a dallas girl in atx

[colleenwomack]

Taylor Swift and My Journey with Sexual Assault

It’s 3:07 in the morning as I write this. I haven’t been able to sleep because, as silly as it sounds, Miss Americana was released on Netflix last week, and I’ve been replaying every minute in my head. I’ve been a devout listener of Taylor Swift’s music for more than a decade. I think about her albums endlessly, pore over the production, get inspired by the lyrics. Just recently, I wrote an article discussing and defending her latest album, Lover. I respect her commitment to her craft, her tenacity, her fortitude. I admire her storytelling, her touch of fantasy, her ability to always make me feel just a little bit better on my worst days. So I curled up with my best friend and my two cats (in true Taylor fashion), and watched her documentary right as it dropped at 2:00 in the morning. 

We watched her life unfold just as we remember it, album by album, year by year. The music was laced through each passing second, and I felt like I was opening a time capsule of the best memories and the most meaningful growth throughout my adolescence. I felt her pain as she reflected on her controversy with Kanye West, felt joy as she found her creative voice, felt empowered as she publicly defended her political beliefs for the very first time. At a particularly tender and disquieting moment near the end of the film, I found myself facing a dark parallel between my life and hers. In 2013, a radio host groped Taylor Swift at a meet-and-greet in Colorado. The case that followed spanned four years of her career, finally ending a year before the Reputation tour in 2018. On the one year anniversary of the final court decision, she performed in Florida to a crowd of about 40,000 people:

“This exact day a year ago, I was not playing a sold-out stadium in Tampa. I was in a courtroom in Denver, Colorado. Honestly, I was there for a sexual assault case, and this day, a year ago, was the day that the jury decided in my favor and said that they believed me.”  

As you can probably guess, I, too, have been a victim of sexual assault. On more than one occasion, actually. If you know me personally, you know that it isn’t something I’m particularly quiet about. I find myself disconnecting from the events so much that talking about them feels more like talking about a scene from a movie than it does some of the most dehumanizing things that have ever happened to me. But that has been one of the most complicated aspects of my recovery process: the dissociation has prevented me from feeling like I was actually the one who was assaulted.

 “I guess I just think about all the people who weren’t believed, the people who haven’t been believed, or the people who are afraid to speak up because they think they won’t be believed. And I just wanted to say I’m sorry to anyone who ever wasn’t believed because I don’t know what turn my life would’ve taken if people didn’t believe me when I said something happened to me.”

Hearing Taylor say these words, in her voice, broke down a barrier for me. For this girl who I grew up with, who I idolized, to validate the pain that I carry around with me every single day of my life is immense. I remember standing on stage at eleven or twelve years old, holding a burned CD with her song on it, ready to sing in front of a crowd of my classmates. I was terrified. I was afraid to face the judgment of my friends, my teachers, my bullies. But her music gave me the confidence and the strength to overcome fear, as small as a middle school talent show seems now. And almost 10 years later, Taylor’s documentary gave me the same sense of security. Sexual assault is multifaceted. It isn’t always a monster in the closet. And sometimes the weight of shame that we carry around feels too much to bear, so we decide not to feel any of it at all. Hearing someone as powerful as Taylor Swift say that she was hurt in the same way I was helped me to reconnect to my own trauma, to acknowledge my own pain, to remind myself that I can’t heal until I face what has happened to me.

“You’re still all over me like a wine-stained dress I can’t wear anymore.” She said these words to a crowd of little girls who see Taylor as being almost invincible. She said these words to teenage girls who are entering a big, scary world of dating and heartbreak. She said these words to women who have years of healing under their belts, but still have decades more ahead of them. She said these words to me: “by morning, gone was every trace of you, that’s when I was finally clean.” 

Taylor Swift’s music, like many girls I know, brings me back to a fonder time. A time when we hoped a game of MASH would tell us what our future held. A time when a big white wedding and a beautiful house with a garden were what we dreamed about at night. A time when I didn’t know that people could be cruel for no discernible reason, and pain was a feeling that wraps you up like a comforter. Many days I feel so empty that I can’t get out of bed. There’s a voice in the back of my head that tells me I’m so broken that I’m impossible to fix. But sometimes, I feel a little bit of hope. Hope that the world around me can love me until I heal, or at least can love me until tomorrow. The stories that Taylor Swift shared in Miss Americana have moved me in profound ways. They’ve reminded me that I’m responsible not only for my own healing, but for the healing of that little girl at her middle school talent show in her prettiest dress. They’ve reminded me that in the face of darkness, and shame, and cruelty, I have no other choice but to be brave. 

