What Will Become Of The Ladies of The Night?

There are prostitutes in my neighborhood. Apparently quite a few. My neighbors spend all day talking about them. Have multiple social network groups where they discuss how to deal with them. Where they live. How they proposition people and their children. How they’ve taken to calling them into the non-emergency police line every single time they see them.
If you see something say something they say. Along with a bunch of other racist, sexist, transphobic, and misogynistic language. And I don’t know if it’s the isms or the fact that I try to mind my business that has me cringe whenever I read the posts on NextDoor right under a post about free events for children at the library and above posts looking for a decent electrician.
I think of how most prostitues are made. How people steal children enslave them, get them hooked on drugs and alcohol, use them up for sex slavery and then throw them away like discarded pieces of paper.
I think of how most prostitutes are made. How husbands beat wives, beat boyfriends, beat girlfriends, and children. How they escape from that abuse to another location. How these people with little to no skills or ways to make money to feed themselves and their families except the easiest thing to sell on earth which is the one thing (or things) that are always on your person.
I think of how prostitutes are made. How people who own themselves decide to sell themselves cause that’s what the fuck they want to do.
I wonder which of my neighbors who complains about them is secretly seeing these ladies of the night. Because in the service industry people don’t build businesses in places where they can’t make any money and sure there is easy access to the highway and multiple things in the neighborhood to make these particular corner dwellers more marketable but most successful businesses don’t setup where they can’t benefit from the local traffic.pexels-photo-206381.jpeg
Every time I see a certain neighbor who has a “police car” and uses it to breed fear in individuals they deem as criminal, post about them, I think to myself that either he got the clap from one back in the day, his mama was a prostitute, or his life is so meaningless that he has time to actually ride around in a car that looks like a cop car with the sole intention of scaring and harassing people.
It’s funny because I wonder what my neighbors would have the police do with the prostitutes. Should they kill them? Ship them somewhere else so they can become a blight onto someone else’s neighborhood. Take them somewhere so that they can get help for the multitude of issues that lead to prostitution?
I know that crime such as prostitution brings home values down and that something should be done about the crime in our area but I can’t help but wonder why I never see anyone comment about the many white collar crimes that are surely happening in our neighborhood. Or why no one seems to notice that my next door neighbors are probably running a meth lab out of their home and have different cars all up in through their place at all hours of the day and night. Probably because their complexion and age grant them a certain amount of privilege where they can get away with all sorts of shit and still have people say, “They were always so nice. So normal. Unlike those transexual prostitutes on the next corner.”

Travel Chronicles: Dudes Gonna Dude

Dude on train *asks me how to get to Penn Station*

I respond that I don’t know.

Dude sarcastically : You don’t know where you’re going?

Me patiently, following Rule 62 of what to do when dudes be duding: I know exactly where I’m going I don’t know how to help you get to where you’re going.

5-6 random femmes of all ages and nationalities *jump in to help him, Whip out phones, point to diagrams.*

Dude: I can’t take y’all seriously y’all don’t sound secure.

All of us femmes except one *glance over phones, smirk, sigh, roll our eyes, make eye contact that says Gurl, return to our bubbles*

The remaining femme, the one who seems to be most over his shit *continues to help him figure out his directions*

Dude *continues to be super whack.* Thanks his helper in a manner fitting of being a dude on a train with a huge ass suitcase.

Of course I have six different stories on the reason why he’s on the train with this huge ass suitcase in the first place. At least 2 being that some femme got sick of his Dudely ways.

Today We Mourn, Tomorrow We Fight.

I’m supposed to trust in the Universe. Supposed to believe in God and trust in his name and all that Jazz. I’m supposed to suck up the fact that my Country has elected the Devil Incarnate to represent us. To not act fearful of the fact that the man who preyed upon, amplified, and gave a platform to the worst parts of the human condition is set to continue that trajectory for at least the next four years. To think that things are going to get better. To trust the same Republican senators who have blocked so many good things in congress just because they could, will now act in the best interests of this same country.

Supposed to continue to pretend that I trust most of my white friends and associates. To stand up in rooms with people who voted against all of the parts of my beings  and believe that they have my businesses best interests at heart. To make believe that DJ’s teachers aren’t a part of the school to prison pipeline. Expected to stand and make pledges to a flag that has never/was never intended to cloak people who look like me and mine.

I should continue to toe the line when it comes to discussing race and injustice, especially on social media. To believe that Amerikka is the land of the free and the home of the brave.

To think that:

  • BLM
  • Standing Rock
  • The Environment
  • The Economy
  • Women’s Rights
  • LGBTQIA Rights

are at the top of anyone’s lists of protection.

I’m supposed to act like I’m not in Mourning. But I am. I SO FUCKING AM. I am distraught. As distraught as I would be if I lost someone close to me. I mean technically I have. Today before I took a Facebook break  I deleted a whole bunch of people who were so called friends who made the choice to vote for a Demagogue whose platform directly effected me when he talked about how horrible the Blacks were, when he talked about taking away LGBT rights, when he hung out with and was endorsed by the KKK,  when he said that women who get abortions should be punished, when he said that he would make Stop and Frisk legal for the entire country, when he talked about not allowing Muslims in the country, when he discusses building that God-Forsaken illogical ass wall, when he And the list goes on.

If I were Jewish I would be sitting Shiva but since I am not I plan to eat a bunch of shit that I shouldn’t, drink my fill of very good wine, sit with my friends and family to give and receive love, move slowly, side eye white people, and cry; Until my mourning is done. And then I plan to fight for every right that I am at the risk of losing.

 

OH: AND HE WILL NEVER BE MY PRESIDENT.

*Disclaimer, I know that not all white people voted for him, some of my best friends are white.*

On Being Way Over This Election

IDK about you but I am pass the point of tired of:

this election

racism

sexism

xenophobia

terrorism

all of it

Like seriously as a world I think we should take the whole batch of it and dump it into the trash. Then we should light it all on fire and go have a cook out. Unknown-5.jpeg

I mean really, 99.9919892 of us already know who we’re voting for. We knew as soon as the nominees were announced. And when the people we really wanted to win the nomination didn’t win, we knew which one of the second string quarterbacks we were voting for. SO then why as a country do we continue to waste money, time, emotions, and brain cells over this popularity contest of a farce of an election?

Nope I’m not saying your vote doesn’t count. I’m saying arguing over which contestant (cause it is a damn contest) is the best contestant via the internet for fifty eleven months, unfriending your grandma, and being kicked off of your soccer team just doesn’t cause any forward motion for our country’s real concerns.

Like I am this close:

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to quitting the internet until we have “chosen” a president. Seriously what’s the point of losing friends over people who secretly hang out and shoot golf together on the weekends while they separate the rest of the country for fun Monday-Friday.

And as for all of the rest of it it is; 2016. Two thousand and sixteen years post the year of most of y’alls Lord and Savior and we are really wasting time, money, and brain cells practicing isms. I’m not saying we need to hold hands and sway to Kumbaya but maybe we should. AKA Get it together, Mind Your Own Business, and Realize that you and your people are no better than anyone else and their people.

Until Next Time,

Live Happy

 

Oh and usually I welcome comments and critiques but I am no more interested in arguing about politics than I am in buying a $2 Make America Great Again T-Shirt. #Silliness