We watched your cinematic appearance on movie screens since the initial moment that we met - as is expected of a Black neurodivergent who has a closet full of costumes for escapism, and a wallet full of masks to assimilate into any crowd.  

A beautiful actor assuming the role of the puppet and the ventriloquist as you forced, “I’m fine,” through clenched jaws despite the bloody confetti that hits the walls after the show ends and the curtains get drawn.

“Fine,” that’s what the audience inferred as the author’s purpose though the author contemplates if life is even worth it. Living in a confined inferno of their burning desires to self-destruct as all they have known is destruction - being the wobbly Weeble that fell down though being told you were never supposed to show weakness.

All you have known is destruction, seeing the rubble of shattered peers and building up others first as you wait for your cue to sink your eight ball deep into your veins for a hot air balloon sky-walking getaway.

All you have known is destruction, which causes people to wonder why you fail to let your barriers fall and acquaint itself with the wreckage.

Answer being because you turned your depression into a home, 

A cottage mobile house with deflated self-scarred tires, 

With a kitchen embellished with wicker furniture and dinner sets injected with low self-esteem fueling your stress binge eating with complementary anxiety served on the side, making you regurgitate it back on your plate. 

A bedroom accented with morning maladaptive daydreams and ADHD ganga night terrors housing you and your roommates sleep deprivation and fear of going to sleep due to trauma of your first career as an in-house familial therapist and mediator.

Maybe if you turned off the security system and allowed people into your house on top of the hill, someone else would’ve taken note of the substance abuse

And the prescription misuse. 

Maybe someone would’ve known about the attempts and notes to match that you had written out since the sixth grade for the only thing that changes is not the pain that they told you would get better, but instead just the names of your friends of the week who you’ll hold onto until they begin to like you, which will cause you to push them away and reject their love as you think you do not deserve it when in fact you do.

What I wish my friends told me is not exactly what I always heard through words, but they made it known through shared memes, holiday texts, party invites, brunch dates, and constant praises of 'I love you' that hold more depth than the sea of emotions and illness that desired to drown me

And I have received hugs that have saved me more than a lifejacket would for a struggling swimmer.

My friends cannot read minds, and I appreciate their warm comfort and their attempts to stay alive despite their own difficulties  because I am blessed to have them in my life, yet I wish I used them as a resource more because when I am alone, it is always by choice as I fear they would see me differently if they saw me through my eyes 

For most people make me feel too misunderstood or overwhelmed, and I can’t help but listen to the voice

That tells me all I deserve is pain.

And then that my burdens are too heavy for me to share, so it is only mine to bear.

Slipping the knot around my neck to wear,

I socially hang myself in vain.

I show myself love through castor oil replenished edges and shea butter moisturized skin that feels as soft as the Dove promised African black soap meets Dr. Bronner body wash cleaned skin with a jojoba oil sunscreen dipped visage topped with minty cherry breath cleaned with toothpaste and mouthwash enhanced with spearmint 5gum on top. 

An inner glow beaming bright enough to transform energy into an external being embodying the essence of a peaceful blended pineapple martini sloshing around in a wide glass wine cup clinking against ice cubes confined to the internal pipes of the coke-shaped bottle with cute pudgy padding that makes cuddling with me in a mountain of blankets in a living room fort feel as warm as a hug from Paddington saying Good night to the moon ever so gently in a time loop captured by literature; as strong as photographs with hips built for hula hooping and coordination made to long jump over skip ball hurdles swaying gracefully like the drumbeat of long double Dutch jump rope hi-hats competing with bass-heavy footsteps as they both collide with the ground and contribute to the melody pouring from a backyard clubhouse with harmonies louder than a mouse preparing for the battle of the bands when they perform for Jack's Big Music Show. 

I have my own Naomi Campbell walk and City Girl proud talk that elicits a stare that I was afraid to bear, though now I put myself on a pedal and use my beacon of light to fuel the spotlight that I put on myself because misguided flames often learn to retreat into themselves and fear the attraction of gnats. Once they realize the impact of their true power, they understand how gnats should fear the damage they cause, not the inverse. 