[colleenwomack]

An Austin, TX Taco Tour

Tacos. The great debate amongst every major city in Texas. Some may say that San Antonio laps up when it comes to street tacos. Some say the only place to get authentic grub is near the border. But recently, Austin has been flooded with little food trucks and trailers that claim to have the best tacos around. I decided to test these places out myself to answer the life-long question: who has the best, most authentic street tacos in Austin? 

Now, I haven’t lived in Austin all that long, and I’m really not that cool, so I definitely didn’t find all these places on my own. In fact, I turned to my many friends in the service industry to give me their top five best mom-and-pop taco shops in ATX. I recruited my (mostly) vegan roommate Madison as my side-kick for the day and headed out on a beautiful, sunny, 75-degree Wednesday.

Starting off the list at #5 is Taco More on Riverside. 

Taco More was the last stop on our taco tour. By the time we got there it was about 4pm and we were exhausted and stuffed. I was actually so done with the day that I forgot to take a photo of both the tacos and the restaurant (no hard feelings please). It is located about a stone’s throw from Rosita’s Al Pastor, which you’ll read about below. It’s also a sit-down restaurant, which was a different vibe from the other places on this tour. I got a carnitas taco, and Madison got an egg and cactus taco. They cost about $5 all together. The tacos overall were pretty good. The pork was a little too fatty in my opinion and needed some spice, but they’d do the trick if I was really in need. 

Overall 4.5/10, however, I might have to give em another shot to be completely sure.

#4 on the list is El Primo on South 1st.

This is a very tiny food truck located in the parking lot of a little bodega. It had one griddle and a couple of picnic tables. If you’re planning to go here, keep in mind that it is a cash-only establishment. They have a selection of breakfast tacos and a few classic street taco options. Madison got a bean and egg on corn, and I decided to try the barbacoa, which totalled to be about $4. Madison’s taco has crispy cheese from the stove which was a nice departure from your typical breakfast taco. My barbacoa wasn’t super flavorful but it was fall-apart tender, and the salsa verde was absolutely fire. 

El Primo scored a 5.5/10 in comparison to the others, but if I lived across the street, I would be a regular.

Holding the #3 spot on the list is Papalote on Lamar.

Papalote was Madison’s favorite of the day because they had so many vegan options. The menu is expansive, which allows for a wider customer base. It was the priciest stop of the tour, totalling out to be around $7. Madison got a cauliflower taco that had cabbage slaw, cotija cheese, and avocado. It was well-marinated and had lots of great texture which is what made it such a fun and interesting bite. I got the al pastor taco which had a lot of great flavor. It wasn’t too fatty and was perfectly cooked. Our only complaint was the texture of the tortilla, which was a little tough and dry. Salsa verde slapped. High recommendation.

We give Papalote a 7/10 for their interesting selection and great flavor.

Rosita’s Al Pastor on Riverside takes #2 on the list.

This place has a little cult following south of the river. The line was super long, and as our first spot on the tour, it was a slow start. But let me tell you, the tacos were worth the wait. I got a barbacoa taco, and Madison got their veggie taco. It cost us $5.50. The tacos came as any good street taco should: on a foam plate wrapped in tin foil and put in a plastic bag. Mine had incredible flavor, and was super tender. The salsa verde was the best we had all day. Madison liked her taco but thought that the fajita veggies were a little bit on the greasy side. The tortillas were soft, but not falling apart, and the garnishes were super fresh. My favorite part was just how much food they really crammed into the tacos. They were literally overflowing onto the plate. It was a very strong start to the tour.

Rosita has earned a 8.5/10 from us.

The coveted #1 spot on Colleen and Madison’s taco tour of Austin belongs to Las Trancas on E Cesar Chavez.

