I was going to write a paper on Chris Rock’s “Good Hair,” and how it reflects the Third Face of Power like you asked, and I did so that I still get a grade. Its attached behind whatever this turns out to be. You can skip this spewing but I don’t have a whole lot of support/outlets (insert whatever here) so I decided to write about the Third Face of Power and my swift fall back into habits of self destruction.

The Third Face of Power is described by Gaventa as being in effect when B, essentially does not know that A has power over them, and that there is any kind of oppression occurring. The ideals and way of life of B, to them, do not appear to be compromised by the presence of A. For almost six months now I was doing so well being A for so long, and last Friday the goddamned Kraken had to rear its ugly (and really unpleasant tasting) head in my face and all of a sudden my position in this power structure shifted a little. A little haha that’s an understatement. Okay lets back track. A few weeks ago my long distance (2,000 miles away) boyfriend who is my world, informed me that his ex, who had meant the absolute world to him, and shattered his heart (their breakup was convoluted and terrible and I don’t feel like explaining it) had written him a long apology ending with the statement that ‘she loved him.’ As irritating as this itself was, the more debilitating event occurred when my boyfriend decided to sleep with her. And then tell me about it, and sleep with her again, and tell me about that. We skype every night so the truth was inevitable I guess but this isn’t about us. Its about 94 proof alcohol and Gaventa.

Fast forward to Friday. I haven’t drank since April/May of last year, and had no plans to drink again, yet my friends and I hadn’t made any concrete plans and were looking to go out. Still shouldn’t have involved alcohol. I got some texts from a friend from high school who transferred here this semester, and who I had a flirty whatever you want to call it with in the past. He and some other friends decided to come over to hangout with my friend and I. About 11pm, im sitting on my friends bed, and causally say the words “drunk me would probably hookup with ----,” as I fidget with my dress. --- is our friend from high school who’s coming over in a bit, who ive been corresponding with. She looks at me and laughs, and we both know that sober me wouldn’t have dared say those words if my boyfriend hadn’t slept with his ex, and I hadn’t had a past with -----. Or maybe hadn’t started drinking again. My mind was blank, and after 6 months sober no alarms were going off, I had no inner raging debate going on, no mental anguish at what was sitting in my cup. No. With that statement I gulped down about 8oz of 94 proof Kraken rum, and shuttered, just as our friends made their presence known outside.

Our walk back to my dorm is cold and ----‘s hand is warm; he’s obliterated too. Over the course of the night the six of us laughed, talked, and had fun. And drank. Shot after shot. College kids don’t buy mixers past their freshman year, or maybe that’s just my friends and I. My vision got worse over the course of the night, and it took a lot of effort to type out the “hey I went out, don’t know what time ill be home, hope you had a good day, I miss you” text to my boyfriend. Periodically id check to see if I got a response but id later find out he was with his ex again, and my text wasn’t all that important anyways was it? Back to our walk. Its cold (it was freezing forgive me for the repetition) and ---- and I near where we’d split off if we both weren’t hammered and thinking the same thing. ‘Where do you live again? Who’s your roommate?’ --- asks probably genuinely, he had drank a lot and its possible didn’t remember that this had been skimmed over throughout the night. “Oh I have a single, no roommate, JQA right there,” I respond and ---‘s face lights up despite trying to hide this. We both mutter something that I cant recall, ending with me inviting ---- up to see my pet hedgehog (not a pickup line thought it may become one, actual animal) and we stride to my dorm. I drop and smash my phone on the way there. It still works. Some kid who took too many drugs blocks our progression to the elevator, but once in the elevator I lean into --- for a kiss, and no words of explanation are needed from either of us. Just drunk bliss.

The rest of the night and the next morning goes as planned, and ill spare details, although romantically ---- puked at one point.  We do a great deal of cuddling and f***ing into the morning hours, and at no point did I think “s*** that was wrong.” No. We kiss our goodbyes and carry on joking as if nothing had happened, although ----- is fully aware of my long distance boyfriend. I get ready to go out with the same best friend and we discuss my transgressions over a shopping trip. Neither of us is horrified, more at the fact that we drank half a handle between the two of us. I buy some cute sweaters, and carry on, knowing that we’re going to a house party with the same people later that night, and look forward to seeing --- and the Kraken again.

