Tag Archive: Lady Gaga

So. I went to the Gaga show.

But this isn’t about the show as in, a review, per se. This is about the grievous amount of stupid I met there and after I returned from my glorious vacation at the Monster Ball. Everywhere I go people are still tripping balls from this show, and those that are squeeing are not the issue. The ones that make these complaints are:

“Omg, she was so PEDESTRIAN, like, there were kids and old people there and she was saying really sexual stuff and swearing, and THEN there was that thing with all the fake blood and stuff!”

I shit you not, people. I overheard that from someone when I was shopping for canvas in the quasi-official art store for campus. From an art student, I assume, judging by the hipster twit vibe coming off of her as she spoke to the shopkeeper, who also was the classic hipster twit. I had to leave the store to keep from laughing my ass off.

Okay, people. Have you never HEARD of this lady called “Gaga” before?

First, this was NOT billed as an all ages show. This was explicit and was billed as an R rated place to be and for fuck’s sake, even if it wasn’t, LOOK AT HER PAST SHOWS. She has killed herself on stage before. Fake blood is a staple. She grabs her crotch and makes out with boys, girls and whoever in her VIDEOS. And even if you want to claim you NEVER saw anything she did visually before, let’s fucking think about some of her lyrics. “I wanna take a ride on your disco stick,” anyone? This is the woman who discouraged the rumors she had a dick with the phrase “I’m not offended, but my beautiful vagina is very offended.” And the woman who said of her lipstick for MAC “We look forward to seeing this color on condoms around the world” or something to that effect. This woman is explicit. She is not PC. She is sexual, she is crude, she is in your face.

On the subject of the elderly: They don’t know what sex is? How the fuck did them there grandkids and kids get there then?

On the subject of the kids there: You shouldn’t be bringing anyone under the age of 16 to a fucking 100 USD per CHEAP ticket show. Fuck you. In short: if your kids don’t have a job to buy their own tickets and go by themselves, they shouldn’t be going and aren’t old enough to go. Shit, they shouldn’t be listening to Gaga in the first place– her records are explicit and have parental advisory stickers on them. Your little eight year old shouldn’t be there to be “traumatized” by her “low brow” antics. Your eight year old can go listen to someone else. So unless YOUR ASS bought them the tickets and brought them there, they aren’t there. Ergo, if they are so traumatized by Gaga being Gaga, by everything from her screaming “FUCK YOU” to everyone that tormented her in school, to her ripping the heads off of teddy bears, to her rubbing one of her dancers’ crotches and purring sexual things, that’s YOUR shitty parenting that is at fault. YOU brought them there.

Therefore? You have no reason to complain if you’re a parent and your precious angel has nightmares now from the images of Gaga vomiting up copious amounts of blood, then her heart, and then swallowing the heart back down while a clip of her screaming “Make it stop” is played over the top of the image. If your little Suzy has nightmares about dying of exsanguination, maybe you’ll learn to screen what your kids listen to and see before it gets into their hands. Just remember: All that? Your fault. You’re the adult that makes the money. You decide how it’s spent. Don’t you dare try to censor my entertainment because you want to be your child’s friend and give them what’s popular instead of being a parent and telling them no.

Oh, and to the little art students that object on the grounds it is “offensive” and just for shock value– aren’t you the people that are smearing your own feces on a canvas and calling it art? Hm? And furthermore, even if you’re not, you should be against censorship in every way, shape and form as it limits true freedom of expression, and that means you should be FOR people policing what their kids see THEMSELVES because ADULT ENTERTAINMENT should not be censored for the sake of the kiddikins. Furthermore– was it just for shock value because you didn’t get it? Have you never been beaten down by people and kicked while you’re down so many times that you feel like you SHOULD be vomiting blood? That you wish you could just cough up your heart so you never had to feel anything again, and then realize feeling nothing is WORSE? Have you ever had to swallow the most bitter, disgusting feelings of self hatred, of rejection, of ugliness, sadness, and self disgust and force yourself to keep going?

Call me an emo kid snob, but if you haven’t, your art sure as fuck isn’t art I’m interested in seeing. I like my artists deranged and giving their severed ears to prostitutes. People who paint “happy trees” are not artists I’m interested in. That’s art, sure, but if you want to complain about it being pedestrian, i.e. “low” or easily available to a person “traveling on foot” and therefore, according them, unrefined or somehow crude, your pretty ass abstract lines and paint splatters that don’t offend anyone certainly are pedestrian. “BUT THEY MEAN [insert complex meaning here]” Sure they do. But they are accessible to the common person. They offend no one, save the people like me that think you should have to have actual skill to create art. If Gaga’s depiction of herself forced you to look away, then that is much more dangerous to put out there on the grounds that it WILL offend. It’s not being safe and making what will sell at the newest rich snob art convention because it looks lovely next to their coffee table. Again, this is not to say that appreciating the aesthetic value of a piece of art is wrong in any way, or that a piece of beautiful art cannot have deeper, more unsettling meaning. It is, however, to say that if you condemn something on the grounds it offends you as not being “what art should be” then you have no grasp on what art is.

I enjoyed the hell out of the show. I went to be wrapped up in the fact that Mama Monster IS batshit insane. She’s delusional and admits such herself. I went and for those that are wondering, my little monster paws were NOT smacked down. All the gays there? They were fabulous. Fun. And didn’t bother trying to scare the straights– no, Gaga and the Scissor Sisters managed that quite well on their own. We just had fun not being the gayest person in the room for once.

