Since an early age I would always try to gather as much information as possible before opening my mouth. This is a result of having parents that called me stupid at every opportune moment, well just always. Best example of this was a few days after I started kindergarten. I was reading the school lunch menu which had a misprint. It stated “comdog” instead of “corndog”. My inability to infer and dictate what was meant and instead reading what was written resulted in my parents laughing at me and telling me I was an idiot for not knowing it was meant to say “corndog”. This lesson taught me to keep my trap shut until I would be 100% positive I wasn’t opening myself up to humiliation.I would only ask questions if there was no possible way for me to figure out through context clues what was being communicated.
I also had a hunger to prove I wasn’t as dumb as my parents would say I was. This resulted in me reading, writing, and learning as many words as I could. The more syllables, the better. I could be a show off and my third grade teacher called me a “know-it-all” (not kindly) in front of the class. As a child I had an obsession with expanding my vocabulary. At age ten I also developed an additional obsession. Michelle Pfeiffer’s catsuit in Batman Returns.
It was pure fascination at first sight. The shininess, the tightness, the contrast between the black latex and the white stitching. This fascination bled into my playtime with Barbie.
I took the black electrical tape from my dad’s toolbox and created outfits with it for all five of my Barbie dolls (actually one Barbie, One Skipper, and three Scary Spice’s). Not only did they each get a unique and shiny, skintight outfit, they had weapons too! Because what hero can do their job without the right tools? So I created a litany of accessories including handcuffs, whips, and masks out of the same electrical tape.
I was so proud of my creations, I brought the dolls into the dining room to show them off to my parents. To her credit, my mother smiled and was encouraging. My dad though....he walked up and started to giggle. “Hey look! It’s Dominatrix Barbie!” He whispered into my mother’s ear. My mom burst into laughter.
Dominatrix? I thought to myself. What the fuck does that mean? I sat there for probably 30 seconds or so looking between them...trying to figure out what was going on. I had never heard that word before in my life and they couldn’t fault me for asking about it! The whispering indicated to me that I was not supposed to catch it but catch it I did and I wanted an explanation.
“What does dominatrix mean?” I asked them. They both looked at me and my dad said, “oh! It’s just another word for superhero.”
Hmmmmm, four syllables and an “x” in the mix? I thought to myself. Whoever hears me use this in replacement of “superhero” is going to be so impressed with me. I vowed to use my newly learned word in a sentence with the next adult I interacted with.
The next day my sister and I were dropped off at our grandmother’s house. I remember sitting at the kitchen table. A paper plate stacked with salami, sliced mozzarella cheese, and crackers. A variety of crayons, markers and color pencils strewn across the table. I was sitting there with my coloring book thinking of how I was going to work “dominatrix” casually into a conversation with my grandmother.
I grabbed some blank construction paper and asked my grandma who her favorite superhero was so I could draw them for her. Much to my chagrin she explained that she doesn’t know much about superheroes and she would prefer a unicorn or Pegasus (she would get a stick up her butt when I drew a single horn on Pegasus by the way). Dominatrix would be used in a sentence by the end of the day so I persisted.
The gist of the conversation went something like this:
“Well...what about...Superman?”
I know Superman!”
“Ah! He’s your favorite then?”
“I don’t have a favorite, I don’t really know much about them.”
“Okay! I’ll draw your favorite!”
Once I was finished drawing Superman I called her over.
“Hey grandma, look! I’m all done with your drawing!”
“It looks very nice!”
“Yep! You see, I drew your favorite superhero, Superman, but now I’m going to draw my favorite dominatrix, Catwoman.”
“What!”
I turned to look at my grandmother’s face. She sounded mad and the look on her face was shock and confusion. That is when I realized...that dominatrix did not mean what I thought it meant. I knew it was bad but I wasn’t sure how bad.
“How did you know that word?...why?...how did you hear?”
“Dad told me dominatrix was another word for superhero.”
She stopped looking mad and confused and then started to laugh...which didn’t make me feel that much better.
”Your dad is a stupid ass, don’t believe anything he says.” She told me.
She asked me to never repeat that word again, especially at school and explained dominatrix was not an okay word to use.
I did learn what dominatrix meant that day as well although I did not understand it. The thing about my grandmother is that she never lied. She was brutally honest and would give the honest answer, appropriate or not as long as the question was asked. She did her best to explain it but I was ten and did not know/understand/want to understand what the fuck I was hearing.
I felt such utter humiliation. There had already been a number of times I had taken my dad’s words with a grain of salt and verified with outside sources on whether he was being honest or not. I always gave him the benefit of the doubt though. He was confused! I would tell myself. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back though.I could have said dominatrix in front of my teacher or Girl Scout troop and what would have happened then!?
FEBRUARY 2021