#apologies that so many are sad i just mostly listen to folk music

[senipsenipsenip]

Want my list of songs that make me think of Gravity Falls characters?

I've stuck with the age old fandom tradition of "some of these songs make me think of these characters and relationships because the lyrics speak specifically to their experiences and some of these are just the vibes"

Stanley Pines

The Only Thing by Sufjan Stevens (I see it very platonically Stan thinking about Ford in the days after the portal incident)

Puff the Magic Dragon by Peter, Paul, and Mary (try not to think about this song coming on the car radio during Stan’s homeless years)

Brown Trout Blues by Johnny Flynn

Frankie’s Gun by The Felice Brothers

Breakin’ Dishes by Rihanna (something about 90s and 00s bops scream Stanley to me I don't know why)

Whatta Man by Salt-N-Peppa ft. En Vogue (I know he was listening to this religiously while fixing the Stanleymobile)

Icarus by Bastille

Hit ‘Em Up Style (Oops!) by Blu Cantrell

Stanford Pines

Welcome Home, Son by Radical Face

why did you invite me to your wedding by Kevin Atwater (the Fiddauthor angst is SO real)

Closer to Fine by The Indigo Girls (post-portal Ford babyyyy)

You're So Vain by Carly Simon (I feel like he relates to this one in a way he feels weird about)

Sloop John B. by The Beach Boys (I feel like he and Stanley have a blast singing this one on The Stan o' War II)

Fiddleford

Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons (apologies in advance that most of Fidds songs relate to Ford. But this one is such a Fiddauthor song)

White Blank Page by Mumford and Sons (Verse 1 - Ford and Verse 2 - Fidds)

Joy to the World by Three Dog Night (look I just think he'd really like this one)

Clay Pigeons by Michael Cera

Mabel

Chiwawa by Wanko Ni Mero Mero (Mabel 1000% plays Just Dance and this song is in constant rotation)

Cats by The Living Tombstone

Dipper

*insert the entirety of the ABBA discography*

*insert all of The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess by Chappell Roan*

[randomlyrankingthings]

TOP 20 ALBUMS (Part 2 of 2)

Part 1

Dystopia: The Tree of Language - Dreamcatcher (2020)

Favourite Tracks: Black or White, Jazz Bar, In The Frozen

For starters, if you haven’t heard of Dreamcatcher or their amazing music then you are very much missing out. It has taken them a while to reach their place in the mainstream music setting, and they are still sorely underrated. With rock as their central genre, their first full-length album infuses their flawless rock-style with a myriad of other genres - EDM, R&B, and even a bit of jazz. This is one talented group of women, and this album is just one of their many great musical releases.

Ruins - First Aid Kit (2018)

Favourite Tracks: Fireworks, Postcard, Ruins

I do have a soft spot for female folk musicians, and these two Swedish sisters are no exception. Undeniably this is, overall, a very sad album both lyrically and musically, so if you’re looking for music to wallow to then look no further. The highlight of this album is the STUNNING harmonies which can be heard in every track, and are the band’s greatest asset. If you’re a fan of ABBA’s more melancholy songs, or a fan of sad-folk in general, then do give this album a listen. You won’t regret it.

Kaleidoscope Heart - Sara Bareilles (2010)

Favourite Tracks: Gonna Get Over You, King of Anything, Let The Rain

Sara Bareilles is a huge musical inspiration of mine, and it will forever baffle me how she is so underrated by modern music standards. She has an incredible voice, both powerful and soothing, and has some rather incomparable skills on the keys. It was difficult to choose which of her beautiful albums to add to this list, but Kaleidoscope Heart is a nostalgic landmine - for me, anyway. It perfectly encapsulates Sara’s musical style, while having the variety to keep you engaged and refreshed with each track. A world class album from a world class musician.

The Trick To Life - The Hoosiers (2007)

Favourite Tracks: Worried About Ray, Clinging On For Life, Everything Goes Dark

This album is, rather unfortunately, the very epitome of a one-hit wonder. Apologies to any of their more recent fans who disagree with that statement, but it cannot be denied that The Hoosiers have rather fallen off the radar since this brilliant debut release. Falling mostly within the descriptor of indie-rock, this album is full of catchy tracks, all fitting beautifully together to create a very unique sound. They may not be so well-known anymore, but this album will remain iconic for years to come.

The Black Parade - My Chemical Romance (2006)

Favourite Tracks: Welcome to the Black Parade, Famous Last Words

This album is arguably one of the greatest in punk-rock history, and is certainly a MAJOR source of nostalgia for all the emos (past and present) out there. It is absolutely chock-a-block full of hardcore bangers, with some absolutely gorgeous lyrics to go along with the epic drum fills and guitar solos. All of that topped of with Gerard Way's unique, raspy vocals is one stunning addition to My Chemical Romance's already impeccable discography.

The Kids Are Alright - Chloe x Halle (2018)

Favourite Tracks: Cool People, Drop, Fall

These two sisters are full of talent. Writing and producing this spectacular debut album themselves, we get a wonderful example of how to mix pop and R&B in a way that is perfectly unique to them. I will say, this is definitely a must-listen for any Beyoncé fans out there, with the album being released under her label. If you're looking for absolutely stunning vocals and harmonising on top of some top-notch production, this one's for you.

Born To Die (Paradise Edition) - Lana Del Rey (2012)

Favourite Tracks: Off to the Races, Million Dollar Man, Yayo

It was extremely difficult to narrow Lana's albums down to find my favourite, but I had to go with the first one I was blessed with hearing. While the original edition is great by itself, The Paradise Edition gives us a nice handful of extra great tracks. I'm aware that Lana's music can be considered quite polarising, but if you're a fan of sad-core pop and have yet to hear this beautiful album, please do give it a listen. It's the perfect album to listen to while smoking a joint, for one (as all of Lana's albums are, to be honest), and no one can deny how hauntingly beautiful the vocals are on each and every track. This album is a must listen, joint or not.

Six: The Musical (Studio Cast Recording) (2018)

Favourite Tracks: No Way, Heart of Stone, All You Wanna Do

Now, I'd like to preface this choice by saying that if you don't normally enjoy musicals then go into this one with an open mind. Six is a remarkably unique take on the six wives of Henry VIII, however, in a universe where they are alive and in a girl group. We get to see each queen have their shining moment with a solo song that tells the story of their time with Henry from their point-of-view. No two tracks could be considered the same on this album, as each queen takes musical inspiration from a woman in modern music. It has it's cheesy moments, as all musicals do, but if you're willing to give it a chance then you'll be treated to some really clever music and lyrics, and an extremely empowering set of songs.

WARNING - Sunmi (2018)

Favourite Tracks: Black Pearl, Curve

This EP marks the first of Sunmi's since her departure from JYP Entertainment, and the first that we got to hear of Sunmi's own writing and production during her solo career. After a four year solo hiatus, this EP is an absolute treasure for pop music. We get to see Sunmi's longstanding love for 80s synth, having caught a glimpse in her band, Wonder Girls', album 'Reboot' (2015), and the sound perfectly matches Sunmi's overall vibe as an artist. She has released some excellent stuff since this EP - all wonderful in their own right - but this will always remain superior, at least in my opinion.

Turning Tides - Wildwood Kin (2017)

Favourite Tracks: Circumstance, Taking a Hold, The Valley

This one is a treat for any lovers of folk out there. A highly underrated English trio, this debut album has some stunning vocal harmonies which are, honestly, some of the best I have ever heard. It has some nice variety for a folk album, with some more hardcore tracks scattered in amongst some classic folk ballads. Folk is a highly underrated genre, in general, and this band is a highly underrated group of talented women who deserve so much more recognition and success.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Sticks

(My gif)(requested by anonymous)

- As a kid, you spent ever summer visiting your grandma and grandpas farm. It was the highlight of your year but there was something there that you wished you could avoid... Sticks.

- Ever since you were little the farmhands son would harass you, always trying to scare you, tease you, push you around. He infuriated you growing up and was the one thing you couldn’t stand about visiting your grandparents.

- He was also one of the first things that came to mind when your parents asked if you’d be willing to stay with them for a while as they packed up your old house. You’d be moving to the countryside not too far away from the farm as soon as they sold it.

- You figured that Sticks had to have grown up by then, you hadn’t seen him for over a year and who were you to turn down staying with your grandparents. You were... partly right.

- Stanley and Sticks picked you up from the bus station allowing you to get your first good look at the country boy “all grown up”. He’d gotten handsome was your first thought but the sentiment was lost the instant he opened his mouth.

“So the city slicker returns.”

- Immediately, you knew this prolonged visit wasnt going to be as peaceful as you thought it would. During your car ride, Sticks was relatively calm but after you got to the farm and were done settling in...the games began.

- Throughout the week, you were met with pranks, teasing, and all different annoyances. It seemed like Sticks genuinely just enjoyed seeing you get all worked up, and boy did you hate him for it. The thing you wanted most in the world was to wipe that smile off his face. But then things changed, well, not completely.

- It was a normal day, you’d been wandering around the farm trying to find something to do when you heard something in the barn. You figured something had fell over so you went inside to pick it up and maybe hang out in the straw for a while. When you went inside there was nothing seemingly out of place so you just went about hopping on the straw and exploring the bales.

- That was when Sticks popped out, scaring you half to death and laughing loudly as you shrieked. You yelled at him angrily, pushing him down while also managing to take yourself with him as you lost your footing. You ended up halfway on top of him and half poked by the straw.

- His laughter calmed as you realized his hands were on your sides, catching you before you crashed onto him. He didn’t seem all too fazed, aggravatingly content with your current situation. You quickly stumbled your way up and out of the barn, your cheeks burning hot as you made your escape.

- It was with abject horror that you realized you were falling for him. Slowly but surely you were noticing the redeemable qualities about him and disgusting yourself with those very same thoughts. Although you had to admit, he’d dialed down his pranks after the barn incident. You weren’t sure what it meant but you hoped it was good.

- Every now and again you’d catch his eyes on you, it felt as though he knew your secret and it bothered you to no end but you couldn’t risk confronting him. You couldn’t let him have a chance at embarrassing you even further. So you let him watch you and minded your business, keeping your distance as you tried to forget what your mind was pushing you to think about.

- It was a week or so later, you were walking by the cornfield when all of a sudden you were pulled in through the stalks. You shrieked but immediately clamped your mouth shut as you saw who it was. Guess who. He grinned even as you slapped his chest.

“What was that for!” You yelped, adjusting yourself as your heart attempted to slow itself down.

“I wanted to show you something.” He told you.

“And scare me half to death.” You glared

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” he scoffed amusedly. “Close your eyes.”

“Then how will I see what you want to show me.” You rebutted.

“Just close them, alright?” He said and you could have sworn he was nervous.

- So you closed them and waited. You were about to open them again to ask what he was trying to pull when something warm pressed against your lips. Your eyes flashed open as he quickly pulled away, watching you warily as he awaited your response. You weren’t sure what to say so you said nothing and began to walk down the trail between the corn.

- He called after you, hightailing it to catch up. Once he was at your side he apologized for everything, even the kiss, awkwardly stuttering his way through a confession of his feelings as you continued to walk. He pleaded with you not to tell anyone, telling you again that he was “real sorry for even trying”.

“Don’t be,” you finally said, taking a glance at him before hesitantly kissing his cheek and disappearing through the corn. You didn’t see it but the instant you were gone he jumped around, hidden behind the stalks with a massive grin on his face.

- Your first actual date was in the barn, he surprised you with a little set up in the loft. A soft blanket, food, music playing through a busted up radio; you had to admit, it was adorable. The two of you shared a real kiss and just like that the city slicker and the country boy were an item.

- You probably keep your relationship a secret from your parents and grandparents for a little while. You aren’t sure how they’ll react so you figure you’ll just see what happens between you two first, no sense making waves when you aren’t gonna surf.

- Theres not a lot of pda in your relationship mostly because he doesn’t want to get in trouble with your folks.

- He probably really likes cuddling but refuses to admit it because he’s a tough farm boy.

- Comparing accents and what you call things when you’re bored.

- He’s a fan of metal bands so you spend a lot of your time listening to them yourself.

- Every now and again he’ll ask you to help him cut his hair. You’ll sit on his bathroom sink and trim it while he rests his head in your lap.

- Sitting next to him for meals and secretly, purposefully brushing each other’s hands when passing food. Once in a while he’ll reach over and hold your hand under the table.

- Sticks kind of grew up differently than most kids. Where others were allowed to just be kids, he had to be grown up and much more responsible. Because of that, you’ll sometimes catch him acting like your father, telling you to do, or not to do, this or that.

- He’s always willing to help but usually teases that you owe him whenever he does.

- Anytime you walk away his eyes follow you until you’re out of view. Sometimes it’s subtle glances, other times not so much.

- Sharing looks with each other when things get weird.

- Accepting his father and his odd sayings wholeheartedly.

- His dad loves you almost as much as he does, platonically of course.

- Old habits die hard, right? He still likes scaring you but definitely doesn’t do it quite as much as he used to. He also likes telling you scary stories rather than trying to jumpscare you all the time.

- A part of him likes telling you ghost stories because they put you on edge and let him be your knight in shining armor, holding you close whenever you actually get scared.

- You’ve gotten used to his teasing by now so his incessant need to “occasionally” make your blood boil doesn’t affect you too much anymore.

- Teasingly stealing his gloves or hat when he’s not looking in retaliation.

- Resting in the straw together, you can’t remember how many times the two of you have fallen asleep in the barn.

- Whenever you’re ready to leave he tenderly picks pieces of it out of your hair, giving you a little smile as you peck him on the lips in return.

- Helping him with his pranks if they seem harmless enough.

- Occasionally helping him with his work so that he doesn’t kill himself trying to do everything by himself.

- Sometimes when you visit him while he’s working he’ll just start explaining what he’s doing or how something works. You never knew you could learn so much from just deciding to see your boyfriend.

- Kissing in the corn fields.

- Sneaking into his house late at night.

- Always stands behind your chair whenever you’re sitting. He does it so much that it feels weird not having his presence behind you whenever you’re somewhere without him.

- He always stands up for you no matter who he’s defending you from.

- He’s very protective, always keeping an eye on you or keeping you close. Whenever you’re encountering something he doesn’t like he’ll keep you behind him so that he can defend you if need be.

- Hes really good at comforting you whenever you’re worried, sad or scared; more so when he isn’t the direct cause of it.

- Eating pie together.

- Watching the stars or clouds (depending on the time of day). You lay your head against his arm as the two of you lie on your backs in one of the many open fields around the farm.

- Going on long walks together.

- Your grandparents probably don’t like the idea of you going off on your own so they made a rule that if you want to go somewhere in town you need to bring Sticks along completely unaware of the irony.

- Piggy back rides.

- Really likes getting kisses on the cheek. There’s just something so nice about it especially if you just do it out of nowhere.

- He probably still, jokingly, calls you “city slicker” but when he’s actually trying to use a pet name he’ll just say hon, darlin, missy or some kind of name that means something in your relationship.

- He probably built you a tire swing at some point so the two of you visit that and play around on it when he isn’t working.

- He likes listening to you read or talk while he does menial tasks. It makes his day a little less boring and let’s him appreciate how nice your voice is.

- He picks you little wild flowers he finds while working. Sometimes they end up a little wilted before he can give them to you but you appreciate the gesture.

- It’s pretty easy to get him worked up so fights happen... I wouldn’t say often but certainly not rarely. He’ll raise his voice but never quite yells at you, he just can’t bring himself to do it no matter how mad he gets in the moment.

- It doesn’t take long for the two of you to make up. Most of your fights are petty arguments just...louder. You’ll both apologize and hug and that will be the end of it.

- Sticks isn’t a very jealous person but he has his moments. Whenever he does get jealous the main reason behind it is his own insecurities. He can’t help but think it would be easier for you to date anyone but him. You wouldn’t have to deal with evil scarecrows or strange dads or dumb farmboys that don’t even work on their own farm.

- You always reassure him that you don’t want anyone else but him. He’s the only farmboy, the only boy at all, that you could ever love.

- He likes you, the real you, odd quirks and all. In fact, he finds the strange things about you kind of endearing in a way. It gives him more to learn about you and love.

- Even though he doesn’t say it very often, he really does love you. He never realized someone could make him as happy as you do. You really changed his life for the better.

[iwillbeinmynest]

The Monte Carlo Job - Steve x Reader(f)   Chapter 2

Authors Notes: Here comes Part 2 Y'all! I hope you are enjoying this series. I know it came out of nowhere but I was feeling sad and wanted to just post something so I started a new series, even though I haven’t finished my last one... Anywayyysss, Have some more Steve!

Word Count: 1.8k

Notes/Warnings: Your typical action/MI type trope. There is glitz and glam as well as running for your life and fighting to stay alive. Bad guys and allies, guns and galas. Mentions of death, one sleazy and creepy guy who makes one too many passes, use of guns, fighting, drinking, being framed for murder and clearing your name. It’s a wild ride folks!

Masterlist   Series Masterlist

Chapter 2

Y/N and Steve walked hand in hand back to the main floor of the museum where the actual Gala was being held.

The grand room was littered with tall tables and waiters with trays of glasses. There was a quartet in the back corner playing classical music and a small stage to the right with a lone microphone on it.

Bucky waved at them through the crowd and caught Steve’s eye.

“There you two are.” Nat smiled when they reached the table. “What were you up to, huh?”

Y/N shook her head. “Not what you think, we actually looked at the art.”

“Of course you were,” Bucky said. “Cause Stevie, here, wouldn’t dare do anything scandalous.”

“I would.” Steve defended himself. “I just happen to know the guy in charge of security and I know that all of the cameras are running.”

They chuckled.

“So,” Y/N looked around the room. “Who’s the target?”

Steve raised his brows as he scanned the floor. “Not sure yet. I recognize a few faces so I’ll have to make my rounds but I’ll let you know when I need a trophy on my arm to close a deal.”

Y/N smacked his arm and Nat and Bucky laughed.

“Please,” Y/N laughed, “If anything, you’re the trophy in this relationship.”

“She’s right.” Nat gracefully snatched two glasses of champagne from a passing tray. Bucky did the same. “You should hear the dirty things the women at our spin class say when you pick us up every thursday.”

“Excuse me?” Steve’s eyes widened.

Y/N laughed. “Oh come on, sweetheart. Girls will be girls, right?”

Nat held up her glass for a toast, “Here’s to another fantastic evening together. May we land a new client or have a blast tryin’.”

“Cheers!” They all raised their glasses.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Y/N and Nat usually stuck together and tonight was no different. They were standing a few tables over speaking with what Steve could only presume were other wives and girlfriends.

Steve and Bucky had been making their rounds, speaking with previous clients and making new acquaintances. These men were the richest of the rich, and that’s coming from Steve who lives beyond comfortably. The men tried to talk to Steve and Bucky about the military and people they knew that served.

It took Steve all he had not to roll his eyes, clearly these men had never seen war and the fact that they talked as though they had was infuriating.

“So, I say to the man,” A gentleman in an ascot smiled and waved his cigar around. “Either you pay me or I’ll send Howard!”

The other men around them laughed, Bucky and Steve smiled politely but shared a look.

“Well said, John.” Steve set a hand to the man’s back. “Excuse us.”

Both he and Bucky nodded and walked away from the table.

“I swear, Steve,” Bucky clenched his jaw and tried to take a subtle deep breath. “I don’t know why you make me come to these things.”

“I know,” Steve shook his head as they headed for Y/N and Nat. “But if I have to suffer, I’m not doing it alone.”

“I thought that’s why Y/N is here?”

“And make her listen to that crap, no way. I bring her so I can see her dolled up like that.” He nodded at his wife.

“We got lucky didn’t we?” Bucky watched Nat run her ring finger around the brim of her whiskey glass. She looked over and gave him a wink.

“That’s an understatement.” Steve smiled when Y/N followed Nat’s gaze and smiled at Steve.

Y/N and Nat excused themselves from the group of women and walked arm in arm to their husbands.

“You boys havin’ fun, yet?” Nat asked as she let go of Y/N and leaned into Bucky’s chest.

“Not at all.” He kissed the top of her head.

“How about you?” Steve asked Y/N.

She shrugged her shoulders, “Those women don’t know anything about what their husbands or boyfriends do. They’re just having a bragging party.”

“I wasn’t talking about prospective clients, babe, but I appreciate that your mind is on the company.”

Y/N smiled. “Well, you’re really gonna wish we’d landed one when you see the receipt for this dress.”

Steve closed his eyes and chuckled.

“Your girl has expensive taste.” Bucky teased his best friend.

“Nat picked it out.” Y/N clarified.

Both Steve and Bucky nodded.

“Now, see,” Steve grinned. “That makes more sense.”

Steve leaned down and kissed the side of Y/N’s head. “You ready to call it a night?”

“Yeah,” She smiled up at him. “I am.”

“Okay, then.” Steve held out his elbow and she wrapped her hand around it. “Shall we?”

As the two couples were making their way towards the exit, a man stepped out in front of them.

“Are you Mr. Rogers of Stealth Security?” The man asked. His Russian accent slowed his words but he spoke english well.

Steve held out a hand and the man took it in a firm shake. “I am. Have we met?”

“I’m afraid not.” The man straightened his spine and leaned his head back slightly. “My name is Petrov Lebedev and your reputation precedes you.” he grinned.

Steve raised his brows and lowered his arm, taking Y/N’s hand in his and squeezing it as an apology for staying longer. “Does it?”

“Yes. I have heard that you offer exceptional service in the matter of private security.”

A woman appeared at Petrov’s back. Y/N smiled at her but, the woman simply looked Y/N up and down then at Petrov.

Y/N was shocked at her blatant rudeness but kept quiet.

Beside her was another man, who could only be described as seedy. He was shorter than Steve but just as fit. His beard was stubbly and seemed to have a few scars in it where the hair no longer grew. He also eyed Y/N but in a way that made her squirm.

Steve didn’t miss that. He shifted his weight to land mostly in front of Y/N. “And who escorts you tonight?” Steve asked with very little patience, but he covered it with politeness to Petrov.

Petrov looked over and then back to Steve. “This is Sacha, my right hand and partner. And this,” He put an arm around the woman’s waist, tugging her forward. “Is Katryana.”

Steve nodded but didn’t address them. He turned to Bucky. “This is my partner, Bucky, and his wife, Natasha. And this,” he eyed Sacha hard, “Is my wife.”

Y/N straightened and tipped her head up. “Nice to meet you.” She made sure to only say that to Petrov, who hadn’t offended her, yet.

Petrov smiled then turned his attention to Steve. “I have an event coming up in three weeks in Monte Carlo and I am looking for a full team to escort myself, Sacha and Katryana around. I’m looking for everything from bodyguards to security during transportation and whatnot for the two days that we are there.”

Steve inhaled to speak but Petrov cut him off. “Money is no object and I assure you I can pay whatever you ask. Please, I want the best of the best and I have been promised that that is you.”

Steve recognized the touch of flattery but didn’t care for it.

“Well, how about I take your card and I will have my secretary check our schedule and see what we can come up with?” Steve offered. No way was he about to accept on the spot.

“Of course, of course,” Petrov smiled. “I do have one additional request though, which I understand might make a difference on the bill.”

Steve smiled and waited.

“I would like to see you there, personally. You can even bring your wife and make a trip of it, yes?”

Steve took a deep breath to unclinch his jaw and grinned. “We will consider it, schedule pending, of course.”

“Yes, of course.” Petrov pulled a card from the inside pocket of his coat. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Steve took it and slid it into his pocket without a glance. “Have a good evening.”

Steve took Y/N’s hand and escorted her to the foyer where all four of them collected their coats.

“I don’t like him, Steven.” Y/N said with a sigh. It was rare that she spoke out against a client but there was something about Sacha that she absolutely did not like.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He stood behind her as a shield, separating her from the ballroom, “We can discuss it on Monday. Forget about him for now.” He took her hand and kissed her palm.

Bucky huffed. “If Sacha had looked at Nat that way, I’d have laid him out right there.”

Steve snapped to Bucky and glared at him, “You think I didn’t want to?”

Bucky swallowed and took a breath. He held the door open for Nat and then Y/N and Steve. “I didn’t mean it like that. I know you would, I just-”

Nat put her hand on his chest and he wrapped his arms around her. “Let it go, baby.” She cooed and kissed him quickly.

