I GO BACK

IT WAS SUGGESTIVE as any banana dance tossed out over the airwaves and fiber cables to smite emboldened egos wrapped around Juneteenth.. a holiday meant to celebrate freedoms gained. That bunch of bananas tied quickly and fashioned into a revealing skirt less a crotch piece and nothing what could cover glazed buttocks made to jounce at the mind's eye but professionally as the dancer sought to humorize bare breasts glued with sequins and fiber... face painted to entice the eye to follow what it would for the minutes frozen in time by memory and film for the future to behold. It was a job. It was a job held and thrust into the mind of those not present upon that day, yet open to the ire of mystery brought to the forefront along with the scriptures read and hammered ... hammered and read until a mental note and verbatim could bring back the reasons of WHY NOT to do such as the featured act set before you. The dancer bared it all and bent butt up to ensure her full emphasis and reap the desired effect guaranteed to have them begging to get one more look at such as that onstage. It was pitched during the sacred days when women and religion were to be something honorable that could collect respect for discretion. Decorum on a job, for a job well done and worth a pittance of pay. Even for one "up in age." The dancer revealing her private parts must need be retired and raising children who could take pride in a discreet manner... for that day and time.

What pulls a woman out from "retirement" to become a display table of stage acts? One should believe it to be a need... desire for acknowledgment as a living breathing being. A being not yetput away to the underground and therefore in need of companionship among the human source. If not ON STAGE baring her soul, what then, can a woman become in her escape to the outside once again? Vaudeville faded to Comic's Row... Stand Up and film where butterflies have no room for circling overhead nor deep within. There is no room for failure for the purpose is to be laughed at. The goal is to be seen as a BAFFOON by the expanse of eyes laid upon the brave soul at centerpoint. It is being FUNNY in a most palatable way, acceptable to mose lenient faiths and customs. It is to stand naked before those hired to judge one's id and frustrations as blared across the open stage into a depth of audience seen and unseen, but sure to remember the innermost secrets shared them in exchange for a demanded fare. It is THE THING TO COME OUT FOR... out from the security of social admiration for having accomplished an old age. Women can handle the jack hammer in retirement... as a joke on those who protested her handling it in her youth. The difference is in knowing that the prospect of performing such a task.. a task set for FOR MEN by MEN requires the tactfullness of adhering to that denotation of MEN... MAN... MALE. She would need a genitalia recognizeable to those who would be her peers on that agenda. She need not approach the job in pantihose and therefore should feel free to tear them off and use them for what would be her co worker's ego. She shoud fashion one of what is needed most... an emblem of male identity. Ascertain it's visibility and it's purpose... after all, it is the EGO SOURCE of her ambition. A return to the working world even if it is only on stage. Pin one on and get out there.. BE WHAT YOU CAN BE out of retirement in a MAN'S WORLD.