Badassness

Three days ago, on Sunday evening, I went to the audition for a local production of Twelve Angry Men. Obviously, I am not a man. I went partially to make a legitimate protest about a legal/theatrical issue, but I went more so to feel like a badass. See, I think that we should all try to occasionally do things that make us feel like badasses. What does badass-ness feel like? Well, it feels like you have just taken charge of the world, that you have done something to make people take notice and say, “Who is THAT?” A badass doesn’t follow rules—he makes his own rules.
I’ve alluded to my desire to take part in some kind of big protest/event/movement type thing. I definitely will devote an entire post at some point to the fact that if I had lived during the 1960s, I would have been on the front lines protesting. I have a very strong urge to Stand Up! for something or do Something for some Cause. I’m reminded of a line from Animal House: “I think that this situation absolutely requires a really futile and stupid gesture be done on somebody's part.” Now, I don’t want to do a futile and stupid gesture, but I have a similar kind of feeling as Otter does. The situation of Twelve Angry Men required somebody to make some kind of gesture. And given that I haven’t had many other opportunities to make a protest, I decided to turn this into my own personal mission.
Unfortunately, my audition-crashing was rather anticlimactic and it didn’t quite make me feel like a badass. I had sent a letter to the theater (see the post “One Angry Actress” below) urging that the producers/directors change the production to include women. Upon arriving at the audition, I discovered that they had never received my letter. Strike one against my badass-ness, because I could not say in an outraged manner, “You didn’t even have the dignity or courtesy to reply to my letter so I had to show up here in person in protest!” I took my seat among a crowd of the 10 or so silver-haired old men and the three or four young guys. The director walked in, looked around counting, and announced, “Well, 15 men and one lady.”
But sadly, that was basically the last comment about my status as a non-man. I admit that I had envisioned some man asking me, “Why are you here?” and then I would launch into a spiel about women’s rights and the judicial system and whatnot. But no one really addressed it. Strike two against me, because apparently protests such as these are old hat and unimpressive in this day and age.
The director did let me read, and honestly, I was probably more masculine than half of the guys there. I had just the right kind of righteous indignation that the play requires. If gender had not been a factor, I think my audition would have gotten me a part. At the end of the audition, I went up to the director and said, “Thanks for letting me play.” He honestly didn’t seem too interested and said something about sticking with the all-men production. Strike three against my desire for a dramatic confrontation.
I do legitimately care about the legal/gender issues of the composition of juries. I do firmly believe that it is a travesty that in the 1950s women were still not on juries. I do care about gender equality, and as a young woman who has profited and benefited from decades of feminist protest, I feel it is my duty to keep the issue on everyone’s minds, albeit in a non-man-hating, non-pushy, non-femi-Nazi way. However, I did have other motives in crashing the audition. I also legitimately wanted a part in a very famous play at one of Albuquerque’s more respected community theaters (the Adobe Theater). The play has some great material and some great parts, and I hunger after the kind of hard-hitting lines that this play offers.
But beyond those motives, I wanted to have a badass moment. In the past year or so, I have become much more outgoing and outspoken. I have been confronting my shyness in a systematic way and have been focusing on becoming a dynamic individual. I decided that this would be a good test for me. Could I really go in and tell a stranger that, godammit, I want something and I want it now!? I would say that the jury has not come in on that question yet (I made a joke, you see?). I wanted to storm in to the audition and raise a holler and a stink. But it didn’t quite work, mostly because I didn’t get the response from the director, stage manager, and other actors that I needed. A protest needs something against which to protest, and I did not get that on this one.
But I will keep looking for opportunities to act like—no—be a badass. Because one does not act like a badass. One simply is a badass. I feel most like a badass when I wear my Who jacket. I promise I will devote an entire column to my Who jacket (I need someone to take a picture of me in it) at some point in the future. Rock and roll makes me feel like a badass. Climbing mountains makes me feel like a badass.
So a question for all you readers: What makes you feel like a badass? When have you felt like a badass? Do you actively seek out opportunities to be a badass? I’d like to issue a challenge to everyone out there: break some rules, do something crazy or futile, or demand something you really want. In short, go out there and be a badass.