Let Me Rest, N!gga!
Men Who Try to Wear Me Down Into Their Clutches
“You radiate inner-peace” he said.
Last weekend, I was moseying around an African Culture Festival looking for food, when a tall, handsome black gentleman turned around to get my attention.
“Excuse me” he said, stopping me in my tracks.
I felt that familiar tug on my energy that I always feel when random men try to speak to me in public, multiple times a day.
Here we go again.
He wore a camera around his neck, so I assumed that maybe, he was the event photographer and wanted to take my photo.
“I just wanted to tell you that you have a very beautiful aura,” he gently said.
I was flattered. I do have a beautiful aura, and I appreciated the recognition.
“Oh, thank you!” I said. And of course, he didn’t just want to tell me about my aura…there was so much more.
“What’s Your Name?” he asked.
Now, there’s something very skeevy about men asking for my name upfront. And it’s through these sorts of interactions with men that I’ve come to realize how personal my name really is. It’s not so much that I think they’ll use my name to stalk me, the way they did when I worked as a webcam model.
It’s because, my name is for introductions with people I want to know. Often, in a really good conversation, names will be the last thing I exchange with someone because we were so busy connecting that we forgot about that part. But with men on the street, it’s often the first thing they ask for.
And it’s funny because they never offer their name first, they just ask for mine. It already feels like an intrusion and a demand for exposure of personal information that hasn’t been earned naturally.
But although I felt a bit annoyed, I was at ease. This guy had a very calm vibe, I felt safe, and I was in a good mood, open to socializing.