Is Your Feminism Intersectional?:Â #PlusIsNotEqual
By Porttia Portis
When youâre plus sized, youâre all too aware of lifeâs limitations, mainly the ways that society refuses to cater to varying body types. Shopping for new clothes can either mean disappointing treks through âstraight-sizedâ sections where you leave with only accessories, sifting through the viciously outdated styles relegated to plus-size racks, or being forced to shell out at least twice as much cash for en vogue items online. There are the condescending looks you receive when eating in public, no matter how healthy your food choice, and my personal favorite: âYouâre pretty...for a fat girl.â
These are just a few of the daily struggles experienced by anyone whoâs even marginally peaked into the overweight range of the BMI. Through just about every form of media, weâre inundated with images that thinness equals happiness, reinforcing the mindset that fatness is something to be ashamed of -- a mindset to be ingrained in us as early as humanly possible.
For me, this meant years of obsessing over my weight, to the point where I weighed myself at least 10 times a day at points. It meant secretly denying myself as many meals as possible, in the vain hope that it would affect that number, and that I was unworthy of being loved until it dropped to some âacceptableâ range. It wasnât until I discovered the internetâs body positive community that I found out I wasnât alone in these feelings, and if it werenât for finding these like-minded people, I donât think my mindset or behaviors would have ever changed.
For every bastion of advocates for fat babes everywhere, there is a similar (if not greater) number of movements looking to co-opt the struggle, preaching equality all while blatantly ignoring the actual plight of the plus size community. Itâs because of this that we still end up with campaigns that donât feature anyone who isnât pear-shaped/larger than a size 16, or that rely on the under XL crowd as the primary faces of their causes.
Before plus can truly be equal, society must acknowledge the slew of bodies that donât fit into the narrow, pre-packaged image weâve come to associate with plus sizes. Additionally, it shouldnât be assumed that larger bodies are any less obsessed with fashion and presenting themselves well, purely based on size. With the potential buying power of the demographic, how is it that retailers still remain too afraid to treat us like human beings with discerning tastes and expendable funds?
The fact that retailers like Lane Bryant can remain silent until the cause becomes trendy, or a medium like O Magazine -- born of a woman lambasted for years because of her weight -- can shame women for their personal clothing preferences reveal that fatphobia is not only real, but a deeply embedded cultural norm. Even when given the opportunity to advocate for an exclusive body positive society, those with the potential for the strongest voices still silence themselves in the hopes that being plus sized is just a temporary stop on the quest for a smaller, happier life.
But who's to say that fat canât equal happy? If it werenât for seeing the different shapes, sizes and fashion senses of the body positive community, I could have never learned to be comfortable with the body I was given. Just like itâs important to see racial and gender representations of oneself in the media, seeing a body type thatâs reflective of your own can do wonders for cultivating a healthy self-image. For plus to be equal, we need to see more examples of what it actually means.
Is Your Feminism Intersectional?: Team Nicki vs Team Miley
By Porttia Portis
These days, itâs almost impossible to escape news about Miley Cyrus and Nicki Minaj. Even before the heavily publicized beef (and the call out heard âround the world), the two women have been both lauded and reprimanded by the press and public for their stances and representations of feminist values. But the height of the feud -- however entertaining or annoying -- shows that there are two starkly different sides to feminism that often go ignored, until incidences like this. For now, letâs call these two sides Team Nicki and Team Miley.
Team Miley is largely representative of âmainstreamâ feminism. While its main focuses are on sexual liberation and dismantling the patriarchy, thereâs an air of privilege that seems to turn a blind eye on things like cultural appropriation -- especially if itâs a piece/part of a culture that can be co-opted into a fashion statement. This privilege also makes concerns like systematic discrimination hard to understand, as itâs something that this side has had less direct experience with.
Team Nicki is on the other end of the spectrum, with more of a focus on intersectional feminism. Itâs inclusive of virtually all facets of the feminist plight, from race and gender, to body positivity, disability awareness, and everything in between. This side acknowledges the various struggles people endure in their fight for equality, and that no two experiences are exactly the same.
