While on a West Coast tour this spring with my band and some of our friends, we all decided to get tattoos commemorating the journey. Along with a piece of John Candy on the inside of my right bicep repping my own band, I got a hair brush with the initials "R.H." tattooed above it. Who is R.H., you ask? Why that's me. I'm a Ratchet Ho, or in other words, a wild and out of control girl that you dare not take to the club, because she might tear it up. Or something.
Spending hours in a van left me a lot of time to do things like peruse Twitter, which is where I discovered this term. I was immediately fascinated: the word ratchet was so gnarly sounding, rolling off the tongue like a something I wouldn't have been caught dead saying in Catholic school, but better. I couldn't remember the last time I used the word ratchet to describe anything, but now, it was my adjective, my noun, my verb, my favorite thing. The cashier at a truck stop was a ratchet ho. The man working the door at the venue was a ratchet ho. Everyone was acting ratchet. I was the supremely swaggarific ratchet ho!
When it came time to get our tattoos, naturally, I was going to wear my new ratchet ho name badge forever. And I now I do, in black and red Sailor Jerry-ish curly cursive handwriting on my pale arm.
A few days ago, I was seven windows deep into a YouTube K-hole when I came across rapper Kreayshawn's video for "Gucci Gucci." Along with her DJ Lil' Debbie, the East Oakland Odd Future bffs and Lil' B video proprietarios are part of the White Girl Mob, a crew of rapping, self-proclaimed ratchet hos. They were the real thing. And now I, the 30-year-old Bree Davies, a white girl from Colorado, had affiliated myself with some serious ratchet hos, without even knowing it.
Mom, I hope you're proud. It isn't just my brother with the banger tats anymore, it's me, too. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go fuck with some basic bitches in my boxing class.
