Being the junior feminist that I was, I was always striving for equality between my brother.
If he was allowed to play sports (which entailed lots of time away from home to practice and hang out with friends, pizza parties and trophies, etc.) then so should I. Nevermind for the love of sports. If he could ride his bike down the street to the corner market for some candy, then I wanted to go too. A huge bone of contention for me was the fact that he was allowed to spend the night at his friend’s house. But I couldn’t! When I questioned why–and you know I did, relentlessly–my mom would just say, because I said so. That frustrated me to no end.
Oh, the injustices of life.
And then the day came when my brother put up a Cindy Crawford calendar that included a picture of her in a thong. Apparently, this was acceptable to my mother and she didn’t say a word about it. Who knows what kind of sick teenage boy activities went on underneath that poor, unsuspecting mole on her upper lip.
In my natural mind, this meant I could hang a poster of my beloved Red Hot Chili Peppers without a hassle. The classic socks on cocks poster. The entire Red Hot Chili Peppers butt naked with nothing else but a sock over their shlong. I bought it at the Electric Chair, the local mecca for cool teenager stuff.
At first, she expressed her disgust over the poster. I pointed out the obvious, “You can’t even see anything! A sock is covering their weenie!” She very calmly told me that I had to remove it because it was inappropriate. Socks on cocks inappropriate for a sixteen-year-old girl?
But you can’t even see anything, was my lament.
Then she told my Nana, who called me a cochina. She lectured me on having posters of naked cochinos on my wall. I rolled my eyes like a teenager is supposed to do. A few days passed. I got a few more warnings. Mom was still calm. Then she laid down the law…if I didn’t remove the poster, she would remove it for me. I knew for a fact that she wasn’t going to take it down and roll it up nice and tight.
Why should I take my poster down if you let Eric keep his up? It is a picture of a woman’s butt. You don’t have a problem with that? Make him take his calendar down, too! It’s not fair.
Me protesting from my soapbox didn’t make a smidge of difference. It was all in vain. All those women burned their bras for nothing.
All those women burned their bras for nothing.
Just put me in a chastity belt, too, ma.
Arrange my marriage, why don’t you.
Order me to walk ten paces behind my man.
My mother might as well of sentenced me to a lifetime of standing in a hot, sweltering kitchen with ten children hanging from my tetas while I roll out dozens after dozens of tortillas.
Okay, so it’s six chil’rens, not ten but did you get the irony? This is all your fault, Mom!
All you had to do was let me bask in the glory of socks on cocks on my bedroom wall.
After so many days of me stubbornly refusing to remove the poster, she marched in and tore it down from the wall. It was in pieces and totally unsalvageable. Sigh. I’m only slightly bitter. Now that I am a mother, I understand where she was coming from. A little. But, there are days like today when I remember. And I will occasionally rail against the injustice committed against me and think about Anthony Kiedis wearing nothing but a tube sock.
Image source: Rolling Stone