some albums i enjoyed in 2020

2020 has been a complete and utter dumpster fire. (no puns intended) the only thing to bring me any solace was music. i could be basic by beginning this post by saying the typical "music has saved my life" mumbo-jumbo, but i will save that for a later time. i wish i had a better excuse for being less consistent with this blog than i wanted to, but, frankly, i don't really have a good reason, so let's pretend i did.

i trust you all have been on your best behavior, staying indoors and wearing a mask and whatnot, and if you haven't...

well, damn that's crazy...

but the new year is almost upon us and i've determined to be on some fresh stuff for 2021 and not just because i upped and moved my entire life 5 hours up north. that's right. i've finally moved to chicago. and if we're also talking accomplishments, let's also just talk about how i consistently went to about 90% of my therapy appointments (thanks, cynthia). i also deleted all my dating apps (also, thanks to cynthia). and lastly, i also unfollowed everyone that i found remotely irritating and am now pretending that they died because their internet presence felt like an attack on my personal well-being. BUT what kind of year would it be without some sort of wrap-up buzzfeed-type list. i thought that i would like to close this year off with some albums that have truly brought me the kind of peace of mind that i never thought i could achieve during a literal pandemic. 

how to gracefully poop in your crush's home

yes, i know that everyone poops. i know that its really not a big deal, but you know what is a big deal: IMPRESSING PRETTY PEOPLE. personally, i am constantly trying not to ruin the slim chances that i have with interacting with and potentially kissing pretty people. its a nerve-wracking experience to enter the space of someone you're attracted to. BUT the idea of my bowels imploding into their toilet is even more nerve-wracking because what if they were to find out that i blew up their toilet? what if i poop and there's no toilet paper? what if the toilet just doesn't flush? what if they told their homies that my poop smells? what if we break up and their cute homies won't take me out after we break up because they think my poop smells?

as a perpetually horny person, that benefit does not outweigh the risk.

chloe and halle's "ungodly hour" is all about disrupting yourself or die trying

 

so, if we're going to keep it real, i wasn't a big fan of chloe and halle's debut, the kids are alright. i thought it was frankly that: alright. it was a very good debut for two teens just making it out in the music industry. it has this sort of youthful, coming-of-age, flair that made it enjoyable and ambitious, but also very forgettable, in terms of everything else that came out in 2018 (sweetener, invasion of privacy, dirty computer, negro swan, isolation, the list goes on-and-on). again, this isn't to say that it wasn't good because it was and still is! it's an album that showcases the very things that got the girls noticed in the first place: their ability to harmonize, synchronize and do the damn the thing without losing each other in the progress. they work together and they work well.  

when the two sisters started their career as musicians, they were uploading youtube covers (all of which are still on their channel). after a cover of beyonce's pretty hurts went viral, they were signed to beyonce's very own parkwood label, which is a feat in itself as that label literally only has like 4 artists signed to it (INCLUDING BEYONCE HERSELF). and when the kids are alright came out they were merely teens and much like the album title states, despite the newfound fame, despite being thrust in the limelight, they were alright. however, instead of lamenting about being conflicted with it all, or being afraid of it, they kept it real.

i love found footage horror with my whole chest

in 2015, i vividly remember going to see unfriended at midnight when it came out. i had just gotten off a very late shift at [redacted], so I drove furiously down the street to the theater, slammed my credit card down on the AMC ticket counter, and huffed and puffed my way into my seat. (middle row, dead-center, period). i remember sweating profusely as i unwrapped my scarf and threw my coat into the seat next to me and propped my feet up. unbeknownst to me, before i almost committed vehicular manslaughter to get there on time, there were possibly only 5 other people seeing the film. the aforementioned huffing and puffing occurred because i thought that i was seeing a masterpiece and wanted to get there early to get a good seat. even though i frequently went found myself in catastrophically empty theaters to see b-movie horror classics like cabin in the woods, you're next, the possession, and shark night, i really thought that unfriended was going to be different.

why? because it was found footage.

now i love found footage horror. i will continue to love found footage horror for the rest of my life because trust me, its evolving. it will come back and i am not talking about with some unfriended sequel....(unless?) however, i saw a video where someone mentioned that found footage horror in the 2000-2010s had the impact that slashers did in the 80-90s and i think this is an impeccable point to be made.

the black girl lives! and more on the "final girls" of modern horror

warning: i'm going to talk about a film that absolutely no one saw or gives a damn about. last year, around january, there was a film that snuck past everyone called escape room. now, there was not a single person who say this film and thought that it was doing something special (myself included), because it was one of those horror films that comes out during "dumb month" season. this "dump month" consists of really terrible horror that most studios have little-to-no hope for in terms of profit. whether it be weather, the lack of spending due to the holidays or the distractions of the Oscars, Golden Globes and the Superbowl, people just don't seem to go out to the movies as much in january and feburary, so to fill up slots, theaters fill up with low budget, b-horror, dump films like escape room. however, again, while absolutely no one had anything to say about this film, i am here to tell you today, that was a lie.  it was all a lie. i have things to say!

film review: never, rarely, sometimes, always

 

starring: sidney flanigan, talia ryder, théodore pellerin, ryan eggold and sharon van etten

written by: eliza hittman

directed by: eliza hittman

release date: jan 24, 2020 (currently streaming on hbo) 

 

now, before i begin this post, i am going to warn you. it gets pretty dark. and by dark, i do not mean in the fashion of YA novel protagonist' warning you about some dark, fantasy tale. this ain't the hunger games. this ain't a wattpad story. this is my story, and i mean, if we're going to be frank, it deals with some unsettling topics like sexual assault. if you're not into all that, you should probably stray away from this. if not, read on.

