I remember the shock when I got the results back for my 23 and Me test (that I drunkenly ordered back when I did drink).
So I’m pretty British. I was expecting that much, considering my government surname is Salisbury and I don’t think there exists a more British last name. (Except maybe like, Buckingham, or Worcestershire. Is that someone’s last name?) But I wasn’t expecting the sheer amount of Britishness I ended up being. Hardly anyone I know has gotten more than 90 percent of a particular ethnicity, and here I am more British than the late queen herself (probably).
Pip pip cheerio, or whatever.
Was I a little disappointed at first? Maybe. It felt like the most basic ethnic background I could have possibly gotten. We don’t speak a fun language that isn’t English, we’re so white the sun tries to kill us anytime we walk outside, and all we’re really known for is tea and trying to take over the world (and fucking things up for like, a bunch of other people in the process). And like, soccer and shit, but I never cared for sports. Why do I wanna watch a bunch of people I’ll never meet play a game? Wouldn’t you rather play the game yourself? I mean, I wouldn’t want to play personally, but that’s only because I suck at anything that involves silly concepts like “teams” and “balls.”
Pictured: Jessa’s kryptonite
My point is, I didn’t think there was a whole lot to be proud of. Why couldn’t I have been born, well, anything else?
There had to be something cool about being British. It couldn’t all be earl grey and imperialism.
And then it hit me.
The thing I’m most passionate about.
Music!
What aspects of your cultural heritage are you most proud of or interested in?
It’s well-known that Black Americans invented rock and roll, but the British…well, I can’t say they perfected it, since, well, Black Americans also perfected it. But we Brits had a hand in codifying it into the behemoth of a genre it is today. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Who, Pink Floyd, Queen, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Fleetwood Mac (well, partially at least)— it’s probably easier to list legendary rock bands that aren’t British.
So how did Britain become such a hotbed for rock music?
Thankfully, your favorite armchair ethnomusicologist is here to break it all down.
As this very well-written article explains, after World War II, Britain was pretty beat up and down bad. But in the 1950s, American rock music infiltrated the tiny country and re-energized a whole generation of folks. As the writer puts it, “…rock ’n’ roll arrived like a form of deliverance, an alien transmission that electrified British youth, literally driving them wild.” The Brits didn’t have any connection to the blues and folk that initially influenced the budding genre, so up-and-coming musicians had to rely on the records they were consuming to learn the ways of rock. At first, artists tried to mask their Britishness to fit in better with the American musicians they were learning from, but eventually, these artists began incorporating their own culture into their music. For example, it was uniquely British repression and rage that fed into subgenres like punk.
I found it strangely comforting to research British influence on rock music. Reading this stuff makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger than myself, that I actually do have a heritage I can be proud of. Although I’m only a second-generation British-American and have never visited the isles myself, I feel a connection to my ancestry through rock’s storied history. It’s kind of cool that music is what ties me to the land my family originated from, since music has been my entire life.
So, it’s actually kind of cool to be 93 percent British after all. (But like, I could live without the sun trying to kill me.)
I’ll admit it — I’m a poptimist. I was converted back in seventh grade, when I first heard the Swedish pop duo Roxette.
What’s with Swedes and perfect pop music?
Prior to Roxette, I was firmly in the “rockist” camp. This music journalism term refers to the belief that rock music is superior to pop music in artfulness and authenticity. That was one-hundred percent me at the ripe old age of twelve. You’d think I was a grizzled boomer man instead of an innocent millennial girl judging solely by my music taste. I preferred Boston to Britney Spears, Led Zeppelin to Lindsay Lohan, and ELO to whatever *NSYNC was doing at the time. I looked down upon my fellow tweens for their shallow taste in music, convinced my favorite artists were leagues ahead of theirs.
Then, I heard “Listen to Your Heart.” Not the bullshit DHT version (I will stand by that opinion). The real version by Roxette. I remember being taken aback by the bombast, the emotion, the sheer magnetism of the hook. It had everything I liked about my rock music, but with a pop veneer. I had to investigate, which led me to dig deep in their discography. Their songs were so…catchy. It lit something within me that’s been burning ever since. There had to be an art to creating pop music, because Roxette had mastered that art.
I then fell down an even deeper rabbit hole of pop music, uncovering songwriters like Max Martin, Kara DioGuardi, and (unfortunately) Dr. Luke, who’d go on to shape my entire worldview as a songwriter in my own right. I challenged myself with creating music that was as catchy as theirs. This elusive concept of “catchiness” became my lifelong obsession. To this day, I get a twinge of glee when someone says they get a song of mine stuck in their head. That’s always been my goal, and while I’m still a rock girlie at heart, my love of pop tints all the music I touch.
So why have I fallen out of love with pop music in recent years?
