A Coming Of Age Gangsta Tale

My friend, C, frequently says he’s gangsta: “Yo I’m gangsta, son!” He says it like it’s a self-affirmation: "I’m good enough, I’m strong enough, and doggonit, I’m gangsta son!" If you put your mind to it, you can believe anything you want to, son.

He'll say something like "you know how I do" because he's so aware of his own identity that he assumes everyone around him knows how he do. That must be wonderful to have so much self-awareness. And on top of that he also knows that the answer to "how he do" is a respectable one. He's like an apostle, unable to be swayed from his faith. He'll loudly explain "Son, you know how I do" and I'll say, "I know how you do. You read Spiderman and Batman and sit in your house on the weekends to play Call of Duty." And he'll say "Aight son, quit playin'" which is like saying, "The Lord forgiveth all, even thoseth who have fallen from grace."

We've had our differences. When I first met him he could see that I didn't feel gangsta so he yelled in my face: “Just relax! Motherfucka, RELAX!” and I said, "I’m trying, but I freaking out from the irony in this."

He has so much confidence he can’t see how I could lack it so he gives me the same advice he’d give himself. “Yo don’t take shit from no one, just tell that nigga to back the fuck up!” Whereas I'm a little skeptical. “Um, do I have to use the n-word? I don't really feel comfortable telling anyone to back the fuck anywhere. I'd prefer to chiggity check myself before I wriggity wreck myself." Don't get me wrong, I understand that words can never hurt me, but they can inspire someone to hit my bones with sticks and stones and AK-47 bullets.

One thing I've come to learn through acceptance and self-awareness is that I don’t want to be gangsta. Not because I can't be gangsta (I mean, we all know how I do), but rather, because these top five reasons why gangstaism does not work for me:

1.) Gangstas spend quite a bit of money on champagne and almost immediately waste it by pouring the champagne on their bitches. I don't like to waste. There are people starving in China who would be more than appreciative about that champagne. Also I pay close attention to hygiene and pouring champagne all over one's body can lead to rashes and other health issues.

2.) Gangstas often need clothing that displays their gang colors. I cannot stand shopping and also some days I don't have many outfits to choose from since most of my clothes are in the hamper. I'd rather not get shot because my blue bandana is still getting washed at the laundromat.

3.) Gangstas appear very concerned with pimping out their ride. I, on the other hand, am looking for something fuel efficient. I'm not all about money. I'm also about the environment and protecting it and understand that if my car is not weighed down by expensive rims and a $10,000 sound system that I can do my part for the ozone layer.

4.) Similarly, gangstas appear very concerned with pimping out their crib. I don’t care what kind of leopard print carpeting the interior designer uses for my bedroom as long as an actual leopard is not harmed.

5.) Gangstas must be angry on a frequent basis and must communicate via yelling. I prefer to designate my energy elsewhere, such as into comedy writing or filmmaking. However, while I have little interest in shooting people for their money, I am not totally against shooting them because they’re annoying.

Despite this list, I learned a powerful lesson about my friend C.

One night at a comedy club I got offstage and C said, “yo that blond was laughing hard at your shit. You should hollar at that bitch.” I understood he meant: that I should shout loudly at a ho, but he said it casually like I was hollar certified. I said, "Hold on, I just need to 'drop it like it’s hot' and 'ride dirty back to 8-mile.' Who the fuck do you think you're talking to right now?"

I was put off. I felt insecure. I thought, "I’m not really the type to holler at a bitch. My voice cracks. I can yodel at a bitch, or nod and murmur at a bitch, or even talk extensively about my favorite movies with a bitch, but I don't want to meet a bitch, let alone holler at one. If I hollar I want it to be special. None of this 'Damn girl you got a big ol’ booty.' That could be construed as offensive."

But then I thought, "The world is made up of so many people with so many different points of view, dialects, and voices, all of them incredible in their own way. C has wonderful advice and I shouldn't dismiss it just because he speaks in gangsta tongue. When C says 'hollar at that bitch' he is simply trying to communicate that I should 'go over and speak with that nice young lady because we might hit it off since she seems to enjoy my sense of humor.'"

And then I thought, "I don’t want to be at my deathbed and realize I should’ve hollared this whole time. I should feel confident, knowing that C thinks of me as someone who can adeptly hollar at a bitch. He didn’t sound sarcastic when he said it to me. Rather than think less of C I should give myself more credit. I do have the power to hollar at a bitch. I should show C gratitude. I should tell him 'Thank you for saying I can hollar at a bitch.'" It was as if he’d given me a key to gangsta city and was letting me do as I pleased. Obviously I’d avoid certain alleyways, but for the most part, I was free to do as I pleased.

So I approached the attractive blond and her friends, waved, and said, “Hey Bitches…" And that's how I met your mother. Good night son.