My White Woman Tears - Apologies to Alice in Wonderland

I am fascinated by the “White Woman Tears“ discussion.

I’m Irish-American ex-Catholic, check. And as I youngster I used to cry, easily, in front of those I’d rather have been stoic. I wanted to be a stone when I was young, and I failed.

Something about old age— the hormones, I’m sure— made me dry-eyed and less easily wrecked. I am more likely to cry because of an unexpected kindness, not an attack.

Have I ever cried, say, to get a traffic cop to give me a break? This is the #1 stereotype of the entitled femme trying to get a break from Officer Friendly.

For me, no, not on a traffic stop. I’m more likely to make a joke.

In a real arrest? No. The times I was arrested were serious, and I was withdrawn, disassociated. “I’m leaving my body now.” None of it planned. When arrested in political situations, you just don’t know WHERE it’s going to end up. Nobody is flirting or acting cute. I didn’t cry until I was home, alone, in bed, days later.