Last Friday, I sat down for an interview about sexism, music, and Kesha with Women and Gender Studies professor, Anne Jansen. I waited out on the bench across from her office, palms slightly sweaty. As a person who is seriously considering journalism to be her calling, this marked the first interview--potentially--of my entire career. It was no small feat in my mind, and I’d spent all week worrying about/polishing my questions; a habit that already felt professional enough. When she arrived, she ushered me into her office and we greeted each other. I quickly tried to shake my nerves; it was business time.
I have pretty much been desperate to take a Women and Gender Studies class since my sophomore year of high school, when I first embraced feminism. But, with the sometimes daunting task of fulfilling prerequisites, I haven’t yet had time to take my long desired WGS. Yet, as I’ve gone through my freshman year, and articulated this eagerness to my peers, I’ve been consistently referred to Anne Jansen. You can imagine my excitement when she emailed me back and agreed to give an interview! So when I went in I was charged with an extra sort of anticipation; an allover sense of excitement and good fortune. She did not disappoint. She gave excellent, thought-provoking answers to each of my questions, and had a great deal of evidence to support all her claims.
Though my paper is based around the Kesha case, our conversation tended to range in more general terms about sexism in music. She talked representation, body politics, and money, making several interesting points that caused me to look at my research from another angle. Often, the things she said inspired new questions in me for her, and ultimately for my research. I shifted in my seat, mid-conversation, realizing that we’d exceeded our 15-minute time slot. She had a meeting with an advisee, who to my relief, appeared to be running late. I had just one more question written in my notebook, confident that I had nearly all the material I needed. I asked her, “What do you see as a major problem with representation in female musicians--and I guess--women in general in highly publicized mediums like this [music]?” She cites, “the scrutiny applied to their bodies.” It was an answer so simple, yet so integral to the perception of all women in society, that I’d somehow overlooked it. I had an aha! moment. An epiphany for a new train of thought chugging into my Kesha Grand Central Station.
When the interview was finished, I stood up and shook her hand, and thanked her twice for the interview before striding off down the hall. I let out a sigh of relief, glad that the first test-run of my career went so well. The interview process was one I could do. I really enjoyed getting to hear another opinion on the case, and an expert assessment of current sexist media. Having a fresh perspective on the case was not only helpful in opening up new topics of interest, but it also renewed some of my former passion for this project. Ultimately, I think the interview couldn’t have gone better, and it was a real learning experience that I wholeheartedly enjoyed. I left Karpen, sun shining on my face, feeling like I’d made some real progress. Across the way, my friend called to me from an Eno. I happily trotted over to him, already gearing up to tell him about the interview I just came from.