 

the most beautiful thing about a film like never, rarely, sometimes, always is that it's never really about what you think it is until...it is. its like when you're a kid and you're afraid of the dark. there's a noise coming from the closet, but you know there's no such thing as monsters. they told you that there's no such thing as monsters. they told you not to be afraid and so you tell yourself you're not afraid and most of the time, that feels like the truth. i mean, at least this time it does. so, you get up to face your fears because, what else are you supposed to do and suddenly your standing with there with your closet door wide open, lights on and there's a monster staring back at you. and its only then that the unsettling light bulb goes off in your head that you're staring at the monster in the closet that you were promised wouldn't be there. however, then its also at that moment you realize that maybe the monster in front isn't what was so scary, but instead, its the fact that you'd been told your whole life that monsters weren't real, even though they actually were.

that's what this film is about.

 

although when you take a look at it on the surface level, the film is what it says it is: a film about a girl going to get an abortion with her best friend. that's it. simple, right? well, no. autumn (sidney flanigan) is a teenager who realizes she's pregnant, but that she also has to get rid of it. and this is something that the film gets right because unlike most films about abortion and pregnancy, she, like most teenagers and other young people, don't get an option. they have to get rid of it. so, that sets young autumn on her journey and thus we follow her on this journey. 

 

her next stop: the local women's clinic. its there that the pregnancy is confirmed, but not without the added guilt. "your beautiful baby boy," says the nurse at the clinic as she begins the heart machine (or whatever it is called), as the heartbeat is "most magical sound you'll ever hear."  its all whimsical and fun until autumn tells the nurse that having a baby is not what she wants. the nurse sees autumn's ears perk up at the words "abortion-minded" and she sets her aside to "show her something." we know what it is. she knows what it is and unreluctantly, she watches it, all because she does not know how to say no. eventually she leaves to make plans on how to go elsewhere for her procedure, but not without calls from the nurse who wants to "check in with her." autumn answers her calls while she's on the train to new york for her prodecure, and she talks to the woman for a while and tells her she can call her back later, (even though she will not be pregnant later) again, all because she does not know how to say no.

 

this trend of not knowing how to say no follows the girls during their journey and later, we find her and her cousin skyler (talia ryder) in new york, clueless, broke and all without having said much to each other on the ride there at all. and the girls don't really need to say much to each other. i mean, what is there really to say? hittman is a wonder at exploring the nuances in how people who are not cis-men, especially those that are younger, communicate with each other and themselves without saying anything at all. its in the subtle nods, the empty silences and unfinished sentences that, again, people who are not cis-men learn how to navigate unsafe spaces (i.e: the whole fucking world) around them and moreover, the pressures put on them that force them to into these spaces in the first place.  

 

spaces that they were told repeatedly were safe. 

 

spaces that they know are not safe.

 

when the film begins and we see autumn and skyler at work, we believe that they are in a safe environment. working for someone who cares about these two 17-year old girls at what is presumably their first job. they are not.  

 

when autumn goes in to the women's clinic to get her pregnancy test, she believes she is in a safe haven as that is where scared, pregnant people go for answers; for options. she is not. 

 

when autumn and skyler board the train and meet a young man who taps skyler on the shoulder to talk and gives her his number, they think he's just a harmlessly, annoying "nice" guy. he is not.

when autumn reaches the second clinic, she thinks that she is home free and ready to get her abortion and go on home. she is wrong.

 

why? because they have been fed lies. we have been feeding our young people about how the world is and much like us, the viewers, they, too, are left to fill in the blanks in how deeply embedded this kind of treachery lies in our culture and its treatment of people who are not cis men. 

skyler and autumn are not protected at work. the older, creepy store manger that is twice the girls' age kisses skyler on the hand right where the cameras can't see. he doesn't let the two girls go home early from their shift after autumn has thrown up medication from trying to self-abort because "he will get lonely" without them. a store customer who is twice the girls' age invites skyler to a party as she is ringing out his alcohol at the store. 

 

autumn is not protected at the women's clinic. the first clinic she tries gives her options, leaving out the one she is looking for the most. in addition, they lie to her about how far along she is which forces her to have to undergo a more complicated procedure than she had expected.

autumn is not protected at home. boys leer insults at her as she lamets on-stage via song about not being in control of her body. her step-father taunts her at the table, undermining her success because she's "always in a foul mood". her mother pretends to not see any of this and moreover, the fear in autumn's eyes when she looks at this man.

they are not protected by anyone but themselves. when autumn finds herself bleeding in the bathroom from the first procedure, she is alone. she calls her mom, who worries about where she is, but autumn silently sobs, says nothing on the phone and eventually, hangs up and moves on.

 

when the young man on the train touches skyler on the arm for far too long before introducing himself, she looks down at this hand, blinks, looks back at him and uncomfortably smiles. the conversation continues and before she even realizes it, he's given her his number before she's had a chance to say no. and after they meet up again and skyler asks him for money for their ride home, he guides skyler away from her friend to "find an atm outside" together after she refuses to go downtown to find one with him. all of this occurs with a hand on her back and an uncomfortable look on skyler's face as she turns back towards her friend.

but skyler returns with the money and the girls make it home, but not without the uncomfortable feeling that something has changed. they know this was not a normal trip. it was never intended to be "just another trip." they knew the lies were there. they knew they were not safe. they knew the monsters were in the closet. they knew what they looked like. they knew that the battle would be hard, they just didn't think it would be this hard.

because the girls are street smart. they knew that a procedure had to happen, but not that it would take two separate appointments or that it would cost that much. they knew to call the boy from the train when they didn't have any money left, but they didn't know what they had to do to get it. they knew that getting to the appointment wouldn't be to hard if they figured out how to get there, they didn't know that the questions that the doctors would ask would be so hard.

because as simple as a few "multiple choice" questions should be, they aren't. 

