Angela Bassett as Marie Laveau was my inspiration for Aunt Mila
Gabourey Sidibe as Queenie was my inspiration for Maria
The Party
Genre: Supernatural/Horror
Words: 1000
Content Warnings:
Body shaming, sexual assault, profanity, sexism
Rating: PG-13
Note:
This story was originally published on my flash fiction blog for a Halloween 2018 short stories contest. Pretty much to a person, everyone who commented missed the point about the attitudes of sexism and sizeism and the intersection thereof, which led to the abuse of the protagonist. Readers instead fixated on my modernized take on the magical gender-swap revenge exacted on the protagonists. I was admonished that I should not refer to transgenderism in anything but the most glowing light.
I felt that my reference to gender reassignment was neutral and was only done to put the story in the twenty-first century rather than the nineteenth century. In modern times, gender reassignment surgery is a reality and people are more likely to believe that their relative who has been transformed into the opposite sex underwent gender reassignment surgery than that they were switched to being the opposite sex by magic.
Perhaps I could have done a better job of imparting this idea, but the story was not about gender reassignment. I was rather appalled that a neutral mention of gender reassignment surgery entirely overshadowed the actual point of the story, which was the way society objectifies women, despises and abuses larger women, and excuses the abuse and objectification of women.
There was absolutely no intention of belittling the struggles of transgender people when I wrote this story. I simply wished to modernize the setting rather than going with the old "it's magic, I don't need to explain shit" tactic.
The contentious tale follows below.
~Sly~
“Did they force you to their will, my girl?”
Ludmila Lum’s angular face bore a staid expression, but Maria could see the little vein in her aunt’s set jaw pulsing. Aunt Mila’s warm brown eyes had gone black as the sky over an angry sea, the kind of sky that produced storms which sent ships to their graves on the ocean floor.
Mila’s expression softened at the worry in her niece’s eyes. Her bony hand enfolded Maria’s soft, plump one and a gentle smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.
“It’s all right, Mee-Mee. I am not angry with you. Even if you were drunk or high, even if you were flirting with all the boys. Now, you tell your Auntie Mila, did those boys force you to their will?”
“It wasn’t…sex,” Maria said softly, looking down at her feet. “I suppose I am making too much of nothing, as the University President said.”
Maria’s soft, round face, usually so sweet and happy, reflected shame and self-loathing. Ludmila tried not to project anger, lest her sensitive niece believe the ire was directed at her. Maria was a big girl in a world that made no bones about its hatred of soft, pillowy bodies. Ludmila worked hard to teach Maria to love herself as she was, to give her shy, plump niece the confidence that reflected her loving spirit. Ludmila was enraged that awful people had exploited the innocent girl’s attempt at sociability in an unspeakable way.
“They did not put themselves inside me, Auntie,” Maria explained in a quavering voice. “When they first invited me into the party, they were nice enough. It was guys and girls together, just showing off their costumes, just everybody dancing and having fun. The boy who invited me in, I started to think that perhaps he was falling in love with me, as he seemed only to have eyes for me in those first two hours.”
“Does this boy have a name?” Ludmila inquired.
“Omer, Auntie,” Maria revealed quietly.
“Omer Raines? Doctor Raines’ boy? The one you’ve carried the torch for since you were ten years old?” Ludmila demanded.
Maria nodded, her body shuddering as she wept.
“All these years he was my friend,” she sobbed. “In school, he defended me whenever anyone made pig noises at me or called me names. I thought we were destined to be only friends, but at the party, he seemed to echo my feelings. I gave thanks to Erzulie for the gift. ‘His heart echoes my heart,’ I thought, and at that moment, I was so happy.”
“He brought me to the front of the stage where the band was playing, and he told me to dance,” Maria continued. “’Show the world how beautiful you are, Chere,’ he insisted. ‘Dance for us!’”
“So, I danced, and at first, it seemed that all the years of hate and shame for this big body were burned away. Here I was, dressed as the Queen of Hearts, but a kind queen, not one calling for heads to roll. Everyone was clapping and cheering, and I was dancing, Auntie! I was getting down, and everyone was getting down with me, and no-one was laughing at me. But then the fraternity president gave a signal with his hands, the band changed their tune, and so did everyone else.”
“Any special tune they played?” Ludmila inquired, and by the look in her eyes, Maria was sure her aunt knew the tune she meant.
“The stripper song, you know, the one they always play in cartoons and stuff. I thought it was a joke like maybe some of the fellows would drop their trousers and do a moon, all in fun like that. But then one of the boys called out ‘take it off, Fat Girl.’ I flipped him the bird, still laughing because I thought perhaps it was a joke. But then they started pulling at my clothes, boys and girls alike. There was a blonde girl wearing almost no clothes at all who slapped me and said: ‘you don’t belong at a party, you pig, you belong in a barnyard!’”
Maria shuddered as she dropped to the floor and rested her head against her aunt’s lap. Each of her niece’s violent sobs threatened to shatter Ludmila’s heart.
“They tore the front of my dress and exposed my breasts,” Maria revealed. “The boys were grabbing my breasts and slapping my backside. The skinny blonde girl kicked me in the backside and said ‘get your fat, ugly ass away from our party, Petunia Pig! This party is for people only!’”
“Omer followed me from the party,” Maria continued. “He asked where I was going. I said I was going to the police. He tried to stop me, said it was only a joke that got out of hand. I slapped him and told him to never talk to me again. The police just said I should have known better than to go to such a party. I went right to the home of the University president. He told me that he was sorry it happened and that he would talk to the fraternity President, but he asked me to keep things quiet because we would not want to bring shame upon the school. I have always believed in a just and fair world, Auntie, but I see now there is no justice for people like me.”
“There will be justice,” Ludmila reassured her niece. “You rest now, my love.”
While Maria slept, Ludmila worked her spell.
“Justice is served,” the Voodoo priestess declared, leaning back in her chair.
A day later, there were multiple articles about the sudden rash of gender reassignment surgeries among students and faculty at Bayou College. The wives of both the University president and the chief of the campus police publicly expressed their shock, and local doctor Henri Raines declared that he’d no inkling that so many students, including his own former son Omer, were seeking gender reassignment surgery.
~The Real Cie~
