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PHOTO BY JILL FURMANOVSKY
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Who
Am I & What Am I Doing Here?
A Brief History of Soo Catwoman by Soo Catwoman
PART ONE:
Born in 1954 in West London I was the 10th child
in a male-dominated family. As I was a girl
among so many boys they didn’t always
want me to join in their games, so I would go
to the park by myself or spend time in my room.
Our family home was often overcrowded with a
lot going on so I didn’t mind spending
time alone.
I started school at 5 years old but didn’t
enjoy it in the least, it all seemed very rigid
and I remember thinking the simple tasks we
were given were a waste of time, I had done
similar things at the age of 3 at home. Despite
all the good things I was told about school
I found it very restricting and it felt like
I was being held captive against my will. My
experience didn’t improve and the following
ten years would be no better, they were anything
but the best years of my life. While I had friends
I often found myself to be the odd one out in
a group of three and felt that I didn’t
quite fit in anywhere; I was always slightly
awkward - like a square peg in a round hole.
I never wanted to belong to any gang and was
happiest in my own company, which at times raised
a few eyebrows and got me some unwanted attention.
I left school at the earliest possible opportunity,
which was just before the Easter break when
I was 15. I had a job lined up to start right
away and being one of a large family I had to
work and pay for my keep. My work colleagues
were nice but the job was tedious and heavily
reliant on one of my least favourite subjects
– mathematics. The days were long and
I felt every bit the inexperienced junior in
the office. I was responsible for checking the
time sheets against the job sheets to make sure
that the hours tallied up. When that was done
I would pass them on to the person who did the
accounts and the wages. My tasks also included
answering the phones and making the tea, until
they got a vending machine, which were in vogue
at the time. My (excellent) tea-making skills
went largely unused at work after that.
In 1972, at the age of 17 I left home after
a big fight with my Dad, who had always been
very strict - it seemed to get worse the older
I got. When I arrived home past my curfew one
night he refused to accept my explanation that
the bus had broken down, despite the fact that
it happened exactly as I had said. The next
day during my lunch break I starting looking
in the local paper for a place to live and put
a deposit on the second property I went to view.
The flat itself had a secluded and overgrown
garden, which was bordered entirely by tall
trees; I think that's why I wanted to live there.
I could very easily picture myself sitting out
there in the summer months. I’ve always
loved the peace of the outdoors and a summer
breeze in my hair. When my family had last moved
house we had left our garden behind for nothing
more than a high walled concrete yard that went
around the back of the new house. There was
only just enough space out there for a small
flower bed and a clothes line to hang the washing
on. The house we’d moved into was bigger
inside and while we really needed the extra
space, I missed all the greenery. I thought
I might be happy and peaceful living in a place
with a proper garden again. I also looked forward
to a life without so many rules.
After I moved in I quickly discovered that the
other women living there weren't particularly
friendly. The landlady had interviewed me and
shown me around when they weren’t at home.
Linda and Hazel were several years older than
me and seemed to be resentful because I was
younger and less jaded. Linda seemed to rule
the roost and once she had made up her mind
about anything that was the end of it. Despite
her frail form and delicate outer demeanor she
was a complete tyrant. Hazel could be almost
friendly when Linda wasn’t home but backed
her up like a lapdog when she was. I found it
very confusing, which resulted in me often feeling
apologetic just for being there. I had no previous
experience of living with people I was not related
to and no clue of how those things were supposed
to work. While living at home I'd helped my
mum with jobs like washing up and ironing and
never thought much about it. As she was the
kindest, gentlest, most understanding soul I
have ever known it was always a pleasure to
help make her life easier when I could. After
moving into the flat I just got on with doing
the housework without thinking about it or complaining.
My roommates never once thanked me for anything
I did; they acted as if I was beneath them and
often clammed up when I walked into the room.
