Category: Reading

  • This one’s for the boys

    This one’s for the boys

    The moment we’re in

    With fascism ascendant across the world, there’s been a lot of ink spilled on what exactly is driving it. A lot of folks on the left are, in true Marxian fashion, pointing to material conditions: as center-left parties like the Democrats in the U.S., the Labour Party in the U.K., and SPD in Germany continue to embrace technocratic reform and neoliberalism, they fail to capture the zeitgeist and cede major political ground to the right, which has gotten more bullish and populist.

    But a lot of folks in the center-left are pointing to another issue: men aren’t doing so hot. We’ll call this the Man Question. Male-catering media is a cesspool of misogynist bile saturated with grifters and sex pests, men are falling behind women by a ton of appreciable measures, men are lonelier and more prone to suicide than ever. Hell, they don’t read anymore!

    Did Rey from Star Wars Ruin Life for Men? and Other Dumb Questions

    There are two strains of Man Question discourse. The first, most common in the center and even in parts of the right, argues that the 2010s feminist moment, typified by things like the #MeToo movement and the spread of pop feminism, did too much for women, turning society against men in a way that’s both unfair and having harmful effects.

    The second strain, which I think is a lot more defensible, argues that de-industrialization in the West has foreclosed a lot of opportunities for men to build a life for themselves. This precarity makes a ton of minor social changes seem cataclysmic: men who are bitter and struggling see women succeeding and become radicalized.

    I think both of these leave a lot to be desired.

    To quickly dispatch with the first strain, there’s precious little evidence that women gained anything from 2010s/millennial feminism — at the same time as Emma Watson and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie made a mint extolling the virtues of an amorphous, apolitical feminism, #GamerGate forced the resegregation of an entire industry and cut down a generation of brilliant artists, developers, and writers. Even as popular politicians like Barack Obama embraced the feminist label, the concept’s popularity faded with no appreciable policy gains.

    Hillary Clinton’s failed 2016 presidential bid, which leaned heavily on millennial feminist imagery and rhetoric, serves as a useful example of this. Clinton, the ostensible feminist candidate, failed to win the presidency against a blundering bigoted man who represented everything wrong with traditional masculinity; the rejection of her can also be seen as a rejection of the movement she positioned herself as representing.

    All of that’s to say, it’s baffling to think that a movement whose biggest win was getting a woman to lead a few Star Wars movies did anything to meaningfully displace men in society. Even if perceptually it looks like men are on the back foot, the reality is that men are still on the whole wealthier, better connected, and more powerful than women in society.

    It’s possible that men could mistake perception for reality, or blame the broader worsening of quality of life under capitalism on feminism. But that’s not what the folks pushing this are arguing. They’re arguing that the excesses of millennial feminism, which amount to some Twitter posts and a raft of bad movies, was enough to displace men and invite fascist backlash.

    That’s bullshit.

    The Better Man Question

    The second strain fares a lot better, but still leaves something to be desired. There is a lot of evidence that men are struggling right now economically and emotionally, but not as a result of feminism run amok. The true cause, at least in large part, is capitalism — the only paths to upward mobility are bullshit jobs gatekept behind useless credentials, social spaces are turned to walled gardens, and the few free spaces left are digital grievance incubators tailor-made to sell junk supplements, self-improvement courses, and self-serving pyramid schemes. The infrastructure that build the modern man has atrophied, and men are uniquely worse off because of it.

    The sharpest and most incisive version of this argument is made by Christine Emba, who wrote years ago about how societal shifts under capitalism make prior versions of traditional masculinity unattainable for a lot of men. She argues compellingly that men, cut loose from the stability of traditional gender roles and beset by an economy that disfavors them, are unmoored. They are being lapped by women, who no longer look at them as viable partners.

    Put simply: we exist in a moment where the old is dead and the new is struggling to be born, and the resultant monsters are lashing out against the cultural milieu that birthed them.

    Past models of masculinity feel unreachable or socially unacceptable; new ones have yet to crystallize. What are men for in the modern world? What do they look like? Where do they fit? 

    I think there’s a lot to like about this articulation of the issue. She correctly identifies that the material issues drive the social ones — as status and stability become increasingly unattainable, men feel alienated from themselves and the world. She rightly disaggregates the power that some men — particularly rich, white men — still have in society from men writ-large, especially Black men and working-class men.

    Because men still dominate leadership positions in government and corporations, many assume they’re doing fine and bristle at male complaint. After all, all 45 U.S. presidents have been male, and men still make up more than two-thirds of Congress. A 2020 analysis of the S&P 500 found that there were more CEOs named Michael or James than there were female CEOs, period. Women are still dealing with historical discrimination and centuries of male domination that haven’t been fully accounted for or rectified. Are we really worrying that men feel a little emasculated because their female classmates are doing well?

    But millions of men lack access to that kind of power and success — and, downstream, cut loose from a stable identity as patriarchs deserving of respect, they feel demoralized and adrift. The data show it, but so does the general mood: Men find themselves lonely, depressed, anxious and directionless.

