naïveté

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naïveté [na·ive·té / nīˌēv(ə)ˈtā] noun: being oblivious to what will happen to a young man when you place one specific unbothered and unaware black woman in a red dress at work (at a college).

T

this is. just as good a start as any. It's not the actual start, but it's a start. It's the start that actually counts for something. As many of my starts will have it, they tend to begin with me in the middle then I recognize the beginning when I'm almost at the end. Since I like you, i'll put them in order this time. 

It's my dream dammit! #LetMeLiveAbundantly #IDontWakeUpLikeThis

Start? I got up and put on a red dress. Then I went to work. That's pretty much it. No agenda. No special commemoration of anything. No intention other than to be professionally dressed for the work day. I made my way through the maze of my email. Journeyed here and there about the campus. Ate a meal in the dining hall. Caught up with colleagues in between tasks. Then finally made my way home. I exchanged that nameless red dress for stolen UCLA Football Adidas sweat pants #ThanksTab #OrSean #OrCraig #MaybeAkil *looks on the tag on the back of the sweat pants* #WhosePantsAreTheseAnyway?... The day began and ended like many work days. And I never thought of it again. 

Middle. Until I had to think about it again. A man in uniform, with which I shared many a duty night, informed me that I should have known what I was doing when I wore that red dress. I should have been aware of what emotions were being stirred up in others. Actually, I knew very well what I was doing *he says* - that's what I did it o_0?? Apparently, *and this was news to me* I was supposed to know better than that. I was supposed to know that people would notice me.

What red dress are you talking about anyway? I don’t even own that much red stuff in my closet as a matter of fact. I’m not even sure the color looks good on me. All I know is, I passed by you in that red dress. It’s been on my mind ever since.

A brown curvy (in every place) body adorned in a red dress. Look. Linger. Lust. Love. We chuckled about it and went about our night on call. Being on call has a profound way of interrupting my most awkward moments at precisely the right time. It’s a saving grace that has been with me since my RA¹ days. Bless God for that duty call! Somebody better say Amen! Wait…what were we talking about? 

The dress. Well, he wasn't the only person who saw me in that dress. Two young me on their way to some undergraduate shenanigan noticed me on my work journey and mentally bookmarked that frame. When they got the opportunity, they wasted no time to inform me of the dastardly deed I'd done walking around a college campus dressed like that. Not that they were upset about it or anything. They just wanted to make sure that someone put me on notice for it.

End. I have always been completely oblivious of the being that I am, the body I inhabit and how they collectively, with no regard for any particular thing, traverse the world. I honestly, seriously, believe that nobody is checking for me. Because, why? Exactly. Then there are moments like these, where a conversation reflects just what I've done. I finally face the mirror. I marvel in awe. Then, like Drew on the night of her 31st date, I go to sleep to wake up for the 32nd like nothing ever happened.  

That day a young man (young men, but...) was attempting to get my attention by directly communicating with me. And all the while I could not even fathom the possibility that those words could mean anything else. Especially in the context of me.

¹RA: Resident Assistant – that job you get when you go to school in Los Angeles and your Daddie tells you that your only option is to live on campus.  

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