Bitchell: An Ode to Drunk White Girls

“Drunk white girl” bears little significance at Oxford, where 87.3% of the students are white and everyone is drunk 90% of the time. But in racially diverse America, the term conjures a specific breed of national embarrassment.

Growing up with a diet of Bush sisters and MTV, Americans know the types and sub-types of drunk white girls. There’s the ‘Snookies’ and ‘Carrie Bradshaws’, but this is a 500 word column, not an anthropology term paper, and beneath Snooki’s Juicy Couture and Carrie’s Chanel is the same drunken rambles. So, for the sake of clarity, let’s make some generalizations. (After all, we all know 98.5% of you are reading this to leave nasty remarks in the comments thread.)

A drunk white girl claims she can drink an entire bottle of vodka and then vomits after five shots. She cries because a club patron said her dress looked like crap found on shelves at TK Maxx and screams about her most recent juice cleanse. Her problems are insignificant, and after a few problems she makes her problems known.

I’ve spent my last two columns arguing that Brits should overshare and discuss their feelings. We Americans refrain from talking about race and class. In retrospect my writing made Americans seem like uncomplicated, open minded individuals. We’re not perfect either. Only our history of class and racial inequality embarrasses us more than the fact that we elected one two three cowboys as president.

In standard American fashion, white people deal with the issue in a contradictory manner. We utter a refrain of “WHITE GIRL PROBLEMS!” when another white person complains about purses or diets, although first world problems do emotionally affect first world people, while also following a silent code that we will call ourselves “upper middle class”, when we all know damn well upper middle class doesn’t exist.

The drunk white girl breaks this code.

She shouts about her wealth.

Cries about what affects her.

And crawls across beaches and bar floors, wailing about her insipid problems.

A friendly reminder that money can’t buy you class

Only the drunk white girl’s impending vomit…

…or arrest can shut her up.

I was happy to leave the drunk white girls behind, but, once I arrived in England I missed them. Their problems were stupid; they lacked self-awareness, but at least they were entertaining and had the nerve to talk about something they cared about instead of acting like they were paupers.

Luckily, within a week I realized that once night falls and the Tesco boxed wine leaves the shelves, I could be in white girl central.

Walking outside Camera at 3am and I saw a girl huddled on the floor in a dress too small for fall. A few nights later, a girl in a black fur coat held my arm as she led me to Wahoo and leaned her head on my shoulder, moaning about how “Daddy gambled away the old money,” reminding me of Long Island girls that lie about being born in Manhattan and consider Uggs designer.

On Friday night I attended a dinner party. Three white girls sat in a corner sipping wine. Their conversation revolved around polite fair: term papers and more term papers. But as the bottles emptied, the girl let everything out. One kissed a boy and then grabbed me. “You’re great,” she said. “Oh no! I hope I’m not acting like one of those pathological English people you write about.”

Another pointed at a boy. “Give me a ride!” she screamed. She pounded on a boy’s shoulders and then jumped onto his back.

“I’m your fucking queen! Bring me to the kitchen!”

She then ordered the boy to drop her on the kitchen table. Someone told her to have emotions (a euphemism for ‘play nice’). “I don’t have feelings. I sold them for magic beans!” she screamed.

The drunk girls were rude and emotional, but they voiced how they felt. They were no bullshit, instead of the usual privileged bullshit. Their problems might be insignificant, but at least they’re daring enough to lean over a sidewalk curb hurling traumatic stories and last night’s dinner into newly straightened hair.

P.S. Who ever leaves the meanest comment gets a drink on meeeeeeeee!