This place was hands-down our favorite of the day. To start off, the truck has a cute lot outside with bright blue picnic tables and a little deck. The weather was so beautiful, that sitting out there felt like an absolute dream. I got an al pastor taco, and Madison got a veggie taco with refried beans and fresh avocado. The tortillas were our favorite at Las Trancas because they were soft but a little bit crispy on the edges which made for a more interesting texture. The al pastor was literally perfectly marinated. It was spicy and tender and sweet. Madison couldn’t believe how fresh all the veggies were. This was our second stop, and we wondered if we should just cancel the rest of the tour because we found our faves already. I can’t recommend this place enough. And if you go, definitely get a fruit punch Jarritos because it will not disappoint. 

Las Trancas was a 9.5/10 and #1 in our hearts. 

[colleenwomack]

Finsta: A Vulnerable Side of Social Media

I was a freshman in college when my parents got divorced. What’s funny about being grown when your parents split up is that no one seems to care that much. My childhood wasn’t ruined by long fights that I could hear through the walls or by packing an overnight bag to stay with mom or dad. When I came back from my first year of college, my life was just, well, different. But even though no one on the outside really cared, my whole world felt like it came crashing down around me. I felt lost, lonely, maybe a little betrayed. Not knowing who to turn to, I did the most millennial thing I knew how to do: I used social media as a distraction.

I’ve had two accounts on Instagram for about six years. The first is a main account. It’s public. It has only the best, most well-edited photos of me and my friends that I can find. It’s an account that, like most other accounts on Instagram, only showcases the most fun, the most interesting, and the most glamorous experiences. But my second account is a little different. First and foremost, this account is private. Where my main account is open for anyone to scroll through, my private Instagram is only followed by people who I trust. The posts are more candid and honest, and the content is more in line with the contents of a diary than of a social media feed. This type of account is widely known as a “fake Instagram” or “finsta”. And in the darker periods of my life-- periods defined by declining mental health, sexual assault, or heartbreak-- this account has acted as a type of support group. The followers I’ve gained in the last six years are from every facet of my life: from my very closest friends from high school to strangers that I’ve met at house parties. Each one of these people, regardless of how close our relationship is, has helped to curate an atmosphere of mutual support and honesty that can’t seem to be found in any other corners of the internet. During the worst days of my life, I have a community of people that can hold space for me.  So when my parents broke the news to my siblings and me, I found solace in this parallel, private side of Instagram where I felt safe and supported. 

Social media and influencer culture is problematic for many reasons. Growing up in a generation where technology is not only readily available but simply an expectation in popular culture, I have found myself caught in a web of self-image issues, imposter syndrome, and FOMO. As a young teenager, I would spend hours scrolling through photos of girls my age that were prettier or more popular than me, and I let it burn a hole through my confidence. I saw the attention and validation that social media could offer, but couldn’t see how much authenticity it lacked. Finsta is intrinsically vulnerable. It’s raw, self-deprecating, and brutal. For me, finsta replaced the release I got from pen-and-paper journaling. It acts as a diary some days, a therapy appointment, a long phone call to a close friend. My friends will share stories about the best days of their lives: meeting their favorite band, realizing they’re in love, getting a job they’ve been dreaming for; but I’ve also seen posts about their worst days: having an abortion, struggling with an eating disorder, dealing with the death of a loved one. Finsta, in my opinion, is the answer to the question, what good is social media doing?

Social media can be grating on the soul, on self-esteem, on any sliver of worth we have left. The gap between how we see ourselves and how we beg others to see us seems vast, and our desperate need to be validated by made-up internet points is now sewn into the very DNA of human experience, yet the community that finsta has created is a beautiful rebellion against these expectations. When Instagram is vapid, vacant, or soulless, finsta dares to be vulnerable.

[colleenwomack]

In Love With Taylor Swift’s Lover

Every year in middle school my best friend Caitlyn and I would enter the talent show. Decked out in our favorite dresses and cowboy boots, we’d nervously hand over a burned CD with a karaoke version of whatever Taylor Swift song was our favorite at the time. This tradition (which ended when we realized it wasn’t “cool” to do talent shows) created a soft spot in my heart for Taylor and her fantastical and uniquely feminine love songs. So when she released Lover on August 23rd this year, I buckled down with my roommate and a bottle of red wine and streamed it at midnight. Lover, Swift’s seventh studio album, contains her most vulnerable romantic side: a side of her that explores not only sex but also acts of emotional intimacy, growth, communication, and finding true, genuine connection in her 30th year. This album, besides being personally important to me, is a landmark for her, as she finally throws aside the burden of being one of the biggest pop stars on earth to live truthfully and vulnerably with the love of her life. It’s my prediction that Lover becomes one of the most influential pop albums of all time. 

