stupid people like that
May 9, 2010 § 2 Comments
so a couple of nights ago, a friend, aka soldier boy, an egyptian, and i were deciding where to go out for the night. i suggested hitting this club, africana, that i have been to and he hadnt. he didnt seem very keen on the idea. and really wanted to go to this villa party where his ‘friends’ would be.
but, since the villa party was expensive, he said okay to africana.
me: oh. fyi. im taking habibi’s phone rather than mine.so call me on his number.
soldier boy: why arent you taking your phone?
me: its a really nice phone, and i dont want anything to happen to it. habibi’s phone is a lot cheaper. (this is true. my phone has internet connection and video, while habibi’s is basic.)
soldier boy: oh, is this the kind of place w/ stupid people like that. (i cant record the contemptuous tone of his voice. or the snarl. just imagine)
me: what? ok. i’ll talk to you later. yeah….
i hang up. the convo having been a major buzz kill. pre-game to relax. turn on youtube and dance around to 90s hip hop vidoes. finally get downtown to meet soldier boy.
after a heated conversation, and an exchange of ben harper lyrics, we decide to go to the villa party instead. his ‘kind of people’. house music. champagne. vip list. in the richy rich part of town. fine. i dont give a fuck anymore, im determined to have a good time no matter what.
soldier boy’s friend, baldie, picks us up. we ride around for an hour or so looking for the villa party. find out it doesnt exist. beavis and butthead convo in arabic ensues and finally baldie drives to africana club. outside the club, the bouncers are breaking up a fight. soldier boy shakes his head–he doesnt want to be around these kind of people. baldie is saying we should go in. soldier boy is pouting, wants just go to a quiet bar instead. baldie drives in circles, until soldier boy finally agrees to go to africana, with a look that says that this is all so beneath him.
we get in. i love africana. dance floor is packed. boys are giving me the one-two-three. girls are giving me the four-five-six. tank tops, short shorts, eyebrows waxed, brown skin shining. girls are working it. and working girls are on it. boys in clean white sneakers and matching caps. old school on the speakers. take me to a hip hop club anywhere in the world and i am home.
spend the next couple of hours, dancing, drinking, laughing, loving it. baldie seems to be having a good time. soldier boy is still acting superior to everything and everyone around him. these are the stupid kind of people he has spent his life trying to avoid. he sees himself as being among the elite. i dont know if he has ever been in a room full of black folks from around the continent having a good time. i dont know if he has ever been in a room full of black folks. period.
when i told him i wanted to move to ethiopia, he said, no he had already lived in egypt, he didnt need more of that shit, he wanted to go to south africa. my reply: what? the country has to be colonized by europeans in order for you to visit?
these are my people. i am one of the stupid people like that. black skin, black moves, black hips, black music, black love. id rather be here than in some villa, sipping champagne, bobbing my head, showing off my status symbol phone and trying to look as european/imperial as possible to prove that i am vip.
here i have nothing to prove. here i am beautiful because i am here because i am beautiful.
about 20 mins before the club closes, i am standing next to soldier boy and watching a girl dancing who is live. her dance is that pure joy dance of the end of the night, i dont know if you know what i mean, but it reminds me of the kind of dancing in malcolm x movie savoy ballroom scene. all legs and arms, and head tossed back and her partner is right there with her inside the rhythm. she is wearing short jean shorts and a white tank top. and she is heat and speed and control and laughter and singing. she is africana.
me: i love her style. just look at her. she is owning it.
and soldier boy actually smiles for the first time in hours.
and i watch him relax. and see that this is not about ‘stupid people’ like this or like that. her outfit didnt cost more than 10 dollars (and neither did mine), she aint going to ibiza this summer, or rome, or nyc. it doesnt matter what she does for a living, or who she is going home with tonight, or whether or not she will make money from being able to swing her hips in the dark.
she is beautiful enough to enjoy her moment and rich enough to own the music.
and smart enough to know that africa is home.