    This is an important point that she rightly notes has been ignored by a lot of folks on the left. In the same way that capitalism has concentrated wealth amongst a small few, so too has patriarchy concentrated its boons in the hands of a small elite. The most powerful, the most attractive, the most well-connected all benefit greatly from patriarchy, but those who are not powerful, who are not conventionally attractive, or whose social networks are frail and failing are not benefiting as much.

    That being said, it’s silly to assume that men downstream don’t receive any of the benefits of patriarchy. It might be inchoate, but it is still happening. This is because patriarchy is not just manifested in attitudes and social mores but calcified in law, policy. Its operation is often invisible at the individual level. Or at least invisible to men: women are uniquely attuned to the myriad setbacks, microaggressions, and perils of being disfavored by patriarchy.

    What’s interesting about the men lamenting the failure of trickle-down patriarchy is that they aren’t necessarily arguing for more patriarchy. The men who feel left behind are not crying out for Trump-style machismo and oppressive patriarchy, they simply want the opportunity to be who they were told they should be.

    But survey data, academic research and interviews with Trump-voting men suggest that most don’t want to return to a more traditional masculinity either, one that requires men to be aggressive, dominant or stoic. Instead, they want Americans to have a different take on masculinity — one that is positive instead of negative, and broad instead of narrow.

    Men don’t want traditional patriarchal masculinity. Those embracing the Jordan Peterson/Andrew Tate school of revanchist sexist garbage are in the minority.

    But their numbers are growing. This is because, as Emba identifies, the center-left that so vocally embraced millennial feminism has not articulated a corresponding vision for the role of men in society. Instead, there’s mostly just vague gesturing at men like Barack Obama or Tim Walz as exemplars of a softer, liberal masculinity.

    This, of course, is peak silly. You can’t tell me that Barack Obama, a preternaturally attractive man with Ivy League pedigree who plays basketball, smokes like James Dean, and whose presidency was pockmarked by his epochal masculine bloodlust, isn’t a traditional man. You can’t tell me that Tim Walz, lifelong military man, hunter, patriarch, isn’t a man straight out of the traditional mold. This is not an alternative to the old definition of masculinity, it’s an embrace of it.

    So while she’s right that the center/center-left doesn’t have much to offer men right now, Emba is wrong in arguing that the progressive left is anti-man or has failed to offer an alternative vision of masculinity. Conflating the center-left’s silence or fumbling with the response of the broader left is a common issue in American politics, but it is especially egregious here because the left, especially the feminist left, has been engaging with the question of masculinity for decades now. This erasure of the left has major implications for this debate because it creates the illusion that the two poles are the silent and reductive “left” (really the center) and the hard right (offering trash).

    This is something I see a lot — folks looking to “both sides” the Man Question accuse the left of being too hateful or dismissive of men or the issue of masculinity. The evidence for this is usually some funky slogans and a few viral tweets.

    The truth is more complex: the left’s message to men has always been one of solidarity and empathy. The issues that men face are of a piece with the issues women face. Cis men facing displacement and identity issues can find common cause with trans men facing the same; white working class men can link arms with their Black and brown counterparts in a politics of mutual uplift.

    This, however, has not broken through to the mainstream. In addition to the aforementioned left-wing erasure, this is largely because the mainstream pretty much never fully engages with the substance of the left’s political positions. The constellation of diagnoses and prescriptions coming from the left are dismissed (like when left politicians predicted the Great Recession), are mischaracterized (like the years-long campaign to discredit single-payer healthcare in the U.S.), or are white-washed and straw-manned (critical race theory, Black Lives Matter, and defunding the police).

    Put a pin in this, we’ll return to it.

    Playing With Alternatives, or, “let’s re-read that one bell hooks book”

    While the left’s message is broad and egalitarian, it’s not especially punchy. Compare that to what the right offers. As Emba notes, their “impossible suggestion” is punchy and precise: “reenact the lives their grandfathers led, [and then] blame society when that inevitably fails.”

    This offers a clear directive: men should try to be Don Draper or Tyler Durden. When that inevitably fails — those men are myth and the men aspiring to be them are not — then just blame uppity women, feminism, Rey from Star Wars, Kamala Harris, or the redesign of Aloy in the Horizon Zero Dawn remaster.

    Oh, and the Jews. Always blame the Jews.

    It’d be laughable if it was not the animating force behind pretty much all of right wing politics right now.

    This alternate masculinity, really not an alternative at all, is bad. It may be “countercultural” and “aspirational,” as Emba notes, but it also “runs off the rails.” It’s “misogyny masquerading as being simply pro-male, advocating a return to a strict hierarchy in which a particular kind of man deserves to rule over everyone else.” It is “wildly antisocial,” predicated more on a reflexive hatred of women and feminism than on any effort to build a better future. For men or for anyone. It is proudly racist, homophobic, nihilist.