Granted, this is admittedly a broad grasp of the two sides, because people tend to fall on a spectrum with their beliefs. However, the way that both women have been portrayed during this whole debacle mirrors the same separation in feminist rhetoric that birthed this column.
Through decrying a pervasively racist system, Nick Minaj was labeled just about everything negative you can imagine, piling onto the years that sheâs received racially-based media backlash for everything from her hair and body type, to her talent and artistry. Seeing that racism is a deeply-rooted issue, itâs only natural that there was some emotion involved.
Miley Cyrus, born into a life of privilege and long viewed as a media darling, felt that Nicki did not express herself in some type of âacceptableâ manner, and chose to focus on the emotional context of the situation, rather than the actual issue at hand. Aside from the fact that her input wasnât really warranted, her actions were just another example of respectability politics that have been used to silence and control PoC for generations.
This isnât to say that Miley may or may not have had some valid concerns, but itâs really hard to take someone seriously on racial matters, when the person has used PoC and their cultures as props for her own gain. For Team Miley, itâs too often that these disparities fall by the wayside in lieu of the larger cause of feminism, because for them, gender inequality is the issue at hand. But for Team Nicki, there are a slew of other concerns in conjunction to gender inequality that take precedence, and canât simply be ignored.
This week, Chromatics offer a taste of whatâs next with this single released through Adult Swim. New material out of the Italians Do It Better camp is always a welcome addition to slowly budding autumn playlists.
Is Your Feminism Intersectional?: A Genderless Target
By Porttia Portis
Compared to most major retailers, Target is one of the lesser evils on the political correctness scale. Sure, the company has had its fair share of faux pas, but itâs starting to get the right idea on matters of gender inclusivity.Â
Unless you live under a rock (and itâs totally cool if you do), youâve probably heard about the storeâs recent decision to remove gender-distinct sections in its toy, electronic and household departments. The clothing section will maintain most of its boundaries due to differences in sizing, but it will no longer separate sections by wall color. This move is not only indicative of changing times, but reflective of how gender distinctions are a social construct forced on children from an early age.
Iâm pretty sure that most people at some point in time have felt dissatisfaction with assigned gender roles or biases. Lego toys in kids meals were sometimes more appealing than those annoying, immovable doll options. Barbies are just as capable of action as G.I. Joes (and come with more accessories to boot). Iâve met little girls who will choose Batman, Ninja Turtle and/or Star Wars merchandise, given the option, and pink lost its stigma back in 2003.
Why are conservatives so hell-bent against Targetâs decision? Unless youâre searching for reasons to be angry at the world, generally itâs best to avoid comments sections. But my natural curiosity led me to discover asinine remarks â âhow can we find tampons if there are no signs?â â which wouldnât be so bad if they werenât spouted from the braying meninist types, who obviously didnât read the articles they were posting below.
Rather than focusing energy on actual issues of discrimination (where were these people during the companyâs Equal Opportunity suit?), the dissenting crowd has shown its ass through its fear of a changing status quo. As science has actually proven, sex and gender are not interchangeable; gender is purely a social entity.
Kids donât care about gender-specific merchandise or their implications until the idea is placed in their heads by adults whoâve grown to abide by these arbitrary rules to fit into âthe norm.â But what has long been considered the standard doesnât reflect the reality of todayâs society: people fit along a broad spectrum of gender identity. What we once thought of as stark pink and blue is rapidly turning into a beautiful gradient of hues.
This yearâs NYC Latino Punk Festival brought bands from all over the country to la manzana podrida to celebrate punks of color, and DIY culture. The fest was a success throughout the second weekend of August, but one act in particular caught our eye on closing night.Â
San Antonioâs Amygdala brings a socially conscious edge to their hardcore punk sensibilities. Front woman, Bianca Quinones, is enthralling to watch live, as she exorcises her violent rage over the societal oppression and disenfranchisement of women and people of color.Â
The five-piece is back home in Texas after spending the month of August on a cross-country tour. They are currently in the process of completing their first full-length album, and will be back on the road touring the west coast in December.