Love is fanning my flame with passion and knowing my worth, putting myself first because once I have a surplus of love to give, it makes what I offer others and myself more potent. Producing honest-enriched compassion swirled with generosity and respect. I acknowledge the importance of spreading positivity to everyone else when I fall to my lowest points in life. Nevertheless, I can live as the best version of myself when I am kind to myself.

Ways to show yourself love:

★ Daily affirmations remind you of your worth and cause you to treat yourself more gently. Tell yourself that you are the best version of yourself that you can be, and it only get better. Tell yourself that the next goal you want to accomplish is already complete, and you did it with ease. Complimenting yourself, appreciating what you have, and taking ownership of your goals remind your mind and subconscious that your goals are attainable and you deserve all your love, happiness, and success.

★ Put good food you enjoy into your body. Fill your body with foods packed with nutrients that refresh you and taste good! Looking for food embedded with healthy fats, protein, and carbohydrates will leave you feeling more energized and rejuvenated! Also, drink plenty of water. Your hydration levels from the day before contribute to your hydration levels the next day. So, your body depends on you to create a healthy routine with water and food.

★ Listen to uplifting music and songs you associate with good memories. You deserve to relax your subconscious with good energy and vibes, which requires reflection on the media you consume. Despite reality not guaranteeing happy endings, it is nice to enjoy media that can offer optimism to stimulate your motivation.

★ Hygiene. The best compliment you can ever receive is that you smell good and do not need expensive fragrances to achieve that - just a good soap that is healthy for your skin, deodorant, and an optional perfume or cologne. One of my favorite fragrances is Carolina Herrera Good Girl, which has a dupe at Five Below that smells just as good, in my opinion. Also, I like the scent Nude by Rihanna, which smells incredible, and you can buy it at wholesale stores like TJ Maxx and Ross (if you can find it.) Moisturize your scalp. Your hair is your crown, and you should take care of it and wear it in a way that properly helps you to express yourself and feel confident. Wearing my natural hair makes me feel good, even more so when I moisturize it and know it is healthy because whether I stretch it or wear it shrunken up and coily, I love it. (Shrinkage indicates healthy coily hair.) My routine consists of jojoba and castor oil on the scalp of wet hair sealed with Blue Magic hair grease. Wash your face, put some moisturizer and sunscreen on, and feel your natural glow shine through. Not everyone is a skincare fanatic, but a good moisturizer and SPF should be a staple in morning routines because it helps with feeling refreshed and protecting your skin. I primarily use turmeric face wash, aloe vera gel, rosewater, and rosemary oil. My preferred sunscreen is Black Girl Sunscreen because it contains jojoba oil and has no white cast. Remember to floss after brushing your teeth and gargling mouthwash. Additionally, use a lip scrub weekly, especially if you smoke.

★ Accessorize, accessorize, accessorize! If you look presentable to your standards, you will feel confident. So, dressing for success is important! It does not mean you always look fresh off the runway, but it does mean that you extend yourself the grace of getting up, showering, and putting on clean clothes that express your personality. I complete every outfit with gold hoops and a necklace. When the ensemble permits, a belt. It adds dynamic to the look and makes me feel more dressed up than I am. Accessories can turn an outfit from a T-shirt and jeans into a T-SHIRT and JEANS, na mean? A stylish and purposeful bag is a bonus touch!

★ Only compare yourself to the right people. The only person who you should compare yourself with is yourself because you know who you want to be and who you used to be, so any advancements toward the best version of yourself you can become is an achievement. Keep going!

★ Fall in love with yourself again. Try new things and old things. Expand your boundaries with old and new hobbies, consume new media, play new games, experiment with new products, go to new places, and figure out what you love. What is your favorite color and why? What scent brings you good memories? What hobby makes you feel happy? Only you know what excites you, so accept happiness. You cannot play to your strengths if you are not doing what you love.

- Let people go. You can't hold on to everyone forever, especially if they are not interested in maintaining a positive relationship with you. It never hurts to practice healthy communication to try to save your friendship, but if they don't meet you halfway, let them go. You know you tried and gave them your best efforts even when they did not deserve you.

