Page 29 of Keeping Busy
“Basically because I got tired of being groped by fuckboys and creeps. When I told my parents that I was going to pursue dance as a career, the first thing they did was make me enroll in self-defense classes. That’s because my mama had her fair share of scary experiences when she was a video dancer back in the 90s, and my father couldn’t always be available to whup ass or do security. She took self-defense, so they made me take self-defense. The first time a dude groped me after I finished my self-defense classes...I froze up. I couldn’t think of how to do any of the techniques. He took my lack of action to stop him as my permission.”
“Damn.”
“That is like, the number one thing they drill into you when you take self-defense classes. That the possibility of you freezing is very real. I never thought I would freeze, though. I had mentally played out what I would do in a situation like that, and it did not include freezing up. But when dude touched me, it was like I had an out of body experience. I could see his lips moving, knew he was talking slick to me, but I didn’t hear the words. All I could hear was my brain shouting for me to do...something, but I was frozen.”
“What happened?”
“I danced with the band, in these little skimpy, revealing ass costumes. Somebody was always getting touched, propositioned, or grabbed. I wasn’t a frequent flyer, because I was the only black girl on the team, which made me invisible to most of the white boys on that campus.
There was this one dude, though. Running back on the football team. The motherfucker must’ve been feeling himself that day. He grabbed my ass and kissed my lips. But when he pulled me to him, and I could feel his penis pressing all on me, I snapped out of it. I still didn’t go into self-defense, though. I mean, I went into defense of self, but I didn’t go into self-defense techniques. I just went crazy.” She chuckled humorlessly. “I went smooth South Side. Balled up my fist and went straight ham. He was shocked when he caught these hands. My punches were garbage, but he wasn’t expecting them, so they were effective. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, I kneed him in the nuts, and ran.
Of course, I called my mom and told her what happened, and how I froze up. I was embarrassed, and disappointed in myself. I went into a shell after that incident, didn’t like being anywhere on campus alone. My mom was like, ‘you need more self-defense classes.’ My dad said, nah. He told me that if I was willing to box niggas to get away from them, then I should learn how to box niggas. He came to campus about a week after the incident, with about five of his goons, took me around town and found me a gym.”
“Come through, DJ B. Goode. I would’ve done the same damn thing for my daughter. Except, I would’ve beat dude to a bloody pulp.”
She eyed me curiously. “That’s what the goons were for.”
“Dudes left you alone on campus?”
“I ended up having to transfer out of Wheatin University. I mean, I accused one of the most celebrated football stars of violating me, then my black daddy showed up and showed his ass. He blessed out the administration. Had his lawyer draft letters to the school president, the board of trustees and the alumni association. Then he came on the yard and the next day campus security found dude’s bloody, battered body in the parking lot of an apartment complex just off campus? Everybody knew what happened to dude. Who happened to dude. That campus became a very uncomfortable place for me to be. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Your grandmother never told you that I was invited to leave Wheatin?”
“Nah, I mean, she told me that you graduated from Hampton University, but I thought that’s where all of this took place.”
“That happened at the PWI - the predominantly white institution. After that, I transferred to Hampton. I needed to be able to look around and see some faces that looked like mine.”
“I’m assuming that things went better at Hampton.”
“And you’d be wrong.” She stated flatly. “Athletes, frat boys, fuckboys - different school, same crap. For whatever reason, some men think that they have arightor something, to touch women’s bodies at their whim.”
I wanted to be surprised by the information, but I couldn’t be. I knew dudes, had spent the majority of my life in athletics. I knew how easy it was for some to develop a false sense of self and of worth. I knew how patriarchy could lead them to believe that anything they decided they wanted was supposed to be theirs. For a lot of dudes, women were so far down the list of things that were important, that they barely saw them as humans. I’d been in more conversations than I cared to remember where men talked about women like they were merely walking vaginas with beautiful faces, and mouths that talked a lot of shit.
“Things were better, but there were still times when I had to get belligerent. When I had to use boxing and self-defense techniques, the old...1, 2 punch.”
“Haha. Corny ass.” I told her.
She laughed at herself.
“You’re so corny.”
“I thought that was cute.” She admitted.
“You’re cute, but what you just said...nah.” I tapped her leg lightly, so that she knew to remove her leg from my lap. My semi-hard dick was deflated like a motherfucker. Talking about perverted, rapey assholes had that effect on me. “So Kentucky. Tomorrow afternoon. Do you need me to pick you up?”
“Do you think that would be easiest?”
I looked over at her, staring unabashedly. Apparently the intensity of my gaze made her uncomfortable.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just wondering why I never knew you were this...congenial. Things with you are really, really easy.”
“Is that not what you’re used to?”
“Not at all.” I stood up from the couch and stretched. “I’m used to a frustrating, crazy push-and-pull where everything is a struggle.”
She eyed me suspiciously as she stood from her seated position. “Seems like you need to date a different caliber of women.”
“Yeah, I do...and if anybody asks, I am.” I winked at her. “I’ll pick you up at 4:30.”