Steve walked away to pay the valet. Y/N walked half way and waited for him.

“I’m sorry.” Y/N said sincerely when the valet ran off to bring the car around.

Steve looked at her curiously, his frustration fading slightly, “For what?”

She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “All of that. Sacha, Petrov, Bucky. And you know he didn’t mean it like that, right? He was just as heated as you.”

“I really doubt that.” Steve grumbled.

“Steve,” She said his name with a tone that urged for his attention. He looked down at her. “I’m fine. Totally over it. He didn’t touch me, everything is fine.”

“He didn’t have to touch you, did you see-”

Bucky passed with Nat to retrieve their car and Steve inhaled sharply.

Just then the valet returned and handed the keys to Steve.

Y/N took his hands. “He loves you, and me. He just talks too much.” She offered a small smile.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, I know.” He fiddled with the keys to his Tesla.

“Don’t be mad at Bucky for something you would have done if the situation was reversed.” Y/N added.

Steve nodded then pulled Y/N into a tight hug, kissing the crown of her head. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?” She looked up at him.

He leaned down, close enough to kiss her. “Fix everything.” He smiled against her mouth and kissed her softly.

Bucky and Nat approached calmly.

Y/N hugged Nat and Steve and Bucky clasped arms in a firm shake. Steve nodded to Bucky and Bucky nodded back.

“Have a good night.” Y/N said to Nat with a kiss to the cheek.

“We will, you too.” She smiled. Both of them were relieved to see the balance restored between their husbands.

Steve waved to Bucky as they walked off then turned to open the door for Y/N. She stopped close against him before she sat down into the car. “Thanks for protecting me.” She patted his chest.

He took her hand and held it over his heart, “Always.”

* * * * * * *

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​Monte Carlo Tags:

[diamondcamefromhell]

Heartbreak

Jaskier x Fem!Reader

A/N: I am back with posting! I was considering doing Timeless Love, or one of the requests, but the ease back into it, i just wrote from my heart, and it came out a bit sad, but i promise i am okay! i wanted to thank everyone for being so patient and allowing me to have a break, it meant the absolute world, but i am so, so ready to get back to posting. timeless love will be updated soon, i swear, and i will get to the requests to, for now, enjoy this!

Summary: Y/N is a Lady that rules over one small county of Velen, until she runs into some trouble with ghouls, and needs to get some help. she meets geralt and jaskier, and soon things change.

Warnings: none, just a bit sad i guess

Word Count: 3,058 [longer one to came back with]

Being a royalty is viewed highly by most. Little girls grow up dreaming to be called Ladies, having people under their rule, suitors lining up, wanting to bewed you. Whole world at your feet, where with a single ring of a bell could get you anything.

In many ways, they were right. But in many more they were so wrong.

I was a Lady of a small county in Velen, commonly known as no man’s land. Ruling there, was nothing but hard. Terrible. Bandits and deserted soldiers. Monsters. Every evening I would eat, wondering if people are starving. Trying to figure out how to help them, what can I do with Nilfgaard breathing down our necks? Fear was in the air, and I was hopeless.

Heavy weight lays on my shoulders as more and more people come to me, asking for help. My soldiers stopped letting them in, but their voices still ring, thus sleepless nights find their way in, keeping me awake.

We had a monsters problem, a few ghouls nests came to be near some villages. People are terrified to leave their homes, their live stock is getting killed. They’re losing little food they have. I scrambled all the coin I could spare, calling upon someone, anyone.

It felt like I was shouting into empty space as first, as for weeks nobody answered. I would sit behind my walls, safe, wishing I could take them all in. Shelter them, protect them. It was my job, after all. But my screams for help disappeared into the night, as more and more of my people died. Right in front of me, before my very own eyes.

One day, however, things finally changed. A witcher answered my call.

I look at the man before me, as my soldiers tense up. With one hand movement, I clam them down. He is wearing all black armour, that seems to be mostly leather. I see two sheathes and two swords behind his back. His yellow eyes piercing me, as he holds the paper notice I tried to spread across Velen.

He is with a friend. A bard, from what I can tell. His blue eyes scanning the room, as I can see his mind already rushing to write all of the lines about it. His navy set fully buttoned up, lute resting by his side. Hair neatly brushed, unlike the witchers.

“You have a job?” I take my eyes back to the witcher. I dismiss my soldiers, following them with my eyes as they leave the room. I wanted to speak with them alone.

“Please.” I finally say, my voice shaking so slightly. I was thought not to show fear and waver, so I clear my throat. “We are in desperate need for your help, witcher. I may not be able to offer the best coin, but I will give you shelter and food and any aid you might need during your visit.”

“A ghoul problem?” He asks, reading the paper in his hand real fast.

“I dare to assume they’ve been nesting around my villages. At first my soldiers could hold them off, but…” I shrug, hanging my head low. “They don’t know how to fight monsters. They started dropping. The ghouls numbers grow.”

“I’ll get rid of them, don’t you worry.” His voice grows kind, and I notice my hands are shaking. I hide them in my dress.

“If I can assist you, in any way, don’t hesitate to ask.” I say, standing up. I go to the witcher, grabbing his upper hand. “Please, save my people.”

“I can assure you, I will do what I can.” A wave of relief washes over me and I allow myself to taste hope. I step back, bowing down.

“Thank you.” I raise again. “I can get you to your chambers now, if you please.”

“I’d rather go have a look around first.” I don’t argue, wrapping my arms around myself. I look at the bard. “Jaskier stays.”

“Jaskier, I can have someone take you to your chambers, if you want?” I ask, but the bard shakes his head. I look at the witcher again. “I can pay you before hand, so you know we’re fair.”

“I trust you. I’ll take payment after the job is done.” He turns on his feet, walking off.

The door slams behind him, as my soldier anxiously rush in, but I calm them down, letting them now it’s alright. Things actually might be okay. We had someone who was going to help us.

I look at the bard, as he offers me a kind smile.

“Can I get you anything? Drinks, food?” I anxiously ask, but Jaskier just smiles, shaking his head.

“Maybe I could entertain Lady Y/N? You seem to be stressed, a little music might be good.” I look at his lute again.

“It would be an honour.” I silently say, walking back to my chair.

I sit down as he strums the strings, his voice filling up the room. I can almost go back to the good days, the golden days. Where a bard singing in these halls wasn’t rare. When I was just a young child, with my parents having a steady rule.

Common folk would them come to cheer with us, sharing their fruits of labour. We would dance and sing together. My parents were loved and praised. Admired. I was the little lady then, a child with a bright future. As free as a wolf, running around not a worry in my head.

And only crown I wore was made from flowers. Only burden I had, was to not annoy the guards. Things were simpler.

But not a lute has rang in these halls since my parents death. My dad went first, attacked on a road by a pack of wild wolves. Only pieces of him brought home to bury. My mother was devastated, but she tried. She tried to rule and stay strong, but an illness came over her, and before my very own eyes, she went from strong, to bed-tied, to next to my father.

I was so young, and I had to wear a crown. People believed in me, hopeful eyes piercing through me, as the small iron crown was placed on me. Just symbolic, I never wore it since then. But I felt it’s weight nonetheless.

Jaskiers music stops, as I focus on him, just in time to see him rush towards me, as the guards stop that from happening.

“I am so very sorry, Lady Y/N, didn’t want to make you upset!” Upset? I place a hand on my cheek, to feel it’s wet from tears.

“No, it’s okay.” I say, quietly. I haven’t cried in years. “Guards, it’s okay. You may leave me and Jaskier alone.”

“But…” I raise my hand, shutting down the protest, as they leave the room. I look at the bard again.

“It’s been too long since such lovely music was played in my home. It took me back.” I explain, as worry paints his face even more.

“But why?” He asks, and I don’t know how to answer.

“Since my parents demise, it never felt right. I promised these people a good, bright future. But I gave them… this.” I point towards the door, bitterly. “Where I can not even promise them tomorrow.”

“But you’re trying.” I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I get to sit behind my walls with my guards. I get to eat every day. I get to sleep in a comfortable bed.” My voice grows more bitter with each word, but I find it easy to talk. A ear of a stranger, somebody who doesn’t have any history in my home. Someone who can just listen. I need that. “They don’t have that. They get none of that, they starve, sleep on hay and now, death has made a home right in front of their front door. I need to try harder.”

“This burden isn’t easy,” I open my eyes to look at him, as he places his lute on the floor, sitting down in front of me, crossing his legs, “they must understand it. And you cant control the monsters.”

“No, I can’t.” I agree. I feel uncomfortable sitting and looking down at him, so I leave the chair, sitting next to him. “But these people… they count on me to at least try. Without me, they have nothing.”

“I’d count them lucky to have a Lady who cares so much.” I feel a smile come to my lips, as some of my gut fills with warmth. “Not everyone has that, especially in Velen.”

“It is my job to keep them safe and happy. Of course I care.” I say, looking at Jaskier, who seems to be lost in his own world. “The witcher is sure glad to have a companion like you. Looks to me like you have a big heart.”

“I am lucky to have Geralt too.” He focuses on me now, grinning. “Do you have someone like that?”

“No.” The warmth seems to leave my body, as cold settles back in. “My parents didn’t arrange anything before they died, and since the rule fell under me, I couldn’t find the time to look for anyone. Not when the whole continent is basically at war.”

“I meant a friend.” Jaskier says, rolling his eyes, and I giggle.

“No. I don’t have friends.” I say, as his eyes grow sad. I keep my smile on, just like I was trained. “Lady needs to rule, not make friends.”

“But that destroys a person.” Bard argues, as I place my chin on my knees.

“But it keeps the county safe.” I whisper.

The silence grows between us, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. It feels almost good. Comfortable. I don’t want to fill it in with some blabber. I am used to sitting in this silent room, all alone. Having someone there felt good.

Right.

I almost didn’t want him to leave. I glance at him, to catch him looking at me, as he blushes slightly.

“Sorry.” He apologizes. Smile curls my lips, as a blush rushes to my cheeks as well. “While I know you don’t do friends, I could be one. For as long as we stay here. I think you need that.”

“I think I do.” I agree as he winks at me, grabbing his lute, filling the air with soft music and some humming.

Geralt came back later that day. He said the problem is manageable, but it will take a couple of days to get all the nests. I felt so happy, I could cry.

So the days went on. Five, to be exact. Five days where I had a friend, and two mouths to feed. I had to squeeze the rations for myself and my guards, but I kept the guests well fed. Made sure they slept comfortably and had baths ready for them.

But Jaskier didn’t care about all of that,

His first priority was to be my friend. Listening to me, advising me in any way he could. And I listened to him, his stories. I sang his songs and danced to his music. Even if it was just me and him in the room, it felt full of people, just like when I was a kid. I almost felt free.

I didn’t only open up about my struggles. I told him about the old times, the happy days. I laughed and smiled and was unapologetic in front of him. He didn’t treat me like a Lady, like I was above him. It was so easy because of that, I didn’t have to pretend.

For the first time in years, it felt like I could take my crown off.

And the day came where they were making their leave, just as my heart hopelessly started to fall. It was running these days, happy, and it just seemed to trip. There was no turning back, but I had to say the goodbye.

Geralt probably noticed something, as he said he will take one last bath before the road, allowing me and Jaskier some more time. Last hour to spent together.

We went outside, wondering the streets, as the air was lifted. People could leave their homes again, they were saved. Hope was around us, as children laughter rang in the air, scaring the crows from the trees.

“I missed seeing my people like that.” I say, offering them all kinds smiles, before I look at Jaskier again, who seems to be lost in thought. “You okay?”

“I’m worried.” I hang my head low.

“About me?” I ask, as I hear him sigh. He nudges me, but I don’t lift my head, staring at the grass at our feet.

“Yes. About you, Y/N.” He finally says and I glance at him, as he winks at me, taking his hand in mine. My heart skips a beat, as sunrays dance in his eyes. “I want you to be okay.”

“I will be okay.” I promise, not sure if I believe that. Losing him felt like it will hurt, set my soul on fire again, leaving me sleepless from heartache. But that storm will pass, I told myself.

“I wish I could stay.” He says so quietly, I almost don’t catch that. It helps that the town is now behind us, as we are climbing up hill. Soon we overlook the valley, as I stop.

“I wish so too.” I confess, loud enough for him to hear. Our eyes meet, and I straighten my grip, tears piercing my eyes again.

“But I can’t. I’m sorry.” His voice breaks in tune with my heart. I knew it, but it still hurt. “I might visit.”

“Don’t.” I cut him off, before he can promise me anything more. “My father said he’d be back soon, and he never came back. Don’t make a promise you may not keep.”

“Y/N.” His hand lands on my face, as he gently caresses my cheek. His touch feels warm, waking up my heart in an instant. I, however, pull away.

“When you leave, I will not sit there waiting for you.” I say, as my voice finally breaks and tears give in. “I will not live on hope.”

“I understand that.” I wipe my face, avoiding his gaze.

“I will not sing your songs anymore.” My voice shakes even more, as he gently places his hand on my shoulder.

“Okay.” His soft voice reaches my ears, as I feel like I am about to crumble.

“But I’ll never forget you.” I finally look at him, and although blurry, I can see how sad he looks. I pull him in, landing my lips on his. It’s sour from my tears, but also sweet. I pull away, holding onto his shirt. “And I’ll never forget this.”

“I’ll never forget you either, Y/N.” I stare at the Valley, just as the dusk breaks the sky open, and the new day begins. My eyes burn, but he view is gorgeous. I take deep breaths, looking at that.

“Thank you.” I turn back at Jaskier, who’s eyes are also a bit red. “You gave me lessons I didn’t know I need.”

“I’ll miss you.” I turn on my feet, heading back to town. Back to where I will be alone. But not lonely, as I am reminded of what my late mother used to say.

“Don’t miss me.” I quote her, blinking back the tears. “Because I am never truly gone. A part of me is always with you.”

“A part of me is always with you too.” He responds, quietly, as I glance back at him, smiling.

“Then I will never be friendless again.” I whisper.

We make our way back silently, as more townsfolk wake up to the beaming sun. We stop outside, as one of the guards hands the small pouch – their payment, and a bigger one, some food. Geralt comes out mere minutes later.

“Here. For your troubles, I added a bit more.” I say giving him the coin bag. “And some food for the road.”

“Keep the coin. You and your people need it more.” I stare at him in disbelief, as he takes the food. “They’re good folk, and you’re a good ruler. Take care of them. Thank you for the food.”

“I can’t leave you unpaid.” I try to argue, but he is already on his horse.

“Pay me with taking care of them, and yourself, Lady Y/N.” He offers me a smile. “Your hospitality was also payment enough.”

“Thank you.” I choke up, but don’t cry. Not in front of everyone, although I know they can tell I have been crying just by looking at me. I look at Jaskier, not finding the right words.

“Thank you.” He breaks the silence, stepping to me, for what I expect to be a hug. But he pulls me in, landing a kiss. This time it isn’t sour, our tears have dried. It’s sad, however, one that tastes like goodbye. One where you know you wont get to kiss this person again. Passionate. “This one is for me to remember.”

He whispers that, pulling away. I see Geralt looking away, as if to give us some privacy. Everyone seemed to be looking other direction. How kind. I look at Jaskier okay.

“Goodbye.” I finally squeeze out, as Geralt ushers his horse, and they make their leave.

This may not be the hardest goodbye I ever had to say, no. But it was unbearable, as flames set on my chest, causing my the ever-familiar sensation of loss.

But a wave of calmness washed over me, reminding me that Jaskier is always there with me. In my heart, part of him made home. I will always be abale to reach in that corner, to remember him. To remember how his kiss felt, and how we spent hours talking. His song will ring in my head, and I will wake up at night thinking I can hear the melody.

And maybe somewhere far away, at the same time, he will be playing it.

It was my first heartbreak. But unlike I expected, it wasn’t so horrible. I knew that my heart broke so part of it could stay with him.

And I knew it was in good, kind hands.

[hufflepirate]

Why I Cried About the New Dixie Chicks Song

Ok, alright, so I’m having Extremely An Emotion about the return of the Dixie Chicks, and I know a lot of folks on here are either too young to remember the blacklisting or weren’t in the country scene at the time, so here’s the whole story the way it felt to a 12-year-old girl who loved them.

You should love and support them!! This story is why!! The vague recaps of the situation in articles about the new release don’t cut it!

*********

So. Let’s start at the beginning (for me). It’s 1998. I’m 8 years old. My parents aren’t really into Christian radio, but we’re also Good Southern Baptists, so obviously the only radio we really listen to is classic rock/oldies and especially country. You can’t trust those pop music stars these days. Or, God forbid, rappers. They don’t make music the way they used to. (Yeah. I know. But I’m just telling it like it was.)

I hear “There’s Your Trouble.” The singer’s boyfriend is constantly comparing her to his ex and she is Calling Him Out and I have never thought about such a thing before because I am 8, but I am deeply certain that any woman deserves to be loved by somebody who sees her for her. This is important to me. I don’t understand why.

It’s still 1998. I have recently moved west and I am still only learning to process the new geography. I am a child. I do not yet feel the full impact of “Wide Open Spaces” the way I will come to as an adult. And yet... already the idea that part of freedom is having “room to make a big mistake” matters to me. Instinctively, I know that one day, this will be a thing I need, even if I don’t right now. I am right.

We don’t get the album. That’s fine. They’re on the radio a lot. They top the charts multiple times. They win grammys. They sell more cds than all other country groups combined. They are, if you read writeups of them, “not yet political,” but there’s something about the idea that a girl can not only want but need space and independence, need it as a necessary part of growing up, that is setting the stage for what they will become, at least from the perspective of someone who grew up hearing ‘feminist’ used as a dirty word for women who have been brainwashed by... someone?? into having a victim complex. (Again... just telling it like it was.)

The next year, I am 9. They drop Fly. I am never the same.

The first single to hit the radio is “Ready to Run.” It is bouncy and happy. The singer is not getting married, because she does not want to get married. She knows what she wants and she won’t be pinned down by expectations. I am Living, and the feelings I did not yet have about “Wide Open Spaces” are Here In Full because it is hard to imagine being a grownup for the first time, but it is easy to imagine taking off to be yourself instead of doing what everyone else wants and it makes me feel alive.

“Cowboy Take Me Away” is deeply romantic and makes my little 9-year-old heart swell with feeling. It will be years before I realize that is because she is living her life and talking about what she wants and he is just... there. She is doing what she wants and he holds her when they sleep and smiles at her in the daytime and that is all we know. It is the peak of romance, and I, too, want to walk and not run, skip and not fall. I too want to grow something wild and unruly and that thing I want to grow is me.

My parents buy the album.

“Goodbye Earl” is released as a single and starts getting played on the radio. I grab the CD out of the basket we keep them in and it lives in my CD player until my mother begins to worry about the degree to which I am obsessed with this song about murder. I do not have the words to explain that the appeal is not the murder, it is the solidarity. I am being bullied very hard in school. I have only one friend, and she is often mean to me. It will be many years before I understand the true extent of the truth they are dropping in this song, but the details are chilling and honest and disturbing and when Maryanne flies in from Atlanta on a red-eye midnight flight, I feel something I cannot put into words.

It has been 21 years and I still do not have the words to explain “Goodbye Earl.”

Trigger warnings for domestic abuse and I guess also for poisoning domestic abusers and like, murder is bad or whatever.

The album is a masterpiece. It is an experience. I am 9 years old and I do not want to fall in love, because I am 9 years old, and I am learning right now that if a boy falls in love with me when I clearly do not want to date him, that is his own damned problem, and I am singing at the top of my lungs to tell the world that I don’t want to fall in love but if I do, then screw them, I will drag everyone else down with me.

There are limits to how many vids I can drop in here, so I was just gonna drop in the ones that were important to “Hey, you should love them!!” but I can’t resist dropping this one in. This one was never a single but also like... y’all. Do you know how many times in my life I needed songs that told me it was ok to not be in love/pursuing love/dating people? And I’m not even aro/ace? Anyway, this one sounds so sad but feels so good. An indulgent vid choice, but this is my post, so??

Also the album had some bops. These will probably not convince you to like them if you don’t like the country sound/genre, because the Dixie Chicks sound was always very country, but I dug the sound of 90s country then and I dig it now, so here you go.

Some Days You Gotta Dance

Sin Wagon (Fun fact about this one, which is like........ aggressively country I can’t even. It was not a single but it did get enough radio play to chart anyway.)

And then. The end. (For then.)

It’s 2002. They drop a new album in August. I am 12 and their cover of Fleetwood Mac’s “Landslide” has me all up in my feels on the radio. In December, they drop “Travelin’ Soldier,” a cover of a shmaltzy song about an 18-year-old soldier who dies in Vietnam after writing letters back and forth with a high school aged waitress who loves him. It’s sad. It features a couple young enough to be relatable to a 12-year-old. I am not so foolish, at 12, that I don’t realize even though they say Vietnam, I’m supposed to be thinking about the fact that we’re at war in Afghanistan and they’re talking in the news about how we might go to war with Iraq and Congress had passed a resolution saying we could.

Here’s the thing that sometimes gets lost in things about what happened next. This song was popular. It’s anti-war, but it’s not particularly toothy. The actual text of the song is just that a young soldier goes to war, a girl he met right before he left gets his letters and is faithfully his girlfriend because... soldiers?? and then he dies and she’s sad. It’s not supportive of war, but you have to be pretty far out there not to agree with a premise like “We should be sad when soldiers die,” or “There is/should be someone who cares about every individual soldier even if other people just see them as one of a list of names/a statistic.” The song charted. The album sold well and won awards. And I missed all of it, because it takes a while for things to trickle down to a 12-year-old whose friends, at that point, listen almost exclusively to showtunes.

On March 10, lead singer Natalie Maines told a London audience, “Just so you know, we’re on the good side with y’all. We do not want this war, this violence. And we’re ashamed the President of the United States is from Texas.”

Country music listeners lost their shit. Some people didn’t, of course, but a lot of people did. They called radio stations. They dramatically and publicly destroyed or threw away their CDs. People in the industry got involved, many of them in abusive ways, but I didn’t know much about that. All I knew was that one day they were ubiquitous, and the next, they were completely banned from the radio.

My local country station, or at least, the one my family listened to, was owned by Cumulus Media, who instituted a 30-day ban on the group’s music at all of their country stations (though not their general top-40 ones, apparently? I did a google this morning.) Other large media corporations mostly let their individual stations decide, though Cox Media also did a general ban. Lots of stations banned them individually, some for much longer than 30 days.

My parents didn’t make me stop listening to my beloved Fly. But the clampdown was, at least where I lived, intense and immediate. It felt like all of a sudden, they were gone. Dead in the water.

It fundamentally did not make sense to me. My parents shrugged it off with a similar attitude to President Bush, whose response had been, “The Dixie Chicks are free to speak their mind. They can say what they want to say,” but also, “They shouldn’t have their feelings hurt just because some people don’t want to buy their records when they speak out.” This was all, to me, baffling. Sure, people could decide they didn’t want to listen to them anymore, but why did they get to decide for everyone else that we couldn’t? Why did they get to ban their music?

I was 12, soon to be 13, and this whole thing was, to me, the antithesis of what freedom of speech was meant to be. I believed in freedom of speech. I believed it applied to everyone. I believed that even though, in my confused, hurting, terrified, post-9/11 12-year-old mind, I liked the President and thought we should go to war, no one should be stopped from saying we shouldn’t. I believed freedom of speech was a moral imperative, a principle for interacting with other people and respecting them even if you disagreed. I believed it meant protecting people you disagreed with, because otherwise who would protect you when the disagreeing one was you?

It was utterly baffling to me that one comment - one comment that she apologized for, because she said she’d phrased it too harshly - could so utterly shut me off from something I loved. I assumed, when she apologized, that even though she said she still didn’t believe in the war, that things would soon go back to normal. They didn’t. I turned 13 a few months later, and the Dixie Chicks were still not on the radio in my town.

By the time they put out their next album in 2006, I was running with a crowd that listened to CCM and classic rock and never country, and when I listened to country at home, the radio still wasn’t playing them, not necessarily formally, but certainly in practice. I heard that Natalie Maines had come out and said she wasn’t sorry about what she said, after all, and I didn’t like that she’d said she didn’t think the President deserved her respect, but I didn’t even realize she’d said it in the context of new music.