- Leave some doors open. Sometimes, people go through varying circumstances and cannot be the best versions of themselves. Assess the damage. If someone crosses your boundaries and hurts you in unforgivable ways, walk away and leave them in the past with the pain they inflicted upon you, as your healing is your revenge. Nevertheless, if you left off on decent terms or there was no unforgivable wrongdoing, you might want to consider building a new relationship with them. If becoming friends again will make you happy and is in your best interests, go for it. Things will not be the same, but they will still be that friend you loved who showed you love. So, you will need to decipher how the new version of them fits into your new life. If it is better for you, you could also consider being acquaintances who talk from time to time or simply establishing that you are cool with each other and maintain little to no major contact. Relationships change, either growing with us or growing us up into evolved versions of ourselves. Some people never change, while others can, but our perception of them does not. You can measure someone's transformation by their actions, not solely what they say.

- Remember the good they found in you and discover it in yourself. Even the most toxic people could have given us some of the most beautiful words once upon a time. What compliments did they give you? When you were with them, and you felt good about yourself, what encouraged that confidence? How can you make yourself feel that same energy when you're alone? We become friends with people since something draws us together and makes us feel accepted, whether it be mutual interests or similar traits. How can you be your friend and accept yourself for who you are? When I feel negative thoughts clouding my mind, I remember that my old friend thought I was funny, beautiful, and trustworthy. She made me feel like the main character in my own story. I would laugh freely with her and did not take life so seriously, and I owe it to myself to retain the youthful spirit that she helped me fall in love with. Whether she still loves me or not, or anyone else loves me, I love me.

- Fall in love with life since you owe it to yourself as your friend to love yourself in your natural and pampered state. You are enough, and the quality of love you have received from others does not determine your worth. Some people may have treated you well while others gave you their ass to kiss, but all humans, yourself included, deserve love, respect, and understanding. So, offer it to yourself even when others try to deprive you of your humanity. 

- Your happiness matters!

A variety of relationships exist that we must learn to navigate and maintain in our lifetime. Nevertheless, the world is saturated with dating advice but has scarce guidance on making and keeping friends.

As a person with strict Christian parents, I grew up unable to hang out with my peers, which made me rely on nonverbal communication since my home environment restrained me from expressing myself. The social transition was difficult when I was allowed to go places in the 10th grade without feeling anxious about what to talk about and how to feel comfortable existing in front of others.

I am lucky I have four best friends who kept me company in 10th grade (though I met them all at different times between 7th and 9th grade) whom I can still call friends. Moreover, I am blessed to have two guy friends I have been cool with since 11th grade and a gal pal l have known ever since kindergarten.

Unfortunately, I missed half of the 11th grade and most of my senior year of high school due to COVID-19. Therefore, I never had the high school experience I swore was destined to unravel like the movies since I finally got a taste of going out, socializing, and freedom. I had a cruise, two concerts, a musical, Junior prom, and so much more scheduled on my roster for the year that got canceled and left me trapped in the house for two more years, depleting my social skills and reinforcing my social anxiety.

I cherish my friends from high school, but after everyone started going to college, leaving me to join the workforce, I had to make new friends as I met new people. It troubled me because, as an adult, despite your co-workers, you have to look for clubs, sports, events, and other places to meet new people. You cannot just rely on seeing people daily like you did in high school.

So, I went to maybe a few too many parties, meeting people who just wanted a follow on Instagram and nothing more. I mingled with a few too many older guys who I thought enjoyed my company, though they smelled the stench of my youth and just wanted to take advantage of me. I met a great group of friends before moving to a new state, only to remember that long-distance relationships and friends do not always work out well. There was one friend of mine, in particular, I placed a gracious amount of value on. She was the first Black girl friend I made after primarily being around a majority of guys.

She taught me nothing is wrong with being a weird alternative Black femme, queer individual. She taught me there's no shame in being seen in my bonnet or without makeup. She made me feel less alone since she was someone I could talk to. Until one day, she compromised our scheduled in advance plans to hang out with people she could see any other day of the week other than the two days I planned on being on the East Coast again.

