Nothing new to report that anyone would care about but things are going. This one is related to dress up so it's appropriate for the upcoming holiday in which we all dress up and pretend to be someone else for the night. Cheers!
Funny Queer Shit: That One Kris Kross Concert
One thing that we don't realize until later in life is that our parents, in their own unique ways, have a good time. Along with cookouts and road trips, one of my parents many ways of having a good time is going to concerts. My sister and I have been along for the ride on a number of these occasions: standing in auditorium seats to see MC Hammer, seeing Earth, Wind and Fire on fair grounds while hot air balloons floated in the background. We even saw Janet Jackson and the beloved Velvet Rope tour. Truely, magically shit.
I also didn't realize until later in life that going to a concert is expensive as fuck! First you have to find 1, 2, 3, 4 tickets for the family to go. Then you have to get prepped because damnit you not going just anywhere with your parents looking like just anything. And prep can range from a hairdo to shopping for new clothes or both which was more money.
But my parents insisted on these concerts. Maybe because they were hell bent on not missing the unique one-of-a-kind experiences themselves. And the one that stands out the most in queered recollection is going to the Kris Kross Concert.
For context, Kris Kross, while a short-lived, was a phenomenon. One of the youngest rap duos to go platinum. The video "Jump" played on The Box non-stop when it came out in '92. The backwards baseball jerseys and baggy pants to match were 90's pop-era personified. And as 12 and 13 year old rappers, they were the most age accessible hip-hop available to my 6 or 7 year old ears. So when Momma got tickets for my sis and I to see Kris Kross in concert around 1993, it was the ultimate come up for a kid. The equivalent of winning an all expense paid cruise as an adult. My sis and I had made it!
But this story is not even about the concert. From what I remember, my sis and I had to take turns on my Dad's shoulders to see the show. It was the 90s so if you brought your kid to an event, there were no noise buffers. You were getting the full money's worth and risking eardrums. But the concert itself didn't matter. What mattered was the prep. And any person will tell you that the prep for a night out dictates the flow of the night. If the prep is fucked up, don't even bother walking out the door.
Momma had the brilliant idea to dress my sis and I to look like Kris Kross for the concert. Looking back Momma liked dressing us up for any and all occasions when we were kids. From Halloween and school plays to Back to School Fashion shows, Momma liked seeing us done up. Sis was going as Mac Daddy and I Daddy Mac. And boy, did Momma know the assignment!
The prep took place a few hours before the concert because there are two kids to get ready, which is pretty fast considering. It could have easily been a get one kid ready the day before situation. In my parents bedroom, my sis and I 's concert clothes were all laid out on the bed. Two button up baseball style jerseys and two pair of oversized pants. Two baseball caps that I'm sure were some shade of neon. Possibly return items from Momma's retail manager's job at the time.
First there was hair. Momma braided my straightened hair into several box braids that came down my back. I remember liking the transformation as the straightened and processed hair turned into something that reflected something that more resembled the person I saw in my head. Getting your hair done is like that though. Once you get out the chair or put down the clippers, you know you are a different person, for better or worse. I obviously loved these box braids as the style would later become my signature hairstyle in college.
Then Momma helped me with my concert gear. If you don't know, Kris Kross was known for wearing bagging clothes but backwards, hence Kris Kross. So we did the same, and I put on the oversized jeans backwards and the baseball jersey covered me like a smock. Momma helped me button the many buttons on my back and I was set.
As Momma went to get my sister ready, I went the bathroom to see myself. I was shocked. I looked like Daddy Mac. I WAS Daddy Mac! The backwards hat with my braids coming down from underneath was the epitome of masculinity. Of boy. Of seeing a bit of my true self in the reflection, albeit a Daddy Mac version. I felt at home in my body. And when you feel at home a true kind of confidence comes out. One that is honest and has clarity. And that honest and clarity for me at 6 or 7 year old as I stared back at myself in the mirror was I'm hot!
The confidence boost didn't end with the clothes. After Momma got my sister done, she was so proud of her work, that she took pictures of us before the show. I was geeked. This was the first time that I remember wanting to get my picture taken. Getting your picture taken usually involved making yourself into an image that wasn't your own. It meant reflecting back what others wanted to see. Someone else's hopeful impression of you. But this picture moment, in my Daddy Mac outfit about to see Kris Kross, I would have taken my own picture. Figured out a selfie before they were even a thing. Because I was at home.
We took pictures and I did my best 90's poses for all to see. Insert every 90's club photo here, but make it kids and you have a good idea about how pictures went in our backyard. And it was while taking pictures and looking behind the lens, that Momma also got a sneak peak of who I was too. Plans were made, we were going to the concert, but there was a certain hesitancy that existed as she snapped pictures of me and my sister. Maybe what she saw scared her. I wasn't playing dress up, and maybe that scared her. Momma grew up with my Grandma who ran a liquor house and had encountered all kinds of people. People with outlier qualities that she probably saw in me that day.
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How I felt being Daddy Mac |
I've bypassed a lot of the pomp and frills of finding connection due to being an outcast. It's harder, for sure. Connection doesn't come around as often. Elusive even, like the Lochness Monster or Big Foot. But when another outcast is found, the connection is made, it is solid. And it really started off by seeing a partial reflection of self in my Daddy Mac outfit.
The rest of the concert was and still is a blur. All I really remember is standing in a crowd of Black folk, looking down at my outfit in amazement.
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