I’m Letty. It’s short for Letitia though I’m not Spanish or Mexican. Mom just thought it sounded cool. Her name was Bernice. She married Franklin. I guess I could’ve had it way worse. She might’ve randomly gone through a dictionary of names, changing out a few letters to be clever, leaving me with Keryn.
Side note, I feel sorry for every woman stuck with the name Karen these days.
Pulp Fiction has a scene where Bruce Willis meets Esmeralda Villa Lobos. They introduce one another. He throws out Butch like he’s spitting up something distasteful. She asks what does it mean? He replies I’m American honey, our names don’t mean shit. And that cynicism sums up US society perfectly.
Which is kind of funny if you think about it. There’s this whole national pride we’re expected to have. It bled over from the supposed Greatest Generation (aka World War Two folks) and here we are, second decade of the two thousands, and we’re a bunch of greed addicted assholes who can’t get along.
Every problem the people fought over in Civil War, the civil rights movement, Suffragettes, abolition...none of them have been resolved. Somehow, people think racism is still okay. Men in power try to control women. Alternative lifestyles are treated like they should be hidden like we’re back in the nineteen-fifties where no one talked about ‘that’ person’s kink.
Through the grace of distraction, stress, fear, and euphemism, society is kept placid. They boil over online, raging behind the keyboard with impotent passion. But to actually get out and do something? To put their words to action? It barely happens. And when it does, there aren’t enough citizens involved to make some massive difference.
We live in a time when Nazis feel comfortable marching a protest. How the fuck did that happen? Grandparents and great-grandparents fought a war to get rid of that way of thinking. Then someone thought that the First Amendment extended to hate. And perhaps when such creatures stick to conversation rather than action, it does.
Their words are designed for a single purpose. To insight violence. It may not boil over during the hate speech. That’s not necessarily the purpose. They’re breaking down inhibitions. They’re raping the minds of their followers, conning them into the belief that they are oppressed and have to protect their way of life.
Which turns into I can kill that black person, beat up that transgender girl, attack the girl who looks funny, hang the guy with a turban on his head. The words are strong, the message clear, and the result is the criminal part. But it all starts from brainwashing and a lie that they’re doing something within their rights.
America has been fucked for a long time. Brief rays of hope are the only reason it remains alive. An idealist takes control for a while then some hypocrite wrecks it all, bending every advancement made over a table and treating it to the same sodomy their secret lovers receive. These self-hating, bible thumping whack jobs are little more than instinctual animals.
They thrash about like sharks, always moving, always destroying, shitting out their conquests while looking for more misery to sow. That’s the world I live in. It’s the place I wake up to and navigate. Those of us in a minority group, we have to treat everyday life like we’re at war. Our fight or flight instincts rage all the time, keeping us constantly stressed.
For me, I fall into the realm of double screwed being both a woman and a lesbian. The only time I’m allowed to exist is when I’m on a screen fucking another girl for these perverted shit bags to jerk off to. If I’m not an object, then I serve no purpose. I have to make myself into a special effect to deserve life for three minutes or less.
And God help me if I don’t look like a Victoria’s Secret model. Thin, wearing stockings, heels, lipstick, perfect makeup...if I’m a human being instead of a pornographic fantasy, then again, I serve no purpose. Women suffer this when they don’t mind cocks slipping into them. When we’re not interested, we’d better like the spotlight.
Yeah, this may not be the sunniest introduction but we’re not in a sunny place. This world, this society is built upon the notion that Greed is God, taboo can only be enjoyed by the powerful, and if you defy the powers that be, you are the enemy. That’s kind of the theme of this story.
Letty’s life is simple. She wakes up, hopes it isn’t her day to be violated in some way, constantly worries, exists behind enemy lines, then goes back to sleep. I don’t know why I referred to myself in the third person. I guess I’m fucked up. Who wouldn’t be given what we deal with?
I’m alive. Whether that was an accident or fate, whether I should be here or not, whether my sexual orientation matters or doesn’t, I’m here. I am the thing that the rich and powerful want contained. I’m a disease that children shouldn’t know about. I’m a monster meant for late night TV and Pornhub.
But I’ve observed things. Like the prisoner chained up in public square, I’ve seen the dirty secrets and the darkness. I know how to fix it. Living as an outsider gives me the advantage of never getting too close to the problem to fully accept it. I’m nihilistic, I’m angry, I despise what I see but I’m also honest to a fault and often feel like I’ve got nothing to lose.
Welcome to the nightmare. If you want to stay, you’re more than welcome. I say things that are fucked up. I don’t hold back. I’m just as cruel to myself as I am to the society that wants me dead. Spend time with me and I might make you think. Even if you only walk away with the notion that I’m insane, at least I left an impression.