 

Answer, says the counselor at the clinic, Never. Rarely. Sometimes. Always. the questions are easy enough, she says, that is, until they aren't. Has someone ever forced you into a sexual act, ever, in your life? but the answer never comes. 

 

sometimes it never comes. 

 

i don't know. after i watched the film, it wasn't until my partner was lying next to me that i realized i was curled up into a ball on the floor. "what's wrong?" he asked. "can you talk to me?" i couldn't. i opened my mouth and my throat went dry, so i closed my mouth and said nothing. we both laid on the floor until i got up and into our shared bed. he got ready for bed in the bathroom. i watching buzzfeed videos until my legs stopped shaking. he went to bed with his arms around me. i got up an hour later to open the window up because it got hot. i stared out the window for so long that i started to imagine what it would feel like to fall out. we live on the fourth floor. 

 

i closed it back up and started to write this. the words i couldn't say to my partner because i didn't know what to say. the words that autumn couldn't say to the counselor at the clinic because she, too, did not know what to say.

so here's what i am going to say now: when i was 18, i was sexually assaulted at a party. i was drinking, so was everyone. i saw him staring at me from across the room. he was older than everyone else was at this party. he smiled at me. i smiled back. he motioned at me to come closer. i waved back that i was busy. next thing i knew, a small mosh pit broke out and i was thrown across the room -- into the man.

 

he snatched me immediately up and pinned me against the wall and put his face next to mine. i tried to yank my head off of the wall. he pushed against me harder. i said "i had to go." and either the music was too loud, or he didn't care. maybe even both. he shoved his hands into my jeans, into my underwear and inside of me. 

 

it didn't last long. i cried the entire time. no one stopped dancing.

 

when i pulled away from him. i ran into my friend. i told him i had to go. he told me he didn't want to. i told him i was leaving. he told me "no" and shoved me back into the crowd and told me to "have fun." he shoved me back into the man. the man held onto my waist for a few moments after i bumped into him. i ran up the stairs and out the door.

my friend chased after me. we didn't talk until i made it to their dorm bc i did not want to be alone. i told them what happened, asked if i could spend the night. they said no. i walked back to my dorm that night and knocked on another one of my friends' doors. they were drunk and in the middle of showering when i knocked on their door. they let me sleep in their bed while they slept on the floor.

i avoided thinking about it for a long time. for a long time, i didn't think anything bad had happened. i was alive, wasn't i? i was drunk, wasn't i? it was my fault, wasn't it? that really wasn't rape, was it? maybe if i hadn't been out so late? maybe if i hadn't been drinking? maybe if i had been louder? maybe if i had better friends? i found myself googling "was i really raped?"  on my phone several times a day. i thought i saw this man around several times a day. i couldn't report it. i couldn't even remember what his face looked like. i started seeing the therapist i'd ghosted again after i had a panic attack at the library because i thought it was him in the stacks. she had to convince me to let me to take my free sessions and begged me to come see her again next week. i did.

sometimes i feel like it never happened; that i made it all up. sometimes i like to pretend that it didn't happen. sometimes i really do forget that it happened. and sometimes, i remember everything at once and it feels like its happening all over again; that i am 18 again. that i am helpless. that i am trapped in a basement and no one can hear crying because everyone is wasted and the music is too loud. all i knew was that no one was looking out for me and moreover, my friend didn't listen to me when i told him something was wrong and we didn't speak for several weeks after that (until he begged me to "get over it" over the phone, calling me every over day for weeks and showing up outside my dorm, when he knew i would be getting home, to apologize).

but it happened and it could happen again. but i am not 18 anymore. i'm 23. i'm not going to say that i know better because there are not lessons that can be learned when it comes to things like this. i rememebered was thinking for years, even with therapy, that it wasn't rape. that the word rape is such an ugly word. that that could never happen to me. "oh, i was just sexually assaulted," i told my therapist. "that's not that bad right?" not knowing or believing what had happened to my own body and trying to use semantics to downplay the situation. imagine being me, worried about calling a crime, what it is: a crime.

 

what happened to me is a crime. what happens to these girls in this film is crime. but the only person that can protect me, is me. the only person that can protect these girl is themselves and each other, if they can let each other in.

 

sometimes it is hard to let other people in because how can you trust a world that's let you down so much? how can you trust other people when you're living in a world that's constantly preparing you for a battle you can't properly fight. they tell you to be strong, to keep your guard up and build up certain walls as to not be let down, but what happens when you do all of that and still fail?

autumn is constantly trying to figure things out for herself. every other word out of her mouth is some iteration of the words, "i'm fine" or "i've got it", even though she isn't fine and doesn't "have it". when someone makes either of these girls uncomfortable, they sit there and take it. they even smile back because they've been conditioned to be nice and polite even if they're under physical attack: by men, by boys, by other women and other people in general, but most importantly by the system itself.

 

these girls have a whole lot against them, much like most people who are not cis men do from the moment that they're born. and what is worse is that they're lied to every moment of their lives by the very people and systems put in place that are supposed to protect them. its only when she's asked very clearly about how she feels that she realizes that there's a problem in how she's been treated in the first place and the fucked up thing about it all is that she doesn't have anything to say about it.

because what could you say after you've essentially been gaslit your entire life?? and its this point in the movie that demonstrates the kind of pain that generations of non-men have been going through and moreover, will continue to go through if we continue with the very dangerous precedent that's been set in modern America way before the camera has started rolling. this is because this story, while fictitious on-screen, is the very story of many others like autumn and skyler. moreover, its prolific in the way that it encapsulates this very devestatingly unifying story without doing much work at all. 

