Why we must stop dancing to the sound of our own oppression Madame Gandhi
So often,
I’ll take a fitness class,
or I’ll go to a music venue,
or, really, anywhere that plays
music in the background,
and I’ll find myself loving the rhythms
and the melodies and the beats …
And then I take a second
to listen to the lyrics,
lyrics that, for example,
place us in a position of subservience
that we would never tolerate
in any other context.
And I’m aghast at the degree to which
we normalize sexism in our culture.
I listen to this music and I’m like,
I don’t want to have to turn up
to the sound of my own oppression.
You know, music is one of the most
powerful forms of communication,
because it has the potential
to either uplift or oppress.
Music caters to the emotions.
Music caters to the soul.
Music opens up our soul.
It opens up our channels
to receive information
about somebody else’s walk of life,
to inform our own roles.
And while I have no problem
with male fantasy,
what I do have a problem with
is that, according to a recent study,
only 2.6 percent of all music producers
identify as women.
That means an even smaller percentage
identify as trans or gender nonconforming.
And why does this matter?
Because, if we don’t own
and control our own narrative,
somebody else will
tell our stories for us,
and they will get it wrong,
perpetuating the very myths
that hold us back.
And I’m not here to tell other people
how to make their music.
But I am here to provide
and design the alternative.
One strategy I take in my music
is making uplifting, energetic,
percussive global beats
and placing lyrics on top of them
that genuinely describe
my life’s experiences
without contributing
to the oppression of anybody else.
It’s funny, because it’s the same reason
as to why we excuse
so many problematic lyrics;
it’s because we love
how the beats make us feel.
An example of this is my song
“Top Knot Turn Up.”
(Music: “Top Knot Turn Up”)
(Sings) I turned off my phone’s
notifications so I have more time /
No bubbles to trouble
my clear state of mind /
One thing to know,
I’m not here to please /
Hair tied up, I do it properly /
My time is not your property /
When I’m productive like my ovaries,
eyy! /
Give a grown girl room to breathe,
basic rights and her liberty /
Free from insecurity
that the world’s projecting onto me /
Please do not trouble me
when I am focused /
The future is female
you already know this /
I’m fighting against
the corruption on SCOTUS /
Turned up in my top knot
since when I first wrote this /
It’s a top knot turn up
It’s a top knot turn up, turn up, turn up.
It’s a top knot turn up
It’s a top knot turn up, turn up, turn up.
It’s a top knot turn up
It’s a top knot turn up, eyyy.
It’s a top knot turn up.
(Music ends)
I want us to keep making
sex-positive, beautiful music
about joy and freedom.
I want us to embrace our own pleasure
just as much as we embrace our own pain.
I want us to celebrate the authentic,
nuanced,
multidimensional aspects
of our human existence,
rather than perform false narratives
of degrading sexuality
in order to feel accepted or loved.
And another strategy
that I take in my music
to combat the misogyny
that exists on the airwaves
is to visually depict the very world
I wished we lived in.
In the music video
for my song “See Me Thru,”
which is like a vibe-y,
queer electronic R and B song,
I cast two of my dear friends,
Ania and Dejha,
to play the role of the lovers,
because they’re married in real life.
But what you don’t know
is that they also are behind the camera
concepting and directing
the entire video.
(Video) Heyyyyy ohhhh
My emotions were tired
Music should be safe
and accessible for all to experience.
As you can see, it’s not about
losing the sex appeal or swag
that music has,
it’s about writing messages
that infuse tenderness and positivity
into music that motivates us
and challenges us.
And while we as musicians
absolutely have the responsibility
to make music that isn’t disempowering,
the consumers can be
part of the change, too.
Firstly, we get to choose
which songs we want to mute
and which songs we want to turn louder.
We get to say, “I respect myself enough
to say I don’t want to listen to this,
and I don’t want this to be
in anybody else’s space, either.”
Secondly, we can simply ask ourselves:
“Does this music or this message
contribute to the oppression
of somebody else?
Why am I tolerating it?”
And finally, we can all be choosing
to make playlists or DJ-ing music
that provides the right vibe or mood
that we’re looking for in that moment
without the problematic messaging.
Why does this matter?
Because it’s teaching algorithms
in our streaming systems and our world
exactly what it is that
we do want to listen to,
creating long-term change
and a feedbacking mechanism
that impacts the entire industry.
This is not a message
for just a small group of people.
This is a message that affects everybody,
because when we protect and liberate
our most vulnerable genders,
we liberate everybody.