NEW ROMANTIC

September 14th is my birthday, but I'm not big on birthday celebrations much. Surprise parties stress me out but I do like surprises. However, This past birthday concluded with a surprise that really put a hold on me & a lot of of good people around me.  At the end of the day, I ended up at a place called, THE CABIN. 

A bar called, THE CABIN. 

On 7th Street & Avenue A is where I went after a long, cathartically wonderful and mostly sober day with a lot of great friends (look at God). I went down to Alphabet Street to meet some more friends for a night cap. I enjoyed some stimulating conversation for an hour and then finally made my way inside through to the bar. I am of age. 

It's super crowded here. I move to do that "thing", where you step to the wayside of the bar in order to BREATHE & hopefully be seen by the busy bartender (lets call her Lily for now). And this place was LOUD. NOW. Here comes another busy bar-back bustling through with a box full of beer only to find me blocking his sole entrance to stock the bar behind me. Raise your hand if you've ever been in a spacial awareness jam? #SpaceJam. Here I am.  I do the only thing I can possibly do and step behind the bar quickly to let the bar-back guy in. The split second I do so, Lilly turns to me with a blind rage that I can only liken to Team Iceland from Mighty Ducks 2. "GET HIM THE FUCK OUT OF HERE", she yells. "NO ONE STEPS BEHIND THE BAR!" She continues to lambast me with ad hominem, making remarks calling me a "piece of sh*t" and all kinds of things no one should hear in front of 20 onlooking people cramped up on this bar.  "Mam," I say as I move back to the corner of the bar (now that I have space to do so)," I was just trying to give your coworker space to..." "STFU!! GET THE DOOR MAN!! GET HIM THE F*CK OUT OF MY BAR!!" THE CABIN. 7th Street & Avenue A. She barks these things over and over & over top of me on and on. Chris tries his best to interject, but there's no use. So I stood there. And I stood. And stood. I am grabbed and carried out of the bar. 

Another man, with bodyguard in tow, arrives...

This white man I’ve never seen before in my life... who was never in the bar...yells:

"THIS IS THE GUY! 

THIS IS THE GUY !

GET HIM THE F*CK OUT!"

Another White Man, with VonDutch hat in tow, appears out of thin air and yells: "ANYONE STEPS BEHIND THE BAR & THEY'RE 86'd!!"

THE CABIN: A Place Where People Still Say “86′d” As If ‘Twere 1986. 

Apparently he owned the bar and many other bars that he proceeded to ban me from. I asked him if he really knew what he was condoning by refusing to listen to reason. He could care less. 

Here’s the point. 

I could care less about a drink. I could care less about a party. I could care less about my own birthday even. But what shook me to my core was how quickly and unchallenged I was disregarded, ignored and silenced.

No one listened to me. My word was worthless. 

From Lily (who was drinking on the job), to the bar-back I helped (who idly sat by), to the crowd at the bar (who watched the entire situation in silence), to the man I never met (who accused me of starting a fight), to the owner who called myself and two other POCs he kicked out for separate incidents that night, "attention whores", to the mindless staff members and bodyguards whose blissful ignorance only allowed them to be "just doing their job". 

No one cared. I am not writing this for sympathy nor attention. This is not the first time something like this has happened to me, my family and my friends of color. I just want you to see how racism and classism work together. I just want you to see how whiteness can work as well. My word was completely disregarded and trumped by the inebriated words of older white men and a blonde white woman who abused their privilege in a position of power. They chose to disrespect all human decency and team with their own selfish pride. You can feel It is the same muscle that Carolyn Bryant flexed in 1955 which got Emmett Till murdered by her husband, Roy. 

Does that sound far-fetched to you? 

Does that seem like a stretch to you? 

*ALL MY LOVERS*

FADER PREMIERE

Starchild is the alias of Brooklyn’s Bryndon Cook, a 19-year-old American Apparel employee who has toured as a member of Solange’s backing band and has collaborated with Blood Orange and Chairlift's Patrick Wimberly. He also makes silky pop music by himself; his vibe feels very “NYC 2014,” romantic and nostalgic and a little bit vulnerable. The video for “All My Lovers” shows the wise-beyond-his-years teen hanging around in a series of stylish looks that, Cook says, are visual homages to his key influences: Sade, Prince, Terence Trent D’Arby, Morrissey (he initially suggested releasing the clip tomorrow, on Prince’s 56th birthday). “All My Lovers” is off Starchild’s upcoming project, Crucial—release date TBA.

*TRACKLIST*

1. All My Lovers

2. Slammin' Mannequin

3. Fantasia

4. Relax

5. A Woman's Dress

6. Didn't Mean To Turn You On 

7. Love Interlude

8. New Romantic