Column: Where Have All the Cowboys Gone
Posted under: Jasmine Zhu explores the intersection of herself and a male-dominant music culture.
Why do people develop an interest in music? I’m not too ashamed to admit that my budding affections from Julian Casablancas to Elliott Smith to Thurston Moore to even (clearly, I’m holding nothing back)—Anthony Kiedis—arose primarily from some unbidden desire to become closer to the opposite sex. I was boy-crazy but too shy to do anything about it. While actual, real life breathing males were mystifying and alarming for me to deal with; I could easily find solace in the quavering voice of Conor Oberst or be endlessly fascinated and entertained by the hip gyrations of Morrissey—and that was enough for the time being.
Bright Eyes — “Falling Out of Love at This Volume”
It was the best of times, it was the—no. That’s not quite it. Merely, it was the worst of times. Lovelorn and thirteen, I listened to the self-pitying, emo murmurings of beta males on my portable Sony CD Walkman player. I often dreamed about falling in love with various celebrities. I use the term celebrities very loosely—my daydreams consisted mostly of waifish Saddle Creek or Slumberland recording artists. I was nerdy, uncool, and lonely. I wore Sketchers slip-ons, for god’s sake.
After many years, I was able to muster up enough courage to converse with people, and some of those people were male. I met some nice ones and some funny ones and some jerky ones. Some I even became friends with. All in all, it has been a worthwhile and enriching experience. With one noticeable exception. I was discovering that it was nearly impossible to hold a conversation with any male for an extended amount of time about music. Something about phrases as innocuous as “arpeggiated synths”, “blog post”, or even “DIY collective” (which ironically, would often be exclusive to males), seemed to trigger an inexplicable feeling of immense superiority, and previously sensible persons would form into a grid-locked bro huddle while I feebly tried to get a word in edgewise, to no avail.
LCD Soundsystem — “Losing My Edge”
There is no question that the music scene—like most other niches—is male dominated and consequentially, alienating to women. Some things I have actually been told—“You have good taste in music for a girl” and my particular favorite, to paraphrase: “Don’t talk to (name of music bro) about music because you’ll embarrass me.” Not wanting to seem shrill, self-righteous and indignant, I opted to stay sheepishly silent. I was nineteen and unsure. In retrospect, I should have punched him. He would have deserved it.
I got interested in music because of boys, and then I became disinterested in boys because of music.
First things first I’ll eat your brains. Then I’mma start rocking gold teeth and fangs. –Nicki Minaj
Why should my taste be considered derivative, less valid and less credible? How would anyone know, anyways, if they refused to even entertain a dialogue? The sad thing is, most of the time it’s completely unintentional, and simply an unconscious, automatic response. It’s incredibly frustrating and dismal that something that should be as fun and inviting as music can become so cold and gender exclusive. I’m fairly “lucky” I suppose, in that the extent of sexism I encounter generally occurs in such a limited capacity, but obviously a larger issue is at stake here. The culture of silencing women is hostile and pervasive, and has devastating implications.
Fifteen year old Malala Yousufzai was shot in the head by the Taliban for advocating girls’ education. Members of feminist punk-rock group Pussy Riot were jailed while protesting support of Putin. And in my home state of Michigan, Reps. Lisa Brown and Barb Byrum were banned from speaking in the House after daring to say the word “vagina” during a debate about women’s health reformation—proposals which have led to some of the most stringent anti-abortion bills in the country.
What would I have told the nineteen year old version of myself that day, sitting quietly and resentfully on that couch, listening to some oafs spout off about music? “Speak up, dummy,” I would have told her. “Speak up because you have nothing to lose.”
Jim O’Rourke — “Women of the World”