 

like i said before, its in the glances. its in the silences. its in the closeups of the bruises on her stomach during the ultrasound after she tries to self-abort by punching herself in the stomach. or the girls' hands interlocked as the boy kisses skyler after he gives her the money. the close up on how open sklyer's eyes are and how they keep darting back-and-forth in fear. and how autumn looks at her because she knows there's nothing she can do about it. its in the girls doing their makeup in the bathroom together. and how they eat pasties together and play at the arcade like young people are supposed to be doing, but instead they have to go out of their way to get the help they should already be afforded, but, yet, aren't. and even though all of that occurs, the film seemingly also ensures that without hope, these kinds of stories will only continue to have to be told down the line.

i got a diva cup and it rocked my world.

so, i "borrowed" a diva cup from [redacted] last week and it was amazing. not the act of "borrowing", but the actual product itself. i've been a big user of tampons for a while now and trust me, that wasn't an easy step. for the longest time, i was very anti-tampon and just preferred the big, bloody butt diaper that i called a pad. however, one day, tampons were all that my roommate had and i was far too lazy, so i snuck a few to get me through my unusually short period (3 days!!!) and went about my day.

now don't get me wrong, it wasn't a bad transition. did i have to use a youtube tutorial made for teenagers to get me through the process of getting the generic kotex rod shoved up inside me? absolutely. however, after about 20 minutes of patiently sitting spread eagle over the toilet bowl and getting to know my bits better than my gynecologist (who am i kidding; i don't have a primary physcian. i'm not a baby), i left the bathroom feeling like an rap video hoe in a young money music video: accomplished, slightly embarrassed and a little chaffed. i did have to venture into the bathroom several times that day to "adjust" because it definitely felt like a paper rod had been shoved up my vagina, which feels just how it sounds.

 

ultimately, after a few tries, i got used to it and could not feel the sucker ever. however, that first time did almost traumatize me and what surprises me is that no one ever really prepares you for putting in a tampon for the first time. all i ever heard about the process was how "easy it was" or how "you'd never use another pad again." they didn't tell me how i'd essentially be giving myself an annual checkup with a foot propped up on the edge of the tub. they didn't tell me that my fingers would probably start hurting from holding my actual vagina open for so long. they really also didn't tell me that tampons should match your flow. how was i supposed to know you couldn't use a super jumbo absorbent tampon with a light little flow like mine?? because i didn't. all i knew is that i put that thing inside me and it made me feel like my vagina had rug burn and it was then that i learned my lesson: always look at the damn box before you buy something that literally goes inside of you.

 

 and so, that leads me to my next escapade at the supermarket: the one where i got the infamous diva cup. it was a weekday afternoon. i made my roommate take me to the store because i could feel the wave coming upon me and i was without any instruments for my menses. i could have taken a few of my other roommates to hold me over until it was over, but unfortunately, she only had those damn super absorbent tampons. as i learned my lesson beforehand, i bit the bullet and made my way to the store.

 

the menses aisle of the store is honestly one of the most exciting aisles of the store and i don't really know why. i'll preface this by saying that when i say "exciting" i really mean colorful. there are only so many colors of the rainbow, but tampon companies really doubled down on the bright, fun colors for whatever reason. maybe its so that people will notice that they're all different. maybe they want to trick people into thinking periods are fun (hint: they aren't), or maybe i'm just overthinking it, but overall, the menses aisle always seems to have a lot going on. while my first instinct was to grab a box of tampons, the diva cup caught my eye for some reason that day. maybe it was the toilet paper pad that i had soaking up the crime scene in my pants or maybe it was the fact that i planned on getting the stores, "buy none, get one free deal", but after twenty minutes of holding it in my hands, i decided to go with the flow and just try it out.

and honestly, its not that bad. its new, so i do get the sentiment of  "i can't wait to get my next period" that frequently comes from the commercials of these products. however, a lot of that comes with the fascination that i am literally pulling a suction cup in and out of my vagina. i'm not one of the white women in the commercials doing yoga in their diva cup or laughing while eating a salad. i am spread eagle over my toilet, yelling over the phone to my homosexual best friend about how hard i'm kegeling and giving strangers the side for staring at me while i'm cleaning my cup in the sink of a public bathroom. however, even though all of this feels terrible, i feel like the white women laughing at a salad in the tampon commercials and that is because i am not ashamed of my period anymore.

 

there's a lot of people that i have talked to in the last few months about how gross they feel talking about their period. and that's so valid because they are, in fact, gross sometimes. do you know how many times i've woken up thinking i've peed myself only to find that i've actually bled through a full pad and my underwear onto my sheets? do you know how many times i've woken up in someone else's bed thinking i've peed myself only to find out i've bled through my skivvies? do you know how many makeshift pads i've made out of toilet paper, receipts and etc. when mother nature decides to spring up on me out of nowhere? (on a side note: do those machines in the bathroom even work?? i've used one probably once in my life. once. moreover, period products should be free. period.) do you know how many time i have googled "can you go swimming with a pad on?" and then gone on to do that thinking that it would be "different this time" when in fact, it is just a bad idea in general. so, its safe to say: periods suck and moreover, i am not very good at keeping track of them, when they're coming, and when i need to get things done. that's a whole fact, but i don't think there's any reason for anyone to feel ashamed about getting them because shit happens. and unfortunately for me, i kind of have to deal with them for the foreseeable future, so i'm not going to let anyone make feel any worse about them than i already do. i'll deal with the sheet stains and dry cleaning bills when i have to, but i refuse to be side-eyed by some Karen in the public bathroom for handling my business for my body in the sink.

but also, if anyone figures out a way to have sex with this thing without turning my partner into a toilet, please, let me know.

why "case of the ex (whatcha gonna do)" is one of the best songs ever made

so, i saw an article about "why mark morrison's return of the mack is one of the best songs ever that nobody ever acknowledges is the best song ever" and for the most part, when i saw it, i nodded my head and moved on. 