The 2006 album, Taking the Long Way, was a commercial success. Their song about the event “Not Ready To Be Nice” also did very well....... but not on country radio. I was still listening to country radio at the time, not exclusively, but enough that when I looked up songs that had topped the charts, I recognized more of them than I didn’t, by title alone.

I never heard the Dixie Chicks’s new album on the radio.

Here’s what my local station didn’t play. What they were too scared to play, maybe, or maybe what they didn’t want me to hear:

So, yeah.

That happened.

Badass.

But it happened without me, because the radio station was instead still playing “Honky Tonk Badonkadonk,” a song about women’s butts that a bunch of men wrote in a club in an hour while, presumably, staring at women’s butts. A song that sparked slogans on t-shirts in a little t-shirt shop my friends and I visited that year on a school trip. A song the middle-aged man who worked there (and with whom we were alone) referenced when he leered aggressively at my 16-year-old friend and made suggestive comments to our whole group (4 teenage girls) that made us run out of the building and race back toward the fast food places nearby where we hoped to find some of our teachers.

Country music was never the same for me after the Dixie Chick blacklisting. I knew it didn’t believe in freedom, even as it bandied the word about aggressively. I knew that it relied on everybody saying the same things and believing the same things, and it didn’t have room for me not to agree, and that was not then and is not now any kind of freedom. As the years went on, there were more and more Honky Tonk Badonkadonks, and I was less and less willing to give men a pass for being sexist and disgusting and entitled.

I miss country music, in the sense that I miss the Dixie Chicks, and I miss women like Jo Dee Messina and Sara Evans who were singing similar stuff at the time and might still be but aren’t on the radio because they’re over 40 and not also white men. I miss the way county music women made me feel in the 90s. I miss women who called out the men who’d done them wrong, who stated their own value and self-sufficiency, who sang about independence and made me believe in it. But more than anything, I miss believing in them. Some of that is of course still happening. But as much as I love Carrie Underwood and Miranda Lambert and Kacey Musgraves, I can’t ever get back there. Not really.

The thing is, I believed the Dixie Chicks when they told me I could have the space to make mistakes. I believed them that women could and would stick together. I believed them that I could be single and happy about it, that I could say no to men I didn’t love, even if they loved me, that if I wanted to fall in love, I could find somebody who would love me without ever tying my wings. And I believed I could be and do those things and still fit into the culture of country music.

I still believe the rest of it. But I’ll probably never believe that last part again.

Anyway tl;dr you should love them because they tried to be themselves and tell the truth and because they tried to buck the system, and you should love them because they never backed down, even when the system pushed back so hard that, from where I sat as an impressionable preteen, dependent on my parents and the radio, it completely destroyed them.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Of Farms Fairs And Fame (Part 18)

It was both strange and thrilling to hear her music on the radio. Her own voice cutting through the static. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it. For as much as she loved singing, she didn’t know that she liked hearing the sound of her own voice. Not coming from a radio anyhow.  Especially, knowing that it would end with hearing herself choke up. She supposed that it was something that she was just going to have to get used to. Ideally it would be happening more often.

Iroh offered to her, a kind smile. “Congratulations, niece. Your mother would have it, she always did like that kinda song”

“She did?”

Iroh nodded. “She was a musical woman ‘erself.”

“You sing like her.” Ozai cut in. “Almos’ exactly like her.”

Azula swallowed and nodded, not know quite how to take the news. She made herself comfy near the window. Sokka and Katara would be there soon and hopefully Mai and TyLee in tow. As she had hoped, the lot of them would be decorating the house together. It was so large she couldn’t see it getting done without a few extra hands.

Sokka and Katara lived the closest to her, so it came as a surprise when TyLee rang the door first. It was a struggle for her  to do so with the crutches in the way, but she leaned in to give Azula an awkwardly angled hug. “I heard yer song on the radio!” She gushed. “It’s so purtty ‘n sad but breathtaking ‘n lovely at the same time.”

“Thank you, Ty.” Azula helped the girl into a chair. “Window’s fine, right?”

TyLee nodded. “I love lookin’ at the snow. Winter’s my favorite.”

“Well, I know that. You’ve only been sayin’ that since we were kids.” Azula paused. “So, how’s yer leg.”

TyLee stared down at it. “Well, my doctor said that it should be healed pretty soon.” And with more glee she added, “Only a few more weeks.”

Her optimism was precious, yet the smile on Azula’s face couldn’t last. She wasn’t one for apologies but one was escaping her lips before she could hold it back. Somehow she felt awful for having achieved her dream after obliterating TyLee’s, accident or not.

“What are you appologizin’ fer?” TyLee asked.

“ You ain’t win because of me.”

“The county fair comes ‘round every year. It was a lil’ crazy with my family hostin’ it anyways.” TyLee shrugged. “‘Sides, Mai told me about a competition that ain’t local that happens in the spring. I’m gonna go fer that.”

“You’ll have to invite me.” Azula smiled. “I promise I won’t ruin it this time.”  

Once again, Azula found TyLee’s arms around her torso. “Of course you can come. I wouldn’t wanna compete without you watchin’.”

She heard the doorbell. Before she could stand, Zuko was at the door.

“They’re jus’ on time fer tea ‘n cookies.” Azula heard Iroh call from in the kitchen. Enthusiasm oozed in his tone, the man had been waiting all year to break out his holiday assortment of teas, which mostly consisted of mint mixes.

.oOo.

Katara was generous enough to drive that time around, in fact, the girl was rather insistent upon it. Their mother’s warning was probably fresh in her mind. Not that he could tell by looking at the light little flurries, but apparently they were in for a blizzard. The forecasters had been calling for it all night.

At the moment, the weather wasn’t too terrible, and the roads were pretty drivable. Kya made the both of them promise that if the roads became particularly icy, that they would just spend the night with Azula’s family. From the looks of it, they wouldn’t have the need. Though no green could be seen beneath a blanket of pure white, the roads were plowed well enough.

Katara hopped out of her car, she had to be the only person in their whole town who didn’t have herself a truck. She made her way to the trunk and pulled out their tin of cookies. Ma’s special winter recipe, the one she had yet to pass down to either of her children.

Sokka knocked on the door. Completely expecting it to be Azula standing there, he threw his arms around the person who answered.

“I’m happy to see you too, Sokka.” Zuko rolled his eyes. “Though I was expectin’ Mai.”

Sokka flushed and rubbed the back of his head. He could hear Katara’s bursting laughter behind him and his face felt that much hotter. “I were expectin’ yer sister.”  

“She’s with TyLee in the livin’ room.” Zuko pointed. “Once Mai gets here we can start on decoratin’.”

“I refuse to hang the lights up.” Azula declared.

“That’s dad’s job anyways.” Zuko shrugged.

Sokka plopped himself down on the sofa next to his...was it safe to call her his girlfriend? “Yer wearin’ my hat!” He smiled.

“Yeah. You know how many folks are questionin’ my fashion choices now?” Azula mumbled, crossing her arms.

Azula was risking her reputation now. It really was true love.

.oOo.

Only thirty or so minutes in and Azula’s hands were already pulsing with cold, hell, that had started probably fifteen minutes in. Her cheeks were probably a decent shade of pink and she was sniffling to top it all off. Regardless, she hug a wreath on the barn door. Across the way, Zuko and Mai--who had arrived well into the decorating process--were lining candy canes along the driveway. Katara and TyLee were taking care of the barn and hanging a few icicle lights were they could reach without the use of a ladder.

Sokka held out a roll of tinsel made to look like ivy and holly. Azula looked upon the perimiter of their fencing and let out a soft groan. Why’d her property have to be so damn large. Walking to all four corners of it and back would be her exercise for the day.

“Ya wanna do the lights or the tinsel?”

Azula elbowed him. “Ain’t you pay attention? I said I ain’t fussin’ with the lights this year.”

He tossed her the tinsel and they worked their way from the upper righthand corner to the left, weaving tinsel and lights into the fence as they went. By the time they had that task finished the wind was beginning to pick up, spitting bursts of snow at them without mercy.

“Suppose we should git on back, ma said it was supposta get bad.” Sokka informed.

Normally she would question the man’s judgment, he wasn’t the best for gauging the weather. But this time, she had a feeling he and his ma were correct. The weather had taken a turn pretty quick.

“Kat ‘n I better git on home ‘for it gets real bad.”

“Uh-uh. Yer stayin’ right here tonight.” She didn’t save the boy from a tornado just to lose him to a different weather phenomenon. “You better not put yer sister in danger like that either.” She thought unfondly of the few times, as children, where Zuko had insisted that they stay at the park a little longer. Which had always ended up being just long enough for them to get caught within a wicked downpour.

“But Ma…”

“Can handle bein’ on her own fer the night.” Katara approached. “‘Sides, she said ta stay here if the weather got bad.”

.oOo.

Wrapped, once again, in the blankets with Azula, Sokka could say why he had put up any protest at all. The girl looked relaxed sitting before the fire with a book in one hand and Iroh’s homemade mint-chocolate tea in the other. Katara had taken it upon herself to let their ma know that they wouldn’t be home that night and that Ozai had showed them to the guest rooms already.

He listened to similar calls from TyLee and Mai respectively. The passing of an hour left them with only firelight for illumination.

“When do y’all reckon they’ll have the power back on?” Sokka asked.

“Last time it took ‘em a good week.” Zuko noted.

Mai hovered by the window, the girl hadn’t left it since they’d gotten inside, making herself into their own personal news anchor who provided life updates; “Yup, still frosty.” or “nope, no changes. No wait! Nope, still snowy.”  Most recently it was, “pretty sure we’re gonna be snowed in.”

“How deep is the snow?” Azula put her book to the side.

“Hmm.” Mai muttered. “I’d say deeper than Jet’s personality but no shallower than Chan’s.”

Azula rolled her eyes. “Thanks fer the update.”

“Anytime.” Mai mumbled, returning her gaze back to the window.

.oOo.

“Oh! If we get snowed in it will be like an extended slumber party. It’s exicitin’ don’t ya think?”  TyLee perked up.

The look on her father’s face at those words...Azula had to stifle a laugh. Her father could handle a night or two with Mai, TyLee, Sokka, and Katara but three would be pushing it. And at the rate the snow was falling, three nights snowed in wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. For herself, Azula wouldn’t mind spending that much more time with her friend, hell, she was even fine with Katara being there. It had been a good long while since they’ve had a sleepover.

“Ya think ma’ll be alright?” Sokka asked.

“A’course she will.” Katara replied. “We have plenty ‘a food left over from the harvest. She ken handle herself.”

But Azula could feel how tense Sokka still was. “It’ll be fine, Sokka.” She murmured, giving his torso a little squeeze.

“Thanks, Azula.”

She rested her head at the crook of his neck. “C’mon, this happens every winter, yer mother made it out okay then, she can do it again.” Sparing Ozai a quick glance and finding that he wasn’t paying attention, she kissed Sokka’s ear. One of these days she was going to have to get the man used to see her kissing Sokka. She’d have to wait until after the blizzard, the poor man would probably have a stress-related heart attack if she added a boyfriend onto their extended sleepover. Not that Ozai hadn’t taken note of how closely she held Sokka, but she’d let him keep his denial for the time being.

She probably wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding it though, begin as  Ozai responded to Iroh’s, “radio says we’re gonna git a few feet tanight.”  With a, “these kids are gonna drive me mad ‘for the snow reaches a foot.”

“Hey, we should all play truth or dare.” TyLee declared.

Ozai’s concern doubled.

“Spin the bottle.” Azula suggested.

Tripled.

“We should all play, got ta bed ‘n leave yer ol’ man alone.” He grumbled.

Zuko laughed. Azula was certain that the remark had even earned a chuckle from Mai, who, otherwise, still hadn’t averted her attention from the window. Frankly it was rather nice to have a break from everything, even if it was because it was too frigid for the world to not come to a standstill. As chilly as it was, Sokka was warm. She nestled closer up to him.

[the-teddy-bear-butch]

okay babe, I love talking to you(never apologize for rambling) and I gay panic too, but please if you take anything out of this interaction let it be this.[in the most affectionate way possible] DO NOT PUT YOUR PLANTS ON A WATERING SCHEDULE (this is coming from me who has over 20 house plants. usually I let mine dry out completely unless the little instruction labels on the side of the pot says to keep damp but that's mostly for tropical plants) k with my horrified plant obsessed-ness out of that way.

my wrist is okay, it acts up every now and then ever since my brother pushed me off a rope swing in the middle of winter (so there was snow) and we didn't see there was a rock under it. I'd take you up on the offer to kiss it better if I could.

I do play both! I don't have an electric but i do have 2 acoustic (both are hand me downs but I repainted one and it's my pride and joy. the other one is blue)

singing at the top of my lungs in the car holds some of my favourite memories.

yes you get it! vibes and colours, but also vibes and places i your life.

I like folk music too but the closest I get to listening to it regularly is the band fleet foxes, but they're more of a 'you wander into the woods and get lost in time for 1,000 years but it's okay' kind of band. I listen to like every kind of music, in your reply name a genre and I bet I can give at least 1 song rec.

I fell the stutter thing it really only gets bad if i'm tired or like almost having a meltdown/anxiety attack.

it does apprear you've met your match because golden pothos are low water/low light ( I really want one lol)

my favourite house plant is a little Bolivian Inch Plant because it's leaves because the bottoms are purple (my second favourite colour) and the tops, when you look closely are almost glittery and look kinda like a fake plant.

My favourite plant in general is wild purple roses (ngl i'm not actually sure if they're wild or not that's what my grandma called them tho) they smell like everything good in the world and look pretty too!

you have a tattoo! that's so cool! I kinda want one too lol

yes, ew why do men. I told him no, motioned at my shirt and he kinda just... walked away? which i think actually went pretty well.

your eternally swooning damsel

-el

Ahdjakkdkaks I swear I’ve learned my lesson! Becky just gets watered when the soil is dry or she’s looking droopy! She’s doing great, I swear! I’ll get a picture in the morning or something as proof, but rn I am very cozy in bed haha

Oh dear! That sounds like it hurt! I’m sorry it hurts sometimes, and I hope it feels better soon! Mine acts up too, but mine is carpal tunnel (thanks for the awesome genetics, mom)

That’s literally the coolest thing ever. I have dreamed so much of repainting a guitar. I bet yours looks awesome! I’d love to see a picture, if you’re comfortable sending one! Did you repaint it a different color or add a design? <33

Yes! Vibes and places and people too. I love having too many playlists connected to random things and people in my life. It’s fun but sad to listen to the ones for people that have drifted away—but it’s something special to put together a new one when someone new and wonderful comes into my life!

Okay okay okay, hmmmmm. I know country isn’t a popular genre, maybe too adjacent to folk, but I grew up on the stuff. Any country recs? Alternatively, something like pop punk? Or anything random you feel like sharing! I know they’ll be lovely

Yeah, I think I’ve finally found the one plant I can’t kill 😂 Honestly it’s thriving. I’d still love a garden though, if I could keep it alive. Especially strawberries.

I definitely had to look those up, but they’re so adorable!! I love the tiny leaves and the overlapping shapes. And such a beautiful coloration! Are they very high maintenance?

That’s so cool! I love the smell of flowers, even if the pollen does tickle my nose. I wish we had more wildflowers around. I do see the occasional sunflower, but my favorite is Indian paintbrush season! They pop up EVERYWHERE around the same time every year and they’re so beautiful. The landscape around here is so boring and they liven it up so much.

If you’re ever looking for an excuse to infodump about plants, this is your invitation! <33

I do! I want more. Tattoos are cool as hell, and I was pleasantly surprised when this one didn’t hurt so much. On the topic of flowers, I’d really, really love a linework floral sleeve, just all kinds of pretty flowers!

Better than it could have! The shirt absolutely kills me, I don’t know how a man could see you wear that with cuffed jeans and rings and go “ah yes, a heterosexual” 💀 The cishets really are so blind to these things lmao

Your hopeless romantic of a knight,

- Max/Lo

[destressjournal]

DCOM Rankings # 90: Let it Shine

Right off the bat: this was a MUCH easier watch than radio rebel, it was basically night and day! (Which is why this review is coming out quicker than I thought it would). It was really refreshing and it’s a little sad this movie doesn’t get enough recognition because, spoiler alert, it was pleasantly surprising!

I’m also first gonna say that im a little surprised that the actor from everybody hates Chris wanted to do a DCOM. I guess since EHC was slightly more mature show and DCOMS are obviously way more kid friendly. But I’m not complaining too much over here, I think overall he was a great match for the character of Cyrus. Actually the casting for everybody was great! I have 0 complaints about that. The only thing I will say about the main actor (I’m terrible I don’t remember his name) when he smiles it really looks like he’s in pain. Maybe it’s a cringe smile, in which case I completely understand. We all know how these movies are, don’t kid yourself. Everything else about the actors, great, amazing, spectacular!!

I’m going to address the cringiness of some of the scenes in this movie, and while I personally didn’t identify anything that was racist, this is one of the few DCOMS that focus on a mostly black cast, and it surrounds the rap/hiphop culture. I’m sure there was something offensive in there but I can’t really comment on that...not that I’m looking for offensive content it’s just that implicit bias is a big problem even at Disney. And the more we educate about the small things the less they will occur or teach about them, cuz racism is learned, it’s not natural.

Now, that all being said, I do like that they get audiences comfortable with rap music. Like me for example, I hated rap music and just flat out refused to listen to it for the longest time. Basically I was like Cyrus’ dad except I wasn’t like at his level I just personally prefer songs that I can actually sing along to. But I still had that bias like I just refused to listen to it no matter what it was, and I had a friend tell me once that “you might find you might like some rap songs if you look at the lyrics” and I realized how biased I actually was. I refused to listen to any type of rap but now I realized once I started listening to some of these popular rap songs that there are some deep meaning behind some of these lyrics. I’m still never going to love rap just because it’s not my cup of tea and that’s okay, but I now appreciate it for being another way folks can express themselves and get their message out. However, still don’t like the rap songs that just talk about sex and drugs. But I guess there’s musical lyrics that just talk about sex and drugs too so...ehhhh. Anyway. Point is, I appreciate rap’s place in society today, even if I’m still not the biggest fan of it.

Sooooo yeah! This is one of those “I can sing (rap) but I’m too shy/scared to do it in front of other people, even though I clearly show I’m very good. And the lesson here is to always express yourself. Something like that. DCOM’s have done this so many times at this point it’s not even funny anymore. And I’m like 99.9% sure it won’t be the last time. It’s such an easy uncomplicated lesson to teach to kids.

At least with this movie they do make it at least a little bit different than the other movies. Not a LOT different but enough to still make it entertaining. And thank the lord above that the characters actually seem like REAL PEOPLE, albeit, DCOM versions of real people but still! It’s in the right direction (compared to the last disaster movie).

Okay where to start with this....the characters? I like them! The main ones anyway. That “villain” rapper dude, who was also in star struck, was probably my least favorite, but not just because he was the antagonist and we are supposed to hate him, but I think he could have been developed a bit more, and maybe somewhat redeemed at the end. But that’s just me. The ending was fine, and maybe DCOMS have a habit of redeeming their antagonists and this was one of the times where they didn’t. Maybe that’s more realistic. So who knows.

Anyway, all the other characters are great and have their role in the story like they should. Cyrus is the shy protagonist, Chris is the foil for Cyrus, he looks like a rap music star (DCOM version), but can’t rap a beat. Cyrus doesn’t look the part but he can make lyrics fly off a page. Roxie is the “girl prize at the end” which I hate when movies do that, but at least she fights them a little about it before they get their happy ending.

If there’s one thing I don’t like about the ending. It was a little rushed. And Roxie took the biggest blow. That intense scene with Chris and Cyrus, where she told them she was never taking to them again, basically meant nothing when she’s completely fine after Chris forces her to listen to him about Cyrus. And everyone’s just happy and they play the happy song and then the credits roll.

WHAT. that’s it?? That was the only thing that really upset me. You want to know my favorite part(s) of the movie??

The main characters actually APOLOGIZE in a very genuine way that doesn’t seem too overreaching or unrealistic! Chris realized what his proposed fame was doing to him, he was living a lie and the guilt was destroying him. Plus it had to have been exhausting trying to come up with ways so he couldn’t perform live. His apology to Cyrus was an amazing scene and I was just so surprised because usually main characters are just like “I’m sorry, friends?” And they hug and that’s it. Even if Roxie forgave the boys too quickly, their apologies were so sincere. And now I know that both of them grew as characters throughout the movie.

The songs themselves were okay. Nothing particularly special. But again, it was mostly rap music so it didn’t grab me like it does with other types of music. But like I said, that’s okay, and they’re not bad songs, just not my cup of tea. But these guys do have talent, I will definitlely give them that!

Overall I really liked it. It wasn’t the best DCOM I’ve ever seen but it really did surpass my expectations. And if I ever found myself watching it again for some reason I wouldn’t complain. Despite the overused moral, it found a way to at least make it fresh and flow along with the story. The characters don’t really make outlandish or out-of-character decisions. (Except for the very end of the movie). Everything felt genuine and real. Within the context of the movie that is.

I’m going to give this a straight B as a grade. I don’t think this is quite A-tier because it doesn’t feel big enough, but it’s definitely still a high quality movie. But who knows what will happen when I use my new ranking system at the end of all this.

Okayyyy well I think this movie was the last movie I’ve seen trailers for. I’m really headed into unknown territory here with this next one. Wish me luck!

[girlonarock]

Safe or Respectable?

Edited to add: To be honest, this was a processing post, which meant that I wrote it too soon after the event to be thorough enough about the actual writing. There was little enough editing and no revision -- it’s basically just word vomit + gifs. I know I needed that as a part of understanding the experience, but a side effect of this is that it’s unclear in places, and doesn’t get everything fully across. This post may end up private, and I might post something more polished that incorporates different questions and feedback I’ve gotten about it from people who’ve read it.

The support I’ve gotten from friends has been amazing. But also some clarity would probably be useful. So as I go, I’ll be adding bits and pieces and then putting up a final revision after hiding this one from view.    

So here’s a thing that happened to me this weekend. But let me give you some background. My mother is Latina, my father is North African, which I’ve mentioned before. I’m mostly white-passing -- usually only other PoC know right off the bat that I’m Latina. In the summer, this isn’t quite as true because I love the beach and the sun and I get noticeably browner than I am in the winter months. Style matters, too: for example, yesterday, I was wearing big, gold hoops, my 3c curls were piled up on top of my head and I tied it around with a bandanna. Example, except picture big gold hoops instead of the earrings in the picture, and my skin a few shades darker from the sun:

So in this state, I’m more perceptibly Latin to most people. Also perceptibly Latin: my accent when I’m drinking. So a friend of mine and I go to a bar in the West Village that I’ve been to a few times. The crowd is usually a little bit older, broadly white, gay men. It’s a chill vibe -- there’s a piano, and as things get later and there are more people, there are often show tunes and singalongs. It’s pretty delightful -- I really like it there. I don’t hang out there a lot because it’s in Manhattan and I live in Brooklyn, but I’ve always felt comfortable there and had a good time. Yesterday, we were hanging out during the day, and showed up there probably around two. We were the first ones there, but we didn’t care because there were $5 frozen margaritas and we were just there to cackle and catch up and enjoy each other’s company, which we did. As time passed and drinks were drunk and we were getting louder and the crowd was getting bigger. The music was dope and everything was great. There were only three other women in the bar at this point, and they were all women of color. I’m feeling super comfortable and I’d thought a good time was being had by all.  Then, one of the women comes up to me and says, “Girl, I know you doin’ your Spanish thing, but you got to take it down a notch.” 

I was shocked. Like, speechless -- a very unusual state for me. My friend (a white, gay man) was immediately like "Um, this is her safe space -- are you LGBTQ?"

The woman said that she was bisexual, but then it came out that she was there with her daughter, and that she didn’t even believe in bisexuality.