Months later, she came out to Chicago. I saw her again, and all of my disdain towards that instance left as I was happy to see her again. She said we should talk more and then ignored four months of my texts after leaving Chicago. I rationalized that she must've been busy or socially anxious even though she could still post on her story about all the fun she was having with her friends, family, and boyfriend. And she wasn't too busy to respond to my then-boyfriend's texts that he sent her around the same time as my texts that still went unanswered.

I had to accept where I stood in her life, an old chapter to reminisce on but not to maintain. At a point in my life, juggling a stressful job, toxic family members, an emotionally draining boyfriend who made me feel insecure, displacement in a brand new state drowning in social isolation, food insecurity, homelessness, and ultimately feeling alone with nothing but the bitter winter, I could have benefitted from her friendship more than ever. A friend to have made me laugh and remind me that life is worth living, to talk to have felt less alone, shit to even just have wished me a happy birthday, I would have loved it. I didn't get it, though. I just got silence.

Our mutual friend called me months later, put us in a group call, and the first and only thing she explicitly said to me was, "How's the weather?" My heart sank as I did not want an apology for being ghosted and ignored. I did not need her to pretend like things never changed between us. I just wanted to hear I missed you. I held my breath patiently, waiting to hear her say the phrase, but I turned blue.

Our health classes in elementary school should teach us how to deal with our emotions, build and maintain relationships in our lives, and develop our emotional intelligence, but they don't. So we as a social collective all assume romantic heartbreak hurts, dismissing that friends and family breaking your heart can sometimes feel even worse.

However, I was able to teach myself that I owe myself friendship and that even when it seems that I am alone, I always have a friend in myself because I love myself.

I hope whoever reads this to the end knows they should love themselves too; be proud that they are still alive and trying! :)

11:21 am passed me by like the pink line L chugging across the tracks in the distance as I sat atop the concrete guard wall protecting the perimeter of the Walmart parking lot that created a clear distinction between the black pavement where the shopping carts would roll freely and the sidewalk that encouraged the wheels to lock binding it against the gray cement. Even established corporations act frugally to safeguard their finances despite the insurance offering compensation for the stolen carts that wander beyond the premises, typically in the hands of those without a car to bring home their groceries or those without a home to put their belongings in. 

As 11:21 a.m. hit on the rainy April morning, I remembered that I could not put in an insurance claim for the energy and innocence people stole from me. Yet, how could I warrant my vitality and youth when the human vessel holding my spirit cannot afford health insurance? Therefore, I obtain immense gratitude for my good health and a safe solar return. With $2.80 in one bank account, $-700 in the next, $1300 past due on my credit cards, the $200 speeding ticket I owe the state of Indiana, my outstanding parking tickets in Pennsylvania, and the price of living increasing due to America's silent recession, the kindness in my heart and the passion in my soul constitute most of my possessions which is more than enough for me. Happiness attracts abundance; I have both.

Who I am is enough for me, though it took me 20 years to get here. After 20 years and three attempts, I can acknowledge the beauty of living. It required poverty to starve me to convince myself I deserved to eat. I needed to experience gratifying sexual endeavors to affirm and remind myself that I deserve pleasure. Each time I orgasm, my body releases internalized anguish as a reminder that I am not two or thirteen years old anymore - they can no longer hurt me; I will no longer punish myself for the actions of others. Forced to mature quickly as a child, I want to bask in the present and treat it like a gift now. Leading a satisfying life and developing into the best version of myself through healing, I embrace the journey I am embarking on. 

My blessings show through my supportive friends, cousins, uncles and aunties invested in my life, loving grandparents, a mom working on tackling the generational trauma that affected her, a ride or die dad who I can call my best friend, and a life as beautifully complex as mine. 20 means virtually nothing to me, but the path it took to get here means everything since it molded me into the individual I am today. As I learn to accept my imperfections and embrace myself, I know it only gets better for me from here.

