Paris is Burning I--Overture

Dressed to the nine for the ball on 145^th Street

Runway down without turning back

Gold trophies glistened at the end of tunnel

Comments and catcalls fiercely mixed and maxed

Honey, time to strike a pose 

When you bent over, hard to tell if you were a pimp or whore

mother or son/executive or secretary/president or soldier

REALNESS—Blending in with your straight counterparts, you erased all the flaws, mistakes, giveaways to make your illusion perfect. 

In those overextending and overbearing hours of vogue

You created a Legendary, a status in the ball, a household name for yourself

Ruffled feathers and flowing chiffons could only reveal—

The queen of the night had her grace on the house

O-P-U-L-E-N-C-E

You own everything

Everything is yours.

Paris is Burning II--Main Act

What did we see in the ball?

Chin up, lips pout, you proudly announced your name:

House of Xtravaganza, Overness, Pendavis, Saint Laurent, Dupree, Adonis, LaMay

Mother of the House made her name by opening wide her white mink coat to shelter clueless, listless, homeless waifs

let them find some warmth under her coat’s silver lining

Liz Taylor was famous, so was Mother Pepper LaBeija

What did we tell in the ball?  Butch queen in drag first time at the ball?

Reading came first: flirt with passive aggressiveness, simmer a pot of anger

Shade later arrived to knock frienemies out, get’em anyway, hit’em below the belt—

“I don’t have to tell you’re ugly, but I don’t have to tell you because you know you’re ugly. [1] 

But never punch a girl on her nose

Nor drag a bitch’s hair to mop the floor

Houses were street gangs

Competitions morphed into war

We popped, spinned, dipped, and vogued.

High. Physical High. Seductive High. Addictive High

Good Vibe

Dance moves crafted honorable and stylish battles

Two hands squaring cheekbones marked an eternal close-up—we were always ready

 

Who did we want to be in the ball?

Judges might pull their 10s to work ego boost for us

Outside the auditorium, we knew we could never vogue like Naomi or Paulina

Fabulous extravaganza and movable feast ninja

were mirages everyone stared at, attracted to, hardly lived on

 

REALNESS—Life on the piers in West Chelsea was to live and learn

Clients satisfied with our petit bones, licked our silky skin

Wined and dinned for us acting demure

But be careful—

Never let those dirty fingernails move down and dig; they always freaked out afterwards; beat us up

And we had to jump off to fire escapes. Forgot the 40 bucks left behind.

 

Nobody was really protected

Mother could only put on her mascara and hoped for the best

 

Only in the ball could we laugh our vaginas off

With push-up bras, bruise proof purple eye shadows, and right-sided buttons---

We were at wonderland, nurtured and worshipped like nobody’s business

The ballroom told us we were somebody

Until nasty bastards strangled us to death and hid our body under the mattress in some dingy hotel at West Chelsea—

for FOUR days

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[1] From the movie

Paris is Burning III--Epilogue: A Manifesto

This is White America

And living is burning

Queen of the Night eventually pales

A title like this can’t really do shit except continues to ferment our defunct yet endless self-indulgence.

The ballroom told us we were somebody

And burning is dreaming:

 “I want to be fragilely beautiful like those Vogue models arching their twig backs and waited to be plucked by some trust fund suave boys”.

“I want to be wholeheartedly excited at my future like every 20-year-old white client I serve, to expect an upward ladder venture in any career, with only frat recklessness to worry about”.

“I want Louis Vuitton quality environment with no one cursing me freak or monster, forcing me to suck their dicks without pay, nor beating me with their bats, knives, and guns in the name of god’s will”.

“I want perfect cut diamond solid relationship with a man who loves me no matter what stage my operation is : he can put his fingers between my legs , feels that little remnant, and still wants to come at me”.

“I want a world of luxury where countless designer clothes, handbags, cosmetics, jewelries, travel trips…… cascade and flood to purge my memory …… everything, to my complete oblivion “.

“I want to have it ALL for myself; feel natural and naturally happy”.

And dreaming was promising—

I want to be

I want to have

I want so much more

This is what I want 

“When it comes to minority, We as people, for the past 400 years, is the greatest example of behavior modification in the history of civilization, We have had everything taken away from us, and yet we have all learned how to survive. That’s why in the ballroom circuit, it is so obvious that if you have captured the great white way of living or looking or dressing or speaking, YOU IS A MARVAL”. [1]

This is White America.

 

 

 

 

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[1] Direct quote from the movie