I initially chalked it up to aging. After all, studies have shown that your taste in music solidifies after 30, which is why your mom still listens to hair metal (which, to be fair, is an underrated genre). But there had to be more to it. Since the dawn of popular music, old folks have complained that the younger generation’s new music was too loud, too brash, or too risqué. The Silent Generation complained about Boomers and their heavy metal, the Boomers complained about Gen X and their grunge, and Gen X complained about Millennials and their rap. But I found I wasn’t offended by the pop music the younger generation was putting out. In fact, it was offensively inoffensive, too bland and soft to really stand out. It wasn’t brazen or daring enough, nor was it, dare I say, catchy.
I recently went to a karaoke night at a bar that’s frequented by Gen Z patrons. After all, I live in a college town, so many of the local hot spots are hangouts for younger folks. Although I still look fairly young for my age, I was almost certainly one of the oldest people there. You’d think karaoke night would be the time to sing your favorite party anthems, but to be honest, the song selections were a total snoozefest. One sad slow song after another. I had to leave, it was just getting me down.
When did pop music get so…somber?
I blame the almighty Lorde.
Amen.
In the early 2010s, we were still experiencing a boom in silly mindless party songs, which, while not exactly lyrically groundbreaking, were sheer poppy fun. We had guys like LMFAO creating bops like “Party Rock Anthem” and ladies like Kesha and Lady Gaga with their array of club bangers. Then, the “Smells Like Teen Spirit” of Gen Z hit and wiped out that scene as fast as Nirvana had dissipated the hair metal that came before. That song was “Royals,” and it set the bar for everything that came after it. Suddenly, pop wasn’t “fun” anymore. It was much more subdued. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, and “Royals” is certainly not a bad song, but it made “avocadas and bananaes” the standard for female vocals, and — worst of all — it killed off the big choruses and catchy hooks I loved.
My wife and I have a joke about the trend of sad repetitive trappy songs. It sounds like musical Xanax, we always say. And it’s true. One of my favorite newer artists, The Band CAMINO, has a song I really love called “Roses.” “Why you wanna be a sad boy?” they ask in the first verse. The whole song ponders why we as a society have to be so sad all the time when you can just “stop and smell the (fuckin’) roses.” I get it — life sucks sometimes, and then you die. But pop music is supposed to be an escape from all that negativity. There’s a time and a place for sad bops, but when all you’re being served is sad bops, it gets a little tiring.
I think that’s the real reason it’s been harder for me to get into recent pop. We’re still living in a post-“Royals” world, but I do have hope that things are turning around. This summer, the newest generation of pop girls set the world ablaze. Olivia Rodrigo is bringing rock-tinged pop back to the charts. Charli XCX engineered an entire movement with her Brat album (and got a nod from President Obama of all people!). Sabrina Carpenter’s newest song has been on repeat for me this past week, and I don’t foresee it leaving my Spotify “on repeat” playlist for a while. And don’t even get me started on Chappell Roan. What we need is a pop music revolution. A femininomenon, if you will.
So let’s stop being sad and play a song with a fucking beat!
If you’ve been following my music career, you’d know I recently released a cover of Chappell Roan’s pop masterpiece “Good Luck, Babe!” It was a labor of love — I adore the song and wanted to explore a more rockish guitar-driven take on it — and I also wanted to drum up some hype around my own music. After all, The Oceanography EP and my other covers weren’t getting attention, and what’s the point of making music if no one listens to it except you? So when I recorded “Good Luck, Babe!”, I sent a little prayer to God or whoever is up there listening that this cover would get me noticed.
You have to admire the creativity of some of these.
Apparently my stupendous bundle of joy was rubbing a lot of TikTokers the wrong way. I hadn’t gotten this amount of hate on anything I’d posted since my now-deleted post about guitarists drowning out the homophobes at a pride event. And even then, those hate comments were driven by bigotry, not anything I’d actually done or created. They would have gotten up in arms over anything I could’ve posted because I’m a queer woman, so their opinion isn’t valid. They just suck as people. In a way, getting hate comments on my music is worse. I can handle being called a dyke. It’s when you come after something I put hours of love and hard work into that I get a little perturbed.
But through this whole debacle, I’ve learned quite a bit about conducting yourself online as a musician. The second you decide to put your work out there, you’re essentially signing up to be a professional musician, and that requires a degree of, well, professionalism. Here are a few tips and tricks for dealing with haters on the internet.
1. Remember it’s them, not you.
Nothing anyone says online to you is about you. More than likely, they’re dealing with some shit too. Remember the human. They probably had a rough day at work or are going through relationship issues, and they’re looking for a punching bag to take out their frustration. Insulting some guy on the internet is the perfect way to relieve that stress — you don’t have to see this musician you just insulted in real life. They’re just a face behind a screen. Remember these folks are probably just salty because of something that’s going on in their own lives. I know it’s more satisfying to lash out and insult them back, but it shows a lot more maturity to restrain yourself from doing this.
