#tk matunda

Y’all. 

It’s true that thirst knows no borders, and there are thirst-buckets all over the world. And we got to witness some of that international thirst in person for the first time — in Toronto!

Yes! We were invited to do a live show at the Hot Docs Podcast Festival, and we packed a bag and two (2) spray bottles and flew over and it was L I T. But don’t take just our word for it; look what cohost of ESPN’s 30 For 30 podcast, Jody Avirgan, said about our live show:

Keith Romer, his cohost, agreed. 

What exactly did we do? WELL, WE’LL TELL YOU.

We took our unique brand of lusting out loud to the Great White North, and were met with all the warmth of our Canadian thirst team. We were ably aided by two fabulously thirsty guests: producer and all-round diamond TK Matunda (who tolerated us when we we affectionately referred to her as “Canadian TK” because of our own OG TK, producer, TK Dutes 😂), who told us all about her crushes: Richard Ayoade, Donald Glover, and Jemaine Clement (spot the theme... 👀). Look at this shit, if you please!

TK gave us one of the quotes of the night, when she said a thirst object had to “ease my mind and ease my muscles.” What a word! 🙏🏾

We also had another guest, the woman who popularized one of the phrases of 2018, “Big Dick Energy”. Yes, Kyrell Grant of the Drunk Feminist Film Collective, shared some of her thoughts on who exactly has that exclusive energy in a game we called “BDE Or Nah” (spoiler: Nafessa Williams? BDE all over), as well as showing us the roots of her own thirst objects, Ezra “Spooky Dick” Miller, and twinkly-ass Stanley ‘The Tooch’ Tucci. 

There were gasps of delight, impromptu dancing on stage, and all the dirty auntie chuckles you could ever want. Plus we did a live [REDACTED] complete with human sound effects, and a live (and lively 👀) Thirst Sommelier thanks to our very up-for-it and very thirsty audience, and of course, live drabble writing and reading in Fanfic Wars (with a twist). Y’all we had a ball. And, as a special exclusive treat to attendees, we gave out tote bags. Fam, we promise” you wanted to be there. 

You can listen to the whole episode RIGHT HERE (more ways to listen listed down below)

MORE STUFF TO WATCH AND READ, IF YOU LIKE!

Kyrell on BDE, in her own words

Stanley Tucci cooking, hair-dusted forearms brazenly exposed

Jemaine Clement (with his Conchords partner, Bret McKenzie) performing the classic “Business Time”.

Here’s Ezra Miller making this interviewer blush happily:

Shoutout to Drunk Feminist Film Collective, and every single person at Hot Docs, who made us feel like absolute rockstars. Salutations and hugs to our guests, TK and Kyrell, who shone. Huge shoutout to Reem of the Ted Rogers Cinema, who is a QUEEN AMONG WOMEN. The greatest thanks to our amazing 🌟SUPERSTAR🌟 producers TK Dutes and Camila Salazar, who went above and beyond, as they do every single episode. Big love to every single person who bought tickets and came out and filled the house with uproarious laughter and thirst. There’s nothing better than a dark room full of thirsty patrons, guffawing and engaging in good clean (LOL) fun. We had a ball. 💜

We’re on Twitter at @bimadew and @tnwhiskeywoman; the show is on Twitter at @thirstaidkit. You can follow TK Matunda on Twitter @tkmatunda and Kyrell Grant is @imbobswaget. Send us your (short!) drabbles at [email protected]. Rate and review us on Apple Podcasts, please, because we think the world should know how much you love us. Five stars, please! Also: WE HAVE MERCH NOW. (UK listeners: shop here; Germany shoppers: here.)

TO LISTEN

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on facebook i shared an article written by TK Matunda. it’s called Growing Up Feminist in an Immigrant Family.  so much of it mirrored my experiences and what i’ve observed in the lives of women in my family. one of my white friends picked at a piece of it that spoke about patriarchal traditions in families and burial traditions and how daughters don’t really count. he said that though that is valid, is it Perhaps Not Also Valid That Fathers and Sons Have a Very Unique Relationship and That’s Why The Tradition Is Still Relevant. and I thought about how mother’s also prize their sons more and how this Unique Relationship comes at the cost of connecting to their daughters.

i thought about my dad, how sometimes i debate with his backward views, how sometimes i nod because i recognize he needs to feel like he’s in charge. how i operated under “what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him” and what he didn’t know wasn’t anything scandalous, just who I became. the poetry and the thoughts and the different ways I love people and the cemetery I buried the religion he gave me. the religion that helped him sleep as bombs and buildings fell around him. I didn’t bother to share all of myself with him because I knew I’d have to fight for all the parts of me. Now I am willing to, but not with my dad. Not with someone living inside a prison of masculinity, who I feel like I need to protect, not fight.

i recognized and accepted the limits of our relationship from a surprisingly young age. i saw idealistic father-daughter relationships around me and on TV and accepted that my dad didn’t need to be my best friend. he was my dad. we had the strangest things in common. we laughed a lot. were silent about the same things. had the same snort in our laugh and didn’t like tomatoes. my mom told me storied about her own father putting his sons first. she told me if she’d had sons, she’d never let my dad do that. i believed her, but i never really pictured what life would be like if i had a brother. except when i didn’t dress “appropriately” or when my sister wanted to go out or when either of us started talking to boys. and then i was mad at the brother i didn’t have. and then i was thankful he wasn’t there.

my dad’s friend came over for coffee once and aggressively spoke about how when they first got engaged, his wife wanted to keep her last name and he said to her “if you want to keep your father’s last name, you can go back to living with him.”

and i nudged my dad and whispered “don’t worry, i’m going to keep our name” and my dad said “no habibi, you can’t. it is shameful. this is just how it is.” and i remember feeling gut punched. and then angry. like this name that is more mine than anything else i have, isn’t even mine anymore. like it never was. like i’m a cow getting my flank ready for the hot iron. that my own father would expect me to give back the only thing i’ve ever accepted from a man because i knew how to make it mine. that my own father didn’t see me as his child. just as Not His Son. like the absence of a son is still worth more than the daughters he does have. like there’s a door in himself he never opened for us, just let get dusty for someone who wasn’t coming.

i know he doesn’t realize this in any conscious way, because that’s how insidious patriarchy can be. he still loves me, i still love him. he’s my dad. still, i’m glad i don’t have a brother. i’m glad i’ll never have to see in my father what i know is already there. i’m glad i’m the one who controlled how much of me he got to know. i liked not knowing if he was trying. i liked not giving myself the chance to be hurt by that.

he calls me every time he finds something i’ve written. he warns me to be less tough, so the white people don’t come for me. when i tell him i love him, and not to worry, he is resignedly silent. then he tells me i am strong.

my grandfather has always told me that. has always read my poetry and told me about life and asked me about life and been the idealistic father figure i thought i’d never know. i didn’t realize he filled that void until death took him from it. when my jido was dying, my dad fell into my arms. he cried into my shoulder the way i wanted to cry into his, but i couldn’t because the people around me needed me to be the one with dry eyes. the one who could talk to the doctors. the one who could look into my best friend’s eyes and ask him if he was ready to leave us.

when he stepped back to wipe his eyes, my dad looked at me and said “I didn’t know you were this strong. You are stronger than I’ll ever be.”

I think that’s the moment he started getting to know me. It’s weird. It’s like I lost one father that day, but I started gaining back the one that’s always been an arm’s length away. I’ve always accepted my dad, but now I believe in my dad. I know now he is trying to see me for who i am. I know that as far as I am concerned, he is trying to move past what a patriarchal culture has taught him about gender. I know that sometimes he is going to fail. But I also know that he believes in me.