I remember my first Fuck Yeah Fest (FYF) in 2013, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs headlined the first night and Breeders performed Last Splash in its entirety. For the second night that year, My Blood Valentine made us wear ear plugs for their notoriously loud show and Beach Houseâs Victoria LeGrand pulled us in with her dream pop as only she can do. Not only was it female performer-heavy, but it offered variety for the never ending universe of music fans.
Things got a little more diluted in 2014. Slowdive and Grimes sub-headlined, as well as Haim. Â Last yearâs festival sucked, but I was willing to give 2015 another chance since my cousins were going this time around.
Around April every year, the lineup is announced. Despite the fact that I was already going, I found 2015 had the measliest lineup yet. Just take a look at the lineup flyer plastered on every social media outlet and music publication on the planet. Saturdayâthe first dayâKanye, Bloc Party, Chet Faker, etc. Then, nine bands in, you spot the all-female post-punk band Savages. That is the first band on the lineup that at least has one female. Seven more male bands down the roster, you spot Melodyâs Echo Chamber. Out of both days, a total of how many of the bands contain a female? Twelve. Â Twelve out of 60 acts on the bill this year had at least one female in the band. The only sub headliners that were women were FKA Twigs and Solange.
LA Weekly noticed it too, âLollapalooza, Bonnaroo, Coachella and FYF Festâs flyers all look pretty empty once you take away the dudes,â and it does. Take away the male performers in this matrix, and youâre left with a pinprick of recent independent female music. This is obviously an ongoing problem. The absence of powerful female presence at music festivals undermines the female performer, as well as the female music fan. Sure, I screamed with excitement when I got the notification that Kanye replaced Frank Ocean, but it was interesting to me that mainstream male performers couldnât sell out the festival like years before.
Where were the female headliners like Bjork, who has been in and out of world-renowned festivals this year? A friend of mine brought up St. Vincent, someone who could have made 2015 sell out faster than 2014. What about Sleater-Kinney, who pretty much had a sold out tour this spring? And isnât queen Patti Smith performing Horses at festivals overseas? I could go on and on.
The actual festival itself was not a sausage fest, making it easier than ever to get through the security lines, which are separated by gender due to pat downs. I saw more ladies than ever before flood LA Sports Arena.
One thing I did notice and internalize, was that although a majority of the sets were male, it didnât stop the main male acts from bringing out female performers as special guests to the stage. On the first night, Chet Faker brought out BANKS for their duet of â1998.â Kanye pulled a fast one and started to sing âFour Five Secondsâ with a caught off-guard Rihanna. The crowd went nuts. On day two, Flume brought out Lorde. Were headline-worthy females only good enough for special cameos during male sets this year? Rihanna and Lorde could have easily sold out the festival if they had the headlining spots, but werenât even given a chance. Sure, I donât know who could have been a contender for the headliners, but the effort seems lazy and unaware. Companies hire booking agencies to ensure diversity. So why canât a major festival, with their. Dutch boy finger in the culture dam, recognize they had done wrong?
At the end of the day, I realize I attended a popular West Coast music festival aimed at the not-as-binary but surprisingly-still-incredibly-binary millennial crowd, which is still contributing to a major problem in the music industry. The message I received from FYF was clear this year: popular female performers in 2015 are still not important enough to be considered, booked, or paid for their contributions to the music industry.
Is Your Feminism Intersectional?: Menstrual Marijuana
By Porttia Portis
The strongly debated issue of the legalization of marijuana in the United States has gained recent support due to its medicinal properties. Lawmakers and citizens alike have attempted to destigmatize the public perception of the plant, and advocate its use as a viable health treatment for chronic conditions such as cancer and autism, and more recently, a push to market the substance for menstrual relief.
