However, the major difference: Burlesque is more about an empowered performer, leaves more to the imagination. Strip clubs: Total opposite.

Drank to cope. Got epically drunk. Am still nursing the hangover. Stomach hates me. Still, had a hilarious time. Highlight of the evening: Watching the Sister's friends react to the men.

Direct quote from Friend 1: "I never even screamed this much at a Backstreet Boys' concert!!"

Direct quote from Friend 2: "I am SO not mature enough to be here. I don't know where I'm supposed to look! Do I look at his face?! But, he's thrusting at me! THRUSTING!"

Direct quote from Friend 3: "Where did these guys COME FROM? I mean, was their audition just to drop their pants? 'Uh, yeah, I've got brains.' 'Oh, but you're package is a bit too small, sorry.'"

... All I could think was how I'd have to put "strip club cover charge" on the Excel sheet I use to track my expenses. It'll definitely be the most interesting bit of change I spent during 2009.

Still, it was an entertaining evening, no doubt. I wish I hadn't gotten so drunk -- I would have liked to check out Clifton Hill at night, especially some of the haunted houses. For now, I must make amends to my liver and ease off the alcohol for a bit. I've been rough on my body this past week and I need a detox.

It's a damn good thing my Mom bought that juicer yesterday....

The Gay Gal and the Bachelorette Party: OH MY.

Oh, my word -- please help me. PLEASE, please help a gay gal out.

It is the Sister's Bachelorette Party tonight. We are going on a road trip of sorts and I am scared. Like, actually scared. There is talk of a male strip club and I am hoping that is just a joke to get her fiance in a tizzy.

Though, knowing her friends and their streak of crazy....

I get the distinct impression that bachelorette parties were not meant for queer women. I mean, all the penis paraphernalia is enough of a raunchy, glowing sign that clearly states, "IF YOU LIKE WOMEN, YOU BEST BE LOOKING ELSEWHERE, LADY."

... Not that I'd be lookin' on a night like this. No, I'll be the one in the corner with her hands over her eyes counting down the hours until I can go to bed. Or, if we pre-drink, then I will be the drunk one in the corner with her hands over her eyes....

Serious, though, even though I am the Maid of Honour, I know my role tonight is to rope in the others and to advocate on my Sister's behalf (e.g. "No, she will not have a stranger do shots off of her" or "No, you will not force her to put on a silly crown and announce to the room that it's her Last Fling Before the Ring" or "No, dirty bingo involving real interaction with strangers is not on our list of priorities," etc.)

So, essentially, I will be the bitch. And I do mean "bitch" in the sense of "female guard dog." All snarl, willing to bite.

Huh.... so perhaps a queer girl is an excellent ally for the straight-gal bride-to-be. I think I may have created a whole new market here, ladies.

Anyhow, I imagine it'll be a late post tomorrow. So, if you can pass along any of your positive vibes to help me through, I will VERY MUCH APPRECIATE IT.

VERY MUCH.

Gay Gal, Straight-ish Past: The Reconciliation Act

There's a new issue that's presented itself since I first started my campaign to out myself en masse -- what to do with this straight-ish past of mine?

Now, granted -- I do not possess a detailed dating past. AT ALL. In fact, the longest relationship I've ever been in was exactly five months.

(It was a relationship that should have ended after three weeks.)

Mmm hmm.

Still though, I'm faltering with the whole reconciliation of past and present. I mean, I went through about a four- or five-year period where I genuinely identified as a bi woman. I faced and fought biphobia within the queer community on our campus, I tried one doomed relationship with a boy I lived with in second year, and I eventually realized I was DEFINITELY a gay gal after one magical night of spin the bottle.

After the whirling internal confusion and the pressing external evidence, I came to the one conclusion: When I pictured how I wanted to be loved and how I wanted to relate with a partner, I could only see a woman there.

And I've never looked back.

However, I still hesitate to talk about that younger version of myself. She was the girl who gossiped about boys and wrote about her "dream guy" to her journals and obsessed over her perceived failure when it came to attracting the gents. I find that girl to be a distant echo or some kind of blurry figure against my current horizons.

But there are still real emotions there. When I talk about the guy I dated in second year, I still feel that sharp embarrassment while remembering what I put up with. And I still sense that awkwardness and that desire to never speak with him again. I mean, I am certain he's a heavily closeted gay man -- takes one former closet case to know another, right? So, why is there still a lingering hurt when I think of that time? And why do I struggle to talk about those experiences in the present tense?

Even if I wasn't outright attracted to him, how do I speak about a past hetero relationship without compromising this genuine life as a queer woman?

I know that my identity as a queer woman is one of those fundamental, central visions of myself. I don't question that at all. It's just those high school crushes and that weird period as a straight girlfriend that's throwing me off.

I'm curious to know if this is a common concern among queer women who have dated men in the past. Can you reconcile both versions of yourself, or do you choose to ignore those days as a misguided youth? Are you willing to discuss those times in detail, or do you just focus on your more recent relationships with women?

Mmm... identity politics are best mulled over before an epic weekend. T.G.I.F. indeed.

Miz Moffatt's 100th Post!

Here it is, the first milestone of the new blog:

It is the 100th BLOG POST FOR CUTE, QUEER, CANADIAN!

So, if you will raise your glasses, I would like to propose a toast -- I dedicate this one to all the fearless, gorgeous, and utterly fabulous women out there who I've profiled thus far and I vow to keep charting the stories/art/progress of women everywhere (with a special interest in those ladies of the Canadian persuasion.)