2. Like their comments! Or better yet, thank them!
Nothing deescalates online drama quite like being the bigger person. These folks are looking to rile you up. Don’t let them. Instead, “like” their comments! And if you want to take it one step further, thank them. A simple “Thank you for listening anyways” with a smiley emoji will catch them off guard. This is how I dealt with a lot of the recent hate I’ve gotten. People don’t know how to react to that, so they simply shut up. Kill them with kindness, as I always say.
3. They are talentless fucks.
Okay, I’m gonna be blunt now. Anyone who leaves random hate comments on a musician’s page clearly doesn’t know what it’s like to be a musician. Which immediately makes you cooler than them. In fact, that’s probably why they’re lashing out — they know they can never stand up to you in real life because playing music is cool as hell. Folks can’t handle when other people are more talented than them. Aussies call this “tall poppy syndrome” — when your flower grows to new heights, others will be scrambling to cut you down to their level. Don’t let them.
4. Remember that great art is divisive.
There’s a whole montage in Bohemian Rhapsody where critics’ comments of the band Queen are highlighted. This is the Queen, the band that brought you such legendary hits as “We Will Rock You,” “Don’t Stop Me Now,” “Radio Gaga”…you get the idea. It’s hard to believe now that they’ve reached almost godlike status among music lovers, but not everyone liked them at first. I recently read an enlightening comment from a DJ. He said that the music he spun frequently got both positive and negative reviews. You know what records didn’t get plays? The ones no one cared about enough to hate.
5. Laugh about them.
One musician on Reddit said he puts bad reviews on his upcoming concert flyers like a movie poster so he and his fans can have a chuckle about them. I think this is brilliant! If I saw a band embracing their negative reviews like that, I’d assume they had a good sense of humor before I’d assume they sucked. Even better is editing down the hate comments until they become rave reviews and using those. “This is good!” and “This is so fire” are definitely contenders for good bad reviews for “Good Luck, Babe!” No one needs to know the second half of those reviews, and you’re technically not lying. It’s all in good fun.
6. Keep releasing new music!
Don’t let haters discourage you from posting your music. You have a unique voice, even if other folks don’t see it yet, and the music scene is better for having you in it. Every other artist in existence has had to deal haters, and even some of the greatest albums of all time had their critics. There’s only one you in this universe, and the world is missing out if you give up because of some small-minded asshats on the internet. Ignore the haters and do you. That’s the best you can do.
When I was a kid, I kept magazines by the family dinner table. I couldn’t eat unless I was reading something — anything! Usually I’d read about video games I was into, but sometimes I’d read about music. One of the features I always enjoyed in the music magazines was a featured artist’s list of their favorite albums of all time. Maybe it’s because I enjoy lists, I don’t know. Is that an autism thing? It might be an autism thing.
Anyways, I liked to imagine I was a famous musician being interviewed by one of those magazines, and I liked to consider what my answers would be. Now that I’m much older and have a platform of my own, I can just, you know, make my own list. I mean, what’s stopping me? So here’s my official top ten albums of all time. It’s not going to look like a lot of music critics’ top ten albums, as my taste in music is notoriously bad. I mean, Bon Jovi of all bands was my obsession for much of my life. But taste is subjective, am I right? And for better or worse, these are the albums that shaped me as a musician.
1. Bon Jovi – Slippery When Wet
I already mentioned Bon Jovi, so why don’t we start with there?
I remember the first time I heard this album. It was shortly after I discovered Bon Jovi due to the everywhere-ness of “It’s My Life” in 2000. I was very little at the time, but I loved that song. My much-older sister was a teenager in the ‘80s, so she remembered Bon Jovi’s initial run, and she still had her favorite cassette tape from back then. Starting up the tape and hearing synth intro of “Let It Rock” for the first time was nothing short of euphoric. I’d never heard anything like it. And then the bombastic vocals and heavy guitar came in, and I was absolutely in love.
Slippery When Wet also contained “Livin’ on a Prayer,” which was an immediate favorite of mine. I wasn’t sure what the hell a talk box was, but I knew I liked it. And how singable the chorus was! It would become my blueprint for creating earworms as a songwriter. There’s magic in that “woah-oh,” I’m telling you.
2. Def Leppard – Hysteria
After my mom confirmed her daughter’s bizarre interest in hair metal by giving her a Bon Jovi tape, she passed down even more of her and my sister’s music. Among the albums I received was Hysteria by Def Leppard. I was never as obsessed with Def Leppard as I was with Bon Jovi (and no one was as obsessed with Bon Jovi as me), but they still ranked high on my list of bands for that era. I loved the melodic nature of their music. You’d have this big, in-your-face chorus followed by some of the most captivating melodies. “Animal” is a great example of that.
My favorite from this album is “Run Riot,” which has the singability that I enjoy in a song. And the harmonies are glorious, owing in part to the amazing production of Robert John “Mutt” Lange, one of my favorite producers of all time. He knew just how to layer vocals and really create a lush soundscape with them. And speaking of Mr. Lange, he had a pretty big hand in the third album on my list as well.
3. Shania Twain – Come On Over
Before there was Bon Jovi, there was Shania.
