Politely she hinted at my behavior .She believed me to be to be too risky, too promiscuous, too disrespecting of my body. Polite hints were hesitantly uttered. The polite hints weren’t polite they were backhanded insults masked as nurturing advice.
I stood still, patiently listening to it all .Taking it in. Soaking in the constructive criticism on how to be a proper lady. I let the negativity inside, and allowed it to play tricks on me. I let the negativity in, and could not let it out.
Be a lady, be a lady, be a lady, but I am not .I was never taught .I don’t know the art. A lady I am not, and that is what she criticized me for. I translated her advice out loud, and in the end I understood.
I re-read her advice out loud, as if it was a McDonalds order, and I was the window operator waiting to get the order right .I re-read her advice out loud, and communicated to her that I understood. I told her:
“I understand, you’re just telling me not to be a hoe .Be respectable, and if you give yourself respect, you’ll be given respect. Hoes don’t get respect.”
She saw me not as a lady, but as a hoe. I didn’t know how to honestly respond, without showing weakness. I remained quiet, letting her words sink in.
The difference between us, was our belief on how a lady should act. I didn’t fit into her cutout of a perfect lady, but I don’t know what the perfect lady is supposed to be?
According to her standards I’m not acting the way a woman is supposed to act. In her eyes I’m a lowly hoe undeserving of respect. But apparently that’s the only way I know how to act.
Cinder-Bay 