Last week, I went mean girl on someone, and instead of over-thinking whether I should have been more demure and mindful with my words, I leaned in. And in the most-Audrerific way (my new word for when I'm channeling my Mom), I essentially told him to cry harder. Not today, not tomorrow, and not ever again Satan!
If you light a match, you better be ready for this smoke! Now that I am a woman of a certain age, I am no longer measuring my words nor apologizing for being who and what I am, especially not when like Toyota, you asked for it.
Obviously, there is a backstory, and it starts with a Facebook post in a group. This is a mixed, intergenerational group of HBCU alumni, so there are posts that run the gamut from super serious to seriously stupid. And most folks know that, thus depending on the mood a post that is seriously stupid might be exactly what is needed to lighten the mood, while on other days it might cause someone to get their feelings hurt. The same is true for super serious posts--we may or may not be willing to engage in intellectual debates about why a grown man not getting his plate fixed at a family gathering is the reason why the Black family is in decline...so you gotta roll the dice and see what happens.
For whatever reason, there had been a series of sexist posts, including quite a few that IRL would result in somebody sleeping in his car or on his boy's couch. These seriously stupid posts started popping up right before Homecoming, which is usually when folks engage in all manner of tomfoolishness, and also why it didn't get called out and shut down sooner. Nevertheless, by late-November, weeks past Homecoming and with most of our group recuperating from the Election, the mood was definitely super serious.
The post at issue was a classic rate this woman, the same sort of foolywang that allegedly launched The Facebook in a Harvard dorm room (according to Aaron Sorkin's movie) or that was premise of Hot or Not--the grandfather of sexism on the Al Gore's internet. Some dude had the chutzpah to pose such a query, then logged off for the rest of the day--which only made the backlash in response to his post that more intense. His departure from the scene for hours led folks to question why this had slipped past our moderators and whether our group had been infiltrated. At some point, I happened upon his post, and as per the rules of engagement since the election have been that I am NOT in the mood for any fuckery, I pounced. I posted one sentence about how this post would have been more appropriate for a private group chat and then added this Audrerific: but you must not have any friends...and Lawd, it went viral!
Now, I know what I said was unkind. And I am not going to deny that I got a certain measure of satisfaction in seeing all of the likes and favorable comments from men and women alike. As a writer, I often hope that half of what I put into the universe has some impact on my readers. So yeah, my head got a little big.
I rolled over and went to sleep.
The next morning, his message popped up on my computer, but it wouldn't load properly, so then I wondered if I had dreamt seeing his PM from the previous evening. Then I assumed that he had blocked me (like someone else did after a similar run-in last year), but after a quick reload, his message reappeared, and I decided that it warranted a reply. To ensure that I had accurately called him out for his cheekiness, I sought to refer back to the original post. Zounds, it had been deleted by the group moderators! Sadly, that means that there is no "official" record that I ever went viral other than my retelling of the events here.
Next time, I will be sure to get a screen shot! No worries though, since the point of this piece isn't to brag about landing an insult. Instead, I wanted to use that experience to proffer a few thoughts why dudes like him hate going toe-to-toe with out-spoken women like me. Furthermore, that is one of the reasons why I believe Kamala Harris isn't measuring the drapes in the Oval Office right now--because some of these mofos just can't stand a confident, undaunted, smart-ass woman!
Now before I open an entirely new can of worms, I will try to limit my post-election analysis to a few stray sentences here and there. I plan to fully unload in a separate piece. As you can imagine, I've got a LOT to say...
In response to the election results, I lashed out at a quite a few people, primarily folks like Brother Misogynoir because that is what happens when you can't meaningfully strike back at those who really got you twisted. I already posted a smart-ass mea culpa on my personal FB page after my initial round of friendly fire, but I guess I should have added a warning that I'm not done shooting from the hip. Therefore, I do NOT apologize for my annoyance at the assholery enabled by the very people who should have our backs; because in lieu of affirming and uplifting the spirits of the Black women in our shared, private space, that dude opted to engage in the same kind of SUPERFICIAL SEXISM that has made breaking the glass ceiling so elusive. Then he had the nerve to try to guilt ME into feeling some kind of way because no one co-signed on his nonsense? No sir!
As for the group moderators who chose to remove his post, in essence giving him a get out of jail free card, why the H-E-double hockey sticks did they let him off the hook? Why not mount his severed head on a wall as a caution to every future ashy mofo who might be inclined to forget that this ain't the boys' locker room at a private club or someone's wood-paneled mancave? If this reads like I'm taking it hard that my brilliant Audrerific clapback won't be preserved in cyber-posterity for future generations, trust I'm way more pissed that the decision to delete the entire thread only proves that some so-called safe spaces function to protect the wrong people.
I mentioned the fact that this wasn't the first time I've encountered a Cowardly Lion in that group or elsewhere on social media. Before the recent mass X-odus, I was down for a bird fight or two with friends and strangers. I had a friend on Facebook who was the kind of person whom I imagine would describe his interactions with people as part Michael Eric Dyson intellectual provocateur, part Chris Rock stand-up comic. Because I had known him in real life as well as online, I knew the best response to his pot-stirring was to add a grain of salt. So when he tagged me on a post to engage in a "debate" on a seriously stupid topic, I played along. That I happened to be sitting next to my Mom in the hospital was, at the time, part of the reason why I was willing to entertain this nonsense. I needed the distraction.
Then he made it personal, and I guess he resented that I didn't go high when he went low. After he pulled the mean girl card on me, he deleted the thread, then he took it up a few notches by blocking and de-friending me!
I kept a screenshot of the private message I attempted to send him, which had included an apology until shortly after my Mom passed. Call it a what would Audrey do impulse, but the fact that I ever acknowledged his hurt feelings or allowed him to take up any space in my life after what he did to me still pisses me off. He picked a fight, did a lot of trash-talking, got in the ring, danced around, then called the fight as soon as I landed a punch. He put me on blast, then tried to shame me because the tone of my response to his provocation was "mean". And in a moment of weakness, I actually thought that maybe I had gone too far.
Until I rewound the sequence of events as outlined above. He had engineered that entire fracas from start to finish, and as far as I know, he didn't stutter or think twice about anything he said that might have been insulting or hurtful to me. For me to even contemplate his feelings in the midst of what I was dealing with at my Mom's bedside is how I realized I was being played. It doesn't matter what he knew about my situation because he knew he was wrong. Why else would he delete the thread?
We use the delete button to correct mistakes, to erase the things we don't want people to see or find.
Which is why I did take a screen shot the private message Brother Misogynoir sent me last week, and I will save it for the next time he decides to forget he's in mixed company. I keeps receipts and I ain't scared of what these dudes think of me--I'm sure I've been called a bitch as much as any other woman. I said what I said, in true Audrerific fashion, without remorse. I won't be humble, ingratiating, soul-searching, or swallowing my pride. In the words of a few Chicks who know a little something about being gaslit by cruel intentions, carnival barkers, sociopaths, overcooked hams, and other people who engage in bad faith, I'm Not Ready to Make Nice.
Therefore, on this day when the good Lord saw fit to bring forth a daughter in Audrey's image, I hereby declare not today, nor ever again! I know who and what I am. Happy Birthday!
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