Shania Twain was my idol. I loved her so much as a toddler. My own mother would get jealous because I’d draw pictures of Shania and not her (sorry Mom). I wanted a horse because I saw a picture of Shania with a horse. And of course, I listened to this album on repeat. I’m shocked I didn’t wear out the tape!
It would be easier to name the songs that weren’t bops on this album, because nearly all of them slap. (Wasn’t a huge fan of the title track, but everything else is a gem.) My burgeoning sense of humor really appreciated “That Don’t And Impress Me Much,” and I’d often quote it. “So what, you think you’re Elvis or something?” “Black Eyes, Blue Tears” was another favorite, albeit a pretty dark song for a three-year-old to truly grasp (it’s about domestic abuse). I loved the use of the talk box (again!) on it. And of course, Mutt’s penchant for strong harmonies is all over this album — he was the producer (and Shania’s husband), after all.
4. Taylor Swift – evermore
I’m skipping ahead quite a bit chronologically, but Taylor felt natural to bring up next. After all, Shania walked so Taylor could run. evermore came during the pandemic, when everyone was in a weird place already. Its sister album, folklore, was released less than five months prior, but aside from “this is me trying” (my neurodivergent millennial burnout anthem), none of the songs on that release resonated with me as much as the songs on evermore. Something about evermore just hit me hard.
Nothing comes close to the heartbreak of “tolerate it” or “happiness,” and the sweet tribute to Swift’s late grandmother, “marjorie,” is sure to leave you weeping, especially when the long-deceased woman’s ethereal voice echoes throughout the end of the song. One of my favorite bands, HAIM, features on “no body, no crime,” the catchiest murder ballad since The Chicks’ infamous “Goodbye Earl.” I’m also rather fond of “ivy,” with lyrics telling the story of a married woman’s tryst with another person who I am convinced is another woman. (She never said the song was autobiographical. I’m not a Gaylor, I swear.)
5. Jimmy Eat World – Futures
Confession: prior to about 2009, I didn’t listen to modern music. Anything made before 2000 didn’t really appeal to me, which meant I missed out on all the good emo bands. But a good friend’s then-husband was cleaning out his house and had a stack of CDs to give me, and Futures was among them. I remember the first time I listened to it en route to Chicago for a marching band field trip. I was absolutely blown away. The music, the lyrics, the entire vibe of the album — it completely flipped my perspective on 21st century music. Suddenly, I had a thirst for discovering other alternative and emo bands, which lead me to artists like Brand New, Weezer, and the neon pop-punk bands of the late 2000s.
The album itself is almost a concept album of sorts, dealing with addiction and longing. I couldn’t yet relate to the addiction part, although that would come later on in my personal story. But the longing was something I related to as an angsty teenager. I could listen to songs like “Kill” and “The World You Love” and cry about the fact that Dylan Martin from my church’s youth group would never love me back. I still love this album though, and Dylan and I are good friends now, so it all worked out in the end.
6. Weezer – Pinkerton
In making this list, I nearly forgot about Pinkerton. I’m sure Rivers Cuomo would rather me forget about it, as he was famously embarrassed of it. But it was a crucial part of my lovesick, sexually frustrated teen years. Looking back, the album is essentially Incel: The Musical, but I related to the lyrics quite a bit at the time, as someone who often found myself falling for guys who were less than interested in me. The songwriting on this album made me feel less alone.
“Why Bother” could have been the theme song to my failed teenage crushes. “Why bother, it’s gonna hurt me; it’s gonna kill when you desert me.” And the simple acoustic track “Butterfly” is possibly one of the most beautiful songs ever written. It evokes the image of catching a butterfly only to watch it wither in captivity. It’s a poignant metaphor for holding onto a love that is ultimately bad for the other person. Sometimes it’s better to let go, which was a painful lesson for me to learn. Rivers was there too, and that’s why I love Pinkerton. It’s so real and raw in the way it handles interpersonal relationships.
7. Heart – Bad Animals
This was another cassette tape given to me by my mom, who I credit for my taste in music. I remembered hearing Carrie Underwood cover “Alone” as part of an American Idol performance, and my dear mother was like “You’ve got to hear the original.” She pulled out this tape and my mind was instantaneously blown. I’d never heard a voice like Ann Wilson’s in my life. The sheer power behind her vocals gave me shivers. And to learn that the rhythm guitarist of the band was also a woman — that changed everything for me. It was the first time I’d seen another female guitarist. Suddenly, I had someone to look up to in music who looked like me! Representation frickin’ matters.
“Alone” is obviously the standout track from this album, the power ballad that made me fall in love with power ballads. I recorded the music video onto a tape, which my autistic ass watched every single morning before school. I wanted to be like the Ann and Nancy Wilson. They were so beautiful and talented and effortlessly cool, unlike me at the time. I’m not as famous as the Wilson sisters, and I probably never will be, but I’d like to think I made that little girl proud. I’m certain the sheer amount of comparisons I get to Ann Wilson whenever I sing Heart at karaoke would make younger me beyond happy, and that’s what matters.
