TheBanyanTree: Sistahood

[Maria Gibson]

I have always loved spending quality time with other girls.  When it's 
ladies only, we tend to let our hair down and just be the goofy, crazy 
gals we were meant to be.  Girls share, God we share.  We share lives in 
such intimate detail and trust one another not to tell.  It doesn't 
matter how many people *I* choose to tell my secret to, when I tell it 
to another girl I expect her to lock it up in the vault and to face 
death with it tightly encased behind her closed lips.  If the situation 
should arise, of course.  Rarely does it get that dramatic.  Although, 
with us, drama is a huge part of who we are.  I love that, too.

My favorite friends are the ones I can hug at will.  Even when we see 
one another every day, a hug upon meeting can be especially rewarding 
because I am genuinely so happy to see her even if it's again.  My heart 
threatens to leave my chest and cuddle up next to her's, telling more 
secrets.  Girls are comfortable and warm, arms encircling, mouths warmly 
close to anticipating ears.  Girls are great.

I've met a girl who turned my head.  She is absolutely beautiful and 
funny.  The first time I was in a group with her I was pretty close to 
smitten, as close as one gal can be for another without it turning 
weird.  She was as physically engaging as I am and that has never 
happened before; usually I am more touchy and huggy than anyone else but 
this time the other person met me touch for touch.  Her sparkling eyes 
snapped with humor and she got me and I got her.  It was a lot of fun as 
four of us sat around talking sex (what else) and men.  We talked kids 
and homes and then back to sex and men.  Girls like to talk sex.

The second time I was with her, I discovered something I'd seen the 
first time and just ignored.  My beautiful friend hates men.  She hates 
men to such a bitter degree that she pretends to love them in order to 
suck them in so she can hate them with a closer proximity.  I should 
have acknowledged what it meant when she stood behind me whispering to 
stick out my beautiful bosom as she slid her arms around me from behind 
and started a slow sway.  As she predicted, the men were quite taken 
with the spectacle.  For me, a spectacle that was funny and warm and 
sensuous.  For her, a weapon.  Something to show me I could make them 
want me with just a few choice moves.  I ignored her words at that 
moment, her voice warm as honey in my ear, her ugly words saying how 
stupid they were and what we could make them do if we wanted them to.  
She manipulated them as a fine puppet master would and I was her 
string.  I think I'm pissed off at her. 

I love men.  I have a great regard and respect for them as human 
beings.  I have a fine regard for them physically, loving their shapes 
and physiques, their boldness and lust.  Men smell good even when they 
smell bad.  Their voices boom and they swagger when the females are 
around.  My heart melts when a man smiles or cries and it is then that I 
could just crawl in and never come out.  I have had a few chances to be 
the lone girl in a group of men and they change just as women do in a 
group.  The fewer girls around, the more different they become and it is 
heaven to be there.  I want to hear what they're thinking for real.  I 
want to see how they interact when they aren't worried about impressing 
us.  I want to see them with their hair down in all their glory, in 
whatever capacity that glory is.  Even the things that irritate me leave 
a fond feeling in my heart for males.  I love men.

So, I'm at war with myself.  For as much as I adore the males and 
everything about them, I  felt that adoration for my new friend.  I know 
I can't stick with her, however, if she can't stop her man hating and I 
know she won't.  It is ingrained in her.  Like a beast hunting she looks 
for the weakness, the love of women, the need for a female.  She can 
smell a man wanting a woman and then she is in there making him want her 
just so she can shoot him down with a cold blooded lust.  It hurts me 
that this girl, so awesomely beautiful and intelligent, so warm and 
sensuous, could be so horrible.  My love and respect for men won't allow 
me to watch her whittle them down to a nub again, be party to the 
devastation just by being there.  I'll be forced to stand and say that I 
don't like it.  This will not endear me to anyone, even the women who 
would agree with me.  Because of girl code.  But I won't be able to 
stand by, either.  This is going to be hard because before I was aware 
of this thing about her that I can't abide by, I loved her for 
everything else.

I am aware of the faults of females, of the ugliness we can display.  
I've just never seen it administered with such a venomous finesse 
before.  It hurts, this ugly war with myself.  I won't be a winner in 
any way except to know that I stood for what I believe but the ones for 
which I stood won't ever even know I did it or what I sacrificed.  It 
will have to be enough to know I did it for all the right reasons.  I'll 
do it to keep true the fondness and love I have for men, for the awesome 
respect I have for them.  I'll do it to be true to myself and what I 
believe.


It'll have to be enough.

Maria