 

return of the mack is just an objectively great song. it's fun, everyone knows it, it's infectiously upbeat and funky and it is just literally impossible not to like the song. 

hell, its my go-to karaoke song for those exact reasons. and honestly, i have yet to meet a person who just stands in the corner with their arms crossed when this song comes on and moreover, on the day i do come across this person, is the day i finally get to take off my earrings and tell someone to "meet me outside." (yes, people, it is just that good of a song)

 

however, my defense for mark morrison's banger came to a head when i saw season 4, episode 3 of hbo's insecure. for those of you unfamiliar with one of the best shows of the last decade, (firstly, go get right with the streaming service gods and watch the damn show), insecure is a comedy-drama created by the lovely issa rae about the day-to-day experiences of Black women in love and life in modern LA. it's messy, it's insightful, it's steamy and perfect for anyone looking for a quick binge during quarantine. and while you still might be skeptical, i will lay out my strongest piece of evidence of why you need to be watching insecure here:  

 

BLACK EXCELLENCE!  

this show features Black people making moves both on-and-off screen and was nominated for a whooping 3 emmys this year, but, i digress. this is argument about music.

 

so on season 4, episode 3, issa, our lead character, is posting about the fun times she's having on thanksgiving. she's drinking, laughing and, of course, posting to instagram to let everyone know what's up. however, when her ex peeps her enjoying her life, he decides he's going to run up and fuck up her momentum with a dusty laughing emoji reaction. *cue mya's case of the ex (whatchu gonna do)*

 

not only was this probably one of the greatest music cues in television history, but it got me thinking, is this also one of the best songs ever made that no one acknowledges is, in fact, the one of the best song ever made??

in my opinion, yes, and probably more so, than return of the mack and here's why:

 

mya's "case of the ex (whatcha gonna do)" is iconic. period. its an early 2000s banger whose intro beat sends chills through my spine. when this came on as issa's ex swiped up on her story, i felt that chill and thought: "oh no. the mess. the messiness. they wouldn't!"

 

but, oh, yes, they did. as this song played through the credits, i sat dumbstruck at the experience i had just gone through connecting the song to the situation in the show and really hearing about what mya was going though as she laments about her new boo's ex who is also fucking up her momentum and newfound happiness.

 

that experience is not something i've gone through or at least have seen done in terms of a song like "return of the mack" or any song, frankly. it a simple and super effective choice that showcases the power of the song itself.

 

the songs hinges on a lot of experiences that people come across in relationships. moreover, at the end of relationships, especially when one of you just can't quite let go. not every break up is as clear-cut as it seems. personally, i have only been broken up with once and really, it wasn't by someone i actually dated. unlike what many of us have forced ourselves to believe, situationships are not the breeding ground for love. they are relationships that are undefined and not based entirely on commitments. they owe you nothing and neither do you. is this fair? hell, no, but, remember, if people are trash, they're just going to be trash and there's nothing you can do about it, but leave. situationships are truly often based on convenience or short-term circumstances. moreover, they often do a number on your head and heart because, for whatever reason, both parties usually do not know what the hell they want and then you're left in a lableless, relationship limbo asking yourself this: do they like me? do i like them? do they want to date me? wait a minute, do i want to date them? are they seeing other people? should i be seeing other people?

 

this is what the brain of someone in a situationship often looks like and if you think that this sounds like hell, trust me it is. even though what they want from this other person may not be a romantic relationship, due to the constraints monogamy has on society, we often feel like we should and need to be in a romantic relationship with everyone that we are somewhat compatible with. i, however, rebuke this.

 

and while i will not go into those reasons here, i will, again, just say that its hard not to think this way because of how heavily ingrained into society it is to think this way. in the case of mya and her iconic song, she questions how do you move forward when you're in this relationship limbo and moreover, what do you do when their ex comes knocking and wants them back and you don’t know where you two stand.

 

in mya's case, she is the new boo who wants nothing to do with this ghost coming to knock her out of  lableless limbo and back into the hell that is the dating pool, which is super valid. but as she states it the song, "whatcha gonna do when you can't say no / and the feelings start to show / how you gonna act / how you gonna handle that / whatchu gonna do when she wants you back?"

 

which is tough. when you ex pulls up on you out of the blue when you're doing good, you go through several stages:

 

1. anger - (i.e: WHAT IS THIS NIGGA DOING RUNNING UP ON ME IN MY NEWFOUND HAPPINESS? IT'S ALWAYS WHEN I'M DOING WELL THAT THEY WANT TO POP UP LIKE A DAMN LOST PUPPY.)

2. curiousity - (i.e: WHAT DOES THIS NIGGA WANT FROM ME??? ARE WE CHECKING IN TO BE NICE OR NAH?) 

3. smug - (i.e: so you wanna hit? is that it? that's what you want? i know i was looking good, but damn...)

4. acceptance - (i.e: let me calm down and read this message. it's going to be fine. it's whatever. i don't even care. i'm cool.)

5. (if you're lucky) - recovery - (i.e: figure out what they want and either: a. leave them alone, or b. work your own on maintaining some sort of cordial friendliness.

5. (if you're unlucky) relapse - (i.e: begin the text message/social media stalk and catching up with them in a way that will have you going, "man, what happened to us?")

 

however, again, as mya said "obviously, that shit did not last" for a reason. maybe they were trash at responding to you. maybe they smelled like resin all the time. maybe they just literally didn't wash their ass. maybe they were just an overall garbage person. whatever the reason may have been, it didn't work and now that you're in this new relationship, you have got to handle your shit, so that there's no need to worry about "a case of the ex."

