"Becky"

Last year, my friend and I were on a bus heading Uptown to Harlem. We were holding all of our suitcases and luggage. They were cumbersome, and on the ride there, my friend had her suitcase topple over onto the old woman next to her. It was awkward. We were lost and the map for tourists stopped at 90th St. As we headed more Uptown,  we realized we were the only white people on the bus. 

 The surroundings became unfamiliar, we soon became jaded and confused so we decided to get off the bus. I successfully picked up my suitcase and stepped outside. Alone on the wide sidewalk, I waited for my friend to step off as well.

I had never been to NYC before and I realized that  we were incredibly far from where we needed to go. In fact, we were in an area close to the projects on E 112th street. 

 I see my friend and the doors to the bus won't open. I hear many people on the bus scream, "Stacy, get yo ass off the bus! Stacy!" She pushes on the doors, but they won't open.  I hear more yelling using the name "Stacy." At this point, I am confused, a little scared and lost.  I don't know where to go, I've never been to NYC before and most importantly, my friend's name isn't Stacy and I only have a 20 stuffed in my bra.

Eventually she gets off the bus, and we walk 2 miles through Morningside Heights to Spanish Harlem. (There is another story intertwined here, but this post is not the time or place.) As we are walking, our suitcases rolling behind us,  we can not figure out why they called her "Stacy." 

Now I know. 

Come full circle to 10 months later. Fast forward to my life in Austin. Here, I learned the term, "Stacy" and/or "Becky" refers to white women- sorority-esque, dyed blonde hair, tanned skin,  usually small vocabulary with an overabundance of the  "like" and "you know." Picture the ideal Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader. Generally, they wear tight clothes, stuffed bras and 4 or more inch heels. They wear uggs with their jeans skirts and an Abercrombie sweatshirt to match with straight, flat ironed hair. I am sure we all know someone who is a Becky. Maybe they dye their hair and majored in Comm, have a job in PR and shop at Nordstroms. Or maybe they were the girl we talked to waiting in line for the bathroom at the bar. There is nothing wrong with being a Becky. My roommate is a Becky and her friends are all Becky's. 

Rewind to Harlem, it makes sense if one contextualizes the situation: White girl on a bus carrying an overstuffed suitcase, dropping her belongings onto old women and getting stuck on the bus and not knowing how to open the doors (that particular friend is far from anything resembling a "Becky").  

The term Becky has now become code for a group of girls my friends and I see who all look, talk, act and dress the same.

6th Street- Becky City

What makes this slang term even better, is the definition provided by Urbandictionary.com (specifically, #5)Becky-Urban Dictionary

And this song:

Becky- Plies

I see a lot of Becky's around Texas. Even in Austin in the warehouse district. There are old Becky's and young Becky's. There are short Becky's and tall Becky's. But, they all leave me with the same feeling, after I talk to them. In some ways, my now, dirty blonde hair and curvy body type looks like a Becky.   I get a lot of Becky's coming up to talk to me about makeup, hair product and "indie/underground" bands like Spoon, Band of Horses and Nirvana [yes, Nirvana...]. I also get men who also think I might be a Becky, they  have huge arms and go to the gym and have short, trimmed careful hair and play a sport. Usually I ward both of them off with the some sort of verbose rhetoric. One time, I even used the word, 'subjectivity' and his face literally crinkled around the eyes and he walked away as if to say, "She's not a Becky."

The feeling after encountering a Becky resembles a slight sharp pain in your brain. You realize you spent 10 minutes making small talk about the color eyeshadow to wear with their outfit, where they purchased the outfit, the amount of time they spend on their hair, what they put in their hair,  or how they made their cute top fit on them so their boobs look bigger. Always the small boobs with the pushup bras.

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So next time you find yourself in a conversation with a women, and she looks like every other women out there, and your brain begins to hurt, because she lacks personality,  realize, she's just another Becky trying to make a name for herself.