For the greater part of my existence I have been leading the life of a circumstantial chameleon. I have excelled in the art of social adaptation by becoming a different person according to my surroundings. When in the company of the general public I'm outspoken and unapologetic. With more familiar company I am equally fiery just with a lighter heart and a calmer spirit. With my family (namely my mother)... the brizzle most of you know that doesn't really give a fuck about what she says, is much more reserved and measured with her words. I'm not a fan of that particular shade of Deanna, nor am I proud of her, but this is what I must do. It would be disrespectful to be as brash and crude in the presence of my "elders", so out of respect and a need for peace in my environment, I have maintained a subdued persona for the duration of my stay with them.
While I have been successful in my shape-shifting in the quiet of these suburban walls, I have found that when venturing beyond them I'm still not safe from the judgement within. In coming face to face with that reality after running from it for upwards of 25 years, I have collided with the conclusion that the real Deanna will find me wherever I may lay. She found me this morning at approximately 7:03AM when my mother came in my room to scold me for being "an angry, bitter, vulgar, ignorant racist" after Googling me and stumbling upon my unlocked Twitter page. (Yes, my mother Googled me, my sister and her niece and nephew.) As for her assertions I'd be lying if I didn't say I had my objections to them. Vulgar? I'll most def take that charge. Ignorant? I guess we all are on our own terms, so who am I to escape the remark? Angry? Yes. Quite and violent too. Bitter? Don't even know how that's supposed to feel really so I can't claim it. Racist? Naw. Not really. Especially since her characterization comes from the fact that I used the word "nigga" in quite general terms with no direction at any particular party, I think she may have missed the mark on that one.
Nonetheless, she is entitled to her opinions about me and my character--possibly more so than anyone else. I just hope she realizes that when I leave the next time, whatever Deanna she has come to know will be gone for good. I enjoy being me too much to have to hide it from anybody, even moms. She may not like Deanna but I love every drop of that bitch. I love all the political incorrectness, the drinkin', the cussin', the "Ya'll niggas don't have to fuck wit me cause I'm one deep" outlook, the idiosyncratic feminism, the hard-partying, the hard-working, the big dreaming, the bluntness, the crassness, the verbosity, the vivacity, the tenacity, the bawdiness, the cynicism, the loyalty, the intensity, the impulse, the good, the bad and the ugly.
And bitch I betcha you ain't neva seen another one like it...