8. John Frusciante – Shadows Collide With People
I’ll admit I was a little torn between including this album versus one of the Red Hot Chili Peppers albums that has influenced me. I discovered John Frusciante through his work with RHCP — I still remember hearing “Dosed” from their album By The Way for the first time and being mesmerized by the beautiful guitar work. It made me want to further explore Frusciante’s work, which lead me to this particular solo album, which I found in a record store or a Goodwill or somewhere. I don’t remember exactly how I happened upon it, but it was quite serendipitous that I did. It ended up becoming my favorite album of all time, carrying me through one of the hardest years of my life.
“Carvel” is an absolute gem of an opener and the reason I pestered my old band to buy me a Carvel cake while we were on tour. The “Carvel cake” in the song is meant to represent drugs, and as someone who very nearly averted an addiction to alcohol, I found myself relating to a lot of the lyrics. The instrumental tracks on the album are eerie and unsettling in the best way, and the ending track, “The Slaughter,” is one of my favorite songs of all time, closing the album on an optimistic note. “I know my pain’s a life away,” Frusciante croons, and I feel it. The worst is over.
9. Chappell Roan – The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess
This is easily the most recent album on this list, as Chappell Roan’s meteoric rise to fame was only within the past few months. But this album gives me so much hope for the future of pop music. I was in a musical rut for a long time, and I was starting to become worried that, like many thirtysomethings, my taste in music had solidified. I wasn’t sure if it was my getting older or new music getting more boring that made me give up on discovering new artists. After all, I remember going to karaoke at a bar full of Gen Z college students, and their song choices were decidedly overwhelmingly subdued. The younger generation grew up on the likes of Lorde and Billie Eilish, who, while very talented, mostly make bummers, not bangers. What we needed was someone to inject pop music with a bit of fun. What we needed was a femininomenon.
I have a hard time picking one or two favorites from this album chiefly because they’re all incredible. “Casual” is ethereal and heartbreaking, culminating in Chappell screaming at her would-be lover “You can go to hell!” in the final line. The sheer passion in that delivery gave me goosebumps the first time I heard it. And the horny lesbian anthem “Red Wine Supernova” is an obvious standout, with candid lyrics and witty references to “wands” and “rabbits” (if you know, you know). It’s such a bop, even Melissa Etheridge referenced it at one of her recent shows. Melissa walked so Chappell could run.
10. Jessa Joyce – The Oceanography EP
And finally…me! It’s probably an unusual choice to put your own album on a list of albums that changed your life, but I can’t think of an album that changed my life more. Sure, it didn’t take off or become as successful as I would have liked, but it proved to me that I could do it. I could record an album! My 2013 spring break was spent locked in my office at the newspaper I worked for at the time, utilizing the Mac desktops there for the GarageBand feature. I had a shitty Blue Snowball mic and a whole lot of caffeine and nicotine in my system (as I hadn’t yet been diagnosed with ADHD and that was my form of self-medication). It was released to Bandcamp with little fanfare, but I felt accomplished. Ten years later, using the knowledge I’d built up about music production and improved equipment (and Adderall), I re-recorded the entire project and released it to Spotify and, well, everywhere else.
“Oceanography” was a song about my longing for a particular guitar-playing guy to like me. It’s about that feeling of wanting to know everything about someone because you’re just that fascinated by them. The folksy “Smiles & Anchors” was dedicated to another guitarist, the title of the song taking its name from his band. The angsty alt-rock “Off the Deep End” was about a completely different guitarist and how I shouldn’t like him, and “Song of the Sea” was about a breakup with a fourth guitarist whom I dated in college. The album could have been called Songs About Guys Who Play Guitar Better Than Me. But they’re all part of my story, and I still love the songs to death, even if those guys aren’t in my life anymore. That’s the beauty of music I think. It’s a snapshot of a time in your life, and Oceanography represents so much of my history. That’s why it’s on this list. I am who I am today because of my lived experiences, and songwriting is my humble way of documenting those experiences. It’s my way of screaming into the void — I was here. Isn’t that what music is all about?
If there’s one thing JD Vance is known for, it’s having sex with a couch. If there’s a second thing JD Vance is known for, it’s his “childless cat lady” quote. You know, the one where he said this:
“It’s just a basic fact — you look at Kamala Harris, Pete Buttigieg, AOC — the entire future of the Democrats is controlled by people without children. And how does it make any sense that we’ve turned our country over to people who don’t really have a direct stake in it?”
Despite being, among other things, now incorrect (shout out Mayor Pete, who has two children), the quote incited fury from many, including followers of the #1 childless cat lady in the world, Taylor Swift.
Who, I might add, is unfuckwithable.
