Riding the wave to crash on the rocks

Poor Aziz Ansari, what a shitshow. I think he’s a pretty cool cat. Master of None was amazing and I hope there’s a season 3 coming soon. He genuinely seems like a stand-up guy. He’s behind the #metoo movement 100 percent, has written about social commentary on harassment on his show, and generally has been on the level with the agenda of equality. And his stand-up isn’t so bad either. But what’s really bad is this recounting of a date night by this “Grace” person where he was a participant.

Now, I’m going preface this by saying that everyone has a right to feel comfortable in situations they find themselves in of their own volition. Man, woman, Martian; everybody has that basic right. Never will it ever been okay to coerce or force somebody into doing something they don’t want to do out of fear. Not ballin’. The #metoo movement is a long overdue and much needed shake-up of how a lot of people tolerate the “quid pro quo” nature of the workplace and in general. And while I’m under no illusion that women are getting the shit stick in most of these situations, men also find themselves in surly positions as well. But that’s a different story.

Anyway, back to this controversy about Aziz and “Grace” and the lovely writer who shall be referred to as Thirsty Fame Clown because I’m not in the business of giving her or the shitbag site she “writes” for any type of publicity. “Grace,” the subject of the story that has alleged Aziz as someone who may or may not have performed sexual assault, went on a date with our Indian comedian friend. The date, by her retelling, started off alright then became a “nightmare.” The narrative is that sexual assault happened based on what went down, but after reading the full retelling by TFC on the shitty site she works for, it sounds a lot like “Grace” got buyer’s remorse, as Dave Chappelle would say. The grass looked real green, but when homegirl rolled around in it, it felt like sandpaper.

Granted, some of the pushy behavior that was depicted was probably unnecessary from Aziz. That’s fair. He should have read the situation better, but at the same token, when does the responsibility fall upon the person to put their foot down and say “Hey, I’m not feeling this at all,” then leave if the other party doesn’t get it? “Grace” wasn’t too distressed as she let Aziz give her head and then she returned the favor. I don’t care who you are, if you truly feel unsafe and uncomfortable, willingly sucking the dick or eating the pussy of your “sexual assaulter” ruins the validity of that position. On top of that, I’m pretty damn sure they were both inebriated in some fashion and were feeling froggy. It happens. And maybe Aziz was too aggressive for her taste, fine. Let homeboy know firmly instead of half-way stating it. Send mixed signals, get mixed results.

What bugs me the most about this whole ordeal is that it’s disingenuous. Further reports suggest that the writer and the website approached “Grace” for this story happened in September of last year. If this was so traumatic and catastrophic to her well-being, why not come forward earlier if “Grace” felt so slighted. Hmm. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that after that night ended, she and Aziz exchanged text messages with her vaguely stating she was uncomfortable. Aziz apologizes for his behavior and how she felt that way as he probably had no real inkling of any of that in that moment. That sounds pretty fucking squashed to me. So to now come forward with this likely embellished story and claim it has the same severity as the other heinous #metoo scenarios like Weinstein is just about the most selfish thing ever. It’s pure publicity and a ploy to generate page views. Plain and simple. And that crappy site sure as shit got millions of views, believe that.

To make matters worse TFC decides to rail on Ashleigh Banfield because Banfield called TFC on her bullshit as well as the shitty site she works for. An open email to Banfield, who has decades of journalistic experience and integrity, essentially called her a hater and attacked Banfield’s physical appearance in a very ageist way. Totally out of line and out of touch with reality honestly. TFC acted like a child who told a great big story about a mountain, but was called out for embellishing on a molehill then lashed out in a tantrum. The pinnacle of the journalism craft right dere. The audacity to shit on someone who made it possible for TFC to even post her bullshit on the internet is unreal. And with personal insults no less.

Based on those facets of the writer, the story, and the shitty site, I can’t get cosign on this “harrowing” tale about what amounts to a shitty date. If everybody considered similar events in this story sexual assault, the courts would be backed up for eternity. Hell, I could probably come up on some restitution if that’s the case. I’ve had plenty a date where I had to shut shit down before it go out of hand, but I’m not going to crucify these people for validation or fame. And that’s the heart of this whole controversy: trying to squeeze 15 minutes of fame out of a legitimate movement by painting a horny sheep as a rapist wolf. Ridiculous.