This is exciting, since weâve had glimpses of what we could accomplish with legalized weed, from better and cheaper access, to a bounty of cannabis-infused food stuffs. But before we slip into the daze of menstrual marijuanaâs potential, itâs important to note that not all stoners are treated as equals. Although smokers often view weed as a fun, recreational drug whose worst side effect is a case of the munchies, instances like Sandra Bland show us that the plant is just as easily used to demonize women. As medical marijuana receives increased support as a menstrual remedy, how will it reflect on female prison populations, and the public perception of marijuana users?
Weed is big business, both as a consumer product and as a part of the prison industrial complex. Studies show that while more than 50 percent of federal inmates were charged with drug-related crimes, 27 percent were for weed-related arrests as of 2013. In 2010, $496 million was spent on incarcerating people for marijuana arrests. Conversely, in the grips of Coloradoâs recent marijuana boom, the state is projected to make $58.7 million in tax revenue in its first fiscal year since legalization.
Many people who experience menstrual cycles could attest that marijuana is a great alternative to relieve many, if not all, of the symptoms associated with PMS and endometriosis. A search on Leafly, the worldâs largest cannabis information resource, reveals 195 strains that help with PMS. In the advent of menstrual marijuanaâs success, this could translate to so many more options for relief than that small sliver of an aisle dedicated to over-the-counter options in most stores. Great, right? Just imagine a world where smoking a jay for cramps is as commonplace as grabbing a bar of dark chocolate.
But what does this mean for weed legislation of the past, present and future? As it stands, there are 23 states with legislation in support of medicinal marijuana, with the other 27 falling on some varying degree from prohibited to moderate (decriminalized). California, Colorado, Oregon and Washington have a prominent bud culture, where medicinal weed is not only supported, but a growing part of the societal norm. On the other end of the spectrum, in Oklahoma, Florida and Arizona, possession can land you anything from fines in excess of thousands of dollars, to life in prison.
Although studies show that marijuana was used for various reasons throughout history, the restrictive politics in the U.S. have turned the plant into a scapegoat in a decades-long war on drugs. Amidst the countryâs reputation as a worldwide leader in incarcerated populations, two-thirds of women in federal prison were charged with nonviolent drug charges, with a clear racial disparity: Black Americans are four times more likely to be arrested than White Americans, even though usage rates are roughly the same. Marijuana arrests are made every 37 seconds in the United States, primarily targeting Black Americans.
Prison statistics tell a troublesome tale of racial discrimination, as the public face of marijuana patients is largely homogeneous, focusing on White Americans as patients, rather than criminals. The business of marijuana tells two stories â one where white women can be seen as consumers of the industry, and another where women of color are seen as numbers within the prison industrial complex.
If weâre ever going to enjoy a world where weed is viewed as a cure instead of an illicit drug, itâs important to create equal access and revise the system that benefits from the discrimination of its users. As profitable as marijuana is, the culture must shift away from solely seeing individuals as consumers, but start thinking of  them as patients as well. No one wants to risk going to jail over PMS.
Almost a week after itâs record-breaking debut, the highly anticipated N.W.A. biopic âStraight Outta Comptonâ is still the number one movie in America. However, as Dee Barnes pointed out this Tuesday on Gawker, the film practiced some pretty flagrant revisionist history when it came to womenâs roles in the 1980âs west coast rap scene. Thatâs to say that they were completely cut out all together. Color me shocked.
One storyline I was particularly disappointed to see left out of the movie, was that of J.J. Fad. Discovered by Eazy E, J.J. Fad was a part of Ruthless Recordsâ original roster, and went on to become the first ever female rap group to be nominated for a Grammy. Theyâre known widely for their biggest hit, the electro-rap classic, âSupersonicâ. Unfortunately, following the monster success of N.W.A, J.J. Fad was parked on the Ruthless Records back burner. Though influential, their run was short-lived. They now tour occasionally, after reuniting in 2009.
Lady Leshurrâs âQueenâs Speechâ made a triumphant return to the internet this week, and is rapidly gaining steam on social media. The fourth installment of the freestyle series already racked up over 6 million Facebook views in its first twelve hours online. The English rapper, whoâs been recording since age fourteen, first caught our attention when she started the monthly series back in February. The videos do well to showcase her infectiously catchy and clever wordplay, with topical punchlines and driving minimalist beats.
