I am a bitch. I admit it. I hereby own my true identity. Yes, I am the bitch who will call the authorities when a neighbour turns the street in front of my house into a dirty, noisy, dangerous bush mechanic operation, I am the bitch who believes in the laws in place that protect me and my family from this kind of assault. I am the new Bahamian woman in the hood who is no longer willing to suffer silently while patriarchy’s soulless men run amok and ruin our world. I will no longer fall for that bullshit a man gives me about how he is looking after me when really he is trying to amass more power over me, subtly threatening me, trying to remind me that being a woman I am weak and in need of his his authority, that if I challenge him and piss him off then he will remove his supposed protection and I will be in danger. (“Handmaid, if you dare challenge me you will surely die.”) My beloved bitchery will no longer allow me to step passively back and forfeit my right to affect change and justice and equality in our neighbourhood. Once a bitch, woman cannot ever again agree to have nothing to say or do with the creation of culture and community.
Call me supreme bitch of the universe. Because I am the woman in the hood who will yell at you if you speed your car through my childhood road. And I will call the police when busses are illegally barreling through on a shortcut causing me to have to pull off the road so that I don’t get hit. If the police don’t come I will call them again and again until they do. I’ll do this bitchy thing for the sake and safety of our son and all the children who play in the area. If I do not call, if I do not act, then I become the victim. Having reclaimed my right to choose, I choose Bitchdom over victimhood. I will not resign myself to the tyranny the way my mother did, I do not have to in the way she had to.
Yes I am a bitch, a witch, a wild woman pushing when you tell me that your god plans to destroy the earth anyway, so it doesn’t matter if you throw garbage in the street or decimate the bush or cover the last remaining wetlands on New Providence with cement and a thousand mansions that no one lives in. Yes I am in vehement disagreement with you when you tell me or tell a stranger that I have no grace about me. I will not allow you (as of this day) to judge me graceful or not, I will not desist when I know the roses are begging for pruning, I’ll prune them, and come summer when the windows are full of roses I will remember the value of my womanish will, I will look at my hands and see them for strong things. And like all good bitches, ie awakened daughters of the Great Earth Mother, I understand that too much niceness and politeness and smiling lady like agreeableness can put my life in freaking danger man.