A Pretty Cover For The Bones

This one is for Latoya, who reminded me of my love for beautiful TLC and Mary J. Blige.

My mother has always insisted to me that I am pretty.

This went beyond the regular “my child is simply darling” outlook that most parents have to some extent. No, my mother insisted she saw something in me – the way one sees despair in a late Van Gogh painting or the Virgin Mary in a passing summer cloud. She told me I was unconventional, unique, a one-of-a-kind specimen one may discover after getting lost in the Amazon Rainforest or exploring the back-rooms of a particularly pretentious record shop.

Now, I always knew that beauty doesn’t humanize a woman. But I also knew that beauty does make her more acceptable, especially if she has the mind to have a career or, egads, strongly disagree with a man. Sexist men are more forgiving of “uppity” women if said women happen to be beautiful, though beauty can become a liability the minute you are sexually harassed or otherwise assaulted. But what made my family worship female beauty was its romantic, tragic side: the beauty that jumped off cliffs and turned itself into trees and so on. It was the beauty that was allowed to be at the center of a story. As a writer, I knew all about stories: the stories you told, and the stories you lived. Most of the time, I was doing the telling.

I actually blubbered when my mother showed me pictures she had taken for my senior yearbook portrait.

“But you look so interesting!” She insisted.

“Buh-but I don’t want to be uh huh huh interesting! I want to be uh huh huh pretty! Like you!”Continue reading “A Pretty Cover For The Bones”

Kyle Payne gets jail-time…learns a lesson? Or (surprise!) not?

It was made official a few days ago – Kyle Payne will go to jail. His blog was correctly described by the County Attorney as “narcissistic.” I’m glad that the prosecution saw what we all pretty much saw: a guy making excuses, deeply sorry at the fact that he was caught, and not much else. A guy convinced that it was All About Him, even while paying lip-service to the victim.

Chillingly, when the victim read a statement in court, she mentioned the possibility that not all of the details of the night of her assault have come to light, saying that it is only Kyle who truly knows what happened. She will have to live with her assault, and her uncertainty over the details, for the rest of her life. In light of this, it’s hard to feel sympathy for Kyle Payne, even in spite of the fact that he is a survivor of abuse as well.

I’ve been trying to stay away from all of this. I didn’t want to blog about it initially, because thinking about this debacle makes me feel physically ill. I’m a big girl, I can handle my own feelings, but Kyle Payne’s latest update to his statement is so full of WRONG that I have to wonder if he’s taking some sort of perverse pleasure from all of the attention he’s been getting.

None of us are without sin. I fully believe in that. But Kyle, knowing very well the nature of his transgression, continues to play little mind-games with himself and the world. His writing is basically saying that gosh, it’s such tough business, not assaulting women! Toiling in the fields is nothing compared to that! A man who goes an entire day without assaulting a woman wipes the sweat from his brow at suppertime and sighs deeply, every bone in his body creaking from exhaustion. Dear God, when will society build a monument to his unwavering courage and strength? Where are the twelve gun salutes? The fireworks bursting in the evening as children gaze upward in wonder? The flame burning eternally at the grave of the Unknown Unrapist? Alas, cruel world!

Seriously now, what the hell is up with using all of this rhetoric when describing what he did – “this act of male dominance”? Are you joking? It’s called an “assault,” Kyle, and, surprise surprise, you do not use the term once!

I just love these little games being played – “the victim” instead of “my victim,” “patriarchal system” instead of “boy, I am an asshole for doing what I did, and in no way would I shift the responsibility away from myself!”

Honestly, Kyle (and anyone else who may be listening), everything is much simpler than you make it out to be. A man who does not rape, assault, or abuse women does not deserve a medal, just like I don’t deserve a medal for not running out into the street and slashing the tires on a truck that parks nearby and starts honking incessantly at 5:45 a.m. Basic human goodness is just that, basic human goodness.

Grow up. Learn the meaning of the word “no.” Learn the meaning of the word “narcissist.” And for God’s sake, stop using your blog to have some sort of protracted conversation with your victim (yes, YOUR victim, not “the” victim). I doubt she wants your attention any more than the rest of us do.

