Ever since I was a little gay, I always felt a strong connection to songs sung by women. The other day, I was jammin' out in my truck (yep, you read that right) to some Lady Gaga (yep, you read that right) and I was thinking of the many comments I've gotten from friends, family, and strangers on the aforementioned: Gaga and big gay me driving a pick-up truck. Everybody's got something to say about me loving Lady Gaga and me driving a pick-up truck. Well, as Jerri Blank would proclaim: "I've got somethin' to sayyy!!!" too.
When I was the tiniest of gay boys, I was introduced to "Wind Beneath My Wings" by my g randma. Every summer and winter, when we'd visit my birthplace of Erie, Pennsylvania, I would tear apart my grandparent's house looking for the Bette Midler cassete that held the key to magic gateway of fabulousness that was that song. That song gave me my wings - my fairy wings. And so my love of strong women began.
In my early years, I worshipped Dolly Parton and other female country singers. My father was the manager of a very successful country music radio station, and I was growing up down South in North Carolina, so... it was more indoctrination than anything. Let's just go with that. I specifically remember a Reba cover of Diana Ross' "Keep Me Hangin' On," that my mom and I would sing. I was only eight years old, but I loved the sassiness, and though it is not in my memory, it's safe to say a dance was probably choreographed to it. When Glee featured it recently, you can imagine my head exploding into glitter and rainbows.
As I reached the peak of my elementary education, I began to realize how uncool liking country music made me. Plus, there are only so many country music songs you can listen to before you realize that all country music songs are the same thing. Plus plus, a little band called No Doubt invaded our neighborhood's collective boom box and summer days were spent pretending to be band members in rehearsal. Summer nights were spent "performing" nearly every song on Tragic Kingdom. It should come as no surprise that yours truly was Gwen Stefani.
When sixth grade came along, so did the Spice Girls and my [spice] world would never be the same. If there was any hope of me being able to mask my homosexual tendencies, that hope was squashed when "Wannabe" became a phenomenon and platform shoes began to rule the world. I devoured anything and everything released by them, and thanks to the Internet, I became a walking Spice encyclopedia. My appreciation for technology is inextricably linked to the rise of the Spice Girls, as it gave me a chance to scour the web for hours on end in search of information on them. It's where I first became a student of pop culture. Eventually, I'd make my own Spice house on the Sims where I confirmed my suspicions of them all being a little lesbo by playing God to make them all lovers (and subsequently jealous crazies). I also starved them to death which is weird and I don't wanna talk about it.
I discovered Madonna at age 13 when our family moved across the country to Las Vegas. As I spiraled into depression (see also: that little thing called your teenage years), Madonna's Ray of Light introduced me to a level of music more complex than I was really ready to understand or appreciate. Still, I was all about some "Nothing Really Matters," a song I played on repeat ceaselessly. I was infinitely more lonely in Vegas, and had more time to absorb No Doubt's melancholy Return of Saturn, Janet Jackson's Velvet Rope and TLC's Fanmail - all albums that were notably darker than usual for each artist, and all albums that still take me directly back to that notably darker (and chubbier) time in my life.
My family quickly grew tired of Vegas and we set back East to North Carolina after only two years. When I returned, I waited with anxious anticipation for Madonna's American Life, already a solidified fanatic at 17. During my junior year, I was singing "Whenever, Wherever" in a throaty warble along with the rest of the country, loving Shakira's English language debut, when one of my best friends turned my world upside down and introduced me to Shakira's Spanish-language album Donde Estan Los Ladrones?
Discovering that album was like heaven. It was the first time I appreciated great songwriting. And if you think Ms. "lucky that my breasts are small and humble" isn't a great songwriter, you haven't listened to her in Spanish. I would sit in math class with my friend, and we would translate the lyrics from Spanish to English and I was captivated. "Moscas En La Casa" still makes me cry at the drop of a sombrero.
Discovering that album was like heaven. It was the first time I appreciated great songwriting. And if you think Ms. "lucky that my breasts are small and humble" isn't a great songwriter, you haven't listened to her in Spanish. I would sit in math class with my friend, and we would translate the lyrics from Spanish to English and I was captivated. "Moscas En La Casa" still makes me cry at the drop of a sombrero.
The beginning of my freshman year of college coincided with the release of Gwen Stefani's dance record and the song "What You Waiting For?" This song heralded a new era for me of liberation. Love. Angel. Music. Baby. acted as the soundtrack for much of my college career, always playing in the background as we would prepare for parties, never failing to pump us up.
When I fell in love and began my first relationship, I went back in my catalogue and revisited much of No Doubt's Tragic Kingdom and Return of Saturn, finding new appreciation for the lyrics and relating on levels 13 year-old Wes could have never imagined. I would have never needed to listen to those albums again if the relationship hadn't turned out to be such a shitshow at times. When I wasn't feeling the love, those were the songs that got me through ("Happy Now," "Ex-Girlfriend," "Suspension Without Suspense") - but when I was head over heels, I felt like the only person who described the love I felt accurately was Joni Mitchell and her Blue album - "All I Want" in particular. When the relationship met its inevitable end, "Both Sides Now," showed me that it was possible to capture the scope and complexity of what I was feeling.
Of course, in recent years, Lady Gaga has dominated the airwaves and also my iPod. Though her songs aren't overtly empowering, her message is. Rilo Kiley, Gossip, Robyn, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, the Sounds, Patty Griffin and Goldfrapp make up most of my iTunes library besides the artists already mentioned. Their styles are as diverse as their names, but one thing that holds them together for me is not the possibility that they'd perform on a resurrection of the Lilith Fair, it's that they are women who sing about their experiences and their feelings.
Driving in my truck, I decided to do this retrospective to try to figure out why I (and what seems like so many other gays with me) worship female singers. Why does music by women resonate so much with me and my experiences? I've always thought that if we're looking at the gender spectrum, I'd be more toward the woman side in my sensibilities - mostly because of my musical tastes and my sensitivity. While this may be true, I'm starting to reconsider if that's what really makes me appreciate this music.
From a very early age, I observed the subtle oppression that women experience - be it my mother, my grandmother, or the other girls I played with on the playground - and I connected with them on those levels. If a man were to sing a song that's meant to be empowering (and they so rarely do), it would come off to me as a bit silly. Men already have the power in this society, so them singing about it would be douchey and annoying. Bono sings uplifting music but I want to punch him in the face. 50 Cent raps about power, money, and bitches and it makes me want to stab him in his amazing pecs. When girls sing about such things, I'm usually all about it. Not all women face the same levels of oppression, but it resonates much more because it's a legitimate possibility.
The strongest of women are those who don't shy away from their insecurities and vulnerability, which is probably why my all-time favorite is Gwen. In all of her albums, either with No Doubt or solo, she puts her feelings out full-blast. In some moments, she's vulnerable or even weak ("Magic's in the Makeup") and in others, she is working through her neuroses to find power ("What You Waiting For?"). I think it's why I like Madonna's "Ray of Light" album the most, and Shakira's song "Si Te Vas."
It's worth noting that although I've tied many of these songs to my homosexual tendencies, there's nothing "gay" about liking female singers. These women made me feel like it was okay to be who I was, whoever that was. If that's "gay," then I guess that's gay, but the parallels could be drawn from their songs much easier than from a man's songs (Madonna's "Forbidden Love" vs. "The Thong Song").
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