She was black, and she told us she was fifty-five, and then proceeded to tell me about how I need to not be loud, that I was making people uncomfortable. The story I’d like to tell is how I clapped back, about how I told her to get her respectability politics the fuck out of this space where I’ve always felt comfortable. The story I’d like to tell is about how I schooled her on how representing myself as what people sort of expect from a Latina in a very white space, and then socializing, then meeting people, then making friends and enjoying them and having them enjoy me is actually sort of a small but important thing I like to do in very white places, especially queer white spaces, because actually experiencing different types of people as an individuals helps people be more open to diversity -- and diversity can be something of an issue in queer white spaces. But those stories wouldn’t be true. What happened is that I calmly, mostly patiently, tried to explain who I am, what I’m about, how I hadn’t meant to make anyone uncomfortable. What happened is that I apologized. I fucking apologized. For being me! My whole life people have thought I’m too much -- generally white folks, to be honest, and I’m very used to that. I know who I am, I know what I am, I know how I come across, and if some wypipo are uncomfortable because they don’t understand other cultural norms, well, that’s sad for them, because I’m pretty great. But the fact that it was a woman of color -- an older woman of color, which is exactly the person to whom I will always be most deferential and most respectful -- completely disarmed me. My defenses were down, because if there’s a person in the room I’m going to trust and feel safe with, it’s a woman of color. And she struck me down, guys. She broke my heart. We went out for a cigarette, and she joined us -- and she was speaking to a white guy who was already out there, and he said that he agreed, I was too much. I was utterly shocked. I’m usually pretty good at reading a room, but it never occurred to me that I’d be rejected there of all places. The guy ended up complimenting me and saying I was beautiful and inviting me to come back to listen to him sing “Poor Unfortunate Souls” by the piano, but once everyone went back inside, we didn’t. We went across the street to a little park, I cried. My friend sat with me and said all the right things, supportive, understanding, totally got why I was so upset -- I had felt safe. LGBTQIA spaces have always felt safe to me, in all ways. And suddenly, that was gone. Everyone in that bar became suspect. How many people had been “uncomfortable?”  I’ve always been aware of race issues in the LGBTQIA community, but whereas outside of it, I’ve grown weary and wary and a little cynical about changing hearts and minds, I’ve always felt a sort of optimism among my queer folk that I’ve been able to maintain over the years. I’d experienced being tokenized, microaggressions, and other nonsense, but I also found people often willing to listen, or take hints, or understand at least a little about why those things weren’t cool. I also had always felt accepted for who I was -- I never had to be respectable, because queer spaces weren’t respectable, and cared nothing for respectability. I guess that’s changed. Or something. We went to Harlem, walked around, had (amazing) dinner. There was no side eye; someone complimented my curls. People were friendly and fun and I felt comfortable again. So that was good. I’m not sure what to make of all this, exactly. I’ve been thinking about it a lot today. Respectability politics are a problem. Diversity in LGBTQIA spaces is fraught -- there are queer PoC spaces and queer white spaces, and I never felt the need to pick one or the other. But this experience -- at the hands of a woman of color who was most likely straight, which really makes it weird -- I think it may have changed that. And there’s something in me that’s really sad about that, and really disappointed.  I don't have any intention of changing my behavior or anything about myself. I really like myself, and honestly would have no idea how else to be. If growing up with my very strict, very critical, very hardcore father didn’t bend me into a more quiet, demure, respectable shape, some rando lady at a bar certainly isn’t going to do much. But what has changed is the sense of safety I felt in LGBTQIA spaces and with women of color -- which for me is profound. LGBTQIA spaces have always been a sanctuary for me, and it's a really deep, fundamental disappointment to feel like I've lost that. I’m not sure where that leaves me, at the end of the day. 

[preserving-ferretbrain]

This song is why

by Jamie Johnston

Friday, 11 June 2010Dar Williams' When I was a boy inspires a mixture of analysis and over-sharing.~I had a couple of friends round for dinner the other day and one of them (who is amused by how I think the internet is full of amazingness) asked me what was amazing on the internet at the moment, and I showed them Tiger Beatdown, and there was a bit of 'Oh, er, feminism? Is that... I mean... surely that's a bit... why?' And I answered... in song! Well, no, that makes it sound like my life is a musical, which I'm sad to say is not the case. What I did was I played them When I was a boy by Dar Williams:

Because that, at the moment, is the most complete and coherent and honest answer I can give if someone asks me why I'm trying to be a feminist.

I had never heard of Dar Williams, let alone this song, before I saw it casually mentioned in some blog or other and, as I often do when I see music I've never heard of being casually mentioned in some blog or other, I looked it up on Spotify to discover whether it was any good. I found it (not quite this version, actually, but the one from the Radio Woodstock 25th anniversary album, which remains my favourite version (

1

)), and it started playing, and I carried on reading and clicking stuff and whatever, and really didn't follow what it was about; but there was something compelling in it, and when it finished I felt I needed to hear it again. So I closed everything else down and played it again and properly listened to it, and wept.

As an answer to the sort of 'Why?' that really means 'How did it come about?', this song is an incomplete answer. A more complete answer would perhaps start with some of the

Minority Warrior

stuff here on Ferretbrain, would get a jump-start with

Fugitivus on rape

, and would certainly include Tiger Beatdown as well (

2

); an even more complete one would go back over the many conversations and interactions I've had with female friends over the years that suddenly began to flash through my memory as I read that Fugitivus post and thought, 'Oh god, how could I have so completely failed to understand?' (

3

). But, actually,

When I was a boy

would still be a very major part of any answer, for a simple and important reason. By the time I heard it there had already been feminist writing that had made me think, 'Oh yes, actually that is quite iffy', and there had already been feminist writing that had shocked me, and there had already been feminist writing that had made me feel ashamed, and there had already been feminist writing that had made me feel joyful, and there had already been feminist writing that had made me angry about oppression, but there had never been feminist writing that made me feel (even if only for five minutes) desolate and heartbroken and like I just couldn't bear for the world to be this way. In other words, this song was what changed feminism from an option into a necessity.

It's also an incomplete answer - even more incomplete, in fact - to the sort of 'Why?' that means 'For what reason, for whose sake?' Even at this very early stage of exploration I've absorbed enough to see that

When I was a boy

is by no means a comprehensive catalogue of gender oppression. It isn't hard to think of umpteen reasons to be a feminist that are arguably more 'Important' than anything Williams describes here: endemic rape in the Democratic Republic of Congo, endemic apology for and dismissal of rape in the democratic constitutional monarchy of the UK, the wage gap and the double shift in the US, denial of women's suffrage in Saudia Arabia, and so on and depressingly on. But this isn't a song about every single way women are oppressed: it's a very personal song about a young fair-skinned comfortably well-off first-world woman who could be one of your friends or someone you passed on the street yesterday (

4

). And, you know what, within those limits it actually covers a great deal: the threat of harrassment and rape ('it's not safe') and the way that very threat becomes a way of making women dependent on men for protection ('I need to find a nice man to walk me home'); the way society tries to make women show off their bodies for the enjoyment of men ('more that's tight means more to see') and also tries to mark those same bodies as obscene ('my neighbour came outside to say, "Get your shirt"'); the way gender norms are both imposed from outside ('the signs say less is more') and internalized ('I could always cry, now even when I'm alone I seldom do'); the way we sometimes feel we can't even admit that we don't want to be the way we are ('it's a secret I can keep').

But covering a lot of bases isn't what makes this song so powerful. My grasp of musical theory is even more tenuous than my grasp of feminist theory, but here are a few musical things we can notice. Notice how it starts with various warm and slightly sparkly chords (

5

), matching in each of the first two verses the descriptions of the singer's (

6

) joyfully boyish childhood; and then how it moves to a barer set of two less richly harmonized chords as she moves to the present (leaving the party or standing in the clothes-shop or confessing the missing part of herself), then back to the warmer sound for 'when I was a boy...'. And notice, in particular, the discordant pair of notes plucked loudly just before that first transition ('and I remember that night'), disorientating the ear and wrenching the song for a moment out of the realm of ordinary chords entirely (

7

). And notice the way that the main guitar line roams up and down the scale in quick wave-like arpeggios, and then how during those sadder minor passages the little in-between notes (semi-quavers, possibly?) drop out and leave an unfulfilled two-tone alternation coinciding with the parts of the lyric that most strongly express the sense of a flatter, less complete life. And notice how the words 'when I was a boy' are held back until just after the beat before they canter exultantly up the scale and jump off the end just as the guitar slides up to the next chord. And notice how at the moments when the words move from memory to present sad reflexion ('I don't know how I survived'; 'I know things have got to change') the previously wandering melody rises to a high note and sticks there on that same note for the whole line, as if Williams has suddenly hit the (glass?) ceiling and has nowhere to go. And notice how the parts of the tune that largely correspond to descriptions of the past (when she was a boy) are mostly lower (more 'masculine') in pitch, whereas the parts in the present are higher-pitched (more 'feminine'). And, keeping hold of that last point in your mind, notice how, in a musical tradition (folk / pop / country / whatever) in which a rise in pitch usually signals the singer accessing a new level of power or intensity (e.g. just about any song you can think of), this song is constructed and pitched so that the lower sections (which are also mostly the brighter-chord sections, which are also mostly the sections with the most harmonically rich guitar-figures, which are also mostly the sections where the singer's voice sounds more 'masculine', which are also mostly the sections in which she remembers her 'boyhood') are firmly in the centre of Williams' vocal range and so sound strong and rich and resonant, while the higher sections (which are also mostly the harmonically more dissonant sections, which are also mostly the sections with the flat and incomplete-sounding accompaniment, which are also mostly the sections where the singer's voice is more 'feminine', which are also mostly the sections where she's in her heavily 'feminized' present) are just a bit too high and make her voice breathy and weak. And, with all that in mind, notice how the very highest notes of each verse - the ones where Williams sounds weakest - are in the final lines of the verse, where the rhythm of the vocal line becomes halting and uncertain, emphasizing the singer's capitulation and undermining her inner defiance: 'and you... can walk... me home... but I was a boy too'; 'but I... am not... forgetting... that I was a boy too'; 'and I... have lost... some kindness... but I was a girl too'.

And the lyric. Oh, reader, the lyric. The opening invocation of

Peter Pan

, which both instantly reminds most of us of our own childhoods (which is when we first encountered

Peter Pan

) and tells us that we're hearing about the singer's childhood (because we know Peter Pan only visits children) (

8

), as well as placing the song in the context of a literary work that has some pretty complex stuff going on with childhood and gender (too much to go into here). The telegraphic account of 'liv[ing] a whole life in one night', like a verbal action montage, enlivened by the repetition of sprightly 'L' and 'I' sounds, and rounded off with the heart-warming equality, reciprocity, solidarity of 'we saved each other's lives out on the pirate deck'. The contrast between the you-and-me-against-the-world intimacy of that Neverland adventure and the world-against-me loneliness of what follows, with its blank and anonymous 'some friends' and 'somebody tell[s] me'. It's so much about contrasts, this lyric. One that runs right through is between abstraction and particularity: the passages describing the singer's childhood are composed almost entirely of specific details, images, events (climbing, riding a bicycle, catching fireflies, 'grass-stained shirt and dusty knees'), giving them immediacy and substance, while the present-day passages are much more general and generic (for it's clear that the scenes leaving the party, standing in the clothes-shop, the 'lonesome awful day' are not unique occasions but things that happen quite often), creating a sort of repetitiveness and sameness. Similarly, the childhood passages are full of agency, of first-person active verbs ('I learned to fly, I learned to fight'; 'climbed what I could climb upon'; 'riding topless, yeah, I never care who saw' (

9

)), while the present-day sections are much more passive or third-person ('I hear somebody tell me'; 'walk me home'; 'the signs say'; 'they've got pills to sell'). The linguistic contrasts underline the main device of the whole song, which is of course the rapid switching between past and present. The frequency of this alternation - back and forth at least twice in every verse - means that, once the pattern is established, one hears every section while still retaining a strong memory of the previous and a strong premonition of the next. This makes every joyful return to childhood also sad because it's lost, and makes every glimpse of the present even sadder for coexisting with a contrasting image of the past.

And I haven't even talked about the central metaphor: 'when I was a boy'. So simple and direct, so eloquent and challenging. So eloquent and challenging, in fact, because it isn't really a metaphor at all, and that's the point. It isn't literally true that the singer was ever physically male - I think that's fairly clear from the line 'I said I was a boy; I'm glad he didn't check'. But if gender consists (at least to a great extent) in behaving and having one's behaviour interpreted in certain ways that are strongly associated with physical maleness or femaleness ('he behaves like people with male bodies do or should so he must be a boy'), then in behaving like a boy the singer literally was a boy. If, on the other hand, we flip that round and see gender as a matter of having one's sexed body interpreted as necessarily or probably implying certain types of behaviour ('he looks physically male so he can expected to behave like, and assumed to be, a boy'), then in growing up and becoming visibly physically female the singer becomes a woman, regardless of her own wishes and behaviour. In short, without any kind of conscious or voluntary transition, it is literally true that the singer used to be a boy and is not a boy now. That's why the non-metaphor of 'when I was a boy' is dynamite: the simple use of that word 'was', rather than 'was like' or some other less uncompromising phrase, exposes the fact that socially constructed gender is so crushingly powerful that it has literally changed the singer's identity against her will and based on nothing but her physical appearance. The fallacy of essentialism is rejected: it's clear that she doesn't feel that she's changed, and indeed she hangs on tightly to the memory of 'the other life I lived'. The only things that have changed are things beyond her control, namely her body and the way other people unthinkingly treat her because of it. And I should say here that I don't think it's necessary or even really satisfactory to read this song as about transgender or to see the singer as a nascent or potential transgendered man (though there may well be much in the song that will speak especially to trans people). The singer's 'other life' as a boy doesn't imply that she wasn't also a girl, except in as much as it rejects the distinction between the two. The point, rather, is that as a child she could be both at the same time, or sometimes one and sometimes the other, and - crucially - it didn't really matter: 'you were just like me and I was just like you'. The sadness of the contrast between past and present is one of loss. It isn't sadness that she once had A and now has B; it's sadness that she once had A and B, and one has been taken away.

Because it isn't anything as pedestrian as a nostalgia song, this song. It isn't about how everything was so much better when the singer was a child. That sort of nostalgic exercise generally has at its core the idea that somehow being a child is in itself better: one was more carefree, or more loved, or more innocent, or whatever. Childhood is fetishized as some kind of ideal state. But the singer of

When I was a boy

doesn't want to be a child again: she wants to be an adult who can be herself fully. The importance of childhood is that it was a time when she was allowed to do that; now she is no longer. So the value of her childhood now is as a way to access a certain inner wholeness that's still there even if it can't be expressed; memory is act of resistance: 'I am not forgetting that I was a boy too'. In a sense she's lucky, for although she would perhaps be 'happier' and less troubled (like the person in Plato's cave) if she had no such memories, they also give her a source of strength that isn't so readily available to someone who's so fully internalized her (or his) constructed gender that she (or he) isn't even aware of it. Lucky, but also frustrated and sad. And weary.

That weariness comes across most strongly in the final verse, which begins by evoking the constant, low-level drain on the singer's emotional resources that must (I can only imagine) come from an ordinary day full of ordinary little oppressions (

10

). And whenever I sing this song quietly to myself, if it hasn't already brought a tear to my eye before the last verse, this is the line I always choke on: 'And so I tell the man I'm with about the other life I lived, and I say, "Now you're top gun: I have lost and you have won."' Can there be anything more heartbreaking to a man with any heart at all than the thought that your female friends and relatives might, even only in brief moments, feel like your defeated opponents? And then Williams does something extremely generous and important: 'And he says, "Oh, no, no, can't you see? When I was a girl..."' It's generous because this man's reply could, and in the comments thread of any feminist blog probably would, be treated (quite reasonably) as derailing and possibly also mansplaining (

11

). It's important because it makes a sketch of how sexism diminishes women (which is already a massive and vital point to make) into a sketch of how sexism diminishes everyone. In Kate Millett's phrase, 'each personality becomes little more, and often less, than half of its human potential' (

12

). The song invites women and men to recognize one another as mutually (though not equally) disadvantaged by current ideas of femininity and masculinity, and to remember that 'you were just like me and I was just like you'.

It's hard, in the end, to say why

When I was a boy

affects me so strongly. It isn't because I relate especially strongly to the man in the last verse: I was never that much into flowers, and have I mentioned that I cry sometimes, for example when listening to this song? Ahem. And the rest... well, maybe. It's true, at any rate, that I'm lucky like the singer of this song: lucky to have had parents who gave me a dolls' house as well as Transformers, to have made it through nearly thirty years without ever being compelled to take the slightest interest in football, to have grown up with female friends playing make-believe games that could happily include princesses and robots and (like

Peter Pan

) pirates and fairies together. And this song does sometimes make me think of one of my oldest friends, and how for the first however many years of our lives our different sexes had literally no impact whatsoever on our friendship, and how we're somehow more distant now, and how I remember her once saying to me, when we were both just into double digits, that she liked having me as a friend because with me she could do things that boys liked doing, which surprised me because I'd rather thought of her as someone with whom I could do things that girls liked doing. But I don't think it's really very much to do with whether I relate this song to my own life or identify with anyone in it. It's perhaps the opposite: it's the way this song so so powerfully conveys an experience that I've never had and makes me realize how unfair that experience is and how very much I wish nobody had it. Which is a pretty impressive thing for a guitar and a voice to do in five minutes. I've tried to pick out some of the ways the music, the performance, and the lyric do it, but I'm no music critic, and in the end I just don't know. I can say, though, if anyone asks why this stuff matters to me, this song is why.

Notes

1

· I can't find it on the internet but if you have Spotify it's

here

.

2

· Indeed Tiger Beatdown's

Ladypalooza festival of music criticism

is probably what set me unconsciously composing this article in my head before I noticed that's what I was doing. (Yes, I started writing this about a month ago! It took me a while to get to grips with the music theory parts, okay?)

3

· And indeed further back still, to my English teacher Miss McLaren (who I realize now was probably the first actual feminist I knew and who I like to imagine deliberately chose to teach at a school for privileged boys in order to do undercover feminism at them without their noticing until years later) and to early memories of my mum complaining about women with paid jobs saying 'I work' as if what she did at home all day wasn't work (which, though she wouldn't have thought of it in these terms, was almost certainly the first critique of patriarchy I ever heard).

4

· Admittedly some of this picture is transferred from Williams herself to the character who 'speaks' the song and aren't particularly supported by the lyric. On the other hand, although it's plainly wrong and unhelpful to treat any song as entirely true of its singer or writer, the characteristics of the person who performs the song do inevitably inform our reading of it. So my reading is informed by knowing what Williams looks like and that she's from North America somewhere, and I think it's a reading that's entirely consistent with the lyric.

5

· Lots of suspended seconds and fourths and added ninths, if I'm not mistaken, which are the sorts of chords that make things sound like the Byrds.

6

· I use 'singer' to mean the character whose words are the words of the song, to avoid possibly wrongly (and at any rate irrelevantly) attributing the experiences and feelings expressed in the lyric to Williams herself. Though it's admittedly a bit less clear-cut than that (see note 3).

7

· The interval between these notes is the

diminished or 'devil's' fifth

, which is frequently used to disrupt tonal harmony and is, by suggestive coincidence, called 'oppressive' by Wikipedia. For noticing the use of this interval in this song and patiently explaining to me how it works, many thanks to Joe Templeton (who suggests the beginning of

Purple haze

by Jimi Hendrix as a good example of this interval): needless to say, any error in what I've written about it here is the result of my misunderstanding the point, and not to be attributed to Joe.

8

· And you can see how effectively it tells us this by noticing that that it's actually the only thing that tells us we're in her childhood, and then noticing that you hadn't noticed that. Apologies if the word 'notice' has now started to sound meaningless through over-exposure.

9

· Here too the vowel-sounds in those lines enhance the effect, for not only are the lines filled with the actual first-person pronoun 'I', they are also heavily populated with that same sound within other words: fly, fight, life, night, lives, pirate.

10

· 'Every day a little death: in the parlor, in the bed; in the curtains, in the silver, in the buttons, in the bread', as Sondheim writes in a slightly different context in

A little night music

. Also, incidentally, notice how Williams' voice wobbles on 'off guard', like a stifled sob. One might think it a bit of improvised styling, but no, it's there in every recording I can find.

11

· Those who don't hang out on feminist blogs much can refer to these definitions:

derailing

;

mansplaining

.

12

· In

Sexual politics

(1969), quoted in Cudd & Andreasen,

Feminist theory: a philosophical anthology

(Blackwell, 2005), page 42. I've amended the punctuation: the text in Cudd & Andreasen says 'each personality becomes little more, and often less than half, of its human potential', which must surely be a typographical error (not the only one in this anthology).Themes:

Music and Gigs

,

Minority Warrior

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http://puritybrown.livejournal.com/

at 21:58 on 2010-06-11Very well said.

Some years ago I bought a CD single of "Cool As I Am" that had this song and "This Was Pompeii" as B-sides. I remember weeping when I heard "When I Was A Boy" the first time, and playing it over and over again, so that to this day I can sing it from memory (even though I haven't listened to it in a long time, because I can only listen to it in circumstances where I feel comfortable crying). It's a concise illustration of the maxim "the personal is political", an encapsulation of all the reasons why feminism is important

even if

you are an educated white middle-class Westerner with buckets of privilege, a deeply moving personal story, and a beautifully-written song wrapped up in one.

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Sister Magpie

at 22:01 on 2010-06-11Wow. What a great read--because I love this song! And something that's funny is that as a woman listening to it doesn't make me emotional *until* that last verse--so the exact opposite of, as you say, feeling like that verse is mansplaining or derailing. I guess because the first two verses don't hit me as hard--I think because they're basically just describing the way things are. Like, all those things are so everyday, everything she says, but for some reason when she makes it about everyone instead of just about these things, changed the whole song for me.

I think especially because there's such a nice contrast between the details (as you pointed out, the childhood sections are all rich in details) between the two. The girl (or should we say "boy") details are all about adventure and independence and invulnerability. The boy details are about beauty, relationships (well, that's not exactly true--but the girl's relationships are defined through the action of saving each other's lives, the boy's through "always talking" and so sharing thoughts and feelings) and vulnerabilty.

Which I think I also liked because it makes it clear, as you say, that it's about having both, not rejecting one for the other. The girl doesn't want to lose the parts of herself that might code female, because that would just be a different version of what she has now--just one that she might not be as aware of because those things aren't valued as much in her society.

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Frank

at 23:40 on 2010-06-11Beautiful and powerful read, Jamie. Thanks.

but I'm no music critic

I disagree. That was some good analysis.

Because that, at the moment, is the most complete and coherent and honest answer I can give if someone asks me why I'm trying to be a feminist.

I don't think you can be a feminist, but you can be an ally to feminism. For a male to say he is a feminist is to appropriate the term, manhandle it and muffle the authoritative voice of feminism:

girls

and

women

(both links are on the same subject: Terry Richardson).

The song invites women and men to recognize one another as mutually (though not equally) disadvantaged by current ideas of femininity and masculinity, and to remember that 'you were just like me and I was just like you'.

What I don't like about the last lines is that it is the man telling her 'hey I got it bad too' and then she doesn't call him out on it. He is of the dominant sex, what's he doing to further the cause to equality except to say we were the same once?

And because the man has the last word, maybe it's Dar Williams saying something, that the narrator in the song is once again shut down or at least quietly and softly oppressed. With your excellent musical analysis of the song, what do you think the music is suggesting?

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Arthur B

at 23:47 on 2010-06-11I don't gots no purty story about how I done had a political awakening. My mammy just done brought me up right.

That tune be pretty though an it done brought tears to my peepers.

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Andy G

at 00:00 on 2010-06-12Oh wow that's a beautiful song, and a really thoughtful post.

To alleviate your mansplaining concerns (or am I now mansplaining myself?)I thought the final verse (which also makes me well up) was in line with a comment made by C.L. Minou over at

Tiger Beatdown

, in which she mentions "the ways that sexism and kyriarchy hurt men too" (even if the damage isn't equivalent to that caused to women). And I definitely feel on firmer (and less mansplain-y) ground saying that it's true that homophobia is similarly harmful to straight guys (whether as perpetrators or victims).