Oh Dynamo! Ohhhh yes!!! More! More!

“Мой бело-синий флаг гордо реет над тобою….”

Who’s in the Champions League group stage? Having gone up against rival Spartak, no less? Oh, that would be us, that’s right. Uh huh. Right here.

Why am I never home to watch these things? That little bit of victory for me to savour, why must I always savour it alone, in the company of a toy rabbit strangely similar to Peters’ toy rabbit in a soul-rending short story by Tatyana Tolstaya? Why is it that I am home only to share in the defeats of this club, the club that wasn’t afraid to beat the Nazis on Nazi-occupied territory in one of those moments that Hollywood just couldn’t pass up (in the movie they’re a team of Western allies, because who wants to see a bunch of brave. as opposed to snarling, Soviets? Soviets, most of whom… you know… will later be murdered for their defiance? Hey, I don’t blame anyone for this creative decision, I know how this business works. You take someone else’s sad story, and turn it into an inspirational fairy tale that allows you to rake in the big bucks and inspires countless numbers of people to have sex with you.)? I guess some weird fate-thing is involved in all of this. Somehow. Someone up there is trying to teach me a lesson. About something.

There was a bit of humour in the stands as Dynamo played Spartak last night. The sign that the Dynamo fans are holding up reads, in Ukrainian: “The capital of the Kievan Rus’ [a historic region with Kiev at its heart, the foundation of Russian Orthodox Christianity, that existed before Moscow became the regional powerhouse] greets the guests from the countryside [meaning Moscow, heh heh].” You might be surprised, but Russians find this stuff as hilarious as the Ukrainians. No one gets offended. Well, at least, I’ve never met anyone who does.

In light of this, to think that we, as people and as nations, are even remotely capable of war against one another seems absurd.

Less guns, more football.

Britain and Ukraine, Miliband and Yuschenko, Politics and Posturing

I have to laugh when I see people like Victor Yuschenko stand self-righteously stand against tyranny with David Miliband (i.e. with a representative of the same country that helped illegally invade Iraq, whose politicians will never admit that their idiotic actions have inspired the general lawlessness of today) while the British press laps it all up. Honestly, what is it about the love affair between the BBC and Yuschenko? Like, you people aren’t at all aware how he sold us all out, both his supporters and the opposition, following the Orange Revolution? Oh, but of course, Ukraine is just that quaint little country your sex tourists go to, you’re not the ones who have to contend daily with a tuberculosis epidemic, jacked-up prices, neo-Nazis, and mob violence.

If Russia bombs us, it won’t be your problem. It won’t be your fathers and mothers in pieces. You’ll be having the time of your lives in your newsrooms as more and more of your citizens tune into the latest spectacle from our post-Soviet dystopia, slightly charming in that whole kitschy, floppy-eared hat kind of way. You’re not neighbours with Russia, you don’t have a sizeable chunk of the population speaking Russian, so what do you have to worry about? Chaos and turmoil? The possibility of a Crimean secession? You don’t give a crap about any of that, and neither does your government.

You don’t share a border with Russia, and therefore good ol’ Mr. Miliband can shake hands and talk tough and face no consequences. He’s got his own position and people to look after. Does Mr. Yuschenko, who was recently snapped talking on a trendy and illegal iPhone (gosh, what a step down from his son’s Vertu – why don’t you cowards write about that, huh? Where does the MONEY for these people’s toys come from, do you EVER stop to wonder?), look out for his people? Can you say “yes” to me and keep a straight face?

The BBC will always stress how Mr. Yuschenko is a pro-Western politician, completely ignoring the fact that Mr. Yuschenko is first and foremost a pro-Yuschenko politician. But as I already mentioned, they’re not the ones living in Russia’s shadow.

You will ask, “but what is the solution, Natalia? What do you do in this situation?” And I’ll tell you honestly that I don’t know. That the most I can hope for is the aversion of another war. But as long as it’s Ukrainian and Russian and Georgian and Ossetian lives that are on the line, I doubt anyone in Western seats of power will think the way I do. For all of their posturing, no one cares if more people die.

We are expendable. We’re good enough to be your “whores,” but not much else.