Editor’s note: There’s been a flood of new authors lately and lest you think we’re diluting our mission to favor quantity over quality, let me reassure otherwise. Case in point; our newest author, Tart. In fact, her commentary below pretty much typifies what we at the BackWomb believe in. Read, consider, discuss & learn. Tart indeed.

I used to have long blond hair, immaculately manicured acrylic nails and the right percentage (just a tad) of body muscle. I used to indulge exclusively (no evil desserts here folks) in sexy, slender martinis and limit my swearing to the “S” and “B” words; never the “F” word. I used to wear only stilettos, pastel colors and uncommunicative jewelry (silver and gold are purrrrfect, while leather is deeply troubling).

One night, as I was club-hopping with my loud, giggling group of candy-colored, perfectly tailored, carbon-copy girlfriends, I became incredibly disgusted. I looked around me and saw other, identical groups entering various clubs; but not before checking out each other’s asses and completing mental comparisons. The conclusions to these comparisons, I knew, would later be approved or rejected by various types of candy-colored male groups. As I explored my above-mentioned feeling of nausea, I realized that it had been bubbling inside of me for a long time and that it was just now beginning to boil over.

Then, a scene from the movie Fight Club came to mind. This is the exact moment when my beloved Brad Pitt, dressed in grubby leather and sweaty cotton, explores the question of “our generation’s great struggle”. He comes to the surprisingly accurate conclusion that “our great struggle is with ourselves,” but he doesn’t elaborate (come on, this is Hollywood after all). I’m sure that the answer to this question has many chapters, but one of them interests me enough to cause me to deviate from my usual poetry binge and to actually write “a letter of complaint” to our generation.

Part of “our great struggle” is the incessant need to attain the illusion of social status. Some (a scary majority) enjoy the comfort of attaching themselves to terms like “DJ,” “dancer,” “motorcycle racer,” & “artist” without having actually displayed any legitimate accomplishments in those areas. Some (a scary minority) have truly earned those labels by working their asses off to get to where they are today. Both groups indulge in superficiality because that’s what most easily and efficiently fills the human ego. However, my great problem is not with superficiality (it is already painfully obvious that it is cheap and a sort of joking matter). It is with those people who are fixated with the idea of being associated with labels of “high status,” without actually doing any work or having any real success in achieving these glitzy ideals (comically enough, these people are usually more superficial than the real deals). In this age of quick fixes, fast sex, plastic and replaceable people, what could be better than easily attainable, fake status?

It is not that these people are evil, or deceitful. Most are unaware of the fact that they are lying to themselves. Why? Because there is an entire subculture of these kinds of people. An entire subculture that likes to “pretend” and who supports its members’ illusions (this is why we’ve got to have our bikini contests and Cancun Spring break vacations). It is not enough to tell oneself a lie; it is essential to have that lie be, in turn, validated by others. But what if those others are as unreliable as the originator of the lie?

So who is this subculture? This subculture is a big chunk of our generation. After coming to this realization, my previous admiration for these people turned into scorn. My struggle to “play the game” turned into my hunger to ridicule and poke fun at these people’s pathetic existence. I became perfectly content with being unimpressive to this segment of our dear little society.

One might argue that, in order to come to this realization, you must be “well-read” and/or be given the privilege of a formal education. However, becoming engulfed in this diseased rat race happens to people at all levels of academic evolution. Why? Because we all want to belong, to be liked, to feel superior. Those of us who are concerned with being high achievers tend to compartmentalize when it comes to the two lives we live: the social and the career-related. We believe that our careers deserve quality, careful consideration and, above all, realism. When it comes to our social lives and relationships, however, we tend to slack. Quality in this realm is often unexplored, and honesty with oneself and others is unheard of. We then wonder … why aren’t we happy? We are unhappy because the skewed, so-called “values” of the previously mentioned subculture burrow inside our lives without us noticing. We learn how to mistake superficiality for status, how to become concerned with quantity and how to lie to others and ourselves. Soon, we don’t even know who exactly we are anymore.

So, no. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. It just takes a little insight and skepticism. This a harsh lesson (as all good lessons are) that I once learned. I’ve been smiling ever since.

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