You didn’t think Genc Jakupi with his basic ass, mediocre acting, and pipe dreams of the big screen was the star of this story? No, no, no, Jordan Kale Barrett is what catapulted me into the eyes of celebrities. He’s the reason they all took an interest in me, how could they not when he made me a whopping twenty of his instagram AND snapchat stories on the night of this picture? The honey haired prince, the embodiment of white entitlement, a blue eyed, blonde hair caucasian male supermodel, an Aryan dream.
Jordan and I first met in 2015 I believe. He was sitting across the street from Webster Hall, rolling out of his mind. I was walking down the street in search of my friend. Halfway down the block this beautiful, adrogynous, feline creature springs from a stoop, asking if I have a cigarette (or lighter). He was so awkward, complimenting me in a nervous manner about my looks. If he weren’t gorgeous he would be creepy. I didn’t find out who he was until I saw him on Hailey Bieber’s instagram post.
“That’s the boy from the stoop!” I shared the picture with my friend. I followed him immediately. We had a connection in our short interaction, made evident on the night he ran into me at Miss Lily’s in 2017.
I was off the clock and WASTED. I’d won the specials contest (as usual, selling the most fish) and was rewarded with said meal, alongside copious amounts of liquor. Now this was a perk of being protected by Genc. I pretty much did whatever the hell I wanted. This didn’t sit well with his jealous brother, or the other people who were use to Genc being ruthless. He was known to fire people for lesser offenses than anything I’d done, which included sleeping on the clock, at work, after getting drunk on New Year’s, did I mention the restaurant was packed? Had no idea how I got home, still made it to work the following brunch. Honestly, Genc getting his information from other people, never communicating with me directly, made him a monster towards me. In his Albanian culture women are viewed as property, his brother felt I didn’t know my place. His brother who robbed him of the truth, tried to hook up with me and is now married with a kid. While Genc remains anguished.
Jordan was coming to see if he could throw his Chrome Hearts sunglasses launch party at the restaurant. I spotted him as my friends and I drunkenly ran up and down the street.
“Jordan!”
“You work here?” he replied. As if no time had passed, like we’d known each other forever. Grabbing him by the waist we take several photos, deciding this was the best one. Never letting go we walk inside. We hang out for hours. This infuriates the Jakupi brother’s, who are watching from the cameras, while receiving text updates from Kendall the manager. EVERYBODY who saw us asked if we knew each other, such was the strength of our bond. Jordan asked for my number in a roundabout way. Feeling indebted to Genc, who I thought was my twin, who fired countless people on my behalf, I directed him to Kendall. He promised to come back the next day, declining to go to The Box, because he had a shoot the next morning.
He never came. Thank god too, Genc’s brother waited for him all day. What his intentions were I’ll never know. When Jordan didn’t show, his brother took his anger out on me. This is how I ended up suing and winning. Once they realized the nature of Jordan’s visit, they tried to email me to make amends, but I was over it (Olatz Schnabel posted Jordan’s photo so they could find out who he was). I’d been paper trailing them from the year prior when a line cook, a short Mexican man with a Napoleonic complex, believing himself white (until I reminded him they were building a wall to keep him out), called me a nigga and threw a plate at my head. He missed. The staff was blamed. Underestimated, no one bothered to look into my background. Assuming based on my short skirts, that I was like the other girls, only relevant due to a job there. Not very educated. Not connected. Needing them for some semblance of the fame they sought as artists. Products of systemic racism. Bitch I been going to events. By the time they realized who I was it was too late. Genc started spreading lies about me from that day on, forcing me to make my social media public to tell the truth.
Jordan Barrett freed me, which came with a lot of hate. Like Genc, Jordan is a womanizer and all the women who fawned over him hated me. Kaia Gerber, who got his named tatted on her arm (which Cindy Crawford covered by saying it was for Michael Jordan, stop coddling your kids, that’s why they aren’t extraordinary like their legendary parents), Lila Moss cute, but that cherubic face is no sculpted Kate Moss, Caroline Vreeland, who covered the song Wicked Games (a song Jordan wrongfully attributes to me ), then removed it from her social media, Fanny something, Bella Hadid’s best friend, another victim who was enraged by his love for me, the list is endless. Women, who are really girls, preaching feminism, stalking me just to tear me down, over a boy who ain’t your boyfriend boo. No wonder he’s bored, you guys behaved like the women in the ads of the 50’s and 60’s, objects to be used and disposed of. What else did you expect then? Your mothers should have raised you better. To value yourself outside the male gaze, rather than support your embarrassing behavior, riddled with lack of: self-love, purpose, compassion, or intellect.