The first track, “I Forgot That You Existed”, pokes fun at herself for being petty. It acts as the transition from Reputation, an album all about revelling in being vindictive. Don’t get me wrong, Reputation is some of her strongest work, but as she grows up, she’s shedding that skin and blossoming. I Forgot That You Existed is either about Calvin Harris or Kanye West or some combination of those two narratives, but the sentiment is the same: she no longer has time to be in the middle of trivial disputes. This is a fairly mature take on what has previously been a hot button topic for her, what she has formerly attracted like a magnet. 

The album was produced in part by Jack Antonoff, who had a hand in producing her landmark transition into pop, 1989, as well as a few projects with Lorde and Lana Del Rey. The production is complex, layered, and full of texture. There are sounds that Swift’s music has never heard before, from sensual saxophone in “False Gods” to minimal toy-box piano in “It’s Nice To Have A Friend” to echoing reverb on “The Archer”. 

The writing on Lover is Swift’s most sophisticated and yet she never loses her dreamy and fantasy-focused playfulness. In songs like “Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince” and “Death By A Thousand Cuts”, she creates fictional worlds of pain and heartbreak without lingering too much on either. Primarily, this album focuses on love and intimacy, and the title track, which was released prior to the album, exemplifies the general themes quite well. “Lover”, the third track, acts as a photo album for her relationship with Joe Alwyn, describing in detail small hidden corners of their romance from sparkling Christmas lights, to slumber parties with their friends. She speaks openly and endearingly to him, “at every table, I’ll save you a seat.” The song, and on a larger scale, the entire track list shows a side of Swift that she hasn’t shown off in a very long time, a side that’s just, well, sweet. 

This album sounds like Polaroid pictures, vanilla candles, love notes written in yearbooks. It sounds like drinking beer at picnic tables with your friends, like sunsets and sunrises, like dyeing your roommate’s hair pink. This album is comforting, yet courageous; it’s bold and empathetic; and above all, it’s grown up. With Lover, Taylor Swift has reached a place where she is ready to love and be loved. 

[colleenwomack]

Post-Austin City Limits at Emo’s

I was sitting on my couch last week wallowing in self pity as I scrolled through Instagram. There was story after story of Austin City Limits weekend one wristbands, and after every single one I was struck with a little bit more FOMO than I had before. The line up was stuffed full of people that I was absolutely dying to see, from Lizzo to RL Grime to Kacey Musgraves; but there I was, empty-handed and burning with envy. That was, until I scrolled by an advertisement for the ACL Late Night Shows. 

A little background for you: I’m a little bit of a rave girl. I love dubstep, house, techno— you name it. So when I saw that Hippie Sabotage, TroyBoi, and GRiZ were all hosting afterparties at Emo’s the same weekend? I nearly cried. I threw $110 of my savings account (this is considered an emergency, right?) at the Austin City Limits website and got ready to throw down every night by myself. 

Hippie Sabotage was on the Thursday night before the festival. They’re a sibling duo out of Sacramento, California, and their music toes the line between swampy, bass-heavy dubstep and ethereal, sensual house. Their style is aggressive without being imposing. With all the “I don’t give a fuck,” and “open up the pit,” chants, I almost felt like I was at a punk show. Hippie’s opener, Sebastian Paul wasn’t a typical rave opener, falling more in line with Brockhampton than Skrillex, but they were a good warm up. Hippie Sabotage is an interesting duo because they’re indie before they’re electronica, so their crowd isn’t your typical dance/festival type. There was a refreshing blend of hip-hop heads, classic wooks, and glitter-covered rave babies, and every one of us moshed together. Hippie Sabotage are performers with a capital “P,” and I didn’t leave disappointed.

