A Lesson from Ann Coulter

Photo: Gage Skidmore courtesy Flickr

I'm not some black woman who wants to rock blonde hair and blue eyes.  I could buy those and wear 'em if I wanted to look like a total nutcase. But looks aside, I'd love to be a little more like Ann Coulter.

I said it.

I do.

I’m not going to call her names, and I completely understand that she says things that are inaccurate, insensitive, and downright hateful.  Simply because she can.  She has a platform and the more hateful her verbal-spew the more attention she gets.

So why aside from the fact that I would probably run through four lanes of heavy traffic to be in the spotlight would I want to be like this viper woman?

Because she says what she means.  Without apology. If you don’t like it, tough titties.  

Maybe it would surprise us all to know that every night Ms. Coulter sits at her kitchen table stuffing her hurt with cupcakes and wine, tearing at her golden tresses, wondering “WHY COULDN’T I HAVE GIVEN A MORE NUANCED OPINION?!  WHY AM I SO MISUNDERSTOOD?!  WHY DO THEY HATE ME SOOOOOOOOO?!!!!!”

As if.  The woman is a human Honey Badger.  She don’t give a shit. 

Ann Coulter would not let herself be patronized by a fellow parent, seethe inwardly, then go home and self-medicate via blogging.  She’d have the guy’s junk running down the street in a squirrel’s mouth.  When she catches heat for something, she defends herself to the death, turning the tables on her detractors for their stupidity and hypocrisy. 

Maddening, yet masterful.

By now you are saying, “Keesha, Keesha, Keesha. First of all, she does care what people think. Why else would she look like a Barbie doll? Furthermore, you don’t want to be nasty like that!  You are empathetic and a good compromiser!  That’s what makes you you!  You see both sides of an issue.  You care what people think.”

The thing is, Ann has separated being pretty from being liked.  She is not afraid to be the dreaded bitch.  Like many women, I care way, way too much about how people see me.  And dancing, as much as I love it, hasn’t helped.  Trying to gain the attention and admiration of teachers, choreographers and casting directors.  Trying not to offend.  Trying to get myself to believe the skinny mirror.  And not to believe the fat one.  My reflection, my review, and the applause (or lack thereof) have often defined my self-image. 

Defined everything. 

So, no, no, no, I’m not saying want to be a ruthless racist, homophobic, elitist, hyper-conservative harpy (Did I say no name calling? Sorreeee...)  But, Annie, despite the fact you have said so many things I despise, I am in awe of you.  You are no one’s doormat.  You are not there to make nice.  Help the rest of us who over-care what others think reach at least the cavalier middle. Teach a course.  Design some pills.  Next time I get a negative comment, or get stepped on by someone I have to see regularly,  I really, really want to be able to get my Ann Coulter on.

Or Honey Badger.  Same diff.