I did wonder though what your thoughts are thoughts are about the depiction of childhood in the song? I'm just not sure if the poignant metaphorical truth about loss of innocence and freedom overlooks the literal reality of childhood, which involves being subjected to incredible pressure to conform by both the adult world and other children (who can be very judgemental). I wonder if the real tragedy isn't what comes after childhood, but rather that childhood is the period during which people are being rapidly made into women (or men as the case may be)? And doesn't the freedom to challenge those roles only come after childhood?

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Sister Magpie

at 00:02 on 2010-06-12

And because the man has the last word, maybe it's Dar Williams saying something, that the narrator in the song is once again shut down or at least quietly and softly oppressed. With your excellent musical analysis of the song, what do you think the music is suggesting?

It could certainly be that, but personally I never took it that way. I take it more as a validation. His gender conditioning might not have led to oppression--there's nothing in his experience that is a parallel to half the things she's talking about, but he doesn't lay claim to those things, only to the basic idea of having once felt free to act in ways that are now considered exclusive to the opposite gender.

I guess to me the guy's verse sounds enough like something he's sharing that he doesn't particularly like to share--she herself is only sharing because she's tired and caught off guard. Especially the fact that his last line is saying that he's lost kindness, which is I would think a criticism of himself. I guess I felt like it was more a validation that he believed her experience rather than just saying that he had it hard too, because there really isn't much hard in his version. He just hasn't "won," if that makes sense.

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Frank

at 00:43 on 2010-06-12

He just hasn't "won," if that makes sense.

It does. And I can see where he's attempting to validate her experience but, to me, it doesn't need any validation especially by the man she's with. I know he's not a bad man, he's self critical and probably a good man. Still, even though he may not have 'won', he is ahead.

I think the song kind of reinforces the cultural norms (as permitted by whitestraightabledcis male dominance) it's lamenting.

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Wardog

at 10:53 on 2010-06-12Oh wow, Jamie, wonderful article and thank you for the song - which, being generally ignorant about everything, I had never heard before. I loved it, and had a little cry to myself over it too.

I can't really articulate which aspects affected me in what ways, but the first verse really touched on something because I suddenly remembered when I was a boy too, and it awakened in me a sort of yearning for simpler, fearless times.

I didn't see the last verse as particularly problematic. I mean, the bulk of the song and the perspective that leads to the final verse is the woman's - I think one can over-literalise the rhetorical impact of "the last word" sometimes. Also I don't think it's so much the man trying to get a seat on the oppression train, as an acknowledgment that these issues affect everyone, and marginalising the experiences of men in the name of feminism is as harmful any other sort of marginalisation. As the man says: everyone is a loser here, because everyone is denied their authentic selves because of the pressure to conform.

Also if that verse wasn't there, the whole song would carry the implication that it is just plain better to be a boy - to be fearless, and climb trees, and get into fights. That would, of course, be not so great actually. The singer is yearning not to be a boy but for the freedom to self-define within her own terms - and the final verse broadens the perspective by reminding us that this can include crying and picking flowers, as well as riding bikes.

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Sister Magpie

at 15:39 on 2010-06-12

Also if that verse wasn't there, the whole song would carry the implication that it is just plain better to be a boy - to be fearless, and climb trees, and get into fights. That would, of course, be not so great actually. The singer is yearning not to be a boy but for the freedom to self-define within her own terms - and the final verse broadens the perspective by reminding us that this can include crying and picking flowers, as well as riding bikes.

Yes, that's a big part of why I need the last verse. For me, I just wouldn't like the song that much without it. It would feel too much like a complaint, and one lacking in awareness. Not that I think the narrator truly wants to be male, but the way she's feeling she's just longing for those particular things. So I am relieved when the other side is brought into it and "female" becomes something other than something acted on and controlled by others.

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Jamie Johnston

at 17:54 on 2010-06-12Oh no, I've turned Arthur into a hayseed! :)

Er, this reply will be long. Short version: see long version.

Frank

, as to 'feminist' v. 'ally', I'm aware that this is

contested territory

, but it seems to be contested on both sides: arguments against the term 'ally' are expressed

here

by someone who admittedly doesn't identify as a woman, but I have heard the same from women. Interestingly, the Feminism 101 article I linked to in the previous sentence seems to say that the objections to the idea of 'feminist men' come mostly from men, which makes me wonder what happened to the principle of female voices having more authority on these issues. The way I personally apply that principle at the moment (though I'm open to being persuaded in any direction) is that I don't claim either label for myself, and won't consider doing so unless and until I find myself being routinely described with one or the other or both by undisputed feminists. (And in fact I'd do the same at the moment even if there were no dispute about the terminology because I just don't think I know enough or have done enough to claim whatever the appropriate term is.)

Having said that, at the moment I feel more uncomfortable about ever calling myself an ally than about ever calling myself a feminist. One could say that the statement 'I am your ally' is always necessarily a bit of arrogation, and the only things anyone can ever say with full authority are 'I want to be your ally' and (though of course not unilaterally) 'you are my ally'. Maybe that's going a bit far, but maybe not. On the other hand, the word 'feminist' is structured analogously to any number of other '-ist' words that are routinely used and understood to mean 'person who subscribes to a given school of thought'.

Anyway, that may be a discussion for another time and place. In any case, even if it is impossible for a man to be a feminist, I'm perfectly happy with the statement that I'm trying to be a feminist: at worst it's formally analogous to the statement 'I'm trying to perfect', an aspiration that's impossible but probably none the worse for that.

Everyone

, regarding the last verse: I'd pretty much adopt Kyra's answer on this point. In the context of a real conversation, I agree that the singer would have been perfectly entitled to say, 'Well, okay, I sympathise, but please also note that I'm really tired and upset and you've just started your reply with "No no no, can't you see?", which is not very supportive; plus you've then gone on to describe a distinct, though related, problem that is not what I was talking about; plus you still have a lot more going for you than I have; plus what exactly have you done to help me with all this, since you're so sympathetic; plus I've run out of cookies.' And I tried to nod to that in the article. But on balance I think the song itself absorbs and neutralizes the problem. Purely by number of words, the man's experience accounts for only 15% of the song, and more importantly everything he says is there by the permission of, and enclosed within, the singer's narration. It's true that she doesn't come back in her own voice and add anything after it, but her quotation-mark is there after his final word.

And speaking of his final word, I think it's not unimportant that his literal final word is 'you', which returns the focus to the singer. Nor is it unimportant that having said 'you were just like me' (taking himself, and perhaps by implication men in general, as the norm) he immediately reverses it and says 'I was just like you' (comparing himself to a female norm). And, while we're on this last phrase, he doesn't say 'you are just like me and I am just like you', which would be the old 'But men are oppressed too!' line (in which 'too' implies not only 'also' but 'equally' and indeed 'to such an extent that it's unreasonable for you to complain about your oppression because what about mine?'); rather, he says 'you were just like me and I was just like you', i.e. 'the inequality here is not innate or necessary or inevitable', which is of course the point of the song. So although he starts unhelpfully, his comments over all come out as, 'Yes, you're right, and by the way my experience supports your view'.

So I read the construction of the end of the song as Williams actually being quite self-confident and, as I said in the article, generous, by using a male mouthpiece to broaden and sum up the over-all point of the song. On the other hand, as Frank suggests, she may also be making a subtle extra point with the implication that the singer-character herself is so weary from putting up with everything else that she also puts up with the man's intervention in the conversation, even though it has some characteristics of a hijacking as well as of an agreement. Nonetheless I see the song as broadly endorsing what he says (and vice versa).

In musical terms I don't detect any particular clues either way. In all the live versions the guitar does pretty well exactly the same thing under his speech as under the rest of the song; in the studio recording there's a little brass part (or possibly woodwind: I'm terrible at identifying instruments) under the last verse, but that doesn't seem to tell us anything much, and perhaps a hint of extra force in the strum under the 'see' in 'can't you see', which one could read as extra masculinity or as extra interruptiness. The only thing that I do find suggestive is that the instrumental backing doesn't resolve itself to a conclusion at the same time the vocal ends but carries on once more through the section that corresponds to the first four lines of each verse (e.g., in the first verse, 'I won't forget...' to '... pirate deck'). I'd say what that does is to leave the thought hanging, so the effect isn't 'Hurrah, the Man has solved the problem!', as it might be if the music came to an end along with the lyric, but something more like, 'Yes, there's the thing, isn't it? Let's think about that for a while.' It also - and here's where things get very subjective indeed - leaves me personally with the mental image of the singer sitting looking out at the fireflies in the back yard, which is a mental image to which the man, who may or may not be sitting with her, is not terribly relevant. It would be hard to argue that that's a thought the song is in any way designed to leave the listener with, but I do think it's perhaps significant that the instrumental section that's repeated after the end of the vocal is the section that corresponds in the first verse to the Peter Pan adventure, in the second to the topless cycling, and in the third to the awful day (ending, in fact, precisely with the line 'catching fireflies out in the back yard', so perhaps that's why that image sticks in my mind): in other words after the end of the singing the music takes us back to linger on the singer's experience, rather than ending on the man's response.

Andy

, I agree that if there is a problem in the song it is that it does at some point seem to imply that childhood as a whole is a sort of pre-gendered state, which is demonstrably not the case (as one sees from the extremely young age at which studies (can't at the moment lay my googling fingers on a reference, but there was a news story in the last few months) are now showing female babies preferring pink things and male ones blue things, combined with the

evidence

that these colour-preferences vary across time and space in a way that suggests very strongly that they are culturally imposed). But I think I'm inclined to let Williams off the hook for that, at least to some extent. The song does show the process of gendering happening during childhood (especially in the topless cycling episode, but also, more subtly and more sadly, in the line 'I said I was a boy; I'm glad he didn't check', which of course implies (not unjustly) that Peter Pan, and by extension much of the culture that we produce for children, is horrendously sexist and only lets boys have adventures and fight pirates. There's also the interesting question of the singer's mother's attitude: on the one hand, would it have 'scared the pants off' her quite so much if it had been her son climbing stuff? but on the other, is there a joking significance in the fact that we imagine her mother wearing pants (trousers, for those of us in other parts of the Anglophone world) in the first place, in mild defiance of the patriarchy? :) So I think on that score the fault may be more mine than Williams', since I see that the article does largely ignore those aspects and talk about childhood as pretty thoroughly ungendered.

Another reason I'm inclined to give the song a pass on this question is that I'm not sure we're meant to take the depiction of the singer's childhood literally. In the same way that we plainly aren't expected to assume the singer, for all her 'boyish' activities like climbing and cycling and fighting pirates, never did 'girly' things like talking to her mother and picking flowers and crying and being kind, so too I don't think we're meant to imagine that her childhood was as thoroughly infused with ungendered self-determination as perhaps it seems in the song. The thing is that every glimpse of her childhood is mediated through her adult memory, specifically for comparison with the oppressive present. So although it's functioning in the song as a sort of symbol of genderlessness and as a source of emotional support, I don't think that amounts to the song saying that that is what childhood is actually like.

I think part of it also comes down to the thing of this song not trying to be about all women (and men) ever. It speaks to me in part perhaps because my childhood was approximately as ungendered as the singer's: not by any means completely, but just enough that I can compare it to the present as draw pro-feminist conclusions from the comparison. There will be others for whom childhood was much more the site of comprehensive engendering (except that that's a word for something different, but you know what I mean) and is therefore much less an inner source of positivity, and for them adulthood may be the empowering idea because it provides the tools for self-liberation that were denied in childhood. I guess looking at it from that angle

When I was a boy

isn't really saying that childhood is literally or necessarily a time of liberation so much as just using childhood - this particular type of childhood - as a symbol of the equal and full humanity of everyone.

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Jamie Johnston

at 17:56 on 2010-06-12Seen since writing the above: Sister Magpie's

most recent comment

. Response: yes. :)

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http://alex-von-cercek.livejournal.com/

at 18:37 on 2010-06-12I was always taught that "feminism" meant striving for equality of the genders. That seemed a fine and noble undertaking, but I don't see how you can claim that definition if you can't admit the possibility of male feminists.

I call myself a feminist and not an ally because, well, I don't know you! I might disagree with you on a whole bunch of issues you consider quite important. And you can't claim that feminists always agree on everything, no more than other prefix-ists always agree (which is to say, hardly ever). Also, "ally" seems so very personal, like I'm claiming to be your old and trustworthy brother in arms, like I'm claiming this relationship exists between us where in fact there is none.

If I say I'm a feminist, I'm speaking for myself. If I said I'm an ally, I'd be telling you what I am to you.

On the subject of winning, and how though the man may not have won, he is ahead. He is, but it's like a game of Defcon 5 where you "win" or "are ahead" of the other guy because in the last half hour, 60 million people in his country died in nuclear fire, while your own civilian casualties are barely 30 million.

I mean, you've won, but it's hardly a desirable victory.

...er, don't mind me, I just started hanging around this site because you actually analyzed WH40k novels for their literary merit, and then kind of stuck around.

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Wardog

at 18:40 on 2010-06-12On a lighter note, I just can't get past the term Kyriarchy - which, by rights, should mean oppression by me.

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Wardog

at 18:42 on 2010-06-12PS:

...er, don't mind me, I just started hanging around this site because you actually analyzed WH40k novels for their literary merit, and then kind of stuck around.

Not at all, you are very welcome here :)

And I'm sure Arthur would agree that, as far as reasons to stick around go, that must be one of the best :D

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http://roisindubh211.livejournal.com/

at 20:42 on 2010-06-12I'm watching the football while I read, so I couldn't listen to the song, but I read the lyrics. And the last part, to me, read like she gets so tired and worn down that her defenses fail, and she admits to this story that she's been hiding- it felt a little scary, like anything can happen to her because she's vulnerable. And instead of attacking, he's secretly "just like you"- he's her ally, because he knows what gets lost too. So it felt hopeful to me, more than anything else- like, if you look, you can find more people who remember and mourn their own loss.

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Arthur B

at 21:12 on 2010-06-12

On the other hand, the word 'feminist' is structured analogously to any number of other '-ist' words that are routinely used and understood to mean 'person who subscribes to a given school of thought'.

Putting the joke hick accent aside, this is kind of the way I see it. If you consider feminism a philosophy, and "feminists" to be people who adhere to that philosophy (in the same way that "communists" believe in one of the various flavours of communism), then saying "men can't be feminists" is tantamount to saying "men can't accept and believe in these ideas, only women can". That implies that men's brains are just plain wired differently from women's - which I think is a thing called "essentialism", and isn't universally accepted by feminist thinkers.

(Which isn't, of course, to say that if you consider feminism a philosophy you can't criticise men who claim to be feminists but fundamentally just don't get it, or try to mansplain everything. It's like being a middle-class supporter of communism - sure, come to the meetings and wave the red flags, but don't pretend you're a proletarian when you're clearly not.)

On the other hand, you could argue that feminism isn't just another philosophy or school of thought like Marxism or liberalism or whatever, but is an entirely different sort of thing. In which case it might make more sense to deny the "feminist" tag to men.

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Andy G

at 21:29 on 2010-06-12@ Arthur: It's complicated a bit because being a socialist is a matter not just of believing certain things but also being committed to certain values and actions. Someone who believed socialism was true but never spoke up or did anything would not be a socialist. I guess you could argue that the privilege that men enjoy makes it difficult or impossible to be a feminist because it would prevent the ideas from translating into action. Somebody could believe feminist ideas but still act and talk in a very sexist way.

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Jamie Johnston

at 21:31 on 2010-06-12Also, Chloe Angyal just tweeted

'Feminist men are so fucking sexy'

, so after due consideration I've decided to be one of those, thank you very much.

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Arthur B

at 22:04 on 2010-06-12

It's complicated a bit because being a socialist is a matter not just of believing certain things but also being committed to certain values and actions. Someone who believed socialism was true but never spoke up or did anything would not be a socialist.

I think they would, at least by the philosophical definition - it's just that they'd also be a hypocrite or a coward or someone just plain compromising for the sake of a quiet life, like anyone who chooses to behave in a manner not in accordance with their beliefs.

Somebody could believe feminist ideas but still act and talk in a very sexist way.

Which makes them a hypocrite, and a deluded idiot who needs to examine their own actions.

Basically, I think men can call themselves feminists if they want to, but it's not necessarily down to them to decide whether they're actually any

good

at the whole feminism thing. See, for example, Jamie's comments about how he's trying to be a good feminist, even if he knows that sometimes he might not be.

I would say that someone who believes in socialism but doesn't speak up or do anything is still a socialist. They're just a crappy socialist.

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Andy G

at 00:36 on 2010-06-13@ Arthur: Well, the thing is that just believing a rule or principle to be correct doesn't mean you understand how to apply it. For instance, you may know it's a rule of football that it's a goal when the ball goes through the posts - but what if you're playing casual football with friends in the park and a stranger's dog runs onto the pitch and knocks the ball through the goal? If you say it doesn't count because it was the stranger's dog, it's not because you had agreed on some sort of exception to the rule in advance (It's a goal wen the ball goes through the posts unless it was knocked in by a dog), but rather that you understood the point of the rules (to structure the game to make things more fun). Coming at a system of rules or principles from the outside, you can fail to grasp how to apply them unless you're able to understand the point behind them. The situation of privilege can impede being able to understand the perspective that allows you to apply the principles of feminism correctly, even if you believe them to be correct.

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Viorica

at 01:00 on 2010-06-13

That implies that men's brains are just plain wired differently from women's - which I think is a thing called "essentialism", and isn't universally accepted by feminist thinkers.

But isn't that part of the definition of transgender- that the person's brain is one gender while their body is another? If there was no difference between the male and female brain, then surely transpeople wouldn't

exist

, because their brains wouldn't register any difference? Or for a more specific example, there have been cases- I can't remember the names, but I know at least one was in Canada- where a child was born physically male but raised female due to a botched circumcision, and chose to live as a man after being told what had happened. If there was no difference between the male and female brains, then he would have been happy to live as a woman, because he would have identified the way he was raised.

Some feminists do ascribe to the idea that there's no difference between the brains. They're wrong, and they erase transpeople in what they percieve as efforts to prove that men and women are equal. They're doing more harm than good.

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Arthur B

at 01:02 on 2010-06-13I don't see how this changes the situation though. Someone who believes in feminism, or communism, or football, but doesn't really know how to apply this is a just plain bad feminist, or a bad communist, or a bad footballer.

If privilege sometimes ends up hampering men's ability to do the feminist thing in a situation, then that means then men are going to tend to be less successful at being feminists than women. That doesn't mean they're not feminists - that would imply they didn't

want

to do the right thing, when they might well want to do the right thing but not know what that is. It just mean they're not as good at it as people who aren't blindsided by privilege are.

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Andy G

at 01:24 on 2010-06-13@ Arthur: I'd say you need to be able to apply the principles to a certain degree of competence before you merit the label feminist. Sort of like with language - you can only speak the language fluently once you're able to actively and creatively apply the rules you've learned. But it's a moot point about labelling really (see discussion about genre), as long as you accept the difficulties that the privileged male perspective can present to applying feminist principles.

@ Viorica: Are you talking about Julie Bindel? I agree entirely, though I don't think there HAS to be a physiological difference between the brains to justify trans people's gender identities. Even if gender is entirely a social or psychological construct, that doesn't mean it's NOT a building block of someone's identity - there's nothing 'unreal' about it.

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Andy G

at 02:00 on 2010-06-13To clarify: I agree with Viorica. Not Julie Bindel.

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Viorica

at 02:09 on 2010-06-13*looks up Julie Bindel* She's certainly a good example of the phenomena. As to the physiological versus social causes- I don't think that

can

be it, because otherwise, why wouldn't the buy I mentioned above (I think his name was David something) have ID'd as female? He was raised that way. Besides, the social construsts of gender usually imply extremes- the "manly man" archetype or the woman all decked out in pink- but transpeople often vary within the spectrum of the gender they idenfity as. A transman might not identify with any traditional definition of masculinity yet still consider himself a man. Either way, it should definitely be considered a legitimate identity- on that we're in complete agreement.

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Arthur B

at 08:46 on 2010-06-13@Andy: I think it is worth linguistically decoupling belief in a particular -ism from someone's ability to live that belief. If saying "X is not a Y-ist" means that X doesn't believe in Y in the first place, and saying "X is not a very good Y-ist" means that X is just plain bad at putting Y-ism into effect, that's surely less liable to confuse than a situation where "X is not a Y-ist"

could

mean that X doesn't believe in Y, or

could

mean that X in fact does believe in Y but is incompetent at putting it into effect.

I could go around calling myself "a believer in feminism" rather than a "feminist", but I suspect a great many people - most likely the majority - would regard the one and the other as being identical anyway. For the same reason I'd question the utility of using "supporter of feminism" or "ally of feminism", because a lot of the time people will reduce that in their heads to "feminist" anyway.

But I agree at this point we're debating semantics.

@Andy Viorica: To be honest I was using "you're saying mens' brains and womens' brains are wired differently" in the sense that "you're saying that on a cold, philosophical level, there are some arguments that men just can't follow and some arguments women can't follow" (which is a point the argument has moved away from when it became clear that neither side believed it).

Obviously, transgenderism is a real phenomenon, obviously on an experiential level the experiences of men and women (trans and otherwise) are going to differ. I'm not enough of a neurologist to comment on actual physiological differences.

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Andy G

at 12:19 on 2010-06-13@ Viorica: I'm not going to pretend to be any expert, but I'd guess there are complicated different reasons why someone might legitimately identify as a certain gender. A particular person's personality is socially constructed but so too are the kinds of identities available to them - a Western person couldn't identify along the lines of Eastern gender identities, for instance, or premodern European gender identities. Bindel's point appears to be that, because there is in fact no essence behind gender identities (something backed up by the existence of intergender people, for instance), it's nonsensical to feel that there's a mismatch between your body and your 'real' gender, but of course these gender identities (constructed or not) do form the building blocks of our selves.

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Andy G

at 12:24 on 2010-06-13@ Arthur: Now I'm a bit more awake, it suddenly occurs that that Cracked article about women in Red Dead Redemption is a good example of misapplied feminist beliefs. Alternatively, I remember reading that back in Britain's colonial days, men who voted against women's rights at home used feminist arguments to condemn foreign countries as primitive (the same thing happens today with regard to gay rights).

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Arthur B

at 14:21 on 2010-06-13@Andy - All of that is appalling, but it looks to me like a situation where the people involved claim to believe in feminist principles but demonstrably don't, in which case they are not feminists but have deluded themselves into thinking they are, or do believe but are just shit feminists.

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Dan H

at 17:22 on 2010-06-13

But isn't that part of the definition of transgender- that the person's brain is one gender while their body is another? If there was no difference between the male and female brain, then surely transpeople wouldn't exist, because their brains wouldn't register any difference?

I think you're oversimplifying a number of complex issues here, some of them scientific and some of them sociological and gender-political.

This is going to get long, because it's complicated, and like Andy I'm not an expert.

For a start, I'm not sure it's possible to separate "the brain" from "the body" as absolutely as you seem to think. The brain is, after all, part of the body so describing somebody as having a "brain" of one gender and a "body" of another is inherently contradictory. It simply wouldn't be possible for somebody to be "physically male" and yet have a "female brain" because the brain is part of the physical body. It's as contradictory as suggesting that somebody could be "physically male" and still possess ovaries and a uterus. You seem to be using "brain" here as a way of expressing a more nebulous concept of self-identity.

Arguing for the existence of a "male" and "female" brain reduces gender to an observable property of a person's physical body. Saying "this person is male because he has a male brain" is ultimately just as trans-erasing as saying "this person is male because he has a penis". I'd also note that most "male and female brain" studies say very little about actual gender identity, indeed most people who study the differences (if any) between men's and women's brains specifically exclude transpeople from their studies or insist on categorizing them as members of their "biological" sex.

To put it another way, if you tested a trans-man, and found that he had a "female" brain, would that mean that he was a woman? Or is it, in your view, impossible for such a thing to happen? I'd point out that most studies that *do* conclude that there are "male" and "female" brains also point out that some (cisgendered) men have female brains and some (cisgendered) women have male brains, and vice versa. If as you suggest transgenderism has to be explained in terms of the existence of a "male brain" and "female brain" I am not sure how you explain these results.

Or for a more specific example, there have been cases- I can't remember the names, but I know at least one was in Canada- where a child was born physically male but raised female due to a botched circumcision, and chose to live as a man after being told what had happened. If there was no difference between the male and female brains, then he would have been happy to live as a woman, because he would have identified the way he was raised.

