« Who's your ad agency, Humbert/Humbert? | Main | 8/18 Memo to Dennis Miller »
August 17, 2004
Can't relate.
I'm waiting at the bus stop after work last Friday and notice a knot of young Latinas speaking loudly and showing each other physical affection.
They touch each other with familiarity and tenderness, but also to objectify each other. Playful gropes, hands in each others' back pockets, brushing another's hair out of her eyes. The six of them seem to be by themselves at the bus stop, even though there must be at least twenty of us standing around.
The most butch of the crew lights up a fat blunt and passes it around. The smoke hangs thick in the air under the hood of the bus shelter, and the rest of us look either askance, uncomfortable, or generally resigned. The blunt gets shorter, and the women laugh louder, sometimes squealing as someone's ass gets slapped, hard.
And the rest of us pretend not to notice. Nobody dare lecture them, or even look sternly in their direction. Butch has a spiked labret and thick, inky tattoos that disappear down her collar and up her arms into her T-shirt sleeves.
Her appearance asks, "you got a problem?" but we're all checking our watches or keeping an eye out for the express.
Behind sunglasses and noise-canceling headphones, I realize that I have no idea what these women are about, what their lives or like, or where they come from. I have no frame of reference with which to judge them, categorize their behavior or draw a single conclusion.
Posted by Your Protagonist at August 17, 2004 08:17 PM