"Water is thicker than blood. 

The blood I shared with you,

That showed itself in the reflection of a cycle that required me to alter

My point of view." 

Water's density creates a concentration thicker than blood - more consistent than blood.

Some nights, you stare at the blank canvas of a ceiling, hallucinating sheep on a track team jumping hurdles and counting each one, remembering feeling small as your mental melatonin resembles an imaginary mobile spiraling around you like a nursery rhyme when the cow completes a full rotation over the moon and around the sun - jumping higher than your expectations. Your eyes grow heavy and begin to droop, but you refuse to give into your body’s demand for sleep and continue to deprive your temple of rest because of what could happen when the lights go out. Teleporting to 2018 again - the middle school years - dwelling on when you had to stay awake each night as the one time you went to sleep, a nightmare occurred in reality.

It caused a ripple as a story droplet in a blood sea of trauma.

Family ain't always blood.

Times occurred when blood only searched for you when in need because they assured themselves that they could abuse your kindness since you will help them if they can keep you under the pretense that they will do the same for you. Yet, that does not mean they will. It fails to guarantee that they deserve your energy if you always have to manually pin your wounds shut, getting blood on your hands because your blood prefers to inflict pain instead of reflecting on the damage done to them that you both had to endure. You stood in front of that blood as a young child, trying to protect them from the person you presumed would protect them. You remained your sibling's keeper so they would avoid trouble, as you knew they would get punished worse even though that blood would snitch on you and talk about you to the person you safeguarded them from and listened to them rant about. 

That blood made you feel guilty for trying to salvage a relationship with said person because of the harm they caused while still asking that person for things and maintaining a relationship with them themselves. 

And blood will pay their trauma forward, continuing the generational baton pass in the relay race of relaying harmful ideologies like it is your heritage. They will torment you in the name of colonizers and exploit you as much as the system will. Seeing Black femme bodies as a nest for trauma and a hospital for soul cleansing and voodoo herbal remedies deemed bound to offer more warmth than chicken soup. Since they gutted you to build you into their sanctuary and view you as the one with scholarly advice, why would they check up on you? 

Blood gets called self-centered and a user, and you defend them even though you see their actions and how they treat people as if they exist as props in the background of their life, only moving when you guide them as dolls on a string. You can only defend blood and ignore those red signs until they stab you in the chest and make you regret giving them a million chances to show their ass. Water flows steadily through canyons and streams despite fleeting, still serving its purpose, sharing its intentions, and mutually benefitting the human body. Meanwhile, blood either gives you a transfusion or an infection. When you see red in your vision, the difficulty increases in confirming the breach in your safety.

Because when people perceive you as a Black woman, they expect kindness and respect as a response to their fragility and hostility.

I can tell a Black man that he cannot have my number, and, regardless, he will attempt to convert my ‘no’ into a ‘yes’ because he lacks the emotional capacity to process and cope with subtle rejection. Opting to heckle my male friend instead, who waited at the train with me - the man with the injured ego escalated the situation to a screaming match between the two, with the man threatening to pull a gun on my friend to show him, “How real of a nigga he can be,” before reaching out to try to bump their fists together - which insinuates that the two people touching knuckles agree to fight. The situation came to an Earth-shattering halt after I let out a yelp, demanding both men to gain their composure and for the unknown man to accept my no and to stop harassing my friend.

Because when people perceive you as a Black woman, they expect kindness and respect as a response to their blatant ignorance and negligence.