GORILLA VS. BEAR 5 | DALLAS, TX | 7.31.15
photos/words by Andi Harman
Dallas is plagued with music festivals and day parties, but none inadvertently celebrate gender equality more than the criminally underrated Gorilla vs. Bear Festival. Iâm fortunate enough to say that I have yet to miss one of these smartly orchestrated evenings at the Granada Theater. This past Friday, the local blog simultaneously celebrated the 10th year of its existence and the 5th year of the festival.
In 2012, a notorious freelancer wrote one of the most worthless concert reviews this city has known, referring to the event as a âGirlapalooza.â Thankfully, such brash criticisms had zero affect on GvB, but elicited a cosign-able lean in moment from former Dallas Observer music editor Audra Schroeder. This exchange will remain a highlight in the timeline of music journalism in Dallas.
Gorilla vs. Bear Festâs penchant for female-driven music cascaded into this yearâs line-up. Five of the seven acts were either female solo artists or female-fronted bands. The pinnacle of the evening came from direct headliner support Lower Dens, whose cogent execution and straightforward presentation felt like a solid landing after the precarious showings from the prior acts. The night ramped up to a dance party and disco ball light display from Jamie xx.
As the crowd spilled out from under Granadaâs marquee, next door at Sundown, Young Ejectaâs Leanne Macomber was somewhere in the middle of her understated solo set. The sound engineer seemed flummoxed by her minimal set-up. Regardless of accompaniment, Macomberâs vocals walk a tightrope above inventive tracks, resulting in a chaotic elegance.
By: Vanessa Quilantan
Editor's note: Playlister is a reoccuring column where a guest author builds a themed playlist, and writes an accompanying essay about it.
Around here, people like me usually say, âI wasnât born here, but I got here as fast as I could!â But if I was being honest, I would probably say that I was dragged. Regardless of how unbearably hot or politically problematic it may be, during the twenty years I lived in Texas, I fell in love with a place that became my home, and with people who became my family. In three days, Iâm moving to New York City. As enthralling as it is to start a new chapter in my life, Iâm preparing myself for a difficult goodbye this weekend. For me, this playlist is a cure for homesickness, a cultural credential, and essentially the story of my time here in Texas.
I spent my first six years happily surrounded by an enormous extended family in the southern suburbs of Chicago. But for my parents, the south brought much needed opportunity. A job offer for my father, better schools, and a lower cost of living was all it took for a couple of young midwestern parents in the 90s to set their sights on Arlington, Texas. In 1995, it was a huge commuter suburb about thirty minutes southwest of Dallas. Cheap houses were going up everywhere, and it was a popular place to raise kids. Now, ten years later, itâs the home of the Cowboys' stadium, and essentially a giant fucking amusement park. I hated it there.
The culture shock was a lot to take in as a child. My resentment toward my parents for my early displacement was one of many things I rebelled against them for. I missed my cousins back in Chicago and I felt like it wasnât fair that I wouldnât get to grow up with them. I found one of my first cultural comforts in Texas when one of the girls in my first grade class turned me on to Selena.
In Chicago, my grandfather would blare tejano music from his garage while my cousins and I ran around playing outside. So for me, Selenaâs music brought the embrace of familiarity to a strange place full of people I couldnât relate to. Once I discovered Corpus Christiâs queen of cumbia, I found common ground with the girls in school, bonding over our worship of her. I realized for the first time that talking about music was the best way I knew how to communicate with people and make friends. That realization would go on steer the rest of my life.
By the time I hit high school, Texas music was riding a national high. You could turn on the radio at any time and hear Toadies, Erykah Badu, or Paul Wall coming through the speakers. I was spending my weekends bumming rides to Dallas to go see my friends in punk bands play shows in Deep Ellum; a seven-block neighborhood downtown packed with music venues. I knew that I loved music, and that I took it seriously, but I struggled to find my place in it. I experimented with playing and writing my own songs, but never got fully comfortable doing it. I wanted a bigger role to play than passing out flyers or working the merch booth, but I didnât know what that looked like yet.
