Dara Douglas [EDIT]

Alex Goodman
Oct 25, 2010

When I first met Dara Douglas*, it was my first week on the job as a file clerk at a law firm in New York City’s financial district. She came up to me and introduced herself, and then peered down at my shoes. “Oh my god aren’t you hot in those? Those are winter shoes!” she exclaimed. Admittedly, I was hot. I was unaware of the summer dress code and was glad I had been provided with some lenience. Dara had no qualms about sharing her views, and was eager in helping me shape my own. As the days went on, Dara would place the arts section of The New York Times on my desk everyday before I got there, and then was sure to remind me that she did so. On my last day on Wall St, Dara bought me a veggie wrap, and sent me off, saying: “We’ll have to light one up soon.”

Two months later, Dara shuffled through the door of Veselka where she had arranged our meeting. She sat down immediately, and looked through only one page of the extensive menu. Dara did not skip a beat, as she ordered a cup of coffee and a veggie burger, and assured the waitress that the restaurant had fantastic food.

The redheaded 53-year-old legal secretary from Long Island had no problem reciting her views. She was untroubled by them⎯as if reciting them over lunch. We touched upon gay rights, outsourcing money, and the idea of true democracy. Dara’s political reservations were few and far between, especially when it came to the Republican Party. “There is no humanity out there, because you have morons like Christine O’Donnell from the Tea Bagger party.”

Her casually aggressive political opinions were interrupted by shockingly maternal ones, as she placed french fries on my plate, and repeated, “I’m so glad to see you eating” throughout the course of the meal.

Dara, who even in the middle of her life remains a size four, does not have a very decadent appetite herself. This choice has very much to do with becoming a vegetarian, and studying zoology in college. “Being a zoologist, eating meat is just hypocritical. She said “Plus, there are so many steroids in meat. Seeing a ten year old, look like an eighteen year old is disturbing. Roman Polanski might have not had so much trouble if the girl actually looked thirteen.”

I sought solace in Dara against the backdrop of a downtown law firm. She glided from cubicle to cubicle shedding her insights with expressive vulgarity. When the office had a bed bugs scare, she was the first to identify them, and the first to tell you how much Clorox bleach to use around the perimeter of your apartment. Dara never failed to comment on which snack I decided to get at the vending machine. She was partial to pretzels, as they are low in calories. Though her zoology background was underworked at the law firm, she assured me that she lived out her passions through her love of extreme sports, and her rescued beagle lab mix, Charlie and her Himalayan that recently passed away.

Dara responds to all of my political and environmental questions quickly, and with great ferocity. Tapping the pages of my journal, she suggests that I get a tape recorder: “If you think I’m chatty now just wait until I’m stoned.”

Upon first glance, one might not anticipate Dara’s advocacy of Marijuana. But she assures me that, “My most important subject is marijuana—I want that shit legalized.”

It was on August 10th, 41 years ago that Dara Doulgas inhaled her first breath of Marijuana and never looked back. Though Dara advocates marijuana’s legalization, she is strongly against the usage of other drugs. “The only thing we’ll have to worry about [post marijuana’s legalization] is cocaine and heroin, and if they want to do it⎯let them die!”

Nevertheless, Dara’s expressive nature is not exclusively for shock value. Dara cultivated her own political views by the time she was 18, became a self-proclaimed atheist at age 10 and was greatly involved in the no-nuke movement prior to her enrollment at Cornell. Despite her position as a legal secretary, Dara has procured degrees in both zoology and economics, and plans to relocate to California where she can inhale marijuana insouciantly. This wiry framed rebel is void of categorization, mostly because she is inherently herself. “Ask me anything,” she says while aggressively signaling for the check “I promise I’ll be honest.”