Friday night was TroyBoi. It was also the first day of ACL, so the crowd was primarily college kids and was vastly different from the crowd the night before. cozymason was his first opener. It was my second time seeing cozy and he delivered once again, with dirty disco tracks and smooth transitions. The second opener, pluko, was not as impressive. His set seemed a little amateur and a little eager, but he managed to get the crowd moving, which is all that matters. TroyBoi came on at around midnight, and to sum it up: his set was filthy as fuck. He dropped brain-numbing bass and trap for the entirety of his hour-and-a-half long set. I have never headbanged so hard in my life. His remix of “Ring My Bell” by Anita Ward had everyone losing their goddamn minds. TroyBoi stole my little bass-baby heart.

Griz performed on Sunday night. His opener CAPYAC had a low-key set, and they were a pretty good gateway to the night. But when Griz got onstage, the energy of the entire venue shifted. Griz’s music has this gorgeous power to bring people together. Where Hippie and Troy both had sets that everyone got down and dirty to, Griz’s set was the EDM equivalent of singing “Kumbaya” around a campfire. His music is approachable, funky, and just really fucking fun. He dived a little deeper into hardcore without abandoning his original style. His remix of “ABC” by The Jackson 5 sent a wave of good vibes through the crowd. Every drop was like candy exploding from a piñata. 

Between the Emo’s tickets and all the white claws I bought, my bank account is completely drained this week, but to say I didn’t enjoy every second of the ACL Late Night Shows would be a lie. There’s something special about EDM that a lot of people don’t understand. There's a camaraderie between everyone who goes to those shows and the producers that play them. These smaller after shows allow these DJs to spin for people who really love their music, not for people who were just at the right stage at the right time. I ended up going to ACL weekend two anyway, and none of these artists disappointed there either, but these late night performances left me feeling more fulfilled and more turned up than before. 

[colleenwomack]

“No, You and Your Seven Friends Can’t Crash at My Place”: A Guide to Surviving ACL

Austin City Limits, or ACL for short, is one of the most looked-forward to events in Austin, well, for some. For others, the two-weekend-long event is just thirty added minutes to their already long commute to work. If you live in Austin or go to school here, October is a month of complete chaos. 450,000 people attend over both weekends, making this already crowded city almost unbearable. Apart from traffic being insane, uber prices sky-rocketing, and your favorite bars being overrun by outsiders, ALC brings a certain energy to the city: one of excitement, anticipation, and lots and lots of booze. If you’ve decided that the music festival isn’t really your speed or that you’ll watch and cheer your drunk friends on through Instagram, here’s a guide to surviving ACL.

Learn to say NO

Everyone who has ever lived in Austin knows that there’s barely enough room for a sectional and a TV stand in your apartment, so when Doug and Chandler from high school slide into your DMs asking if they can stay with you for weekend one? You just have to laugh. Saying no to every person who wants to use your one bedroom as their own personal Airbnb will not only save you on your electric and water bill, but also might save you some sanity. 

Stock up at the liquor store

With the arrival of nearly half a million people in Travis County in October, your neighborhood Total Wine will look like a Walmart during the apocalypse. Make sure you stock up on White Claw variety packs and 24-racks of Lone Star before all the broke millennials from California get there first. The only thing worse than having to deal with the ACL crowds, is having to do it sober. 

Avoid 6th Street at all costs

If you’re anything like me, the only time you go to the bars is when your friends are in town and they drag you into an Uber against your will. Austin City Limits is like when all of your friends are in town, and all of everyone’s friends are in town, too. So you can imagine what downtown is like on the days leading up to and following ACL. Save yourself from getting your Juul stolen by a bunch of 18 year olds with fake IDs and instead hit up some smaller bars as far as humanly possible away from Zilker and Sixth. 

Don’t use the bike lane OR the sidewalk

If you think that the scooter problem is bad now, just wait for 450,000 drunk people to be using them at every given opportunity. The surge prices for Uber and Lyft result in a miserable increase of scooter use throughout the city. If you’re a pedestrian or biker in Austin, you’re going to want to start taking the bus everyday to avoid the lawless and chaotic use of electric scooters zooming past you at literally break-neck speeds. The only upside to this would be how many hilarious wipeouts you’ll get to witness on the daily in October.

Just Leave

If you don’t plan on attending Austin City Limits, hate fighting insane crowds of festival-goers, and really don’t want to run into your friends from high school, a Megabus ticket out of town starts at about $20. Save yourself the headache and just leave!