Kraken, vodka and cranberry juice, some sort of pine sol tasting acid I swigged out of some guys cup, (I was dancing with him, the booze was my thank you I suppose) and Saturday night I blacked out. But, not before skyping my boyfriend hammered at this house party and telling him I loved him (which I never had before). He responded by saying that was “great,” and then informing me his ex had slept over the night before. Ooops? We laughed and joked and I cried, he made fun of how smashed I was. I apologized and then proceeded to find another cup of something. When we got off the phone I slumped onto a couch and then realized I was better off in a bathroom puking. Somehow a friend dragged me home at some point.

I wake up and in the same clothes and destroyed makeup, skype my boyfriend to apologize about how much of a disaster I was the night before. We’re fine, and he teases me about everything. He flirts and makes me smile like he always can. We laugh and joke and I miss him. I do love him, but we don’t talk about that. I'm hungover but happy.

Ill skip past a day or so. Its Tuesday and ive gotten strep throat from this weekend. Ive redownloaded Tinder, skimming through guys Id hookup with based on picture alone, and have been texting ----, my high school crush on him seeping to the surface again after a weekend together. Instead of writing this paper earlier in the day, I look up juice cleanses and think about how little I ate today, wishing occasionally that anorexia didn’t suck as much as it does; 6 years of my life spent as a skeleton and a slew of health problems later that I still deal with, and want to be tiny again occasionally. I read articles Cat Marnell has written on her glamorous drug abuse and wish sometimes I wasn’t in the Army and could revamp a high school drug habit. I haven’t wanted to take apart any razors yet and see the blood seep from my forearms, but itll happen soon don’t worry. More than anything I wish my boyfriend would give me a better indication that he loved me too, or maybe just stop sleeping with his ex. I take that back, more than anything I wish it was Friday and I could drink the rest of that Kraken. Wish that I can feel happy and warm and unconcerned with what my mind and body are doing, and let the 94 proof rum take over. I cant go out this weekend because of a necessary Army training weekend I must attend with the rest of the battalion, but this just means ill be hungover on the bus Friday because ill crack open a new bottle of Fire Ball Whiskey Thursday night. More than anything, I wish I wasn’t an alcoholic and that the Third Face of Power wasn’t sitting in my closet.

I know sitting here that alcohol changes my behavior, and its probably a stretch to say that it enacts a face of power. What im struck by however, is the ease to which is propels my values and every facet of my life in another direction, without causing me any alarm. I haven’t thought about self harm, drugs, weight loss, or sleeping with guys indiscriminately in months, and its because I stopped drinking. I stopped drinking because my friend, the same one I was with the other night, my best friend, pointed out that I am really good at self destruction and that its worse when im around alcohol. I took a step back, and realized she was right. So I stopped. Why did I start again then? Because as Gaventa points out in his study on the case of Unions and political dependency, I am dependent on alcohol, and I knew I couldn’t handle my boyfriend sleeping with his ex sober. I would have been a depressed wreck, and I knew that the Kraken would make that all go away. Initially, last spring, I did not see the damage that alcohol did to my life, and it took my best friend intervening in order for me to see she was right, and that my values were compromised when I let alcohol take over. Yet as I sit here, I feel excitement to be dependent and once again falling down a hole of destruction. I love the numbness, the delicious satisfaction of sleeping with someone you don’t know and don’t care about, because with alcohol I don’t need to care. My whole set of values and everything I have ingrained into my brain is washed away when I drink. This is the dependency that Gaventa is talking about, and in one evening my entire set of values was altered and has been destroyed. I could stop drinking again, but what I find interesting is that when I am drinking, I don’t think that what im doing is wrong. I didn’t think that sleeping with ----- was wrong and still do not; in fact I would like to again. I wasn’t alarmed that all of a sudden I wanted to stop eating again or wanted to start taking drugs again. It is as if my brain has two completely different sides, and when I start drinking again, the sane side is washed away. I haven’t drank today, yet my values have been replaced completely just with this one addition to my life. This is how I see Gaventa’s third face of power in my own life. It isn’t colonization, and yes I chose to begin drinking again of my own free will. Yet that first sip I wasn’t aware that I would fall so drastically back into old ways, nor have my values do a 180.

I am an alcoholic, and I like being an alcoholic. I am a recovered (usually) anorexic, a former dabbler in drugs, and an ex self harmer. I like love, and I like feeling loved by sleeping with men who don’t actually love me. Alcohol is the reason for all of this, and ive gone on a long winded explanation of how the third face of power plays into all of this. Honestly, this was to distract me for a while and face what I don’t really want to see. My behavior. I still don’t feel anything regarding this weekend or my inevitable descent back into ugly ways, but I cope by getting this stuff down on paper. This is not a cry for help, do not take it as such. Now if you’ll excuse me I have a paper to write (one on Chris Rock). Bottoms up.