I can tell a White male officer at the airport that I am in an emotionally abusive relationship, and his solution for traveling with my ex, who had security called on him for verbally assaulting me after a public disagreement during our layover, is to wait for my plane to arrive in front of the airport police station. As I am waiting, my ex comes over to rehash the argument and begins to gaslight me, in which I tell him to leave me alone. When the officer came over, he said to me that I was causing a disturbance by talking too loud and that I should listen to my ex because he seemed like a nice guy willing to listen. I informed him that I came over there to sit to get away from my ex as the officer instructed me to do, and my ex followed me over there and actively attempted to manipulate me. Instead of prompting my ex to leave, he asks me why I did not stop engaging in conversation with him or walk away - despite me doing that multiple times prior to this instance - which is why I moved in front of the police station and, it still resulted in him coming up to me and engaging me in conversation. I told the officer that the next time he assesses a situation, regardless of what appears true outside looking in, refrain from drawing assumptions. He told me he did not care what we were talking about, nor did he care about my personal life, and that it’s his job to minimize conflict, which I can understand, but do not tell me you are here to protect me if your solution is to condemn me instead of the problem because it is easier for you, which I conveyed to the officer. I reminded him that if he is employed to keep the general public free from danger, he needs to listen to how to make the people who need his protection feel safe. At this point, my ex willingly left the area without instruction from me or the officer. The officer told me that women exaggerate and misuse the terms manipulation and gaslighting and said I was most likely using it loosely. He then asked me to define the words and explain how my ex abused me. Realizing the officer wanted to elicit an argument, I simply reminded him how he told me that he did not care about what I was going through or my personal life, so I refused to explain my trauma to someone who expressed that they did not care. I then repeated my point for him to remain a non-biased party in future encounters, interact with all parties with neutrality and empathy, and understand that he should not take all situations at face value as they may require further investigation. Officers should not place the burden of remediating behavior on domestic abuse victims but the people accountable for the abuse. He laughed as I walked away, and I prayed for the next person who had to deal with that man.

Because when people perceive you as a Black woman, they expect kindness and respect as a response to their blatant discrimination and harassment.

I can tell a Latino man representing the Bureau of Counter Terrorism at the train station after I jumped over the turnstile that after dumping out my wallet, I could not find my ID - only my work badge - and I asked him if I could just give him my information and, he exchanges a smile with the Chicago Train Authority (CTA) personnel and laughs before telling me he has to take me to jail. I asked if I could kneel or step to the side to look for my ID more comfortably because my anxiety made checking my backpack difficult as I was shaking. He declined my request to kneel and search my bag and reminded me that the only alternative after I tried to offer him the only dollar in my bag was to take me to jail. I began to get more anxious and stepped back regardless of his wishes and dumped the contents of my bag on the ground, which caused my smoking bowl to break. A CTA worker rounds the corner with a broom and dustpan, but the officer tells me to pick up the glass with my bare hands, so I do, which results in a deep cut on my thumb. He then questioned why I was bleeding and demanded that I step back, even though I didn’t move. My Puerto Rican friend, who also jumped past the turnstile, asked if he could give him my information for the ticket, and he said yes, which prompted me to inquire why when my friend asked, he said yes, but when I asked, the officer said he had to take me to jail. He then told me to accept how he was doing me a favor and how he thought I said I had my ID and didn’t want to give it to him even though I clearly expressed to him that I couldn’t find it and needed a moment to look for it and an opportunity to search through my bag thoroughly. He told me to put the broken glass back in my backpack, but I told him I would find a trash can because I planned on keeping the weed that was still compact in the bowl and putting it in my grinder once I had the privacy, but I didn’t want to go home with broken glass in my bag. He screams at me to stay back and throw it away in a trash can he spotted across the room, which I do, and when I come back, he notices blood on both my hands and says my hands are bloody and he doesn’t want me to get blood on his pen. I asked him what he expected me to do because I didn’t have a bandaid, and they only gave me a piece of paper towel to wrap my finger in that I already bled through. I tell him I have my own pen, but he urges me not to open my bag again. A CTA worker then handed me a glove that, unbeknownst to me, I got blood on while trying to put it on, which made it transfer onto his pen and the ticket.

Because when you know people perceive you as a Black woman, regardless of your identity, you try to give everyone kindness and respect as a response to their blatant unwillingness to do the same for you. Therefore, you may see my reaction as malice and combative, but I refuse to tolerate your unjust behavior silently. If I did, when would the world learn to cherish me like I respect the world?

The hyper sexual is born in the same womb as the hyper conservative serving to appeal to the male gaze as they have both been conditioned into participating in the patriarchy.

