This is not a poignant post. If you are in the mood for some mindless musings, then please read on. I was debating whether to post this or not, but then again, why not. A few weeks ago, I was talking with a friend, over the phone. During that conversation she said “men love bitches”. I don’t know why, but it got me thinking…
… I am sure she didn’t mean it literally. If a guy wants a dog, I don’t think he minds either of the sexes. Honestly, I’d prefer a big male dog. I am a naïve brown kid, but I could still figure out what she meant by “bitch”. It is having certain “traits” men find attractive. I was also not sure if the statement was purely descriptive ( as a scientist describing a natural phenomenon) or prescriptive. If it were prescriptive, I needed to start “loving bitches”…but, who is a bitch?
The geek I am, I turned to Google, Wikipedia, Webster’s and Urban dictionary. None of them were helpful! So I told myself, what better way for a brown kid to learn about it, than immerse himself in popular culture and in conversations with more worldly and savvy people. So every time the universe uttered the word “bitch”, I tuned into that station, eager to unlock this enigma which held the key to my love life. The first time the universe spoke to me was through one of my friends (Sorry, I can’t take names), when he said “she is a bitch”. Enthusiastically I asked him, “Why is she a bitch”? His face turned red and asked me if I was taking her side. I told him, with utmost sincerity, that all I wanted to know was why she is a “bitch”. I didn’t get much out of him other than, “She is a bitch…plain and simple”. After some tactful probing, I learnt she was a bitch because she wouldn’t go out with him. That didn’t make sense, so I turned to rap and country music. I listened intently to both Jay-Z and Hugo singing “ I got 99 problems, and a bitch ain’t one”, but alas couldn’t find any answers there either.
I came to the realization that men are not very articulate beings and I was looking for erudition in the wrong places, so I turned to women. That was tricky business, as I now needed to go behind enemy lines. Like an eager and brave war-reporter I continued my quest. It was an exhausting and taxing quest. Let me tell you, women are really complicated creatures. They deceptively appear to be speaking “English” but in reality are speaking a different and highly nuanced language, way beyond the comprehension of a poor male brain like mine. But, nonetheless, I learnt something, and emerged out of this a bit wiser. She is a bitch… if she doesn’t return your call, if she doesn’t notice your new hair color, if she is cooler then you, if she is prettier than you, if she is your “frenemy”, if she “steals” the boy you had a crush on… well I can go on, but you get the picture. I was confused, but still got the general sense that it is a derogatory term. Just when I was coming to grips with this, the universe spoke again, when I was hanging out at a party. This time it was through a pretty girl, who every guy at the party was gawking at. She walked in, and looked around for her friends. Once she found them, she yelled out “what’s up bitches”, ran towards them and participated in some kind of ritual group hugging and jumping up and down… I was more confused. Now it’s a term of endearment! Still determined to clarify the issue, I went to seek the opinion of a girl I knew, who other girls called a “bitch”. What better way to learn than interviewing a “bitch”! After less than a minute of talking, she stood up with her hands on her hip, looked down at me and said “I am a bitch, and I own it”. Then she started singing, rather passionately, Meredith Brooks song, “I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child…”. Now, it’s a badge of honor!
Well, I think I’ll never totally grasp the complex construct called “bitch”. How can I love a “bitch”, if I don’t know one, when I see one. After this exhausting “bitch-quest”, I still remain confused. A humble request to all my psychology and psychiatry friends, can you please come up with a psychometrically validated instrument to measure “bitichness” to help clueless men like me.