No Angel

Now, I’ve never lied about who I am and what I’m about. How is it that I feel the need to write this? I have a few theories…

At the risk of sounding like a raging feminist (Lena Dunham ruined it for everyone), I have come to the conclusion, which has been proven time and time again, that men love to hate women that stand up to them! Now, I don’t mean the Love and Hip Hop, finger snapping, bobble-head, hand clapping assertion. I’m talking, introduce them to subjects they would never imagine outside of the run-of-the-mill politics, hip hop vs rap, Kardashian vs Solange and “real chicks” chat.

I was with a man whom I’ve known for 3 or 4 years. This man knows me inside and out (interpret that how you will) and yet I blow his mind whenever I speak of Salvador Dali, Frida Kahlo and (totally left) Samuel Beckett and my love for the fine arts and the existential movement. Why is that?

The moment you expose your deeper, most intrinsic, almost transcendent self, the conversation takes a weird shift to everything BUT! The worst is when you’re in the heat of the moment, talking about how Frida is one of your favourite activist/surrealist artists and he says “yeah, love it when you talk smart. Grab my dick”. Wait, WHAT?! And then you grab the dick, knowing you will rant and still (maybe) get an orgasm out of it.

Now, I need to make one thing clear; I will not discuss Zuma, Trump or even Hlaudi on a sunny day. Does this make me flighty? Does this mean I have no real contribution to society? Should I be limited to political commentary in order to be relevant? Should I be an overt feminist in order to be heard? Or even worse, do I need to read up on Warren Buffet, Steve Jobs (bless his soul, I’m writing this on my iPad) or that Monk Who Sold His Ferrari?

This blog is for the ladies, boss bitches, THOTs and bad bitches -it’s our time now!

– Fellow Bad-Bad


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