On that note, to all the people I haven’t mentioned yet, my personal favorites, the ones that thought you wouldn’t get nearly as gay a show as you got and are affronted:

How did you like them hip thrusts? I thought the latex chaps and glitter leotards accented them nicely.

I didn’t like Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way” song when it first came out. I felt it was unoriginal, beat you over the head with what it was trying to say, and was not Gaga’s best work by any stretch.

Today, I saw the video.

For a few moments, I sat there stunned. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t know what I had just seen.

Then I was upset. Angry. And I couldn’t figure out why.

Suddenly, I realized what it was. This song is portrayed as Gaga’s “love letter” to the homosexual community. The Little Monsters she gave birth to in this video are supposed to be perfect, they have no prejudice. They’re all accepting, all loving, and they’re oppressed by others, but that’s okay because they were born perfect. They were born this way, and that can’t be wrong. The perfect children she gave birth to must be protected from the evil she also produced because all things must exist in balance.

Here’s what pissed me off, and it may be so far off base I should be hit with a stick. The gay community is an exclusive, angry, clique infested community where I am. If you’re not gay enough for them, they fucking hate you and call you a poser. If you haven’t known that you were gay since you could remember, you’re not really gay. You can’t be bisexual– you’ll be gay eventually, you’re just confused. If you’re a gay man, there’s a mold. If you’re a lesbian woman, there’s a mold. You have the lesbians who hate men and will just scream at them because they have a penis and have the audacity to think that a woman is attractive, and you have the catty gay men that are as bad as women are in their drama and yet shriek at every opportunity that vaginas are gross.

I’m painting a fuck lot of negative stereotypes here. I know that not everyone is this way. I know there are some wonderful queer people– I’ve met some. But those ones that make me feel like I’m a fraud because I love boys and girls equally, that say I’m just experimenting or confused because I wasn’t making my barbies have lesbian love scenes when I was six– you’re a drag. You’re not a queen. Fuck you in the goddamn ear.

Honestly, I wish I could ask Mama Monster about this. I really do. I want that gay community she talks about– that they accept that I’m a bisexual, bigender, biological female. I’m me. I’m who I’m supposed to be. My hair isn’t short because I’m a dyke– it’s short because I like it. I don’t hate my breasts because my mentality is partially male. I am not an extreme. I am not a drag queen or king– If I was a man, I’d be this same way: some days I want a pin stripe suit, some days I want heels. I can fall in love with either gender, I love *people,* not what is between their legs. I’m just figuring this shit out, I’m so sorry I’m not like the rest of you and have known this all my life. I’m new, I’m still figuring this shit out.

I know I’m being a jerk here– that gay people are just like every other group of people. They have prejudices and fears they act off of, they exclude some people, include others, and some of them have a very specific view of what being gay is and some of them do not. There is no happy, all inclusive group of people.

Mama Monster, that’s what made me so upset. I wish this race existed. I really do. I wish I could walk into a gay club and be accepted instantly, that my girlfriend and I could just be, that we wouldn’t be mistaken for straights pretending because neither of us are particularly masculine or feminine. I wish more of them didn’t care. I wish I wasn’t afraid to talk to other gay people because I’m afraid they’ll tell me I’m not really gay– I wish I could have more people that are like me, that are just this odd mess, that some days want to bind and pass, but some days seem to be adhering to the heterosexual norm. It’s not because I’m trying to fit in because it’s easier– it’s because it’s how I feel that day. The next day, it’ll change.

Maybe that prejudice is the evil that Mama Monster gives birth to in the video. Maybe that is her way of acknowledging that in what could be a group that loves and accepts everyone, there will always be a problem with that evil– that that is the choice between good and evil she speaks of. The evils of wanting to find people like you– and of wanting to shut anyone that could hurt you because they don’t understand exactly what you’re going through. You have to either take the pill of evil to protect your group, excluding people and being hurtful, or you have to accept everyone and leave open the possibility that someone could hurt you and your group.

I was born myself. Not gay. Not straight. Not feminine. Not masculine. I was born a mess. I was born confused. I was born unique. I was not born as all I will be– I am always evolving, always changing, and I am never static. And I refuse to stick to one identity to make anyone happy.

“Born This Way” is an anthem for the outcast, for the different. In that process of being different, can we not exclude the people who are different in another way? Can we overcome the fear that we’ll be misunderstood and attacked?

I haven’t. I don’t know if anyone really can. But Little Monsters– when I come to Gaga’s concert, I hope you prove me wrong. That I’ll be able to mesh with you and we can all be weird together. That the straights will be with the drag queens, that the trans folks will be right in there with everyone else, that the gay men will range from bear to twink and everything in between, that the lesbians will be femme and bull-dyke alike. That for a few hours, Mama Monster’s perfect race will exist. That we’ll all belong.

What a beautiful few hours that would be. What a beautiful place to be. If it can exist for a few hours there, maybe there’s hope it can survive outside too, out from under Gaga’s watchful eye. Take me to that dream world of acceptance, weirdness, and beauty that Gaga seems to be trying to create for all of us. Make that world exist, if only for a minute.

My paws are up, Mama Monster. I just hope they don’t get smacked back down.

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