[colleenwomack]

Tugboat Tattoo and the Austin Underground Tattoo Scene

It was another ninety-something degree night in Austin, as I sat on the hard-wood floors of my friend Taylor’s* apartment. The room smelled slightly of house paint-- remnants of a little redecorating project-- and some sativa blend that we all like to smoke. Over tinny laptop speakers and casual kick-back chatter was that signature buzzing of a tattoo gun, oscillating in and out as two artists took turns finishing a mammoth thigh tattoo on my eighteen-year-old roommate. Previously, this space had been occupied by a friend of Taylor’s that he had met in his time at the University of Texas, but it has been recently transformed into a makeshift tattoo parlor. Surreal flash designs drawn on notebook paper replaced movie posters and framed vinyls. Where a bed and desk once were, now stands a saran-wrapped medical table. Behind closed doors, and only discovered via word-of-mouth, Taylor has started his own private studio.

I met Taylor, known on Instagram as @tugboat_tattoo, about a year ago after a co-op party in West Campus. He’s one of my roommate’s close friends, and so by association, has become one of mine as well. On our first meeting he showed me three large abstract paintings he had done after being temporarily bound to a wheelchair, and later, showed us the tattoo he had gotten as a reminder of the incident that landed him there-- a cartoon bone for every one that he had broken. Taylor is young, freshly 21, and an Austin native. His apartment is only a few blocks away from UT’s sprawling campus in a cozy complex hidden beneath towering student accommodation buildings. This is where we first got to know each other, and where he now has a steady flow of friends join him in his new studio. Taylor got his start through a few other DIY artists in Austin. “I had a few friends in the Austin community who were tattooing for a living out of a private studios-- they noticed my interest in the trade and helped me find my legs professionally.” He learned the trade by allowing them to practice on him, by asking questions and tips about their techniques, and in turn, picking up the gun himself. His friends and mentors served as a blank canvas for him to experiment on, find his own distinct style-- a hazy, surrealist sketchbook type that’s funny, weird, and playful-- and really hone in on his craft. “I started around February and did maybe three tattoos on myself and my girlfriend at the time, but then didn’t have my first client until I started my [Instagram] account in July.”

Interestingly, Taylor isn’t alone in his behind-closed-doors beginnings. There’s an entire network of amateur artists across the country that rely on social media and word-of-mouth for business. In fact, social media plays an integral role in building a client base in the underground scene. “It is really open and encouraging. Even the bigger accounts are super helpful and informative. I can always count on them to support my art and steer me in the right direction.” Instagram has allowed DIY artists like Taylor to find and support each other, not only by promoting each other’s work, but also allowing them to meet in person and collaborate on pieces together. There’s a camaraderie between these artists built on a passion for a creative outlet with lasting effects.

To Taylor and other artists like him, the allure of this underground, unlicensed industry is in the absolute freedom that they’re allowed. When asked why he didn’t take the more traditional route, Taylor said, “The apprenticeship process is very limiting to the art you’re allowed to create, as well as very hierarchical. They treat apprentices like they are being hazed for a fraternity.” However, many licensed professionals find this charming DIY setup a bastardization of the art form and disrespectful to those who have made a career out of doing things the right way. They find this method of tattooing unsafe or even dangerous. Blood-borne pathogens, health code violations, or just simply uninformed or unskilled artists are all a threat. But Taylor makes a point of keeping up to health code, as well as all of the other private studios he associates with. “We adapt almost safer guidelines than shops in my shop and the shops that my mentors have created. Anyone close to us in this community is encouraged to ensure they meet all the same health guidelines by sharing info and methods between one another. This creates a little feedback loop for health and hygienic practices by holding one another accountable.” 

Taylor’s next project is a “tattour” as he likes to call it: a road trip with his friend and creative partner @mr.lewk cross-country, tattooing in his friends’ studios along the way. “I’m going to New Orleans, Atlanta, Charleston, DC, New York, Newhaven, Toronto, and Chicago. I’m super excited to be tatting people in different studios across the U.S.” As boutique studios and DIY artists are on the rise, Taylor’s underground art form is becoming more and more streamlined. In a time dominated by social media and online communication, tattoo artists like him are bound to find solace in the vast community backing him. 

*Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of individuals.