When I was 19 I moved to Denton, a college town with a thriving music scene about an hour north of my momâs place. I lived in a party house with my four best girlfriends from high school. They were going to college while I continued to aimlessly ingratiate myself into North Texas music. I made a lot more friends in bands, and started going to even more shows. Through a friend, a few of us (including the lead singer of hardcore/crossover band Power Trip) got some entry level work doing data entry for Bank of Americaâs home loan department. It was a high paying day job, but I was depressed and bored. I didnât know what I wanted, but it wasnât the future of mindless corporate middle management I felt descending upon me.
In 2012, I moved to East Dallas, five minutes away from Deep Ellum, where I was spending every night I could at shows. I was still working part-time in mortgaging, but since Iâd picked up my state cosmetology hours in a high school work-release program, I started taking nail appointments out of my bedroom. Thatâs how I met Jessica Roberts.
Jessica was a columnist for an alt-weekly called the Dallas Observer, and a prolific contributor to their music section. After I started doing her nails, we became friends and started going to shows together. Before long, I was contacted by her editor, Audra Schroeder. Audra told me sheâd heard I had a strong knowledge base in music, and asked me to write for her. And with that, I finally found what I had been looking for. Growing up, I felt like only being able to talk to people about music was one of the weirder parts of my personality. Living in Dallas showed me it was actually what I was supposed to be doing. Iâve been a working music critic ever since.
Over the last few years, Iâve spent most of my nights in Deep Ellum with my local compatriots. Iâve met most of the artists on this playlist, and Iâm proud to call some of them friends. The only thing Iâm going to miss more than Texas music, is my Texas people. Iâm going to miss watching Sam Lao sets with the guys from A.Dd+. Iâm going to miss singing along to Big Moe songs with The Outfit, TX. Iâm going to miss smoking cigarettes with Sudie, drinking cheap beer with Sealion, and toasting Topo Chico with DJ Sober. Iâm going to miss walking from one end of Elm Street to the other, passing five of my favorite small room venues and greeting at least ten people I know on the way. There will always be a special place in my heart for this community, and I am a better, more self-actualized person for being a part of it.
I probably would have been perfectly content to stay here for the rest of my life, and I would never rule out coming back one day. But in a sort of multi-generation, transcontinental âGift of the Magiâ kind of way, New York brings the same kind of opportunity for my partner and I, that moving south did for my parents. We are starting a life together, and it makes sense for us to do it there right now. Though it is with a heavy heart, I am ready to see what the future holds outside of my own big, starlit backyard. But when I die, I wanna go to heaven. Texas is the closest that I've been.
--
Honorable mentions
(tracks not available on Spotify)
Automobile by Sealion
The Great Escape by Damaged Good$
Dallas-based dream pop diva Samantha âRatâ Rios has spent the last few months performing heavily around North Texas and crafting a captivating live show, but her 2014 EP âBritishfoldâ is still in heavy rotation at the Pussy Poptimist. Her sweetly operatic vocals float weightlessly over lush synthesizers and strings on songs like the steady driving âRearranged Furniture,â and the slow and low ballad, âFlora vs. Fauna.â
Rios studied theatre at Southern Methodist University, and is preparing for a two-show run of her original play, âNo Gutsâ in downtown Dallas this August. She is also working on a full length visual album featuring her own artwork.
Bullyâs âFeels Likeâ, and the Reclaiming of Female Rage
By Jessi Roti
You would think by 2015, a womanâs complete spectrum of human emotion wouldnât be an anomaly. Nope. Women are always expected to find the silver lining, to carry the weight and be deemed a survivor, waiting for another woman to come and carry the torch. But even the most independent women, the most successful, female artists eventually do (and become even more famous for) whatâs expected of them.
