I’ve tried to deny it for years, for a lifetime, but I just can’t anymore. I’ve got traitor blood in me. I need to stop rejecting that fact and accept it as an inherent part of me. My family left me with a lot of legacy, and so much of it’s really great, and I’m proud of it—the military might, the great business sense, the pride, the cunning wit, the survival skills, the revolutionary dissent, the great genes, all of it. But in order to be truly proud of who I am I need to accept the bad along with the good. And I’ve got traitor blood in me. And that’s ok. As long as I don’t feel shame about it. Because it’s not my fault. Hell, it’s not even his fault if you want to know the truth, but this isn’t the time for a history lesson. Fact is, he was who he was, he did what he did and generations later came me in the same line, the same stock of people, and I am who I am. I have seen the best people in my family ruined because they’ve tried to deny their blood, their traitor b lood. They have been ashamed of it, but I won’t go down that path. Oh no. I am going to fully embrace that part of my history, my family, my genes, my blood, my self—and not apologize for it. I will announce it loud and clear and proud for anyone who wants to hear it—I am a descendant of Benedict Arnold, and that is why I changed coffeeshops.
welcomeA blog by Vanessa Query aka Vee the Monsoon, with ruminations on topics ranging from my adventures as a dilettante/ gadabout/ starving artist to insipid missives about things and people I love to socio-political/ theoretical observations on art, entertainment, and culture. Plus some pretty pictures.
This blog is no longer. Check out my food blog, They Call Me Oystergirl, launched in September 2012.
taxonomy, sort of
we go way back