I have to admit I felt quite a few emotions at this remark before settling on “wow, what a weird fuckin’ take.” I was angered at first — I don’t want to be defined by my ability to birth children. Women have fought for centuries to be more than incubators for men to use. I’m not going to take Mr. Couch trying to turn back the clocks on feminism laying down. Then, a kind of sadness. I really don’t matter in the grand scheme of things if I never reproduce. I’ll die and be forgotten, and then my existential OCD took over and that’s never a good time for anyone. But then I really thought about it. I do want kids, but I can’t have them. And a lot of my generation feels the same way. And why, you ask?
Because parenthood is a damn near impossible dream as a millennial.
Think about the costs of diapers alone. The vast majority of millennials are living paycheck to paycheck and can’t afford that kind of luxury. Add on things like an extra mouth to feed and clothing and medical bills for even bringing the kid into the world and over 18 years you will have spent $375,000. And trust me, millennials aren’t shirking parenthood because they’re child-hating monsters. Many of us want families, but literally can’t afford it. A survey found that only 25 percent of us want kids, and the biggest reason why a lot of us don’t is because it is too damn expensive.
What Couch Man doesn’t realize is that parenthood isn’t in the cards for a lot of us because of people like him in power. Think of which side is fighting to take away school lunches and rallies against universal health care, which would greatly alleviate the cost of having a child. And Democrats aren’t innocent either, having done little to alleviate things like inflation. Keep in mind, the minimum wage you’d now need to survive (at least where I live) is $19.17, and the Michigan minimum wage is $10.33. Where is Gretchen Whitmer when we need her?
To be fair, she is busy being a badass.
I desperately want children. As I write this, a couple of kids are playing on the beach, innocent and carefree. I hope someday I get to have a few of my own to lovingly raise and teach everything I know to. But the main roadblock to that dream is the fact that I’m barely getting by with my three jobs. Don’t shame me for not having children when that privilege was taken away from me — and from so many of my peers.
Fun fact: I was a journalism major. I have the degree, actually! Did I ever do anything with it? Not particularly, save for a few human interest pieces for local papers. It was a largely useless degree, a $60000 piece of paper. But I know way more than anyone needs to about the news and how it works. And sometimes, just for funsies, I put my journalist hat back on and study the field again. You know, for the lulz.
Which led me to a book on political journalism by notable reporter and former Rolling Stone editor Matt Taibbi called Hate, Inc.
It goes in depth about the way modern journalism has devolved back into the party press era in recent years, with news outlets turning into cheerleading platforms for their preferred political party. And no small part of this “cheerleading” involves turning Americans against each other, right vs. left, conservative vs. liberal/leftist, red vs. blue. We don’t have a common enemy anymore — the enemy is our Trump-supporting neighbor or the left-leaning lesbians down the street, depending on which news site you’ve sold your soul to.
There is a reason for this, and it has nothing to do with politics.
It’s all sweet, sweet cash.
You see, according to Taibbi, news outlets sell a product. Why else would Fox and MSNBC run commercials? We’re being sold at the expense of peace of mind, constantly being told that the “other side” is out to get us. Outrage is addictive, and it’s good for business. If the news can find a boogieman for us to hate, we’ll be invested, more so than if the news ran stories on all the good stuff happening in the world. Hate is simply more profitable.
Taibbi didn’t go very far into social media, but that’s a factor in this too. Look at statuses like this:
…what?
No sane person would write this incoherent dribble. But it presses the right buttons. People who are scared of immigration are going to read this and type “amen” or “nailed it,” and people who support awful things (like other people coming to the US for a better life) will rage-share it. I know, I’m guilty of this too. It doesn’t matter what side of the aisle you’re on. We are all guilty. And the person who articulated this nonsense will go on to get views and engagement, which, in the social media world, is king. Who cares if any of it actually makes sense?
We need to be more vigilant about what we share and who we share from, because we’re becoming addicted to hate. You experience a little adrenaline rush every time someone says something that pisses you off, and just like watching a scary movie, you get that thrill. Then, you start to feel self-righteous. “I’m better than these people, because these people believe this.” This line of thinking gives you the worst kind of power trip.
Friends, remember that your fellow Americans are just people. Yes, even the ones you disagree with. If we’re going to have a peaceful transition of power this election season, we’re going to need to relearn that as a society. Trans people are not the enemy. Childless cat ladies are not the enemy. Hell, Trumpers aren’t the enemy. The enemy is our hatred, and if we let it fester, we’re in for a terrible time. Just shut off the news and Facebook. You’ll be a better person for it.
I’m sure everyone and their cat knows the news by now.
The most iconic thing to happen to an ear since Mike Tyson.
I’m not a fan of Trump, and at the rate he’s going, I’ll likely never be. He’s done far too much to further marginalize people like me and my friends. He literally made hate great again, after so much progress had been made for women, LBGTQ folks, and people of color. He and his followers have literally tried taking us back to the 1950s in terms of rights and freedoms. I wish nothing but the worst for him in all aspects of life for what he’s done to this country and society as a whole.
That being said, I don’t want him to die.