 

because that shit is unnecessarily frustrating. mya literally wrote this iconic song to detail how frustrating it can be and honestly, i have yet to hear a song put it down the way that she does. the lyrical concept of sticking it to your exes is not new ground, but mya's catchy, pop anthem does it in a way that is frankly, just unmatched. like morrison, mya gifted the world this song to let everyone know to get their shit on straight or there will be a problem.

and as the article on morrison states while "best ever" maybe subjective, it also just means that the shit's just good, b. don't be a hater. just listen to the words of the best song ever and handle your shit.

 

(also, exhibit a - z of why this song is the best: this music video)

revisiting solange's "a seat at the table" after you've found your spot

 

 

unfortunately, i was one of the tragic few people that did not listen to solange's 2016 album, a seat at the table when it initially came out. i'll admit it. i was a bit of a hater. however, upon revisiting itconsistently over the last few months, it really does stands as one of the best records released in the last decade. period.

 

if i had to describe the album in a few words, they would be "growth","manifestations," "grief" and "healing". while these are things that may have needed at the time the album came out, much like i lament in my musings on sza's ctrl, i think that for the longest time, i avoided this album because it addressed the very things that i hated about myself. and moreover, instead of confronting them as solange suggests, i decided to take the mental high road and dip out instead.

a seat at the table has often been hailed as a "call and response" to the Black community and seeks to dissect both the misery and joys that comes from being Black. its power not only derives from its quiet discussions on the politics of hair, Black womanhood and the all the other things that have been taken from Black people to keep them quiet and complacent within a society does not welcome them. however, its a call to arms for those who have lifted the metaphysical veil on internalized racism and are looking for somewhere to articulate these frustrations and more. here, solange offers a "space" at the aforementioned table among her ancestors and other fellow Black people for this discussion and simply proposes this question along the way: "where do we go from here?"

 

this is something that i am still working to figure out as i become more comfortable with with my own sense of Blackness. i constantly find myself thinking about my Blackness' role in my friendships, relationships, the music i listened to, the places i visit and just about everything i do. sometimes i feel like i am driving myself crazy thinking about my own Blackness. (wow, this really sounds like an ibram x. kendi book) it feels really extra and unnecessary to have to do that all the time and most of the time it is often just that, extra and unnecessary. but i went so long without thinking about it at all, that its kind of just been burnt into my brain to have to consider certain things anytime i make any decision.

 

let's be frank for a minute: growing up, i was a Black person with very few Black friends. i'd burnt off my hair from years of relaxers and had literal chemical burns on the top of my head from too many trips to "the shop." the shop, for all of you (e.g: white people) unfamiliar with this phrase, is a beauty salon. however, not just any beauty salon, but one that exists in the basement or lower-level of someone's home that they've somehow converted into a beauty salon. more than often, you'll see the standard wash stations, hair dyers and African art that server to disguise the fact that you're getting your hair done in someone's friend-of-a-friend's or aunt's basement. however, after you've sat in the waiting chair for more than 45 minutes from the start of your appointment, been asked to reschedule several times after waiting for more than an hour and had to take many breaks forperson doing your hair to eat or have a conversation on their phone while you still have a head full of conditioner, you'll remember where you are. this was also often a reminder that i was Black and no blowout could distract from that.

 

i would start to cry when my mom pulled up to this person's house because i didn't understand why i couldn't just go to "a real hair salon" like my white friends who went to great clips (yeah, i don't know what crack i was smoking when i was a kid, but great clips is not a hair salon). i would cry even more after my mom beat my ass for trying to undo the bumped end situation that i had going on in my hair (seriously, it just did not hit). however, through all the tears, i sucked up the chemical burns atop my skull and my crunchy dorito ends because, in the end, my hair looked like all my white friends' hair and that made me happy. however, many years later, upon hearing "don't touch my hair" for the first time, instead of feeling empowered about my mane and its connection to my identity as a Black person, i felt slightly attacked.

 

the song weaponizes its lyrics against the people trying to take away the of bodily autonomy of Black people. namely regarding the issues that Black women face when trying to preserve some form of individuality through their hair. the song reclaims the Black body and sets boundaries in place for those trying to disrupt that connection. 

"don't touch my hair / when it's the feelings i wear/ don't touch my soul / when it's the rhythm I know / don't touch my crown / they say the vision I've found / don't touch what's there / when it's the feelings I wear"

however, i couldn't the same for my body and my hair because i didn't feel that connection. my identity was built around trying to emulate the white people. i straightened my hair. i dressed in only aeropostale and forever 21. i was loud enough to stand out, and cartoonishly so, but not aggressively so as to, again, fit in with the white people me. because if they let me into their space, i won. i knew it wasn't right, but it made me comfortable. moreover, listening to solange confidently address her body and hair as her own made me jealous and uncomfortable about the ways in which i had so desperately changed myself to fit into a crowd i never belonged to in the first place.  

 

but acceptance is the hardest part and once i fully began to see myself for who i was (a thick-lipped, big nosed, kinky curly haired Black person) and who i wasn't (skinny, tall, white, etc), i was free.

or at least i thought i was until the murder of George Floyd on May 25, 2020. i don't want to say that the murder of this unarmed Black man awoken something in me, but it incited something me that i didn't quite recognize and moreover, a feeling that made even more uncomfortable than my first run-in with the album. 

 

and that's anger.