You're presenting a false dichotomy here. Off the top of my head I can think of a great many reasons why this guy didn't identify as female, the most obvious of them being that while he was raised female, he was presumably also raised in contemporary western society, and contemporary western society teaches (wrongly) that your gender is what you are born as. Once he found out he was "really" a boy, he would very likely have assumed that it was best to live under his "real" gender.

Adoption might be a good analogy here. If you have two biological children and an adopted child, you wouldn't argue that the adopted child's brain is *structurally different* from the biological children. If the adopted child finds out that they are adopted, however, they are quite likely to consider their adopted parents not to be their "real" parents even though those people raised them. Or they might not. Either way you can't say that it "has to be" something in the brain.

Put simply, gender identity is complicated (as for that matter is identity in general) and reducing it to a single factor is unhelpful, incorrect and (ironically) trans-erasing. Suppose that a conclusive study were to be published tomorrow which proved that men's and women's brains are not structurally different - would you then conclude that transpeople no longer have a valid gender identity?

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Andy G

at 17:55 on 2010-06-13@ Dan: Yes. Exactly.

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Sister Magpie

at 18:26 on 2010-06-13

You're presenting a false dichotomy here. Off the top of my head I can think of a great many reasons why this guy didn't identify as female, the most obvious of them being that while he was raised female, he was presumably also raised in contemporary western society, and contemporary western society teaches (wrongly) that your gender is what you are born as. Once he found out he was "really" a boy, he would very likely have assumed that it was best to live under his "real" gender.

Hmm. But see, in his case he already considered his "real" gender to be male. He just always had people telling him he was wrong, that he was female because that was what his body was and that was what he was socialized to be.

I wouldn't say that his brain was structurally different, but he clearly was born with an inborn *something* that naturally conformed more to behavior people considered "male," and more importantly, with a natural sense of himself as male. And unfortunately, iirc, a lot of this was denied and covered up by his psychologist who wanted him to fit his theory. This also led to the family being ordered to not reveal his original physical gender to him at all costs even when they wanted to tell him the truth because they thought it would be a relief to him.

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Viorica

at 18:30 on 2010-06-13I'm not sure you're entirely understanding me. I'm not saying that the difference between male and female brains are purely physiological. I'm saying that there is a difference, because otherwise no one would ever ID as the gender they weren't assigned to at birth. Since we don't know a lot about how the brain works, it's hard to say exactly what the relationship between the brain and the body is- and how much of what we think and feel is chemical as opposed to sociological- but I don't believe that gender is a purely social construct.

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Sister Magpie

at 18:32 on 2010-06-13Oh, also another thing to consider is hermaphrodites. There is a practice of "choosing" a gender sometimes when a baby is born. I remember in a book I was reading about some of these issues and there was a guy whose mother refused to let them do this. He was giving a talk at a thing for hermaphrodites and he said it was because of his mother standing up for him that he was not standing before them that day as a very angry lesbian.

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Viorica

at 18:34 on 2010-06-13

And unfortunately, iirc, a lot of this was denied and covered up by his psychologist who wanted him to fit his theory.

That was a big part of it too. The case was widely-publicised, and the psychologist involved wanted to make his reputation on it. Plus, the boy didn't only start to ID as male after being told the truth- he always preferred being a boy. He just didn't know why, because he was being purposefully misgendered.

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Sister Magpie

at 18:45 on 2010-06-13

That was a big part of it too. The case was widely-publicised, and the psychologist involved wanted to make his reputation on it. Plus, the boy didn't only start to ID as male after being told the truth- he always preferred being a boy. He just didn't know why, because he was being purposefully misgendered.

Exactly. Iirc, his life was a series of identifying as a boy and having someone tell him, "No no no!" And I remember the kids in his class called him "Bigfoot" because, basically, he didn't move like a girl. Not that it isn't possible for a girl to have the same kind of way of moving, but it really did seem like his behavior was full of millions of little things that people considered "wrong" for a girl.

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Andy G

at 19:15 on 2010-06-13@ Viorica:

I'm not saying that the difference between male and female brains are purely physiological. I'm saying that there is a difference, because otherwise no one would ever ID as the gender they weren't assigned to at birth.

I don't think the 'because' clause follows, because the difference doesn't have to be 'in the brains'. It could be a difference at the level of consciousness/selfhood - in the mind - that is a function of the way the person interprets socially constructed identities and roles as applicable or inapplicable to them (on the basis of their sensibilties, traits, physical features, etc.). Their interpretation could differ from that which is imposed on them by other people but that does not mean that the identity itself is not constructed.

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Jamie Johnston

at 20:25 on 2010-06-13I'm feeling quite squeamish about this chapter of the discussion: it feels like a conversation that's likely to be at best fruitless and at worst, er, worse in the absence of specific knowledge of the state of neuropsychological research and / or first-hand or close second-hand experience of what it's like to be a transgendered person, and I get the impression we have neither of those things here at the moment. So no contribution from me at this stage, really.

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Andy G

at 20:44 on 2010-06-13Yes I'm feeling that too. My arguments are hypotheticals about what must or needn't follow if something is the case. Some solid data would be handy.

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Frank

at 21:05 on 2010-06-13To back up the conversation:

People can choose or opt out of various world views (theistic, philosophic, political, etc.) they were born into. Granted, some may experience some emotional difficulty in doing so but that's mostly due to family relations rather than social ones. People can't chose the sex, sexuality, gender identification, race, or the physical and mental ability they are born with though there are surgical procedures like sex reassignments or cochlear implants which can alter one's appearance or deafness. Neither procedure will grant the full sex change (testicles for ovaries or vice versa, to name one example) or complete hearing restoration. (But maybe the scientists will one day find the means to do so, and perhaps that will be the singularity.)

Women, the LGBTQ community, People of Color, Disabled people grow-up in culture that defines them as 'less than' and/or 'other'. A white, straight, abled male can be an ally to all those communities but still say something unintentionally offensive because those men grewup within the same culture with its institutional sexism, racism, homophobia, etc but who aren't as sensitive to the kyiarchal language or images being used within the culture because it didn't hurt them. This isn't a criticism. It's an understandable, self-preservation tactic. People need to be taught to consider others. Allies make mistakes, and if they are true allies they apologize and reflect on their offense in the hopes of recognizing the institutionalized whatever that gave it to them and learn how to be a better, stronger ally. I think this is best done by reading various blogs within the communities one is most interested in being an Ally to as it is not the responsibility of the non-dominant communities to teach the white, straight, abled man about the minority community.

Returning to the male as feminist argument.

Here's the jist of what a feminist friend told me some years ago:

You're anti-rape, but that doesn't make you a rape victim. You don't know what's its like. You might be able to imagine it, the fear and violation, but you haven't experienced it. You can help rape victims: provide legal support, meeting space, or coffee for support groups, but you can't go to the group because you're not a rape victim. In fact, even though you've probably raped no one, you represent the rapist just by having a dick. So you can support rape victim causes and feminist causes, but that support doesn't make you a rape victim or feminist just a friend (ally).

Now, it was only one woman that told me this and she obviously doesn't speak for all feminist, but it smacked me pretty hard at the time and I was a bit butt hurt about it, yet when the hurt subsided I came to see her perspective, and how it relates to other marginalized communities.

Men are not in the community of women like whites aren't in the community of anyone of color.

Men can offer to volunteer for the community of women like whites can do the same for communities of color.

Women to men: thanks, vote for suffrage, that would help out a lot. PoC to whites: write to your House Rep/Senator and demand that he pass the Civil Rights Bill, thanks.

NOW to men: we got this, but you can donate. NUL to whites: we got this, but you can donate.

But I'm willing to be wrong. According to Sarah Palin, she is a feminist, so why not Jamie and Alex?

Apologies for the US-centric references!

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Jamie Johnston

at 21:47 on 2010-06-13

According to Sarah Palin, she is a feminist, so why not Jamie and Alex?

Ouch! ;)

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Frank

at 21:51 on 2010-06-13:D

In good fun!

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http://alex-von-cercek.livejournal.com/

at 22:37 on 2010-06-13I think the analogy loses something when it tries to equate being a rape victim with being a feminist. I think we can all agree that being raped is not a prerequisite for joining the feminist club.

In fact, they're different in a very crucial way - rape only harms the victim, not the perpetrator. I don't believe that it's actually in my best interest to perpetuate the patriarchy. I don't think I'm shooting myself in the foot when I complain about how women are portrayed in media. I think that when and if we achieve actual equality of the sexes on this planet, in a sort of Star Trek-esque future utopia where all ancient irrational prejudices have been wiped out,

I as a white heterosexual European male will be better off than I was before.

Again, yeah, I'm "ahead", but it's not a desirable ahead. We're not all rape victims, but we're all victims (with varied degrees of actual harm incurred) of the patriarchy/kyriarchy/irrational prejudices that fuck up humanity's shit. That's one of the things "When I was a boy" is about, right?

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Melissa G.

at 22:44 on 2010-06-13For what it's worth (sorry this is late in coming), my very close friend is transgender, and he and I have talked about it a lot. And what he tells me is that he believes that trans people are meant to be born as whatever gender they identify as but that there was a genetic mishap that happened to make them the wrong gender. In which case, there would be a connection with brain chemistry and gender, I suppose. But it's probably also safe to say that not every trans person has the same experiences/beliefs and there could be multiple reasons for why someone identifies as the opposite of their physical gender that have less to do with science and more to do with social pressures/conditioning. But most trans people (to the best of my knowledge) spend their whole lives feeling like they are in the wrong body. It's something that's there with them from a very, very early age so I feel like there has to be a biological reason for it. But I, like everyone else, am no expert on the subject.

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Melissa G.

at 22:44 on 2010-06-13Apologies for opening that topic up again, but I felt like it was important....

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Arthur B

at 22:45 on 2010-06-13To be honest, so long as a person's actions have a net positive effect on things, I couldn't care less what they call themselves, so long as they don't use whatever titles they've given themselves as a stick to beat other people with.

So Sarah Palin pretty much fails on every single point there.

Apologies for the US-centric references!

I wonder, in fact, whether there isn't a cultural thing at work here with the "ally" thing. It's not terminology I've seen from many UK sources, and I kind of share Jamie's reluctance to go out and unilaterally declare myself someone's ally - surely it's their call whether I'm an ally or not? It could be we are being terribly English about the whole thing.

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Dan H

at 23:18 on 2010-06-13

I'm saying that there is a difference, because otherwise no one would ever ID as the gender they weren't assigned to at birth

I think we might be talking at cross purposes here, because I think we're talking about two different things.

One is the origins or otherwise of gender identity. This is a Big Serious Complicated Issue and one I'm not remotely qualified to talk about apart from saying "it's really complicated." It's ultimately reductionist to say that it comes from any one source, be that socialization or some currently unknown neurological factor.

The second issue is the concept of "male" and "female" brains - the notion that women's brains innately process information differently from men's. The first thing to say is that the jury is simply out on this. There's no good scientific evidence one way or the other. The second thing to say is that even the studies which *do* support the idea that men and women process information in different ways observe that there is broad variation between the sexes, so a great many men will have "female-type" brains and a great many women will have "male-type" brains, but these people will not self-identify as a member of the other gender. If there *is* a brain-based "root cause" of gender identity, it's got nothing to do with the concept of "brain type" so beloved of gender essentialists.

It's true that there's a line of transphobic apologia which runs along the lines of "transpeople just reinforce the gender binary," which is of course offensive, but it's important not to go down the line of assuming that transgenderism *requires* gender essentialism. To put this in pure I-statements, I personally do not believe that men and women are "wired differentely" or that you can describe a particular person as having a "male" or "female" brain any more than you can describe them as having a male or female heart. I also believe that trans-men really are men, just as much as I am and I do not, personally, see a contradiction in these two positions.

The question of why some people self-identify as a gender different to the one they were assigned at birth is one to which I do not have, and do not propose, an answer, but I certainly do not think there needs to be a single physiological source which determines a person's "real" gender.

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Dan H

at 23:28 on 2010-06-13

But most trans people (to the best of my knowledge) spend their whole lives feeling like they are in the wrong body. It's something that's there with them from a very, very early age so I feel like there has to be a biological reason for it. But I, like everyone else, am no expert on the subject.

From my (very limited) understanding this is another thing that Varies Really Quite A Lot so I suspect that the best that we can do is to put our hands up and say "This Is Extremely Complicated And It Is Important Not To Make Generalizations".

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Jamie Johnston

at 23:31 on 2010-06-13

Melissa

,

Apologies for opening that topic up again, but I felt like it was important...

No need to apologize: I didn't mean to seem like I was trying to close down the discussion, just to flag up that maybe it couldn't get much further than it had done without referring to actual trans experiences (which is what you've relayed here) and / or scientific evidence.

I'm extremely uncertain about the whole question. My highly non-expert understanding is that it's generally agreed among the relevant experts that a lot of extremely important stuff happens in very early childhood, to the point where it's quite risky to assume that a given characteristic is innate solely on the basis that the person concerned has had it ever since she or he can remember. On the other hand I know of no evidence that transgender isn't at least partly physiological, and it's clearly obnoxious to do the thing Viorica complains of, namely challenging a transgendered person's interpretation of his or her own experience not on the basis of evidence but simply to defend an absolutist position on the construction of gender. On the other hand again (what is this, the third hand? - sorry), surely one could in principle hold that absolutist view while also saying, 'Even if the transgender experience of being born in the wrong body is somehow scientifically false, it's still clearly something that they haven't consciously chosen and that means their bodies are preventing them living the lives they want, and therefore it's extremely important that they be able to make whatever changes to their lives and their bodies will make them feel more truly themselves, and that they not be stigmatized for it.' But perhaps that misses the point, I don't know. I confess on trans issues I'm at such an early stage of learning that I wouldn't even call myself a beginner as I'm now prepared to do on the more 'traditional' feminist issues. Hence I shall clam up again now! :)

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Jamie Johnston

at 23:37 on 2010-06-13Good grief, I've just re-read the hypothetical position in my comment above that starts 'Even if the transgender experience...' and seen that it's very othering and rather awful. Not that I was saying it was my position, but still, gah. I really shall shut up now before I do that again (especially since Dan has done a better job while I was writing).

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Melissa G.

at 04:39 on 2010-06-14

I suspect that the best that we can do is to put our hands up and say "This Is Extremely Complicated And It Is Important Not To Make Generalizations".

Oh, I most certainly agree. I imagine it's a complicated mix of nurture and nature (like most things) that no one can really pin down and make work for every single experience. Which is probably why I find psychology so fascinating. :-)

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Melissa G.

at 04:44 on 2010-06-14

No need to apologize: I didn't mean to seem like I was trying to close down the discussion, just to flag up that maybe it couldn't get much further than it had done without referring to actual trans experiences (which is what you've relayed here) and / or scientific evidence.

Thanks! I was just making sure. Because it's all very well and good for me to be like "Well, my trans friends says..." but I still can't speak to the topic with much authority past what I've been told by the one person I know who's trans.

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Frank

at 05:10 on 2010-06-14

I wonder, in fact, whether there isn't a cultural thing at work here with the "ally" thing.

I was thinking this too when I saw the tweeter from Jamie's link was from Australia, but then continued down the short bio to learn that she went to Princeton and lives in NYC which makes me think she would be familiar with the use of 'ally'. So, yeah, I don't know.

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Dan H

at 23:03 on 2010-06-14

On the other hand again (what is this, the third hand? - sorry), surely one could in principle hold that absolutist view while also saying, 'Even if the transgender experience of being born in the wrong body is somehow scientifically false, it's still clearly something that they haven't consciously chosen and that means their bodies are preventing them living the lives they want, and therefore it's extremely important that they be able to make whatever changes to their lives and their bodies will make them feel more truly themselves, and that they not be stigmatized for it.'

Replying to this point because as somebody who *does* hold the "absolutist" view (insofar as I consider it extremely probable that there is no such thing as a "male" or "female" brain and don't see much room for maneuver on that) I thought it might be worth clarifying a couple of things - if only because otherwise I'm tacitly admitting to being a trans-hating bigot.

The first thing is that, as I understand it, there's a difference between being *transsexual* (feeling that you were born in the "wrong body") and being *transgender* (possessing a gender identity which does not match the identity assigned to you at birth, or by society). Obviously the two often go together but it is possible to be transgender without being transsexual. There are quite a lot of people who self-identify as a member of the "opposite" sex but feel no particular discomfort with their bodies. There are, in fact, men who are perfectly happy with their vaginas.

This again is part of what makes me so uncomfortable about the "girl brain/boy brain" idea. If you assume that trans-identity has to stem from a "dissonance" between the brain and the body, then you exclude all those who feel no such dissonance. There are people who self-define as trans but feel no need to have surgery - something which under the "male and female brains" model should be impossible. I'm also not certain how it accounts for people who identify as genderqueer, or for people who are intersex.

Ultimately some people *do* feel like they were born in the "wrong body" and it's obviously important to recognize the validity of that but at the same time it's important to recognize that when it comes to a person's body "right" and "wrong" are subjective terms. If somebody feels that they're supposed to have breasts, then they're supposed to have breasts - this has nothing to do with gender essentialism and everything to do with people's rights (within the limits of technology and some really horribly complicated areas of medical ethics) to have control over their bodies.

I think it's quite important to recognize that a person's right to define both their gender identity and what happens to their body (which may or may not correlate) does not need to be validated by reference to biology. Indeed most attempts to define gender in biological terms have major problems - some men have ovaries, some women have testes, and if you believe in that sort of thing, some men have female brains. It feels a little like this thread has tacitly accepted Viorica's original dichotomy (embrace gender essentialism or invalidate trans identity) and I think it's quite important to realize that this isn't necessary.

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Andy G

at 15:21 on 2010-06-16I just noticed that there is an interesting series called 'A trangender journey' on the Guardian at the moment:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2010/jun/02/transgender-journey

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Furare

at 20:13 on 2010-07-26I wanted to say something about this article when I first read it, but could never quite work out what to say. So, just two things, then:

(1) Men can absolutely be feminists, and in my opinion "feminist" is exactly what they ought to call themselves. "Feminism" is still treated as something of a dirty word by some people, so I think that anyone who holds genuinely pro-equality opinions should proudly claim the label and not be put off by wondering whether they deserve it. Make people think twice about what feminism and being "a feminist" actually means.

(2) That song is awesome, and I think the last verse is as necessary as any of the rest. Primarily because, even as a feminist who was a tomboy growing up, I still thought "wait, what?" about the man asserting "when I was a girl". Because it's somehow more acceptable for a girl to behave like a boy than the reverse - apparently, even in my head. <cone>

@Jamie specifically: Since you've read some of Fugitivus' blog, I wondered if you'd ever come across

this article

, which I found via a link in one of her posts. It reminded me of what Alex said in this thread about how he believes that abolition of sexism would benefit him as a man, which is something I believe to be true also. (Even though I'm a woman, heh.)

I wish I could write something as coherent as this about why I became a feminist, but every time I try it just fails to come out right. :(

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Jamie Johnston

at 13:27 on 2010-08-01Hi Furare, sorry not to have responded earlier - I've been moving house and things have been a bit wouaeugh.

Yes, I do remember reading that, quite possibly linked from Fugitivus, but I'd forgotten it so it was good to be reminded, thanks. It produces in me a somewhat similar reaction to the line 'I have lost and you have won' in the song, namely a blend of sadness, shame (by proxy, by association, and directly), resolve, and fear at the scale of the task. A this-is-the-price-of-your-privilege smoothie, if you like. Just the thing to drink in the morning before a day of trying not to be a cad. :)

And yeah, I agree that abolishing sexism would benefit men. (Unless of course it turned out that abolishing sexism involved, as some suggest, abolishing 'men' and 'women' as separate categories, in which case it would benefit the people formerly classified as men.) Hypothetical men in the future, definitely. But it's a bit strange to think about whether it would benefit me because it's very difficult to imagine. I mean difficult not just in the sense that it's difficult to imagine a world without sexism but that it's difficult to imagine that happening within my lifetime so that I would be able to benefit from it. I can imagine waking up tomorrow and finding that cars had been abolished, or war, or higher education, because those are external things that could, in theory, just simply stop in an instant and never be seen again, and we'd all be the same people we were the day before except we wouldn't be able to travel / get killed / learn stuff in quite the same way. Whereas sexism is in all our heads and we wouldn't be the same people without it. It's in my head and I don't know what it would feel like for it not to be there and how much I'd feel like me. So trying to imagine a world without sexism involves either imagining a world without me in it, in which case I obviously wouldn't be getting any personal benefit, or imagining a world in which I were a different person, possibly a radically different one, in which case it's hard to identify the 'me' who would be getting the benefit.

You might reasonably accuse me of thinking too literally about a hypothetical situation that's really just a turn of phrase, but that is pretty much my reaction, even without the alternate-world theorizing. I can't imagine getting any serious personal benefit out of not being a sexist or out of other people not being sexist (apart from the 'I feel better about myself' benefit that's always used to 'disprove' altruism). When I think about making myself and others less sexist - when I conceive that task and feel my reaction to it - it feels like a hard and unending slog with little promise of personal reward. I feel like I would be more content and more self-confident and probably even a more interesting and fun person if I made myself not care. I might even, on balance, bring more pleasure and excitement to other people's lives that way, but it would be at the price of doing some harm and supporting harmful behaviour in others.

Which isn't to say that feminism never makes life more pleasant or fun for men who engage in it: I'm sure some, maybe most, find that it makes them more outgoing, or more at peace with themselves, or more exciting, or more relaxed, or whatever. I guess it depends on the mental techniques you use to change yourself. My experience of self-improvement mostly involves self-censorship, self-criticism, and working to neutralize bits of myself, which over all tends to make me less talkative*, less confident, less spontaneous, less relaxed, and generally less interesting. Which isn't a benefit. Of course if sexism were suddenly magically removed from all our minds while we slept I wouldn't have to do so much of that, which I guess would be a benefit, but also I'd be someone different (and so would you and everyone else), so it would be a benefit to someone else. If you see what I mean.

* (Some may be surprised by the suggestion that I'm becoming less talkative. I'd clarify that if this comment weren't already far too long and far too much about me. But it is, so.)

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Furare

at 15:54 on 2010-08-01Ha! I'm afraid that feminism is making me *more* talkative, while at the same time, a bit of a killjoy. Sometimes I'm afraid that I am the world's most boring person for caring about any of this. But - I don't know if you've found this or not - I can't stop caring about it. Once you realise how fucked up everything is, it's really difficult to stop realising. It's everywhere, and once you've started noticing it, you keep noticing. You - or at least I - just can't help it anymore.

You're right that sexism is kind of embedded in our culture and it's difficult to imagine what things would be like without it. But - and I may well be telling you something you already know here - being anti-sexism doesn't actually benefit an individual woman any more than you feel it benefits you. Life is actually a lot easier if you shut up, smile and don't think too hard. Being a feminist has made me paranoid that I sound "too angry" (self-critical, and also a sign of internalised sexism), careful about not making "reverse sexist" comments about men in case someone decides I'm a hypocrite (self-censorship), and as I've already said, I'm afraid it makes me less interesting.

But then I guess, like all activism, the end result is the reason we do it, not because it will benefit us. Not that I particularly mind the idea of being someone different, mostly because that person would probably be less neurotic.

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Robinson L

at 18:30 on 2010-08-02Sorry, may comment more when I've gotten around to reading the article proper. For now I just want to pop in and address this:

Furare: Once you realise how fucked up everything is, it's really difficult to stop realising. It's everywhere, and once you've started noticing it, you keep noticing. You - or at least I - just can't help it anymore.

Seriously, are you reading my mind or something?

Being a feminist has made me paranoid that I sound "too angry"

Yeah, I'd noticed you apologizing for

your mini-rant

on the

gender-segregated exams

a couple months ago. I've also heard Kyra apologize once or twice in the podcasts for having a feminist rant. Personally, I wince at every apology, because I strongly believe it's something you shouldn't be apologizing for, and I hope this site at least is a safe space for people to air those types of feelings.

I'm afraid it makes me less interesting.

Exactly the opposite, to my mind.

But then I guess, like all activism, the end result is the reason we do it, not because it will benefit us.

