I generally don’t suffer too much from FOMO. Like, granted, I’d love to be a fly on the wall in many a situation (mostly not in a creepy way). But earlier this month I experienced my first ever Coachella FOMO. Or, as it should have been called, Gaychella. Don’t get me wrong, I have absolutely no desire to press myself into sweaty throngs of young (and young at heart) people in the desert. But I sure wouldn’t have minded seeing Renee Rapp, Chappelle Roan, Victoria Monét, et al queer it up. Honestly, what a time to be a young queer music fan. Thinking about the limited choices when I was young enough to think music festivals were cool, it’d be a short show. But these days? Well, pick your musical poison (not to be confused with the hair metal band Poison, who everyone at Renee’s set I think was too young to know anyway). Anyway, if you are vying to be the Queen of Gay Pop (an admittedly crowded field these days), then you should probably do like Renee and bring on the Royal Court of Lesbianism to introduce you. Honestly, between this and performing underneath a giant pair of scissors I feel pretty damn good about this new generation of queer stars. Really good. Happy Monday, kittens.
p.s. Also bringing out Kesha and saying “fuck P. Diddy?” Utter Queen shit.
The Grammys are always a strange hodge-podge. You can usually count on a strange mix of performers, a strange mix of winners and at least one strange or not-so strange breakout moment. This year was no exception. It was too long. (And, for whatever reason, had too much Sting – seriously I like the dude but he’s not exactly “now.”) And there were definite breakout moments (no, they weren’t Lady Gaga stuffing a dead angel into her piano or Miley Cyrus dressing like a glamorous old Hollywood diva). One was the always impeccably dressed Janelle Monae who gave a stirring, Time’s Up-themed introduction to Kesha.
And then – of course – there was Hillary reading form “Fire & Fury.”
So, thoughts? Your favorite moments? Yes, I realize I am a day late. But, in my defense, the broadcast was like 900 hours long, so it took a bit to process.
I don’t pray. I’m not a religious person, as I’ve shared before. But I do, at times, understand the inclination to seek help from some all-knowing, all-seeing something out there somwhere. And I certainly recognize the desire to find grace in our lives. Which makes such an explicitly spiritual song like “Praying” such an interesting emotional journey. I hadn’t listened to it last week when it was released because, well, it’s called “Praying.” And, again, that’s not something I do.
But then this week I took the time to give it a listen and not only is it a good song, it’s emotional and defiant and powerful in a way in a way I had not expected. Kesha’s personal and legal battles have been well publicized. She has fought her record label to be let out of her contract with her sexual abuser. But her efforts have failed and her abuser remains free despite having to endure years of sexually, physically, verbally, and emotionally abuse. The world can be terrible and cruel and just terribly cruel.
Which is why a song like “Praying” has such an impact. Before I heard it, I had wrongly assumed it was about her seeking prayer for herself. She has talked openly about how abuse made her fall into a deep depression, experience intense anxiety and develop an eating disorder. But instead of that, her song turns the tables on her abuser. She hopes he is praying, and changing. It’s an empowering song, a defiant song, an important song about how we can break but not be broken forever by those who do us grievous harm. It’s a beautiful anthem about moving on and finding strength for the countless women who have also survived sexual assault, abuse and other terrors.
This is of added import during a time when our current administrations seems intent on making things even harder for survivors. Like having the secretary of education meet with so-called men’s rights groups who believe domestic violence and sexual assault are actually over-reported and also women who report rape cases which aren’t taken to trial should be trolled. Great. Just fucking great.
“Praying” is also a reminder in our disposable pop culture that women – especially young women – are not superfluous, interchangeable baubles. Each is her own person, has her own identity. This industry tried to turn Kesha into just an easily forgotten mess of smeared mascara and leftover glitter. But she is an artist, a woman deserving of her voice and her autonomy. A woman who has endured and will continue to create. And a woman whose light cannot be stolen by anyone. Happy weekend, all.
