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recalcitrance
Her doctor was visibly uncomfortable, as many people were when she spoke to them directly.
pleased with the growing gap between breast and bra.
and cringed at this microsecond of mental laziness that made her feel like a white person.
human panopticon,
And so Vivian responded with a lecture, arguing that whenever women evaluated each other’s appearance—whether “her ashy elbows,” or “her perfect bikini body”—they were committing moral crimes, participating in the disciplinary project of controlling women’s bodies. These comments, though seemingly harmless in themselves, were corrosive to womankind in the aggregate, as they contributed to women equating their social value with their bodies, leading them to confuse a smooth, toned, dimpleless exterior with inner perfection, purity, or worthiness of love. But this was a fallacy, ergo, by making
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She’d studied Paula’s body and felt better about herself for being smaller, by about ten pounds, she guessed, with a more attractive silhouette.
The only things more oppressive than the eyes of an insecure woman were the eyes of an undesired man.
Vivian gripped her phone and imagined the man spontaneously combusting.
Vivian so resented men in these moments, lacking in spatial empathy, never having had to learn to lessen themselves,
Vivian saw how over time the older girl would internalize her mother’s contempt, treating herself with brutality whenever any needs surfaced. But by then, the memory of her mother’s loathing having receded, she would be unable to locate its source. It would just seem as if she were “like that.”
Vivian didn’t need therapy.
The shelves were encrusted with egg yolks and the debris from various spills—coffee, takeout leaks—that she never cleaned up.
Did filial obligation extend to a relationship so degraded?
He had a boyish face that looked like the person behind it hadn’t experienced anything bad or, if he had, he had metabolized it quickly, and his smile broadcast “carefree” and “love of life.”
But these were just surface details, and she wouldn’t want to share them with a white person without placing them in a rich sociohistorical context (redlining, the clustering of alcohol purveyors in Black neighborhoods, masculinity displays, et cetera).
because she’d be shamed for taking things the wrong way, for having no sense of humor, for being antisocial and thinking you’re better than us with your white words and phrases;
The shape of her butt made her sad but because her waist was getting smaller it formed a pleasant silhouette that many men found attractive and that made a certain kind of woman jealous.
Vivian you only get one mother and I could be gone any day now. Call me.
But then, the chorus of guilt: If I don’t respond to their texts, am I bad? If I never speak to any of them again, is that wrong? Under what conditions would it not be wrong? Have they done enough for me to justify never speaking to them again?
“Remember how you joked that you needed a boyfriend to get you through finals? Well, you got one, and I never saw you after. And I always just thought,” Jane continued, “if you need a guy to feel stable, just say you need a guy to feel stable. But don’t act like some radical feminist.”
He was clearly attracted to her without being showy about it.
He pulled her back on top of him and asked her what she wanted. What Vivian wanted was for no man to ever ask that question, and instead to just do what he wanted within certain parameters so that she could then find a way to come, wait for it to be over, or object. She couldn’t generate ideas of what to do in sex, only opinions on what was being done to her.
Vivian wasn’t exactly happy for Cristina and David, or for anyone else. She kind of couldn’t believe it was actually going forward, and a wedding was the literal last place she wanted to be. But the prospect of Elliott’s returning attention gave her a sense of renewed hope.
But she began to notice a pattern: whenever she danced near Elliott, he would dance away to another section, or leave the dance floor altogether. It’s his passion for me, she told herself. It’s too strong.