I don’t believe these types of people understand the implications of this “crying wolf” behavior. And this is going to be a fairly unpopular stance, but fuck it, this is my domain…literally. As a man, specifically a man of color, this intimacy/dating/platonic shit is already hard enough. Having to be cognizant of how I’m perceived racially and also as a big bad scary man is tiring enough.

With people like TFC stoking these flames of “if a man smiles at you, he wants to rape you” idiocy, I’m fucked. I don’t want it to get to a point where I’m carrying around consent waivers just to talk to the opposite sex. Where women gotta sign-off that it’s cool that I interact with them in any fashion, not just romantically. Because I’m gonna tell you right now, I’ll will marry the shit out of my right hand if it ever gets to the point. It’s not worth it. I’ll spend the two grand on a sex doll and skip the bullshit. Because almost-pussy is better than playing minesweeper with consent and getting labeled as a rapist for asking where the nearest Wendy’s is.

The worst part is that it’s hyper-imbalanced. If a man comes out and says “Yo this woman sexually assaulted me,” to the cops or to a thirsty-ass “journalist” riding this #metoo wave, it’s more likely he’ll be laughed out of the room. And I’m sure this has happened to women too, but on the whole, men don’t get the benefit of the doubt because of these shitty, archaic views on gender roles and societal expectations. These are the same aspects that somehow remove the agency and responsibility from a woman that finds herself in a sexual situation she no longer wants to be a part of. I believe this is what “Grace” fell victim to at the end of the day. Believing that she was powerless to cut the date short and dip. Aziz is fucking 5′ 6″ and at most 140lbs. Homeboy is not jacked, ripped, or menacing. Put on your clothes and bounce girl.

In the story, she vaguely shut the sex down through “non-verbal cues” and while Aziz did try again to initiate, she didn’t explicitly state she wasn’t okay with going all the way. Half-measures, get half-effectiveness people. The way I see it, everybody has pushed the envelope whether or not they want to admit it. We’re still animals at the end of the day and attraction happens between people. I’m not going to make a list of all the women that have made a pass at me in my career, in college, or even when I was teen visiting my mom’s job and then publicly shame them.

Sure, some of it was inappropriate and unwanted, but there was also some that I welcomed. And I’m not innocent. I’ve made passes at various women, but never to the point where I was creepy because that’s not a winning formula. Sure, I’ve made comments out of spite because I’m an asshat and I’ve been called on my shit. I shot my shots and if they told me to fuck off, I’d fuck off. End of story. Unwanted pursuit is the worst thing honestly.

Don’t misunderstand. I’m not condoning this behavior. I’m saying that the shit happens, but what also needs to happen is addressing it and expressing that it’s not cool instead of letting it ride hoping that person doesn’t do it again. Hope is not a plan. Because some people really think it’s okay to talk about a coworker’s dick print or their ass or the clothes they were making their titties really round. Not everyone is cognizant of how these comments may make someone feel (sadly enough). Maybe they’re into that shit themselves. Whatever the case, being silent doesn’t make the shit better. But to sit here and tell people “HEY, DON’T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT THINKING ABOUT THAT PERSON!” is some dumbass shit. Just admire the artwork, be respectful and keep it pushing. It’s not that hard.

I’m not going to sit here and pretend I don’t have chemistry with people. That can’t be helped. What can be helped is being conscious of what you say, how you say it, and making your boundaries clear. I believe when people establish boundaries, it cuts a lot of the bullshit because there’s little gray area in regards to how you should interact with, respond to, and address a person. If I’m crushing on my coworker and she’s obviously not single, I’m not going even entertain the idea exploring that. Probably will dream about it here and there. Might even be feeling some type of way on occasion because that’s just being human and embracing these shitty emotions. But I’ll never act on it.

Sure she might look real good one day or she looking mad cute because she changed something. I might slide an innocuous comment her way, in public, and out of genuine respect. Then leave it at that. I got to express how I was feeling as well as not make things weird as fuck. Why can’t we just admire from afar or spread those good vibes around innocently? Not every compliment has to have an ulterior motive. Being nice shouldn’t have to be transactional.

At any rate, I’m getting real tired of this crusade against expression and the rampant amount of PC culture that’s seeping into everyday interactions. We’re all just moving through life on this flying mud ball trying to figure out what’s the next move. The last thing anyone needs is to clutter their day-to-day with walking on eggshells and hoping their actions, comments, and general existence doesn’t get taken out of context. That’s the fastest way to every dystopian sci-fi flick there is. Being The One would be dope though.