And here's to all those readers who have continued to post comments and add their stories to my own. We are quite the collective at this point -- unique and sharp is what we are. Makes a blogette proud, I tell you.

So, the next milestone: 500 posts. I might need a few more National Blog Posting Months to catapult me to that next goal. But, it should definitely be a great ride and I look forward to new worlds of wonder where women are involved.

CHEERS!

December Social Goals

Oooh, girl -- I am on the wire with this entry. I made a daring sprint back to the lair after another stunning evening with The Advocate and Ship Sharp.

But first, I have a list.

I have decided that I will squeeze every last ounce of fun, adventure, and magic out of December and keep it all for myself... and also for those nearest and dearest to me. I have compiled a list of the Social Goals I hope to achieve this holiday season and, should each one occur, I am set to have a stunning time.

So, in typical list format, here it is:

• Sushi night with The Advocate and Ship Sharp
• A David Tennant as Casanova Tea Party with The Advocate, Ship Sharp, and The Cuz
• Coffee house Can. lit. reading hosted by an old teacher of mine (Dec. 8/09)
• Toronto Small Publishers' Show @ The Gladstone Hotel (Dec. 12/09)
• Ladies in Writing meeting (Dec. 16/09)
• Attempt the Second for the Lord of the Rings Marathon with the Greatest People on Earth
• Sister's New Year's Eve Wedding/Epic Celebration

Hmm, not a bad sample at the moment. I'm sure other new possibilities will present themselves as the month marches on and I hope I'll be receptive to as many invitations as possible. I'm getting all ramped up for 2010, now -- I want to take hold of this new year and make it my own for once.

Had an incredibly inspiring conversation with The Advocate (after we all finished filming ourselves impersonating Captain Jack Harkness and Rhys from Torchwood. TOO much fun). We talked about London and travel throughout the U.K. and I can feel all that Brain Crack surging back into my mind from every angle. Oh, the lure of it all. The sweet longing for a new city to explore and a chance to find a life surrounded with energy, purpose, and excitement. And to tackle that with some of your closest friends? Um, why am I still discussing this and not DOING it?

2010: It's time to punch some holes through that money fort I've been crafting. I need to get myself out there and paving a new life with all that cash I've saved. No use looking at it through a glass case anymore. Though, the security therein is quite seductive. But no -- I want that money to start working for me.

It's time to jump in and see where the river takes me.

Christmas Season Kickoff: The Office Shindig

So, yeah -- it is still November and I have attended the first Christmas/holiday party of the 2009 season. What can I say, we tackle projects early at our office. Overall, I would define it as a successful show. There was booze, LOTS of booze, and there was an excellent meal and quite the raucous gathering of office drones suddenly brought back to life.

I tell you, there's nothing better than watching the "professional" guise slip away and seeing people as themselves. Well, as alcohol-augmented versions of themselves. Perhaps that is a little more accurate.

I had quite the bit of drink, considering it was a Tuesday night. I started with a beer and I think I might have had about three full glasses of red wine throughout dinner...? Maybe more. We were at one of those restaurants with the magical wine glasses. You know the ones I'm talking about -- right as you're about to take that final sip, you discover that the wine has doubled in volume out of thin air.

In all seriousness, the waiters were attentive when it came to alcohol consumption. And, since I am not allowed to drink at home, I indulged a bit more than I should have. Did I mention this was a Tuesday night? And that I still had to wake up at 6:30 AM this morning? Yeah? Yeah.

I tried to orchestrate the seating arrangement a little to my favour -- yes, I tried to score a seat next to the Office Crush herself. I came close, though. I had one co-worker between us which is still too much distance, if you ask me. Though, I can always get giggly and starry-eyed over the idea that the second I walked into the restaurant, she bee-lined over to me and said, "Oh, please take my drink tickets, [Miz Moffatt] -- I know I'm not going to have anything and I want to make sure you have an awesome night!"

I'm sorry, an attractive woman who's trying to liquor me up? ... Like, serious, did I do something to please a higher power?... because I'm pretty convinced that someone/something out there is rewarding me.

And I will gladly accept.

Had a decent conversation with this one guy who's known as The Asshole in our office. Apparently a copious amount of alcohol transforms him into an inspiring person...? We talked about travels and post-graduate school and he basically said to me, "Do it. Go to London. It's an amazing city and so full of exciting, new ideas. You're not going to find that creativity here in Canada, I can tell you that now. Even if you're doubting yourself or unsure what path to take, go to London. You'll more than likely figure it out there."

I still can't believe it was HIM who said that. This is the same man whose has been a complete and horrid bastard to my Mom on more than one occasion and he's encouraging ME to pursue my dreams? ...... It was a bit of a mind-job, let me tell you.

Got home at around 10 PM or so and promptly called O'Neill. Am more than certain he was thrown off-guard to hear a drunk Moffatt on the line. I miss getting drunk with him, so.... I was acting as a... reminder? No, we actually had an amazing conversation last night. What can I say, we are astounding kids. *VANITY*

But yeah, I went to bed with a dream-like sense of serenity. Now, I didn't quite wake up in that same state, but the remnants were there and that's more than enough for me on a Wednesday morning.

It's official -- the Christmas season has begun. From here on in, I am in full celebration mode. Coincidentally, that also means I am in intense workout mode to counteract the caloric spike I will experiencing in the next few weeks.

BRING IT.