When I was in grad school, I took a creative writing class, and for my short story assignment, I wrote about something that happened in my childhood.
I had a classmate my own age who always called me Mommy.
I wasn’t his mommy, nor did I want to be the mommy-figure in his life.
It was a pain in the ass. I was a nice kid, but I didn’t want to be a superheroine or a social worker to some kid.
I was an explorer and an adventurer as much as I was a thinker, a philosopher queen, and an inventor.
Having a kid cling on to the back of my coat all recess long, calling me Mommy cramped my style.
It also cramped my style that my First Grade thought it was a bright idea to use me as a “buffer” in the class, meaning I was stuck in a separated row of students, right in the middle of the class’s naughtiest boys because she thought I would have a “calming” effect on them. The entire class faced the blackboard, but The Row was apart and faced the desks.
With me stuck in the middle. When my mother asked my teacher about it, she gave her reasons.
And right beside me was the boy who called me Mommy. He would hold on to my arm and declared that he loved his mommy, and then the teacher would yell at him and then try to pry him off my arm, and I fell down once because of it.
That is not the way you punish good students.
But the lesson stayed with me.
Young, well-behaved girls get no support and will be repeatedly thrust in baby-sitting roles for enabled boys.
And I wasn’t going to have any of it.
Nor was I ever going to be subservient to anyone.
Because either way, it is always rigged for women to be maids and nannies to a collective at the bottom — or at the top.
But the radical centre is a different story, and the place I decided to create mine.
I do not believe in being a follower. You need courage by entourage, you have problems.
I also do not believe in being a leader. You need courage by entourage, you have problems.
I don’t like to mom people. I deal in truth. I deal in reality. My dreams are my own. My theories are for me to test to see how closely aligned they are to reality.
People do not want to take risks. Part of the reason is mental laziness, part is cowardice, but there is that conniving little part that likes to get things on someone’s else’s work, and you get to ride on the coattails thinking you’re smarter than the genius whose sweat and grit paved a road for you to take.
I am on to you, you worthless little motherfucker.
And not happening.
I do not have a messiah complex.
I have an Alexandra Kitty Complex.
Because I am Alexandra Kitty.
It is reality.
And thats’s what my material.
I make better realities. I have dreams, and I have reality, and I use both.
But I am not a follower, and I am not going to lead people to the promised land.
You make your own map and go there on your on blood, sweat, and tears.
But I will deal with reality here.
Not as a leader or a follower.
But as someone who chases out in front.
And that’s where Chaser will be, from the radical centre…