Boomerang

I first learned of the “boomerang” bus on my way home from the Easter Vigil in April.  It was quite a juxtaposition to be in my church attire and waiting for the Circulator to head to a café for a late night of paper writing when a converted school bus pulled up and 20+ overly-hyped men danced out of Lima and into the rocking...converted school bus.  Doesn't it feel a little creepy to be gyrating in a bus that was transporting school children in the not-so-distant past and is now retiring into a life of partying?  It was a pretty gross scene -- at least somewhat laughable -- and if I hadn’t been there with a male friend it would have been far less funny than I found it at the time.   

I was reminded of the Boomerang when I was driving to a friend’s place this weekend and one passed in front of me at 14^th and Franklin NE around 7:30 p.m….  Given the time of day, the fact that the bus was empty when it passed (i.e. on its way to pick up passengers), and that it was headed East on Franklin, It makes me wonder if this was the same bus that was shot at hours later in the madrugada.  Curiously enough, the “party bus” company has managed to keep its name out of the papers. I’m interested to know how that happened…although, the story is probably not very interesting at all.  I’m sure it was a simple monetary exchange, which is the tragically true and sickeningly boring nature of this story that gets traced back all the way to…drum roll…I bet you’ll never guess…a powerful male politician!  What an unlikely story line.

I was asked a few weeks ago if I’ve ever been to a strip club, and the answer is no.  I have yet to hear any stories about subverting patriarchy when strip clubs are involved, which is the only reason I would be inclined to explore them.  It really actually makes me feel sad to hear stories like this.  I’m surprised that I’m not outraged – a feeling I am well-accustomed to -- as you all know.   The sadness at this story stems not from some prudish understanding of nudity or reductive views of feminism, but rather the actual place itself and the whole mood of purely objectified desire that it embodies.  I’ve been in enough night clubs with underwear-clad pole dancers to know I’m not likely to feel more enlightened by a trip to the Stadium Club or the Camelot.  And, of course, the strip club is called out, but the “party bus” company has been able to keep its name out of the papers and referred to instead as “party bus” in quotes…as if the term is not as emphatic as it means to be.  Of course those naked women are to blame first and foremost for getting men all hot and bothered, the rest of the people making money off of women's bodies -- i.e. the party bus -- don't even get an honorable mention.

As is often (somewhat uncannily) the case, it seems like this week’s class readings also relate to this topic. Toni Morrison’s book Love, which is this week’s class reading, explores issues of sex, adultery, prostitution, and relationships (among others, of course…it is Toni Morrison!) and tells a story of “emotionally unprotected adults."  She opens the novel with this, “Before women agreed to spread in public, there used to be secrets – some to hold, some to tell.  Now?  No.  Barefaced being the order of the day, I hum.”  Bare bottomed or barefaced…it seems that all of these definitions relate back to shame. But are women supposed to bare this shame?

In Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison warned of boomerangs, telling us to “keep a steel helmet handy.”  I supposed we can add a bullet proof vest to that advice as well.