A Venn diagram with the aforementioned on the right and the latter on the left would share a majority of central points attesting to how they interact with the world.

Origin stories of the jezebel often find themselves in discussion, as well as, the condemnation of heaux tales, yet it’s less commonly mentioned how respectability politics uphold the systems that enable trauma based sex promiscuity and the defensively modest inverse.

The Birth of a Conservative

In a sit down with Joe Rogan, Owen disclosed how she used to obtain liberal views until she had her “red pill moment.” She utilized the phrase to describe her transition into conservatism.

She expressed disdain towards being referred to as a victim when recounting harassment she received from four classmates at the age of 17, also refraining from calling their actions a hate crime as she chastised modern society’s obsession with labels. The previously referred to classmates, sent her voicemails using racial slurs and threatening to tar and feather her family and put a gun to her head like Martin Luther King. 

After investigating with a school resource officer, she discovered one of the people making the call was a gay male student jealous of her relationship with her, at the time, high school boyfriend. Another identified student was the previous Connecticut mayor, current Democratic governor Dannel Malloy’s son. For six weeks they investigated the case as it was believed by some parents at her school and adults around the state that she lied and falsified the calls. The case settled for $37,500 after it was determined she was telling the truth.

The situation triggered mental health issues with Owens as she battled with anorexia for five years. She concluded that the situation was a formative experience for her as she would’ve been okay with just an apology and was afraid her narrative was taken away from her. Notably, she stated how the situation ruined her harassers lives and wished they weren’t permanently labeled as racist because of the incident.

Conservatism Is Not Armor

Practicing conservative ideology does not defend you from racism, misogyny, or discrimination overall. What Owens failed to acknowledge in her internalized depiction of her situation was how she could only assume all of the public opinions rallying against her accusations of Dannel Malloy’s son were liberal as her direct attackers were adjacent to liberalism (with one being gay and the other the son of a public liberal figure) when outside of her knowledge some of them could have been conservative as well since a majority of conservative views align with the vitriol directed towards her. While actively combating labels, she developed preconceived notions about people based off of the actions of people who do not represent an entire facet of society - therefore projecting labels onto others.

This relates similarly with the hypersexual who’s trauma, and other reasons, diminish their impulse control and label others as objects to sexualize outside of their true identity or to label themselves as an object meant to generate attention from others.

Owens does both with her prejudice against those with views that differ from hers, proceeding to label them to boost her superiority complex while also making herself a spectacle for attention from White supremacy. She placated herself into a position that defends racism and misogyny in exchange for privilege - her visibility in society. Owens isn’t a politician but a public figure who comments on politics. If she intended to do more with her influence than just own it, it would’ve been noticeable in a career dedicated to mediating legislation and government. Nevertheless, her platform consists of just sharing her opinion online with no other major impact other than the social damage caused by publicizing perspectives that perpetuate hate towards others.

The White Male Gaze

Conservative and hypersexual women uphold the White male gaze and the colonial systems rooted into the foundation of America.

Shera Seven, another online influencer who shares tips for women to be picked by high status men to spend money on them, seeks a traditional patriarchal family structure with men as financial providers while women should do their best to please a man so he will continue to provide for them. Women akin to Sexxy Red, though commonly viewed as lesser than and unclassy in comparison to the Shera archetype, typically do the same as the ones who judge them - putting themselves in positions to appeal to men for a gain.

Self-entitled authenticity is choosing to abstain from sexual relations without perceiving yourself as better than those who don’t. Moreover, it includes being sexually intimate with people for mutual pleasure and not one sided intentions.

Pandering to the male gaze keeps all problems relevant in our society alive as it enables men - especially White men - to keep operating under precedent social standards that do not offer any protection for marginalized groups.

Policing what women and other gendered victims wear won’t stop rape - holding rapists accountable will. Women shouldn’t shrink themselves for survival but should be given protection under the presence of a community. People continue to assimilate themselves for peace of mind until they reach the brink of insanity that exposes how their non-willing and unnatural inclination to perform sexually explicit acts or to abstain from such won’t prevent them from being taken advantage of.