The Undesirable Club
🌟🌟🌟
from a shy rockstar
… and Other Places I Didn’t Know I Still Belonged To
There’s a strange kind of clarity that comes from standing in a room where no one is looking at you.
Not the romanticized version where you slip mysteriously into the shadows, glowing in your own mystique. No. I mean the kind of room where everyone else seems to have an invisible spotlight hovering above their heads and you’re left wondering if yours blew out on the way in.
Night One: Women Who Came to Be Women
Tuesday was soft, warm, communal, the kind of space where women showed up in their full feminine intelligence and somehow didn’t have to compete for oxygen. Hospitality girlies with clipboards, creative consultants, sommeliers, hotel managers, a room full of women who weren’t performing for the gaze.
My girlfriend, who carries a deliciously alpha energy men trip over themselves to orbit, invited me. And she brought a not-so-mutual friend, a fiery Colombian woman whose softness is her trick and whose desirability is her weapon. Men swarm her. Women squint at her. She floats between the two untouched.
And then there’s me: petite, sharp-boned, the girl whose face makes people ask,
“Where are you from?”
South African?
Jamaican?
Part Asian?
All of the above?
I never know which version of me people are meeting. The soft one? The unreadable one? The one men want only after trying everyone else they think they deserve?
But that night, none of that mattered. It was women only. No competition, no performance. Just presence. Just connection. I was seen and not compared.
I handed out business cards. Mingled. Even enjoyed myself.
I should’ve known lightning wouldn’t strike twice.
Night Two: The Room That Reminded Me I Was Mortal
The next night was the upscale version of a networking fantasy, velvet ropes, curated lighting, the kind of décor that whispers black tie vibes even if your invite never explicitly said so.
We all dressed for the part:
I wore:
A red sheer mini dress with a hip-slit
Black stockings with tiny secret tears
A brown hooded trench
Chunky-heeled mules
…and a softness I didn’t realize would be tested.
Colombian friend: a sleek black dress, white jacket draped in effortless rich-auntie fashion, cowgirl boots (???) — but when you’re desired, fashion is a suggestion, not a requirement.
Persian friend: jeans, a turtleneck, trench, Docs and later admitted she underdressed, though not for the reason she thought.
Gogo dancers glittered overhead like glamorous swans. Men filled the room with the quiet hum of evaluation. Women sharpened their smiles. The sliders were excellent, but the energy was… sharp.
And the chaos had begun earlier than I realized.
The taxi my partner sent me arrived, but the driver spent 15 minutes trying to charge me because he didn’t read the note that it was an account ride. He restarted his iPad three times. By the time I finally got there, I should’ve known:
Tonight was not my night.
I guess I’ll just…
The Moment It Shifted
I walked in already slightly frayed and immediately ran into a woman from the previous night. The universe sent me a familiar face — then took everything else away.
Because the truth was:
I was part of the undesirables club that night.
Not because I wasn’t beautiful.
Not because I wasn’t worthy.
But because the room wasn’t built for my kind of power — the quiet kind, the becoming kind, the subtle confidence that doesn’t demand attention but deepens when seen.
My friends pivoted:
One chased the male gaze like it was a sport.
The other drank toward oblivion.
And I?
I stood in the becoming, in the uncomfortable space between who I am and who I am still learning to claim.
No one lingered too long.
The moments I wasn’t paired in conversation…. awkward!
The only one whose presence wasn’t immediately validated.
It stung.
Of course it did.
But beneath the sting was a deeper question whispering through me:
Does desirability impact self-worth? And if so… why?
And why still?
In this body? This face? This mind? This era of my growth?
Because here’s the thing:
If I were the most powerful woman in that room — wealthy, known, loudly successful — the same men would be sprinting to refill my drink. The same women would be asking what serum I use, pretending it’s the secret to my glow.
Power shifts perception.
And maybe that night I didn’t look powerful.
But baby, they had no idea.
The Loneliness of Being Misread
My partner was also spiraling over something small and chose being right over being supportive, unknowingly deepening the quiet ache already blooming inside me.
But the truth?
Last night wasn’t about desirability.
It was about belonging.
And sometimes, the rooms we walk into simply aren’t meant for our becoming.
The Revelation: The Undesirable Club Is a Lie
Desirability is not a metric.
It’s a myth, shaped by angles, lighting, and whatever collective delusion the room is currently worshipping.
Last night didn’t expose my lack, it exposed the room’s limitations.
And I refuse to shrink because a room forgot to recognize me.
A Note to My Future Self (and to You, bestie):
Your power doesn’t evaporate in spaces that can’t read it.
Your worth doesn’t dim because someone else’s gaze slid past you.
Your beauty isn’t negotiable.
Your becoming isn’t up for public vote.
Sometimes the most powerful woman in the room is the one who stands alone, unchosen, unshaken and unbothered — because she knows she wasn’t meant to be chosen there anyway.
The undesirables club?
Please.
I’ve never been undesirable a day in my life.
And neither have you.
We’re just not for every room.
Vibe Ritual: For the Nights You Feel Unseen
Lighting: Turn off the overheads. One lamp. Soft glow. Curtain slightly open to the streetlight outside.
Soundtrack: Young Dolph ft Megan Thee Stallion “RNB”.
Scent: A grounding patchouli or sandalwood. Something that makes the room feel like it’s exhaling with you.
Drink: A glass of red wine with depth, or a peppermint tea that reminds your lungs they belong to you.
Action: Journal one page answering:
Who am I becoming and what kind of rooms deserve her energy?
Burn the answer into your memory.
Carry it into every entrance.
Walk in like the room is lucky you came.
for the vibes
cheers to who you’re becoming and the rooms that deserve that power