Agreed, but for myself, I find solution-based activism incredibly fulfilling and satisfying. (Ranting about the problem can be fun too, and a good way to blow off steam, but I don't get the same sense of accomplishment as when I'm participating in a project which I think will - even in just a small way - make the world/some section thereof a better and more equal place. Yay, run-on sentences!)

It sounds like your experience is rather different, and I'm sorry to hear it.

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Dan H

at 10:02 on 2010-08-03

Men can absolutely be feminists, and in my opinion "feminist" is exactly what they ought to call themselves. "Feminism" is still treated as something of a dirty word by some people, so I think that anyone who holds genuinely pro-equality opinions should proudly claim the label and not be put off by wondering whether they deserve it. Make people think twice about what feminism and being "a feminist" actually means.

Just thought I'd chime in on this one.

I think the problem with being a feminist-identified-man is that while "Feminism" is treated as a dirty word by some people, it's treated as a get-out-of-jail-free card by others. c.f. "Joss Whedon Is A Feminist Therefore His Portrayal of Gender Can Never Be Problematic" arguments passim ad nauseam.

A depressing number of feminist-identified-men treat feminism as this abstract principle which in no way requires them to modify their behaviour. I suspect, for example, that the vast majority of Nice Guys also consider themselves feminists (because after all, being a Nice Guy is all about having *respect* for women and that's what feminism *is*, right?).

As a result I (ironically) tend to only self-define as a feminist to anti-feminists, and otherwise just settle for "trying not to be too much of a dickbag".

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Dan H

at 10:22 on 2010-08-03

Yeah, I'd noticed you apologizing for your mini-rant on the gender-segregated exams a couple months ago. I've also heard Kyra apologize once or twice in the podcasts for having a feminist rant. Personally, I wince at every apology, because I strongly believe it's something you shouldn't be apologizing for, and I hope this site at least is a safe space for people to air those types of feelings.

So ... B must try harder?

Sorry if this sounds oversensitive but it just strikes me that Furare's initial comment stands perfectly well on its own as a description of her experiences and doesn't need you to elaborate on it.

Sorry if this sounds overly hostile, but this is kind of the behaviour I was talking about in my previous comment. Your response here is actually a little bit patronising - Furare is an intelligent adult woman who is capable of articulating and understanding her own experiences, she doesn't *need* you to spell it out for her. She certainly doesn't need your permission or your encouragement to express herself.

I'm sure it's not your intent, but your entire comment reads like your primary concern is pointing out to us what a Big Damned Feminist you are rather than actually engaging with anything anybody has said. I mean basically your whole post boils down to "I feel the same way you do, except more strongly, and I'm more comfortable about it, and I do more."

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Furare

at 11:44 on 2010-08-03

As a result I (ironically) tend to only self-define as a feminist to anti-feminists, and otherwise just settle for "trying not to be too much of a dickbag".

Yeah, that's kind of what I meant by claiming the title anyway. It's not like I go up to people and say "Hi, I'm Furare, and I'm a feminist" a la Daffyd from Little Britain. And you're right that there are feminist men who use feminism as a shield rather than engaging with it as an ideology. My original comment did say "anyone who holds genuinely pro-equality opinions", which to my mind involves the behaviour modification that some allegedly feminist men never try to do.

I guess the thing is that, like one of the posters above, I don't like people telling me they're my ally. Call yourself a feminist and I can say "Well, okay then, but if you're a feminist why do you still do X/laugh at Y?" Call yourself an "ally", and maybe it's just me, but I would feel like I can't nitpick as much because "you're not really my ally" sounds more personal than "you're not really a feminist".

I do agree with something you said once, Dan, which was (I think): "Men who identify as feminists should take a good look at themselves because, guys, there is a non-zero chance that you are a creepy asshole". Being male and a feminist involves more self-scrutiny and self-censorship than being female and a feminist. But it's possible as long as you ("you" being the hypothetical feminist man) keep an eye on yourself and make sure your actions match your words.

I stand by the comment that men can be feminists. I don't think that every man who claims to be a feminist is one, which is why men who *really are* feminists should claim the label. And maybe challenge the Nice Guy jackasses who are using feminism as a means to cover their collective asses. I do think there's a negative correlation between how feminist a man actually is, and how willing he is to call himself a feminist.

It sounds like your experience is rather different, and I'm sorry to hear it.

Well, my immediate experience is being told to lighten up and not take everything so seriously by my mother, having my sister tell me that I'm RUINING THE JOKE when I point out that something is problematic, being told every now and again that I'm "one of the boys" by someone who means it as a compliment...

And apparently I'm "too rigid" if I insist on always paying for my own dinner. Even though the reason I want to do it is because there is no good reason for me to let a man buy me dinner, short of me buying him dinner in return at a later date. Or if it's my birthday. Which is, like, once a year.

RE: Apologising - I apologised for the mini-rant because it was technically a massive derail. I do have a tendency to apologise when I don't need to in real life, but I always thought this was just because I'm British.

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Jamie Johnston

at 13:31 on 2010-08-03

But - I don't know if you've found this or not - I can't stop caring about it.

Yes, I know what you mean. In principle I think I have to believe that one could somehow switch it off again, because it feels like as a necessary corollary to my belief that people can make themselves better I have to also believe that people can make themselves worse. But it's quite hard to imagine how that would actually work.

I've also heard Kyra apologize once or twice in the podcasts for having a feminist rant.

Well, yeeees, but also I remember Arthur apologizing for his '

Angels & demons

is evil' speech, so although there is undoubtedly an internalized sexism thing that often makes women feel the need to excuse themselves after expressing strong opinions, we shouldn't necessarily assume that that's what's happening every time. I'd say in the podcast setting there was another factor operating, especially in the early episodes when we weren't used to the dynamics of that particular group yet (and I can only speak for myself, but I suspect the others had variations on this): not wanting to take up more than one's fair share of air-time, and also not wanting to make the tone too heavy for what was essentially a fun and slightly flippant exercise. And when you have a long rant you feels like you've sort of broken both those 'rules', especially if you get to the end and you don't find everyone saying, 'Yeah, totally, that's exactly what I thought'. I think in the later episodes there was less of that because we developed an alternative habit: rather than X rants and then X apologizes, it tended to be X rants and everyone else mocks X a bit for ranting, which is more entertaining for all involved. (E.g. Arthur on 'Everyone has been hypnotized by everyone else' and me on the housekeeper and various people on 'No seriously I think something is going to happen in the next chapter of

The god of small things

'.) My attempt to dive into the depths of The Nature Of Plot came somewhere in between, so although I didn't actually apologize for it I did try to minimize it a bit, and the others didn't exactly mock me but did say 'Oh not this again' next time the subject loomed. So, er, I can't quite remember what point I was trying to make, but anyway there we are.

... short of me buying him dinner in return at a later date.

I'm a big fan of one person paying for both and the other doing the same the next time and so on, and I do it equally with friends of all kinds. It sets up a spirit of mutually dependent reciprocity rather than independent separateness, and it also has that feature you get in gift-exchange cultures where the exchange of gifts never comes to an obvious point of equilibrium where the parties can say 'Okay, we're all square now, we can walk away' and therefore the constant imbalance encourages the relationship to continue, because there always has to be a 'next time' so that the person who didn't pay this time doesn't end up in profit permanently. And eventually it gets to the point where no one can keep track of it any more and it's just become a relationship where sometimes we buy each other stuff and we really don't worry about it, which is nice. But the most important and massive advantage for me is that it means I don't have to do mental arithmetic.

Having said that, I guess it wouldn't necessarily be great for early dates when one might want to keep an element of 'We can get out of this at any time because we're all square at any given moment'.

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Wardog

at 13:55 on 2010-08-03

I've also heard Kyra apologize once or twice in the podcasts for having a feminist rant.

Yes, not to keep flogging this dead horse but I think I was apologising for being anti-social rather than being feminist.

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Robinson L

at 21:15 on 2010-08-03*Looks at last paragraph of previous post, beats head repeatedly against wall*

Thank you for drawing this to my attention, Dan. Ye gods, but that was massively patronizing. I apologize to Furare and everyone else on this thread.

As for the rest, I meant to say, essentially “please, don't apologize.” Thank you, Furare, Jamie and Kyra for addressing that.

Er, so, apologies again for the epic fail.

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Furare

at 21:26 on 2010-08-29I always meant to get around to replying to this.

RE: Paying for dinner - I find it really difficult to relax and enjoy dinner if someone else is paying for it. Even when it's one of my parents. It makes me uncomfortable, and also renders me anxious about what my food choice - with particular reference to how much the meal costs - says about me. Like, if I have the steak, that's expensive, so will they think I'm selfish and greedy? If I really want a cheap dish, though, will they think I'm calling them stingy?

This might not be a concern for a lot of people, but I have social anxieties, and paying for my own dinner cuts out a lot of what makes me feel uncomfortable in that particular social situation. I'm explaining it here for the sake of context, but I should not have to say this to some guy I don't know very well. I probably wouldn't explain it, because anyone who chooses to "insist" on paying after I've already said no is not someone with whom I'm particularly interested in becoming further acquainted. (Oh, you "insist" on pushing my boundaries in the name of tradition? How sweet. Bleh.)

I don't really care what arrangements other people have with their friends or SOs or whoever - what I do care about is that the man paying for the woman's dinner is still seen as the default. I'm not trying to say that Jamie's favoured setup is wrong, and in fact alternating is a very egalitarian way of dealing with these things (and probably more convenient when it comes to paying by card in restaurants). It wouldn't work for me, but that's not the be all and end all of whether or not something's right. Heh.

I only mentioned the paying for dinner thing in the first place because I'd read an article written (for men, by a woman) on How To Guarantee a Second Date. And one of the tips was basically "you should pay. We lied. We don't want to pay half." To which my incredulous response was - Speak for yourself. Because you sure as hell aren't speaking for me. Jeez, way to encourage men not to believe a word that comes out of a woman's mouth. I'm not pretending to be independent and feminist to look "cute".

Bah, now I've gone and made myself angry again.

RE: Robinson's comment - I didn't find it offensive, to be honest. Maybe there's something problematic about him saying I don't need to apologise, or that activism can be fun, but I didn't read it that way. People are always telling me not to apologise for things because I really don't need to, so that's how I originally read what Robinson was saying even before he clarified it.

Though this discussion kind of reminds me of a far more obnoxious argument I once had about feminism on a gaming forum. I actually got people DISAGREEING WITH ME when I said "as men, you do NOT get to decide that women aren't subject to sexist discrimination any more." Christ, what a train wreck that was.

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Robinson L

at 18:06 on 2011-01-19Okay, having now read this perfectly lovely article and perfectly lovely discussion with perfectly lovely links all around I'm sorry all over again for shooting off my mouth and bringing the quality down. So let's try again and see if this time I can avoid losing my foot down my own throat.

I don't have much of an ear for music, and I guess I feel the same about this song as I do about most others: it's okay. The discourse is very good, and as a male, I did feel a resonance when the man in the song says “I rarely cry anymore.” That's also a great analysis of the song's construction, Jamie.

Re: Men as feminists

I was at a workshop over the summer run by a white guy talking about feminism and a bunch of other progressive ideologies/movements.

When we came to discussing the distinction between “feminism” and “pro-feminism,” he shared a story of taking part in a feminist group in which he was the only man, and after a while one of the women in the group pulled him aside and said gently, “Would you call yourself a black liberationist?” And that seems to have made a significant impression on his thinking when it comes to the “feminist” label.

Philosophically, I'm of the school which says that men absolutely can and should be feminists. Feminism to me means replacing patriarchy and sexism with gender egalitarianism, which is a project equally for women and for men.

I generally use the term “ally” to refer to issues within feminism or anti-racism or whatever that do not affect me personally. I can be an ally on an issue without calling myself personally an ally to every person affected by that issue. For what it's worth, I also think it's reasonable to say “you call yourself an anti-domestic abuse ally, but look how you push around your girlfriend all the time” (sorry, there're probably better examples out there, I'm just blanking on them at the moment).

Perhaps,

as Arthur suggests

, all that “ally” stuff from the previous paragraph is more US-based (though I don't recall ever having heard it articulated like this before); but by no means is there an agreement in US feminist circles that men cannot be feminists. All of the feminists I know—American and European—are quite clear that men can and should be feminists.

Of course it's a problem when men (and women, for that matter) who clearly aren't feminists claim that label—but I think cooptation is a problem for social movements pretty universally. People who genuinely care about the issues do need to resist when skeevy people in power (whether macro or micro) adopt the rhetoric of those movements to advance truly destructive agendas. None of this,

by itself

makes for me a compelling argument that men cannot be feminists.

I can't imagine getting any serious personal benefit out of not being a sexist or out of other people not being sexist (apart from the 'I feel better about myself' benefit that's always used to 'disprove' altruism). When I think about making myself and others less sexist - when I conceive that task and feel my reaction to it - it feels like a hard and unending slog with little promise of personal reward.

Agreed on the unending slog, but I wonder about the lack of serious personal benefits. Here are some of the thoughts which occur to me:

It is my belief that a sexist outlook and attitude creates an incredible amount of cognitive dissonance; psychic damage. Achieving a completely non-sexist mindset is impossible in a patriarchal society, but the less sexism in one's outlook, the less cognitive dissonance and the less damage to one's psyche. Similarly for racism, militarism, classism, heterosexism, etc.

Also, as a man, I see sexism as working (somewhat successfully) to cripple my emotional/relational maturity and my ability to make meaningful connections with other people. Terrence Real—one of my touchstones for a feminist masculinity—has written a book exposing how the violent, unemotional, never-lose patriarchal view of masculinity results in internal as well as external damage. (i.e. it hurts the men living it out, even as they in turn hurt other people.)

I couldn't count the times I've caught myself rejecting assistance with something-or-other because, as a man, I'm not supposed to need help from other people—I'm supposed to suck it up and tough it out. I'm generally pretty good at doing favors for others without reward, but I'm bad at accepting favors from others, and worse at asking for them.

I've also noticed numerous little behaviors which I've censored, because they'd mark me out as too “girly,” or gay, or both. You should see the way I agonize over little things like telling my friends how much I love them.

It seems to me that eliminating these manifestations of sexism (and homophobia) in myself will make me a happier and healthier human being, as well as a less prickish one.

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http://lokifan.livejournal.com/

at 21:14 on 2011-05-05Thanks for introducing me to Dar Williams! Wonderful article. The song made me cry too.

this is the line I always choke on: 'And so I tell the man I'm with about the other life I lived, and I say, "Now you're top gun: I have lost and you have won."' Can there be anything more heartbreaking to a man with any heart at all than the thought that your female friends and relatives might, even only in brief moments, feel like your defeated opponents?

That line makes me emotional too -

you were just like me/I was just like you

made me cry. It's not one of the Big Serious Things that happens because of sexism, or even one of the insidiuous unavoidable things, but I do believe patriarchy makes it harder for men and women to reach each other and connect, between the messages telling us we're so inherently different, and the differences in how we experience the world. Which is just unbearably sad.

[uterusclub]

As any Native Chicagoean can attest, the winter never fails to destroy our souls – at least temporarily so. But as that weary tail-end concludes, one gradually regains hope, energy, and enthusiasm. These are the trappings of no more woe. 

Our first expedition involved a visit to the Otherworld Theatre Company to see a choose-your-own adventure style production of ‘Quest for Thrones.’ We were beckoned to make several decisions for the Game of Thrones characters which mostly involved death or killing and to no surprise of mine, our crowd was an outwardly, murdery bunch. So we got along just great. The only downside to the show was the mold-induced smell of the lobby area where I quite literally gawked around the room to see if anyone else was just as disturbed as I. They did not appear as such which daunts me even more. Following the very short but delightful show, we made our way home but the night just didn’t feel complete. So we made a stop-off. Well, 2, actually. Sharon had demanded a hot dog the entire day so we stopped at my beloved Susie’s and then headed a few blocks down to my treasured karaoke joint, Sidekicks! It had been quite some time since my last sing so it was well-overdue. Upon arrival, we noted several people already singing which took me by surprise. While Sharon hit the bano, I was met by my long-time waitress friend who’s name I can’t completely remember – Christine – Christina? Christy? Something like that. I’m horrible. In any case, she offered me a mis-remembered test-tube shot (Sex on the Beach) to which I declined (my favorite is the Buttery Nipple) and ordered us a few drinks. I immediately trolled through the song book to figure out my agenda which, let’s be honest, is usually the same couple songs. Due to low attendance, I was announced very quickly. The night continued much the same aside from several interruptions from ‘the mutants at table 9’ who attempted to Facebook us (we DID give them Uterus Club as our contact but perhaps they considered this a joke as nothing ever came of it). We had met our end all be all of interactions with these folks when one of them dedicated a song to me. It was at this point, we slipped out, past the bouncer and I quite literally ran to my car even though Sharon had my keys and fumbled around for horror-movie record time. Surely, we would have been killed. Regardless, wonderful, hilarious night.

Onward. Sharon has been madly obsessed with a man by the name of Max Frost whom she played a few songs of a little while back. She missed a previous concert of his as my schedule wouldn’t allow it but recently discovered he was once again, back in Chicago! Naturally, she grabbed tickets and demanded (or rather, asked super nicely) we go. The last time we had been to Subterranean in Wicker Park was for Allison Weiss which was a blast! I recalled our hanging out on the upstairs area and peering down at the entire performance. Max Frost was equally rewarding in this sense. Unfortunately, getting awesome seats around the threshold of the upstairs area meant getting there early and listening to the opener – a girl we had already pre-researched and were not impressed with. Ironically, she ended up sounding way better live. Further irony kicked in when we discovered there was an ADDITIONAL opener who no one knew! THIS guy? Oh man. This was your stereotypical, dirty hipster trying-to-be-real with the ‘people’ who attempted to be deep and introspective while sitting on stage without shoes on. Absolutely horrendous! It should come as no surprise that we were a tad bit ecstatic when Max Frost FINALLY showed up on stage. Yes, we were ecstatic for approximately five songs and then all fizzled out into exhaustion. Capping the night and our very classy ride home via the most wonderful CTA, we listened to a homeless man reflect on his rejection of a plus-sized lady whom he compared to several, large animals. Always an adventure.

But wait. There’s more. ‘March madness’ couldn’t possibly be complete without a little festive shout-out to the Irish. And we went all out people. Having said that, I believe I’m some ridiculously low percentage Irish but I’ve also BEEN to Ireland so I think I get a free pass on that one. In any case, Sharon suggested we hit up the downtown dying of the river in the morning since neither of us had actually seen it live. Sure, the videos are fun but it couldn’t possibly be the same. So bright and early, we headed downtown to park and walk over to one of them many bridges to catch a peek. I had no goddamn idea shit was going to be that cray! Seriously, it was college town USA and like, early. The only good part of the situation is that everyone was very merry but not obnoxiously so (yet). The bad part of the situation is that the color saturation hadn’t exactly made itself evident enough from our viewpoint and therefore, we saw a little bit of green far off in the distance. Major fail. Our follow-up idea was to hit up Public House for their themed

cake shakes, however, we later realized it was already privatized for some wrist-band drinking event all morning and not open to the public! So we hit up the ‘poor man’s’ Public House ie. JoJo’s Milk Bar. The place was small and unimpressive to say the least. Sharon ordered us a ‘shake’ which was sad. We took a few obligatory sips before headed out. Next stop? Milwaukee! That’s right!

There’s absolutely no musical I love more than Phantom of the Opera. I legit have this shit memorized. On our way up to Milwaukee, I googled us a place to stop and eat nearby before the show. The Internet gods brought us to Ale Aslyum Riverhouse. It’s difficult to explain the complete awe of driving from a crazed downtown Chicago to a completely abandoned downtown Milwaukee. Streets were desolute! We had apparently come to the right place. Upon grabbing a quick lunch and Sharon randomly bumping into an ex-client of hers, we made our way to the Marcus Performing Arts Center. As usual, I had completely forgot what sort of seats I had purchased us but apparently I did well since we ended up in the back row on the end of the aisle. The performance was most enjoyable – although some of the singing was a bit inconsistent and I think we both spent a questionable amount of time wondering what the race of the Phantom was. We stayed long enough to hear by favorite trio part before seamlessly ducking out and venturing over to one last stop before home: Mars Cheese Castle. To say this place is anything other than completely overwhelming would be a lie. We came away with a few bags of curds and not much more due to ambivalence. Next time I’ll do some research.

St. Patrick’s Day! The OFFICIAL! Our festivities for the day mainly included eating and drinking. Oh yes, we also threw in a little Boondock Saints as well and some Pandora Irish playlist to accompany our cooking. Menu included Guinesse drumsticks, spinach puff-pastry shamrocks, mashed cauliflower and corned-beef eggrolls. Don’t forget, topping off our day-drinking of Magners Hard Cider which was doused with a few drops of green food coloring! We completed the meal with alcohol cupcakes purchased the night before at the previously mentioned Mars Cheese Castle. And that’s a wrap!

So guess what? We loved Milwaukee SO much that we decided to visit it AGAIN! But THIS time, we really meant business. First stop? Plato’s Closet. It’s tradition after all. Next stop? A little Milwaukee Burger Company. Ginormous, Deep-fried cheese curd cubes, anyone? Stomach – my apologies but worth it. Where to now? Our most beloved Lost Valley Cider Co. where we met an Irish wolf dog who was HUGE and wonderful! We also got our hands on a peanut butter and jelly cider as well as a Hibiscus cider we enjoyed so much we ordered some to go!

Catching a nice buzz now, we made our way to Swing Park where a bunch of hoodlums roamed and I tried to do fancy moves for photographic integrity. Sharon captured what appears to be a child abduction in progress which is absolutely priceless. Our journey now took us to the Villa Terrace Decorative Arts Museum which, not gonna lie, I didn’t know anything about and frankly, still don’t. But it was pretty and had a cheap Groupon and had a fantastic view! Finalizing our self-guided tour here, we finally headed to our haunted (that’s right), Bed and Breakst: Brumder Mansion.

We were met by innkeeper, Tom who was an absolute joy! Unfortunately, he didn’t give us much intel to go on as far as ghosts were concerned – only to say there were 13 and none sounded menacing (how very disappointing). He also mentioned there being some children that tend to fidget with items left out if you ask them to which Sharon left out a ridiculous amount of things. I’ll save you the suspense – nothing was moved. In any case, we hung out for a little while before heading out for our dinner reservation at the Pasta Tree. This has always been a favorite of mine, however, both service and food was mediocre at best for some reason. We followed up dinner with drinks at a nearby Irish bar by the name of Paddy’s Pub which ended up being one of my favorite parts of our trip! Decor was beautiful and sweet and the employees were homey and gracious.

The pinnacle of this trip was our finalized stop-off at the Oriental Theater to see a viewing of the Room with actor/director/writer, Tommy Wiseau present! The line for this event was literally down the street and around the corner! It took me a second to realize that Tommy was signing autographs and taking pictures BEFORE the actual showing so we jumped ship from our spots in line to meet the man himself who was kind and sweet (and apparently dug my tattoos). After re-joining our original line, we eventually made our way back into the theater and  headed up to the balcony for anti-social viewing. Oh! And I mustn’t forget the spoons. While we had been in line outside, someone was passing out handfuls of plastic spoons which we didn’t take out of confusion – only to research and later discover it was a ‘thing’ that went along with the movie. Our bad. Next time! Show was scheduled to start at 9:30pm. Show started at, I’m going to say 10:45pm after all the delay and opening shenanigans. We were tired as all hell. And made it just about 15 minutes into the movie before calling it a night. Unfortunately, leaving out of the theater, Sharon predicted Tommy might be hanging out in the lobby and of course, lo and behold, there he blew! Goddamnit! So we attempted to casually saunter out only to be met with a very saddened, ‘Where you going? Home?” It actually broke my heart. Poor Tommy. Heading back to the B&B, we both eventually passed out and roused for our adorable breakfast. Parting fairly quickly after our meal, we had a final, triumphant stop off at the Potawatomi Hotel and Casino and endeavored in a little morning Bingo. Again, I’ll save you the suspense – we didn’t win. And I’m sure I demanded vengeance per usual.