There have been cases of success in spite of this mainstream hunger for the perfect, female artist: Alanis Morrisette, Courtney Love, Kathleen Hanna, Grace Jones, but they are few and far between. More importantly, they are boxed up and discounted for their rage after the initial âtantrumâ is over. Because no one wants to deal with whatâs left over after the break-up or the meltdown, especially when itâs central to a womanâs experience.
Maybe Taylor Swift has risen above this, but her glossy pop isnât angry as it is âsassyâ âa behavior associated with women (often misused as a synonym for âcattyâ), and her lyrics always include moving on the next one, because for Taylor Swift thereâs a better chance of âthe next oneâ already standing in line.
So whatâs left after you get bored of the next one? Bored of the sassy pop song? Grow tired of trying to gloss over simply being pissed off with a catchy, pop anthem? You get angry and youâre allowed to get angry.
Case in point, Nashville quartet Bully and the unrelenting rage that boils over on their debut LP, Feels Like. Squealing with frenetic guitars, the album opener âI Rememberâ features frontwoman and guitarist Alicia Bognannoâs raspy howl tearing down any expectations of femininity or the genre female has become as opposed to the gender. What I mean by female as a genre is the idea that a womanâs anger targets a niche market, that itâs disposable and becomes invalid as soon as a boy or individual performing masculinity comes along to do it âbetter.â
Across ten tracks, Bognanno unleashes a fury that is both soft and hard, but direct the whole way through. This isnât the bombastic rage that Alanis Morrisette threw in your face in 1995 on Jagged Little Pill, or the âIf you canât beat âem, join âem, and fuck âem along the wayâ aggression Courtney Love built Hole around. This is a rage slowly bubbling over, a rage steeped in being tired, LIKE SO OVER IT. Even after those Hole, Alanis Morrisette, L7, Bikini Kill, etc. records âthe boys, the ones adopting the masculine role, havenât learned. This is ultimatum rage âshape up or ship out. A kiss-off to those who will never learn and a letter never sent from the ones who are sick of being emotionally drained by them.
Men arenât writing songs about women lacking emotional depth, instead that notch on the spectrum of human emotion is used against us âand weâre pissed. Billing âemotions for twoâ to one person is a toxic manipulation, a way to keep the feminized partner in check. Not to say the feminized partner is never at fault. Bully explores this on the song, âTryingâ with Bognanno hurling her bad habits into her own face, but dealing with them nonetheless. Because refusing to find your way out of a box you put yourself in is almost worse than finding the way out of a box someone else put you in.
Feels Like is both a confession and a denial, a bag of burden shouldered by a woman just trying to figure it out without putting blame on anyone in particular, but calling out all participantsâ actions. On âTrash,â Bognanno declares, âI know Iâm not a child and this is unacceptableâ while on âPictureâ she opposes, daring to say she actually âhatesâ having her picture taken, as if to say âStop taking photos of me, trying to manipulate my image into something itâs not, something that you want.â Like when a stranger tells a woman sheâs so pretty, why doesnât she smile? Itâs 2015, I didnât know women were still meant to aspire to the âStepford Wifeâ syndrome.
What Alicia Bognanno has written reflects the female experience of today while acknowledging that the work thatâs been done wasnât enough. Female rage, the idea of the âangry, female singer-songwriterâ is sold and branded as a fleeting commodity, a show for those deeming her anger as a âpassing fad.â Itâll go away when she finds the right man, or the right job, or is at the end of her menstrual cycle. Thatâs not real.
On âMilkman,â Bognannoâs vocals erupt through the speakers as her drawl cracks around the lyrics, âI used to be shyâ shouted over and over again. Keyword: used. Embrace the past by letting your rage free you for the future and donât let anyone tell you that you have to wait for someone or something else to make it better. Let Bullyâs sonic waves rush over your weary soul because when it feels like the world is crashing around you and you just want to scream, it might be the quickest way to getting back up on your feet.
SONG PREMIERE: A new trio of female collaborators has emerged from Denton, Texas: Claire Morales, Jena Pyle (Layer Cake, Sundae Crush), and Ariel Hartley (Pearl Earl). They delivered to us this Omnichord-drenched cover of The Everly Brothers' classic "All I Have to Do Is Dream" and it quickly became a staple in our summer soundtrack.Â
The sentimental 1958 tune is transformed from an iconic Nashville cheek-to-cheeker into a lulling bedroom confession with expanded vocal harmonies and washes of guitar.
