So I had an orientation of sorts, at a new work place, brought upon by a career pivot.
I uncharacteristically chose to sit down at the front row. Three other brown women were seated to my left.
We broke the ice and got to talking.
To preface the next part of this anecdote, there were enough brown men within this new hire (surprisingly, considering the country I am a citizen of), to have formed groups of them within this single orientation session.
This brought me back to a point in time when I was amongst brown men and I'd hear casual derogatory comments about men like "me". Men who hang out with women and are thus, labelled one of two things;
Horny and being in women's company tickles his pickle.
OR, a faggot.
Even if none of those presumably cis-het men thought one of the two of me, an itch of male patriarchal validation, needing to be scratched, bubbled up. A vile, dogshit, putrid thought that, I, was less than, for associating with women; rather than men.
My uncles' casual sexist comments of "why aren't you playing with the boys".
My aunties' casual insult of, "this fella hanging out in the kitchen like a girl only".
Some creepy relative men asking me if I do, in fact, "have guy friends".
Some former acquaintances, men of course, asking me if I ever "hang out with other guys".
All these vicious, venomous comments from the past crept up and hovered over me
(because the past isn't so easy to shed and can form future biases; case in point, this anecdote).
For a second, it felt like an eternity of shame washed over me for associating with women.
Had I not grown past this?
From which pit of foul, despicable, corner of my subconscious is this coming from?
I had to catch myself!
Something I haven't had to do in a while.
When the shame settled, pride took over.
I am in the company of BROWN WOMEN!
I am EXACTLY where I need to be!!!
For as long as I am here, I shan't ever associate with men, unless absolutely necessary or unless they're gay (and open about it) or sissies that I aspire to openly be!