 

now i've been angry my whole life and i have a plethora of things that never fail to grind my gears on sight. the dan ryan between the hours of 12 pm - 3pm. fast food salads that cost more than $4. white women wearing box braids or durags. white women who just stand in the way when the can clearly hear you saying "excuse me." however, upon listening to one of the best tracks of the album, "mad", i recognize now that some of that anger is kind of justified. Black people are dying at the hands of the police. our culture is constantly being jacked from us and we're being told that we're not enough. we don't have a place at the table and more than often, we're made to feel as if we don't deserve one. and as a result, we're scared. we're angry. and more importantly, we're tired and there's this constant state of paranoia surrounding these feelings. why am i so mad? should i feel that way? no one else feels this why so why am i so pressed? do i keep pushing or should i just push it all down before "it gets all up in the way" like lil' wayne laments in the song. before i heard the song, i really did think that this was all in my head. for most of my life, i only hung around white people who never had to consider these things. no one was having these kinds of conversations with me, so, ultimately, i felt crazy thinking about these things all the time, but i wasn't crazy, i just wasn't ready.

it is in this album that solange welcomes me, and other like-minded individuals, to a table and i, even as reluctant was i was at first, eventually took my seat. it was a process and an experience, and one that i am still working on, but one that i have finally acknowledged as valid. in a world where racism still runs rampant and is destroying lives and communities of Black individuals, its really important to be able to fight back. its something that has to be done when Black people are dying at the rate in which they are. whether it be by the police, policies keeping them from fresh food and proper housing, or even if it is just the mental destruction of the Black mind and its individuality, Black people are under attack and i no longer have the privilege of shying away from that. its time to get uncomfortable and time to do something about it. 

why does everyone in chicago hate ketchup so much?

someone recently came over to my apartment and we ate food. it was good food, but at some point, they asked me i had some ketchup they could use. i, being the lovely host that i am, got up and searched my fridge, cabinets and just about all over my kitchen for ketchup. but, unfortunately, i did not have any.

 

and while they were truly astonished that i did not own any ketchup because of the mere principle of the situation, it confused me as well. not just because i deliberately remember buying ketchup a few weeks ago because my roommate asked me to, but because i couldn't quite remember the last time i actively put ketchup on anything or moreover, even enjoyed it as a condiment.

 

then i remembered: oh, i'm from chicago. 

so before we continue, i would like to say that: i am actually from chicago. i was born in the city of chicago. i will not be providing my birth certificate for legal reasons, but just know: i am not from rosemont or schaumberg, or elmhurst or naperville (god, fuck naperville) or whatever chicagoland suburb that most people like to pretend they're not from when people want to know about chicago.  

i know this is such a simple dichotomy, but its an important one. riding the green/blue line into the city every weekend from the suburbs does not mean you are "from chicago." knowing where maxwell's is does not mean you are "from chicago." however, if you have  survived a trip to the harold's on 87th street and also, at some point, had someone expose themselves on the cta, i will consider your case. personally, i have not lived in chicago for some time, but i will forever be indebted to my birthplace for the things that are associated with it and thus, me as a result.

i never really knew that wherever you are from really crafted your identity and the way that people see you. that is,  however until, i moved away from my birthplace and had to tell other people about it.when people hear that i am "from chicago", they begin to associate various things with me. whether it be the food, da bears, lori lightfood or moreover, the crime, it either makes people very curious or very concerned for me. this is not the same for who live in the "chicagoland" area, or moreover, the suburbs, because don't have to deal with these sorts of things where they're from. they can simply take the metra or the cta and just get safely back home until they want to come back into the city once things have died down.

 

however, regardless of where you are from, everyone in or around the chicagoland knows this: never, ever, ever put ketchup on your hot dog. 

 

moreover, when you google the words "chicago", "hot dog" and "ketchup", one of the questions that appear under the "people also frequently ask" section  of google includes "is ketchup illegal in chicago?

 

of course, it is not illegal to eat ketchup in chicago. refusing to wear a mask during a deadly pandemic is not illegal in chicago. wearing those disgusting foot shoes in public is also not illegal in chicago.

 

but should they be?  

absolutely. 

 

but will people do whatever they want as long as they won't get arrested for it?

 

they sure will. 

 

therefore, you can go ahead and eat ketchup on a hot dog, but does that make it okay?

well, that depends on who you ask. i don't actually know because i truly have never given it that much thought, but, let's take a walk to figure out what the hell is going on together.

so, there could be a number of reasons why a city is just across-the-board against a simple condiment, like ketchup. it could be just mere taste. is could also be pride because there is such thing as the "chicago style hot dog." it could also be fear from the kind of citywide gate-keeping that keeps people from wheaton from going around and telling people that they're "from chicago."

  

so i decided to do the thing i know best and... ask the internet. 

 

i put up a poll on instagram and many people from the city had things to say about their feelings on ketchup. these responses ranged from "it's just not right" to "it's childish. grow up" to various "scientific" explanations on its properties as a condiment and how it affects the other things on the hot dog itself. while i didn't ask for all of this, it is interesting to think about if we consider all that comes on the aforementioned "chicago style hot dog." so, if we break down the chicago dog, it consists of the following:

• yellow mustard
• white onion
• sliced tomatoes
  
•  dill pickles
  
• green relish
  
• celery salt 
• the dog itself
  

from the responses in my inbox, the reason that ketchup is not on this list is because it is far too sweet and messes up the sort of acidic combination that chicago dog has going on with mustard, pickles, relish and so forth. 

 

someone also mentioned the redundancy of adding ketchup to a chicago dog because there is "a whole damn tomato" already on the hot dog, which i get, but i also don't get it because ketchup and tomatoes taste hella different, but i digress. 

 

the last point that i will bring up is that some people truly believe that it is childish to put ketchup on a hot dog. see, while i find it to be childish to believe that ketchup and tomatoes are the same thing, (just because they really aren't. i really don't know how else to explain this) i personally do not fully believe that ketchup itself is childish. do children consume it? yes. do full grown adults also consume it? yes, absolutely. but again, does that make it right? again, depends on who you ask.