As your eighteenth birthday approaches fast, I feel compelled to gift you with a little wisdom, woman-to-almost-woman. You might be asking what possible advice I could offer some rich, beautiful jail bait such as yourself; since I am a mere normo working-class broad with no tabloid pull. Well, I might not own any Balmain, and you probably make more on a sponsored Instagram post than I have ever made writing open letters to celebrities on the internet, but that matters not. Knowledge is free and useful in any tax bracket!
Iâm only eight years older than you, and I remember the nagging self-questioning that takes over when youâre preparing to become a legal adult. Youâre probably thinking a lot lately about what kind of woman youâre becoming, and what you really want out of your life. The decisions you make now seem to have higher stakes than before, and that pressure takes getting used to. Hitting a new milestone is always a little scary, but I think if you keep a couple of things in mind, everythingâs going to work out. Probably. Who knows? Look at how great Kimâs doing.
Before we dive in, I just want to make it known that I would consider myself a Kardashian fan. I find your family relatively harmless to the pop culture zeitgeist, and applaud their sense of  entrepreneurship. Some may find you vapid, and claim you hold too much influence. But if it wasnât you guys, it would just be somebody else.Â
The media needs people like you. Your lives are the real-time soap opera that distracts us from our own boring, sad, poor people problems. Iâm not mad about it, sounds like a hell of a way to make a living. To be honest, I wouldnât hesitate to snatch the shit out of that golden ticket if it came my way. So keep in mind, Iâm on your side here.
First things first, the flagrant and arrogant cultural appropriation. You gotta kick that shit to the curb, babe. I know how instinctual it can be to turn up your nose, flip your hair and balk at peer criticism; resting on the laurel that anyone who cares enough to scrutinize you, must just be jealous of you. My mom always told me that too when I got picked on at school.Â
However, let me assure you, these critics are not just jealous. These people are trying to let you know that you look like the weird, sheltered kid in school who keeps touching her black friendâs hair, because her parents havenât taught her not totally derp out around people and cultures unfamiliar to her own. I donât think you realize how excruciatingly cringe-worthy that is to watch. Take your cornrows out, avoid black lights. Itâs offensive. It makes everyone uncomfortable. Just chill.
Now Iâm going to tell you something that I wish somebody would have told me when I was your age; you are going to date so many wack rappers in your life, before you really figure out what you want in a partner. I cannot stress that enough.Â
Iâm sure at seventeen there are plenty of reasons to love Tyga. He probably gets free bottle service, heâs got nothing but down time to spend with you. And Iâm sure through your rose colored contact lenses, the very real problems that come with statutory rape laws and stealing a baby daddy must seem like a romantic, whirlwind, Romeo and Juliet-esque amor prohibido. Trust me, I get it. But as you come into womanhood, try to think about how Romeo and Juliet were stupid fucking teenagers, and how Tyga is in his mid-twenties.
In your life, you are going to meet a lot of smooth talking, garbage-bar spitting rappers whose albums are going triple wood in the hood. And you are probably going to fall in love with a lot of them too. Thatâs okay! Because itâs all a part of growing up figuring out what you want.Â
As the rumor mill swirls that you and Tyga plan to wed once youâre legal, at least consider a prenup. Â Donât deprive yourself of valuable life experiences like waiting for rides that never come, combing through your significant otherâs DMâs, or threatening side chicks. There are important life lessons to be learned from these things, and youâre going to go through them with lots of different kinds of assholes before you finally get fed up.
Thanks for hearing me out. In honor of your pending legalization, here is an early Leo birthday horoscope, before they come out in all the August fashion magazines.
âYou are a gracious and humble spirit, known for never being without a smile on your face. Get outside of your comfort zone this month and try something new, like a college course on societal race relations or a tolerance break.â
