My Weekend Scream

The yell. The primal scream. The full-throated roar. The joyous exaltation into the supertemporal maw of existence. There’s something so fundamentally human about yelling – like all-out, top-of-one’s-lungs, ear-splitting yelling. And when it’s done from a place of deep exertion, enjoyment, encouragement, well – there’s nothing else like it. One of the things I love most about watching the Olympics is it is one of the few places where men’s and women’s sports are treated equally – or at least more equally. Men and women both earn medals, men and women both reach the pinnacles of their sports, men and women both bring glory home for their countries. A gold medal is a gold medal is a gold medal. And the thrill of victory, that has no gender. The Olympics – and sports in general – is also one of the few places women are allowed to scream their damn heads off. To be heard. To be celebrated. To be fucking loud. So here is an ode one of the most primordial and satisfying ways of expressing ourselves. Scream it out, scream it proud, ladies. Happy weekend, all.