At times I found them more restricting and challenging
than my dad had been and I was very unhappy
living there. One day it dawned on me that since
I was paying a third of the rent that I was
going way beyond the call of duty by cleaning
up after them too. Things had been bad enough
before but they soon began to deteriorate further
until the atmosphere was unbearable. I had suggested
that they might want to wash their own dishes,
vacuum occasionally and clean the cooker. As
a result of my outburst they stopped speaking
to me and I was a pariah in what should have
been my own ‘home’. I spent all
my spare time listening to ‘Electric Warrior’
by T Rex and ‘Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders
from Mars’ - it was those two albums alone
that kept me sane, perhaps even alive during
that time. I didn’t even get to enjoy
the garden and stuck it out as long as I could
there, moving on as soon as possible.
There were other flats along the way but eventually
I found a rented house, which I shared with
four other girls. They were all great company
and for once we even had a laugh doing the chores.
There wasn’t any problem dividing them
up equally and it was the first time I felt
at home anywhere since leaving the family a
few years before. On Fridays we all went out
together for our 'girly night', most of the
time we would go to a club somewhere in Central
London. At the end of the evening we all shared
the cost of the cab home. Sometimes one of the
girls (usually the same one) would pick up a
guy and bring him home with her. When she was
drunk she seemed to be a magnet for men that
the rest of us didn’t like being around
but beyond rolling our eyes to each other we
kept our thoughts to ourselves. I think the
rest of us often wondered why she didn’t
aim any higher but at least they were gone the
next morning and we rarely saw them again. There
were a few occasions when someone she’d
brought home had slept with her and when she
was asleep they’d find their way to the
kitchen and try to come onto one of us; needless
to say they didn’t get anywhere.
After a year the lease on the house came up
for renewal and we had to find a new place to
live. Two of the girls moved back in with their
families and the remaining three of us found
a first floor, two bedroomed flat and moved
in there together. The location was good and
it was very close to public transport, with
a park and a shopping centre both within a short
walk. The rent was quite high compared to our
previous home but one of the girls suggested
that if she could have the lounge as her bedroom
that she would pay extra for that privilege.
As she owned a dog and there was an outside
staircase leading down to the shared garden
from the lounge it worked out well. The arrangement
also meant that the rent was cheaper and that
none of us had to share a room.
It wasn't long before I made a couple of new
friends in the neighbourhood, both were young
gay males and that suited me fine since I was
invited to a lot of clubs and discos where we'd
dance to Soul, Tamla Motown, Disco and Reggae.
It was really good to have friends living nearby
to go out with who had absolutely no interest
in me sexually. While they were both very different
characters I was really glad to have them in
my life. One of them was from a well-to-do family
who had a very tasteful but cold feeling house,
with marble floors everywhere and a pool out
back. The other was more like a female friend
and was always smiling and happy. He lived with
his partner who was older and didn’t enjoy
clubbing so it all worked out well for everyone.
He was very outgoing and flamboyant in his dress
and the first person I ever knew back then who
had nipple piercings. When we went out he always
had his shirt open to show them off and wore
a chain between them. He used to borrow some
of my clothes at times and his particular favourite
was a shocking pink shirt with leopard print
trim; he loved it so much that I never did get
it back.
One Saturday afternoon I was asked by a friend
to go with him to the Kings Road in Chelsea.
It wasn't a place I would normally frequent
at that time as I was only just surviving on
unemployment benefit. I had very little money
to go shopping anywhere, let alone somewhere
so notoriously expensive, but I also had nothing
better to do on a Saturday afternoon. As we
walked back in the direction of the tube station
at Sloane Square I was approached by a girl
who commented on my appearance. She asked if
she could buy me a cup of coffee and it seemed
like a good idea as I had been on my feet for
a while by then. She motioned towards a café
across the street where she bought us coffee
and kept saying how good she thought I looked.
I remember finding it slightly embarrassing
since I hadn’t taken much care over my
appearance that day. When I thanked her for
the coffee and said that we had to be going
she started to write something on the back of
the till receipt, asking me to wait for a minute.
As I stood up she handed it to me, saying that
it was the address of a ‘great club’
and that I would really ‘fit in’
there. Past experience had told me that I often
didn’t fit in anywhere but I told her
I’d think about it and might see her later.
It was a chance meeting with a complete stranger
but I ended up changing my plans and deciding
to go to the club that night. It was my first
visit to Louise's in London’s Poland Street
- or 'Club Louise' as I believe it was actually
called.
- Soo Catwoman / February 2010
NOW
READ PART TWO! |
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