I consider myself something of a pacifist. I’m not an advocate of violence except in cases of self-defense. Violence only begets more violence, and that’s exactly what I’m afraid of with this recent attempt on Trump’s life. Conservatives are already blaming the left for this attack (despite the shooter being a registered Republican), and they did not need more reasons to dehumanize us. They’ve already been pushing the “groomer” rhetoric in relation to queer folks because framing us as pedos would allow them to hurt us with no remorse. People are more inclined to hurt others when they view them as subhuman, and framing the left as these wildly violent lunatics would put an enormous target on all of our backs.
I tend to think about the saying “live by the sword, die by the sword” in this situation. Trump has been promoting violent rhetoric, so it’s only karmic that political violence is directed toward him. At the same time, I don’t think we should be trying to kill him. We need to show that we’re bigger than that, that we are the party of love and peace. What’s important right now is winning votes while we still have a vote. If we fumble this, we might not have that option soon.
Don’t get me wrong — I will not cry when Trump ultimately kicks the bucket, and I’m not above pissing on his grave when he does. But trying to take his life will not do us any favors. His ideas have grown beyond him like a deadly mold.
I’m not going to lie; I’m terrified for November. I’ve never been so uncertain of my future. I don’t even know if I’ll ever get to have a family. This shooting made already shaky ground even more unstable. The fact that Trump survived allows people to lionize him, and I suspect his followers will become further emboldened. Will my future children even know a free America, or will we fall to fascism? Everything feels so up in the air, and I want to believe we’ll vote this evil out of office for good, but I have a bad feeling things are going to get worse.
I’ll admit it, I’m a bit of a hillbilly. My family migrated from the hollers of Kentucky to work in the factories in Michigan, and they brought with them a culture I still really love. I grew up with Sunday family dinners complete with food cooked in literal tubs of lard. (I know because my grandma would keep her empty lard tubs in the garage when I was growing up.) My uncle was a racecar driver, and I have fond memories of going to the local speedway to watch him along with the bus races every September. Trust me, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen ten school buses going full speed in a figure 8. I listened to exclusively country music until I was about seven and discovered Bon Jovi. I remember going muddin’ with my neighbor and fishin’ with my dad as a kid. My wife’s from the bougie suburbs north of Detroit, so when I tell her about these things, she looks at me like I’m speaking Greek. But that culture was a huge part of my childhood.
Fish love me, women fear me, or something like that.
As I write this, I’m getting ready to take aforementioned wife to a racetrack for the first time in her life. It’s for the Fourth of July; they’re going to be lighting off fireworks at the end of the night. It should be a fun night, and I’m excited to show her part of what made my childhood special. But I can’t shake the feeling that we’ll be surrounded by MAGA hats and people who would want us dead if they knew we were together. It’s an unfair assumption to make, especially since racecar driving has been historically very “woke” and NASCAR is actually a pretty vocal ally to this day. Still, I’m not oblivious. I know the kinds of people these events attract, and…
They look like me. They look like my family.
Sometimes I feel like I’m being forced to choose between the culture I grew up in and living as a queer woman. I’m sure I’m not the first person to feel this way, but it’s jarring for sure, especially when you’ve been in straight-passing relationships for most of your life. Suddenly, your very existence is political, and it’s weird and uncomfortable. People who don’t care about you are making laws about you and you have to actually start caring about who gets voted into office. I’m very blessed that my family tends to lean progressive politically, but I still feel like I can’t engage in parts of my family’s culture without feeling “othered.”
I wish we could enjoy these little pieces of American culture without that weird feeling. After all, we’re all Americans, even the people the right-wing media say are not. Remember all the “This is my pride flag!” posts last month flaunting the American flag, as if the two can’t co-exist?
Shared by a “friend” of mine. Need I say more?
Hillbilly culture, and American culture as a whole, shouldn’t be restricted to only straight, cisgender folks. This land is my land, too, and we’re just as American as the flag-flaunting MAGA hat-wearers. (I’d argue we’re more American, as we didn’t try to, ya know, overthrow the government.) Don’t let stupid memes and conservative media convince you otherwise. My culture is mine. My heritage is mine. My country is mine. And I’m done letting people take that from me.
I have a confession: I’m fascinated by the worst people. It’s probably detrimental to my mental health, but I often find myself looking in the comments section of absolute cesspools on the internet for hours on end.
In my more naive years, I’d often debate people like this. I’d craft some well-written argument about how yes, trans folks are valid, gay folks should have a right to be with who they please, and black folks should, ya know, exist. This is usually followed by guys with profile pictures that look like a frostbitten toe laugh reacting the post to hell. I’ve since stopped because it’s no use arguing with people who look like this:
Apologies to this man for using him as an example but like, do better bro.
I consider it a matter of knowing my enemy. I want to know what these asshats’ talking points are so I can watch for signs of that shit in everyday conversation. The second someone brings up TERF rhetoric or starts talking about how we need a “straight white pride” month, I know to run in the opposite direction as fast as humanly possible. But also, it’s just kind of fascinating to me. Like, what leads a person to that level of hate? What makes one devolve into posting bullshit like this?