Wrapping up the wonderful month of March was our visit to the United Center to see Mumford and Sons! I had purchased tickets for Sharon for her birthday back in February. She had been talking about wanting to see them for as long as I can remember. It was only after I had purchased said tickets that she vocalized her hatred of their latest album. Fortunately, they didn’t play much of it. As a precursor to the show, we stopped

off at Viaggio for some Italian dinner. Twas splendid! We then took a buzzed walk over to the show and awed over the comfort and view of our seats! No one in front of us and at the end of the aisle! Cat Power was the opener who I am familiar with but don’t know much about. I described her as ‘more depressing than Aimee Mann’ which Sharon could barely wrap her head around. Crowd became super anxious as a result but as soon as

Mumford showed up, the energy was electric! I’ve never been the hugest fan of theirs but I will say they put on a damn, fine show! Again, left after a handful of songs but know, I would have stayed til the end. And as we left, drenched in the cold rain whoring our make-up, I knew that this and everything else had all been worth the wait.

Oh Hi, March As any Native Chicagoean can attest, the winter never fails to destroy our souls - at least temporarily so.

[flauntpage]

Ten Songs We Need to Forever Ban from Sporting Events

This is a spin-off of the “50 Hot Takes” article where I griped about NBA arena music.

Hot take #25:

I hate music in the middle of a sporting event, especially during Sixers games. It feels corny and inauthentic. The fan atmosphere was great at The Wells Fargo Center last season and you don’t need shitty mumble rap to be played in the middle of a possession to generate an interesting ambience.

That was mostly a basketball complaint. I don’t have a problem with other audio, like walk-up music. Chase Utley and “Kashmir” would be a good example of that. Of course you’re going to hear “Fly Eagles Fly” and the Sixers’ theme song and the Flyers’ goal song and other pieces of music that are used at the right time and in the right place.

Those are cool. No problem there.

My complaint is centered on worn-out arena music that we’ve been listening to for 20 years now, which is why it’s time to retire these ten songs from every American sporting venue:

10) Crazy Train

played by: everybody

Crazy Train is a prototypical radio and arena song because it gets a ton of play while not even being the best track on the album. I don’t even know if it’s a top three song on Blizzard of Ozz.

Of course the “all aboooooaard” is a catchy opening and the “ai ai ai” was remixed into a bunch of other tunes, and whenever you hear those lines everybody knows exactly what’s coming next. Plus, the verse riff is kind of light and fluffy compared to a lot of heavier Ozzy songs, which I guess is why Crazy Train caught mainstream popularity. The best part of the tune is Randy Rhoads’ solo, which you never hear in the arena anyway because they only play 45 second snippets.

9) the Rocky theme

played by: the Sixers in the fourth quarter

It’s an eye-roller, especially when Franklin comes out with the big boxing gloves and dances around the floor. Some people like it, I guess.

As a general rule, I think all arena music and promotion should end at the five-minute mark in the fourth quarter, leaving only natural fan noise to finish out the game. There’s nothing like the atmosphere created by a dialed-in Philly crowd, so there’s really no need to pipe in any sound at all during crunch time of a basketball game, not even during the timeouts. I can’t imagine how annoying it is to try to give instructions to your team while all sorts of noise is blaring over the loudspeakers.

8) Cotton Eye Joe

played by: too many people

What is the point of this song other than to say, “look at us, we’re white trash“? You’re just asking to be made fun of if you play this in your arena.

Cotton Eyed Joe is a traditional American folk song that’s been performed by countless musicians over the years, but the techno/dance version that you’re familiar with was done by a Swedish group called “Rednex” –

7) Let’s Get it Started

played by: everybody

I wonder how many people remember that this Black Eyed Peas track was originally titled “Let’s Get Retarded,” which was released back in 2003.

As the story goes, the group apologized and redid the lyrics, which then resulted in the song becoming a staple in all sports venues and sports-related promos for the next 15 years. It was performed live at Super Bowl 45.

6) Rock N’ Roll

played by: everybody

I honestly couldn’t remember the title of this song when I started the column, but I can certainly hear the beat reverberating through my skull. England has given us many great performers over the years, but Gary Glitter is not one of them:

5) Doop

played by: Philadelphia Union and Borussia Monchengladbach

I’m over it.

Peter Nowak stole it from Germany and it’s now played out. The Union should go for a total re-brand after they get rid of Bimbo as a sponsor, and that includes sending “Doop” back to Europe.

4) Song 2

played by: everybody

This song has a five-chord progression that would make Green Day proud.

Difference is, Green Day was rad and Blur kind of sucks.

Interestingly enough, this song is apparently misinterpreted and was meant to poke fun at grunge music.

Per Uproxx:

The reason that everyone’s introduction to the greatness that is Blur sounds so unlike the rest of their discography is because they were playing a joke on their listeners. “Song 2,” also known as WHOO HOO, is a parody of American music in the early-to-mid 1990s, more specifically Nirvana and other grunge bands, right down to the quiet-loud dynamic. Damon Albarn’s goal was to prove that lyrics don’t matter to the average mindless radio listener, and if you like the song, you’re basically an idiot. “Song 2” is Blur’s biggest hit.

“If you like the song, you’re basically an idiot.”

3) Enter Sandman

played by: Virginia Tech, a bunch of ice hockey teams

Problem with Enter Sandman is that it’s not even the heaviest tune on the Black Album, which would be “Sad But True.” I understand it has a long build-up that hits a crescendo, so I guess that’s why it’s always been used at sporting events over the years.

I’d rank the songs on the S/T like this:

Holier Than Thou

Sad But True

Through the Never

The Struggle Within

Wherever I May Roam

Enter Sandman

The God that Failed

Wolf and Man

My Friend of Misery

Don’t Tread on Me

The Unforgiven

Nothing Else Matters

Vintage Metallica, before Lars became a total slug and when Newsted was still in the band:

Look at that crowd.

Nowadays it would just be a bunch of people filming the whole thing on their iPhone.

2) Seven Nation Army

played by: everybody

A catchy song that just hung on waaaay too long. College football teams specifically started picking up Seven Nation Army by the time Jack White had moved on to his solo career, which was sometime around 2012, almost ten years after the track was released.

Now the tune is everywhere. It’s literally everywhere.

I found a remix that was attached to Assassin’s Creed trailer footage on Youtube.

1.7 million people watched this shit:

1) Sweet Caroline

played by: Boston Red Sox, Pitt football

Not only is this the worst song on the planet Earth, but nothing about it is exciting or gets you pumped up to watch or play sports.

It also happens to be played during every game by the most detestable and repugnant sporting franchise in America, which is your World Series champion Boston Red Sox.

Check out this dumb shit:

The post Ten Songs We Need to Forever Ban from Sporting Events appeared first on Crossing Broad.

Ten Songs We Need to Forever Ban from Sporting Events published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

[maudlinbear]

The Reason

Phew!  I'm back!  Apologies to the internet for being M.I.A. the past few weeks.  Excuses include: traveling to Sam Smith shows and exhausting my energy trying to meet him, living my life on vacation in the foreign land of Japan for a couple weeks, trying to survive the heinousness of jetlag, and mostly fighting that inner critic that keeps telling me that my effort on this blog is worthless.  But anyway, let's take advantage of this moment and just move this along.  Since the past few weeks have been a whirlwind of traveling and dealing with family issues while also trying to reconcile my own personal dream-killing demons, I have become a raw nerve, just heightened and anxious.  At times like these, I usually reach for an emotionally intense song to match my energy.  Somehow that allows me to calm down and re-simplify my life.  I tell myself I just need to do the best I can with good intentions, and hope for the best.  If it works out, cool, if it doesn't work out, then oh well.  At least I'm still alive.  This week's song is For Island Fires and Family by one of my favorite new (to me) artists, Dermot Kennedy.  

A few months ago, I came across an Instagram promoted post advertising Dermot Kennedy's new single Moments Passed.  The promo photo looked dark and sad and moody, so obviously, I had to look him up.  His YouTube channel showed his Doves and Ravens EP as well as some other standalone songs.  The songs that initially stood out from there were Glory and An Evening I Will Not Forget.  Both showcase a very raw, emotional and controlled intensity, and I loved that.  He is exceptional at building emotional peaks in his songs.  Dermot's voice has a variety of textures, and I really appreciate when he uses his full voice because it really soars and conveys such strong emotion.  Upon further research, I learned about his Irish heritage, and how his roots are in an acoustic folk space, but he's excited to meld that with a hip hop element.  That synergy was really intriguing to me, and he executes it in really interesting ways.  Sometimes he's belting with grit and rasp and intensity and sometimes he's speaking like he's rapping with ease and swagger.  The contrast is really quite compelling, and that he can do that all with just him and a guitar in a single song is very impressive.

I continued to delve deeper into Dermot's music and found a live version of For Island Fires and Family on Christian Tierney's channel.  I thought it was a peculiar title, but I listened and was blown away.  At first, it was a little difficult to decipher the lyrics in the verses because there are so many words, but when the chorus kicks in . . . just wow, I am in awe.  That chorus has a gorgeously simple melody coupled with brutally authentic lyrics.  But for me, the power in that chorus lies in the rawness in the voice and the longing ache in the emotion.  Sometimes I don't even try to understand the words of the story, I just sit and dwell in an intense melancholy, and I love that.  There are so many impactful dynamic changes throughout the song.  At the end of the second verse there is an incredible build ending in, "We were open and vulnerable, it was wonderful" which is followed by a small, almost guttural moan on the next "I".  That moan is so small, but so powerful to me.  And then the next line is soft, "I used to dream that you would talk to me."  That part always gets me.  It reminds me of those roller coaster moments when a small, positive interaction triggers an elaborate, idealized scenario where I get so excited about the things that could happen next.  Then I have to catch myself and bring it back to reality, which is always so sad and deflating.  It's the curse of a dreamer I suppose.  The lyrics in the last verse/bridge are poignant and powerful in a different way.  There seems to be a perspective shift from being wrapped up in the midst of a relationship to reflecting on the wisdom learned about relationships with a calm conviction, "When I'm face to face with death, I'll grab his throat and ask him, 'how does it hurt?'".  The emotion that Dermot puts into the performance is just breathtaking because there is so much power in the simplicity of a man with his guitar and his feelings.  I can just sense that he is going through something on his insides, and I have so much respect for him sharing that vulnerability.  It makes me feel less alone, and it makes me feel brave.

I was able to catch Dermot at a live show and he over delivers.  He is unassuming and earnest and humble.  It seems like all he wants to do is sing some songs and make people feel.  That sentiment is just so pure and beautiful.  He lets his talent and his voice and his emotion speak for themselves.  It really is quite refreshing.  He spoke about this song being a reminder for comfort when going through a bad day.  A song's backstory usually helps me connect even more with the sentiment of the song, and certainly, this particular one is necessary and universal.  Experiencing this song and making a connection with another person's honest truth gives me so much life/inspiration/motivation.  And that, my dear friends, is the reason I started this blog.  I cannot recommend this song and this artist enough!

[obijuan-cannoli]

Ok so I watched The Last Jedi sunday morning and like every SW fan out here I have A LOT of feelings about it. Even if I rather enjoyed it, there’s still quite a lot of problems in terms of plot and characterization that really bothered me and made me question whether or not Rian Johnson actually watched a SW movie before or if he just decided to change everything for the sake of originality and shock value (he did).

So here’s a list of everything I liked and hated about TLJ, because I need to vent for the sake of my sanity (also, it’s my blog so I do what I want). Spoilers under the cut.

What I liked :

- the cinematography. Probably the best thing about the movie tbh. I don’t remember everything but here’s some shots are really liked : basically all the scenes on Ahch-To, the battle of Crait, the Finn-Phasma fight, the long wide shot of the burning Jedi temple, Snoke’s red chamber...

- new amazing creatures. Porgs are useless but they’re cute so I don’t care, I love them anyway. The nathiers and the crystal foxes are beautiful. My favorites are probably the Ahch-to’s nuns - I hope they’re ok since Rey pretty much trashed the place.

- Finn. Every time he’s on screen I’m happy. That’s the power of John Boyega.

- BB8 being the real hero of this trilogy. Please someone give those droids a medal.

- Rey calling Kylo out on his bullshit at the beginning of the movie.

- the truth about Rey’s parents (at least what Kylo tells her about, he could be lying for all we know). I really thought she would be a Skywalker but I’m actually happy she isn’t. I don’t think I would have liked the thought of Luke abandoning her on Jakku. By the way I really like that scene at the beginning when she asks Kylo why he killed his father, how upset she is over Han’s death and can’t understand how Kylo could kill a father who loved him when her own parents willingly abandoned her. She never had that kind of love and doesn’t understand giving it up so easily.

- Rey turning Kylo down in the end.

- Leia understanding she can’t turn her son back to the light anymore.

- pretty much every scene in which Rey holds a lightsaber.

- though the best scene of the movie is probably the one where the Supremacy gets cut in half at lightspeed by vice admiral Holdo with nothing but the deafening silence of space in the background. TRUE CINEMA.

- that cute (but alas) short moment between Rey and Finn at the end.

- Luke being a troll and then slapping Rey’s hand with that leaf.

- Luke being tired™.

- Luke kissing Leia on the forehead with that lens flare.

- Luke winking at C3PO.

- Luke giving this force projection a whole new look like the fashion icon he is.

- and Kylo loosing his shit when Luke appeared on the battlefield.

- Hux’s “do you think you got him?”.

- I’m still in denial about Luke’s death but that last scene with Luke’s theme song and the two suns mirroring Luke’s introduction on Tatooine in ANH... I was crying real tears folks. I didn’t want Luke to die but at least he had a beautiful death.

- LUKE.

- to continue with the soundtrack, John Williams re-used a lot of music from the original trilogy but I loved it anyway and I’m always a sucker for Luke’s theme song (obviously).

- also seing that slave kid at the end using the force, looking at the sky in hope while holding the Rebellion sign just made me so emotional. It reminded me of young Anakin in TPM.

That’s all for the fun part. Now...

What I didn’t like :

- the character assassination. I’m not going to go into too many details about Luke because I know pretty much everyone agree with me. Luke is a symbol of hope, he believed in his father and managed to bring him back to the light. Darth Vader, the man who terrorized the galaxy, cut off Luke’s hand (among other things), tortured his sister, etc. It makes absolutely ZERO SENSE for him to try to kill Ben (who is his nephew, keep that in mind), especially since he hadn’t even really done anything really dark yet. Running like a coward and refusing to help the Resistance when it’s on the verge of extinction doesn’t make sense either.

- also can we talk about what they did with Poe’s character? They turned him into a complete f*ckboy. He doesn’t listen to any of his superiors, even Leia who’s literary the face of the Rebellion and has been doing this shit for forty years. He gets A LOT of people killed by being reckless and never apologize for it. So I know it’s a complicated situation, everyone is on edge and people will die to matter what decision is taken but still. I really didn’t like this Poe, please give us back the Poe Dameron we all love in the next movie.

- Holdo. I only like her last scene (and her hair).

- Finn. Not really any problem with Finn’s character but more like the lack of Finn in the movie. I don’t know, Finn and Rose’s interactions are cute but in the end they don’t get much done. No time with Rey except for that last scene. I don’t know I just feel like we didn’t see him all that much.

- also I love Kelly Marie Tran but the character she plays is so bland. Rose is cute and all but they should have given her better lines and a better personality in general. 

- the fight with Phasma, which lasted two minutes and which Finn won only because she was distracted. It could have been epic, but no, Phasma was almost even more underused that in TFA. Gwendoline Christie deserved better.

- pretty much all the bad guys deserved better, even if they’re a piece of sh*t. I don’t care about Hux but he was made into a joke during the whole movie (the humour at the beginning between Poe and Hux felt so forced, it was cringy honestly). I actually felt sorry for Domhnall Gleeson. The only good thing was how quick he was to aim his weapon at Kylo when he saw him down. Maybe he’ll get some form of revenge in the next movie? I hope so.

- and Snoke. Ugh. What the hell Rian? Basically Snoke was killed off just to add to Kylo’s character. No explanation on who he is, where does he come from, how is it possible for Kylo to kill him so easily when Snoke can literally hear his thoughts??? Nothing makes sense. I do agree with Kylo getting tired of being Snoke’s disciple and trying to kill him at some point, but that was way too easy. Snoke is supposed to be a very strong force-user, logically he should have wiped the floor with Rey and Kylo.

- Rey and Kylo’s interactions. I don’t know if it’s because of all the Reylo shippers out here or because of all the forced heterosexuality we’re used to see in movies since basically forever, but most of their scenes made me uncomfortable. There’s actually nothing romantic or sexual about it, but it was still weird to watch. It was mostly Rey’s attitude that bugged me. I get why she was so nice with him, she tried to do the right thing and, with Luke refusing to help, she thought turning him back to the light would help the Rebellion. She never thought herself a hero, so she tried to make a hero out of Kylo. Calling him Ben to appeal to his better nature. I just thought it was a big change compared to the last film. Even at the beginning she calls him a “murderous snake”. Her attitude changed too quickly. Kylo’s behavior though didn’t really surprise me. He was manipulating her. The whole time I though about his act with Han in TFA, so to me it was pretty in character. Also with Snoke gone they’re the two most powerful force-users in the trilogy so their connection is rather logical.

- the moment their hands touched though. Was that close-up really necessary? Stop adding fuel to that Reylo nonsense.

- and that shirtless scene. I can’t even, It was embarrassing and unnecessary (as are most shirtless scenes... I’m not here to criticize Adam Driver’s workout routine).

- by the way I’m sad Kylo destroyed his mask at the beginning of the film because I thought it was a pretty dope mask.

- another weird scene was Luke and that blue milk. Who thought it was a good idea? I understand wanting to show us Luke’s routine and how he survives on Ahch-to but... not this.

- Yoda. The puppet looks weird, straight out of TESB. They should have used CGI. Or chosen to bring back Obi-Wan or Anakin.

- Leia using the force in THAT scene (you know the one). I should have liked it but it was honestly too much for me. It gave me Guardians of the Galaxy flashbacks. I understand they wanted to remind us that Leia is also strong in the force even if she wasn’t trained but... how the f*ck do you survive being blasted into space?

- general Ackbar’s death.

- the fact that pretty much all of the Resistance is dead, to the point that the Millenium Falcon can transport them all.

- the plot in general. From the beginning to the end of the movie, nothing substantial happens. The First Order is still there, still way more powerful than the Rebellion. Everyone failed at what they were supposed to do : Rey didn’t get Luke to train her (not really) and she couldn’t bring Kylo back to the light, Finn and Rose didn’t finish their mission and almost died because of it, Poe’s plans didn’t work out either, Kylo didn’t kill Luke and didn’t bring Rey to his side, Hux fails at pretty much everything lol, the Rebellion is almost extinct... And yes failure is a teacher and all of that, that’s what the movie his about (thanks Yoda) but here the movie is ONLY about failure. There’s no satisfaction about that. In generals characters make mistakes AND overcome them in the same film. Here we have to wait for episode IX to see if they did learn from these mistakes. The only one who changed at the end was Luke and he died just after that. It doesn’t make me very hopeful about the next movie.

- also WHERE IS MY MAN LANDO CALRISSIAN???

I wrote so many negative things it looks like I hated the movie but I didn’t, I’m just very critical because I love Star Wars and some characters in particular.

I realize from what I’ve written that it looks like I really hate Kylo Ren but I don’t. I like how different he is from Darth Vader. I like how childish he can behave. I like that, despite Snoke’s influence, he still has ties to the light and can’t seem to cut them. I liked his mask and his fighting style in TFA. I like how manipulative he his. And Adam Driver is a great actor. But I hate the idea of Kylo and Rey together, especially in a romantic way, and I’m afraid that’s where we may be going. I don’t want him to go back to his mother. I don’t want him to have a redemption arc. I don’t want him to be forgiven and to go back to the light. He had two movies to do that, he had plenty of people reaching out to him. Snoke is dead, Kylo doesn’t have anyone making choices for him anymore and luring him to the dark side, he’s doing it himself. He’s done too much to deserve a redemption arc and he DOESN’T want it anyway. I like him as a villain, he’s complex and entertaining, but that’s all he can be anymore. He’s not going to be hero. Having conflicted feelings doesn’t make him more of a good guy, it doesn’t erase all the shitty things he did and the people he killed. There’s only one movie left in the trilogy and I don’t see how he would be able to come back from that. Rey isn’t going to make the mistake of trusting him again, even Leia doesn’t believe in him anymore. And most of all I hate how many characters Rian Johnson butchered in The Last Jedi just to make Kylo’s character more powerful or interesting. Luke’s character was butchered just to make Kylo’s more sympathetic, Rey was too nice, Snoke too easily killed. And that’s what pisses me off the most about this movie. It could have been great if only Johnson cared as much about the other characters as he did about Kylo.

[retrofeedback]

Apologies

I fully intended for this to be a place for me to exercise my creative juices and express my love of recorded music.

I had left my job of 9 years to be unemployed. To take the time to find a new path that satisfied my soul and my place in life. Always being held back from doing my best by the egos and whims of others while working in a retail environment for 25 years.

An avenue was much needed for me to work through ideas and passions without constant judgement but with some feedback from others. Being encouraged by my partner to do this after often talking about the artists and songs I love that he was less familiar with.

My follow through was poor. I found it hard to be a creative writer. While I can see the beauty and art in the writings of others, words for me were merely a means to express the most basic if details as plainly as possible. I felt that I was sounding more like an instruction manual than a person who loves art. To me, it appeared as if my heart was not in my efforts here. So I posted less and less.

After a few months I found myself employed again. Working very long days and totally exhausted after my week. Finding little time to be creative or to even rest. It was a temporary gig and I soon had found myself unemployed.

This is when I had one of those “A-HA!” moments. Within days after leaving that job I stumbled into something that stimulated all my creative juices and pulled together all my skills and talents. Within a few weeks I launched my own business. It was meant to be a means to give me a little income while I wasn’t working and supplement it when I found work again. After about 9 months it showed promise of being something bigger.

I did end up going back to work again. With the same employer I was with last. What started out extremely promising and allowed me to still grow my own business, turned sour after 6 months of dedicated performance and hard work. Just after losing my father I came back to a very hostile work environment and within 3 weeks was fired for reporting harassment.

This completely crushed me. I was treated in such a vile hateful manner by a woman who is battling her own demons. I was violated by her in so many ways. I risked physical and emotional abuse in her presence and when I reported her behaviors she fabricated a list of issues that led to my immediate dismissal.

I was broken. What trust I had in people was destroyed. Also during this time I had someone who I cared for greatly and had grown to mean so much to me lie to me and turned his back on me. This then set forth a ripple of other friends to turn away from me. One of them claiming that I blame him for what happened when I did not.

So here I was unemployed and unwanted. Or so I felt. My business received most of my attention and we soon grew bigger. This offset some of my sadness but did not completely remove it. My depression was solidified too much to be whisked away so easily. I put on that brave face and pushed forward with my chosen work and it became all I cared about. The only way you saw me happy and excited is when I talked about my business.

There were setbacks. There were times I was about to throw in the towel, say it was a good run and move forward. Yet, every time that happened - that I was set to move on then something wonderful would happen. I received little messages to keep going, that what I am doing is wanted and matters to others.

Wrapped up in all of these things, this little avenue was ignored. I don’t know if I will ever get back to it in the manner I wanted to do it.

My biggest goal was to tell stories about the artists, their music and the business that many don’t get to hear unless you are the die hard fan of that artist. My core focus was to be all the New Wave and Post Punk artists that only had a brief moment in the sun but influenced others and moved people like myself.

With “Pop” music being so evasive, so accessible that these artists were mainly ignored by the masses. Mostly from lack of real exposure; but from being so different than what was already being funneled into our ears at the time. Some folks cannot handle different at first listen, but years later so many of these artists were inspirations of mainstream artists of today. It is so blatant when you listen to their music, you can hear the spirit of all these lesser know yet amazing talents everywhere today.

I want to get back to this, but I feel I cannot do it justice just yet. If or when I do, I hope that I can tell these stories in my own way and not sound like a journalist but passionate lover of the music and artists.

There are still my own demons to overcome to where I will feel unburdened enough to truly let my own spirit soar. In the meantime I will chug away at my business to make it the best it can be and enjoy the people that are closest in my life in my free time. Do note, that my love of music is undying.