 

for the most part, ketchup is considered childish because kids put it on everything. for the life of me, i will never understand why kids put ketchup on chicken nuggets. they cover their food in the mess and it's weird, but, again, i digress. the point i am trying to make here is that kids cover their foods in condiments so that they can't really taste what they're supposed to be eating and with this in mind, if you decide that this is what you want to do, you are essentially just being a big ass kid.

now, with all this in mind, i will say to say that everyone from chicago hates ketchup because that would be a lie. do a majority of people from chicago actively hate ketchup? yes, they do. do i personally walk around chicago fearful that someone will snatch my food out of my hands if they see me with ketchup on my hot dog? absolutely, because they will. will you piss some people off if you, too, walk around with ketchup on your own hot dog? yes, you will. 

 

and if you think that i am wrong, please visit exihbit a:

 

but at the end of the day. just do whatever you want. a place is just a place. a hot dog is simply a hot dog. if you want to take the extra precautions and eat a hot dog secretly in an alleyway because you're afraid of being chastised, go ahead. if you want open have people scowl at you while you eat a mess of a hot dog in public, be my guest. if you want to a 35 minute conversation with a stranger and explain to them that you don't actually live in chicago, but rather, 20 miles away in a town no one has ever heard of, that is fine as well.

 

 i don't even eat hot dogs of any kind. i personally think that all kinds of hot dogs are actually just kind of gross anyways. they're literally mashed up parts of random animals and moreover, the shape of a hot dog is just weird. that's the real problem if you ask me, but, then again, you probably didn't.

taking back ctrl and revisiting sza's lessons on vulnerability

when I first heard sza's ctrl, i was 20, a serial monogamist and head over heels for my first and seemingly only college boyfriend. i gorged myself on romantic comedies and cried on valentine's day annually for the next few years, much like i do now, but i did so without a large understanding of why i felt so alone even though i was in a committed relationship. i thought that would love save me? why wasn't love saving me? isn't that what it's supposed to do? i believed that if someone loved me, there couldn't be anything possibly wrong with me, right?

wrong.

in its stripped down and raw form, ctrl is an album that touches on the falsehoods that love breeds and the sorts of things that I was taught to believe to believe about love from a young age.

so, on a surface level, society teaches us that:

1. that if we love someone hard enough, they will love us back.
2. that we should seek out love from those who give us attention.
3. that love will somehow save us from ourselves and fix everything that's wrong with us.

again, all of this is wrong, but they're ideas that are constantly reinforced by the things around us like movies and music. even our friends and family reinforce these kinds of ideals in the ways they interact with us. my relationship with my partner was constantly downsized because of the things he did or did not do for me that were socially acceptable. we didn't make a big about valentine's day. we don't speak every single moment of everyday. we didn't even have sex. while my partner and i are fine with all of this, everyone else around me had something to say about it and it made me feel conflicted.

however, in listening to sza trying to balance love and life in an unabashedly open way throughout ctrl, I felt like for the first time in my life, I had found someone who understood what I was going through. I felt like I had someone on my side, which is an unfamiliar feeling as a Black woman in america. The power of ctrl comes from its openness and acknowledgment of how contradictory it is to be a woman, especially when you're a Black woman. there is so much power in being able to express your own insecurities and short-comings, but there's even more power in acknowledging that sometimes reveling in them is all that you have. "drew barrymore" acts as a love letter to the kinds of people like me who take comfort in being seen as less than what you're worth because its easier than being alone.

"i get so lonely, i forget what I'm worth / we get so lonely, we pretend that this works / i'm so ashamed of myself think i need therapy"

these are some of the most powerful lines of the song simply because, again, there is something powerful in acknowledging when you're wrong, even if you're somewhat perpetuating that by way of some sort of self-sabotaging behavior. whether it means going back to your toxic ex, or simply messing around with a guy who is already in a relationship or even just longing for attention from someone who really just doesn't seem to see you outside of your body and sexuality. as a Black woman, my body is coded in a sexual language that is so unknown to me, i can't quite tell how others read it. moreover, it is so complex because often, we're also just not gifted the space to even begin to learn how to understand it for ourselves. we're just meant to sit back and revel in the gaze, even though it is far from enjoyable and more uncomfortable than anything. However, sza and so many artists try to feed us sugar coated tunes that absolve themselves from the uncomfortability of their own short-comings, but sza leans into them and, again, the falsehoods that breed them. however, ctrl also demonstrates is that not only is this a process, but that it's a messy, sexual and daunting process.

when ctrl first dropped, a lot of people wrote it off as the musings of a bitter side-chick. namely, when you look at songs like "the weekend", it can be hard not to think that. just about everyone knew the lines "you that 9-5, i'm the weekend." however, if you take the songs surrounding them into context, you see the larger picture of a strong woman trying to come into a world that keeps telling her who she should be.

the homely riffs of the album's intro "supermodel" touch on this as she both begs to be seen by an unnamed suitor yet also chastises them for not seeing her potential in the first place. the chastising continues in "love galore" with the notorious line "why you bother me when you know you don't want me?" and then furthermore in the next song, "doves in the wind", which takes on the complicated nature of desire when the power dynamics between the sexes shift. moreover, only sza can make "busting it open on a headboard for the right one" sound poetic.

however, while it is important to take in the confident nature of sza's tales of woe in dating, what is unique about ctrl is that it sheds light on these issues face way that that's not only nakedly honest and intimate, but also powerful in the way that is demonstrates that pain demands validity. 

and that's where the album shines. 

because it's not easy to be honest and its especially hard to be honest with yourself about your own imperfections. take the song "normal girl" for example, which describes the kind of girl sza wishes she was.

"the type of girl you take over to mama / the type of girl your fellas would be proud of"

 

but she's not and that's okay.

throughout the entirety of ctrl, sza speaks her shame and insecurities and she does so with a poetic and comfortable ease that puts my 15 years in therapy to shame. and moreover, it ends on the note that illustrates that while most of us know all of the things that are wrong with ourselves, it is going to take a lot more to work though that shit and that, in itself, means something.