Ahh yes, the worst thing a woman can be, the mother to a biracial child.
It costs zero dollars to not suck. Imagine if people just minded their own business and didn’t brigade random people’s posts because they shared a picture of a queer person having fun? The other day, I had to put one of my own posts on private because it kept getting shared to hate groups. Like, why though? What are people getting out of this? I wasn’t even that mad — haters make me famous and all that — but the notifications were annoying as hell, and I was tired of seeing Greg’s thumb-looking ass popping up on my feed every few minutes.
I guess to me, it’s a reminder of what I fight for everyday. I use my platform on here to humanize the queer experience. I realize a lot of these folks have probably never met someone who isn’t exactly like them. I was similar when I first went off to university. I repeated the whole “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve” BS because my high school friends would say it — God knows I’d never admit to being bisexual in front of them. But a funny thing happened when I moved to my college town. I met other queer folks and even came to terms with my own queerness, and I changed. But these people have never left their hometowns. They’re in a white, cishet circle-jerk forever, and it’s actually pretty sad. There’s a lot of beauty in human diversity and the way we connect with one another. We’re just people, and we want to live and love too.
Imagine seeing something this precious and being like “wow, I hope they all die.”
I should probably cut back on my “patrolling” these ugly spaces though. Even reporting doesn’t do any good — the comments never get taken down (thanks, Zucc!). Maybe I should look more toward the beautiful things in life and focus my energies there instead. Even the Bible says so:
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
Not a humanitarian crisis, although there are plenty of those happening in the world too.
You see, maybe I’m friends with the wrong people on Facebook, but it seems like almost daily I’m inundated with memes like this one:
Or this one:
None of those good enough for ya? How about one that’s both transphobic and threatens physical violence?
Double the assholery, double the fun, or whatever that gum commercial said.
The funny thing is, most of the people who share these memes will turn around and share DO YOU LOVE JESUS?! TYPE AMEN! types of posts in practically the same click. It would almost be funny if these same people didn’t have so much power. But as we learned with the overturning of Roe v. Wade, these folks can and will take away fundamental freedoms from us. Freedoms. You know, the very thing the right loves to brag about preserving.
“Expand freedom” my left asscheek.
I don’t know at what point in history “helping others” and “being a decent fucking human” became a partisan issue, but for some reason, it is. And I blame toxic individualism.
A certain amount of individualism isn’t bad. It’s what enables us to stand out and create new things. Nothing great would be accomplished without someone pushing against the grain. It’s when individualism evolves into “I got mine, so screw you” that it becomes toxic.
Kinda like this.
It’s why people turn against each other so easily these days. Remember when people didn’t give a shit about being transgender? No one was boycotting Pokémon back in the 90s for having Meowth be voiced by a trans woman. But somehow trans people having more rights takes away rights from cisgender people, and right wing pundits utilized that fearmongering to make trans folks public enemy number one. All because people are afraid of losing their rights to a group that is honestly muchworseoff than them.
Why are we as a people so dead-set on fucking over other folks? Why do we as a society pit groups of people against each other?
“It’s the same string of arrogant assumptions that spawned the master race theories of Herr Hitler: ego deification, social Darwinism, arbitrary stratification of human types,” this article ponders. “Adapted for capitalism, it becomes the divine right to plunder, a license for those who own nearly everything to take the rest, because they wish to, because they can. Because the weak don’t matter. Let the big dogs feed.”
“Success coaches” like Andrew Tate espouse the same kind of individualistic BS — life’s about making your own money, popping out your own babies, and bowing to that primal urge to get yours before someone else takes it from you. But is that a way to truly be human?
Anthropologist Margaret Mead famously said the earliest sign of human civilization was a healed bone. In the animal kingdom, should a creature break a bone, that would almost certainly spell death for the poor thing. A stronger animal will easily overpower it and claim it as a snack. But someone protected and cared for another person long enough for their injury to heal. The thing that makes us different from animals is our ability to care for one another for unselfish reasons. This is our humanity. This is the very thing these “survival of the fittest” types want to erase.
Call me a bleeding heart librul, but I’d rather pay a little extra in taxes so some kid can get a free lunch or someone’s grandpa can get the cancer treatment he needs. I can learn a few Spanish phrases to make immigrants’ lives a little easier. I’d make small sacrifices like getting used to a friend’s new name or pronouns if it means welcoming in marginalized folks. It honestly isn’t that much of a sacrifice — we honor newlywed women’s name change requests all the time. American right wing politics make no logical sense to me. At some point, it just seems like people are going out of their way to be dicks to folks they don’t even know.
I’m not saying voting blue will change everything overnight. Everyone knows even left-leaning politicians are bought off by companies and individuals with less than wholesome intentions. A revolution isn’t going to magically happen anytime soon. But maybe we can start by not actively being jerks to other people. Maybe we can start by embracing our humanity.
JESSA JOYCE 