    I shouldn’t have to explain why those things are bad. But beyond the ethical issue with bigotry, there’s also the practical issue that a masculinity predicated on cis het able-bodied, neurotypical, wealthy whiteness excludes pretty much all men. It’s a definition of masculinity that has no utility for the vast majority of men. It only serves to make men bitter. For the right, that’s the point: a generation of men made to feel awful about themselves is a generation primed to accept that the forces of the left, whether it be feminists, racial justice activists, queer people, or economic populists, are robbing them of their birthright.

    This, arguably, is why Trump won a second term. Enough young men across racial and class lines were goaded into believing that their identities as men were under threat from the nebulous amalgam of left and center-left cultural and political forces, and that Daddy Trump was the bulwark against them.

    Again, this is bullshit. But it’s compelling bullshit that saw almost no answer from the center.

    So, to recap, Emba, and this strain of Man Question discourse more broadly, has done a pretty good job of articulating both the problem men face right now and the false promise of the right-wing alternative. That being said, they fail in articulating a useful alternative. To build a new and better masculinity, Emba advocates for a syncretic process by which some bits of traditional masculinity are saved (be strong, be hard-charging, protect others) and others are supplanted by a new ethic (don’t be an incel, be pro-social). Ok, sure. But this is, bafflingly, coupled with a weird biological essentialism and pot-shots at a progressive left allegedly vying for an androgynous society.

    But despite a push by some advocates to make everything from bathrooms to birthing gender-neutral, most people don’t actually want a completely androgynous society. And if a new model for masculinity is going to find popular appeal, it will depend on putting the distinctiveness of men to good use in whatever form it comes.

    Weird. Although, to be fair to Emba, she doesn’t seem to buy that this is a core part of the liberal project re: masculinity, and ultimately accepts that biology “is not destiny” and should not be core to anyone’s idea of gender. That she gives voice to this at all is striking because, as folks who regularly engage with center-left and progressive left gender conversations knows, there is no real rejection of the biological reality of sex. The nuanced idea that biological sex is, at core, a cluster of related traits that are coded a specific way by society is not a rejection of the reality of those traits. The recognition that we assign meaning to things is not a rejection of meaning!

    Still, squint hard enough and you’ll see echoes of bell hooks in Emba’s desire to rescue elements of traditional masculinity from patriarchy. And the idea that men should be strong, sexually vigorous, chivalrous, and driven isn’t bad in itself. However, it invites a slew of important questions that folks like Emba don’t seem to want to answer. What distinguishes the confident, sexually aggressive men of Emba et. al’s fantasies (it’s worth noting that Emba explicitly notes that these are the kind of men she’s attracted to) from the patriarchs of yesteryear? What are the bounds of this masculinity’s chivalry, are they similarly rooted in the idea that women are weak and inferior? What does it mean to be driven and motivated under capitalism? Are we making hustle culture core to what it means to be a man now?

    There’s no attempt by Emba or her interlocutors to answer these questions. Concepts like strength, self-mastery, sexual proficiency, and being a protector are taken as self-evident, removed from discussions of race, class, gender, or power. This, to me, dooms this as a viable alternative to traditional masculinity.

    Let’s just play with it a bit: the ideal man in Emba’s estimation is sexually driven. He “[has] the confidence to ask a girl out,” and takes great pride in his role as a “procreator.” But what does any of this mean in practice? Sexual drive exists in context, and a big part of that context is the reality of lopsided sexual violence against women. It’s the reality of gendered sexual expectation where men are expected to, without guidance, wake up and be master fornicators. It’s a reality where women are expected to at once be receptive to sexual advances and balk at any sexuality in order to stay clean and chaste. Packaged within this supposedly self-evident idea of a sexually driven man is a ton of questions: is our sexually driven “New Man” one who sees sex as a conquest, a conversation, or a currency? Are women to this man simply a means to an end (that end being his sexual gratification)? Are we supposed to see that as a positive virtue simply because it motivates the man to get off Reddit and take a shower?

    Let’s pick another: the idea of man as provider is bound up in the very questions of political economy that folks in the center refuse to engage with, and that they castigate the left for centering. Men can’t meaningfully become providers in a world where opportunities are scarce for all. And to be a provider at all implies a world where getting one’s basic needs met is contingent on one’s ability to play a specific, narrow social role. This new masculinity again asks men to be Willy Loman, but this time with rock hard abs.

    I don’t want to fully reject this “new masculinity,” if only because I see a lot of myself in it. I am physically strong, goal oriented, pro-social, and inclined towards protecting and providing for others, particularly the women in my life. But I also recognize that my being this way is contingent on a bunch of things — I’m able-bodied, neurodivergent in manageable and socially accepted ways, economically secure, conventionally attractive to a point. I’m highly educated, work a fairly prestigious job, and have a fairly strong social network. In other words, I’m exactly the kind of man that would succeed under the old mode of masculinity.

    Setting this archetype as the lodestar for all men without interrogating what these things mean and why they’re relevant means inviting in the same ideological trash that poisoned old masculinity into the new. And setting up a one-size-fits-all model for manhood risks doing the same thing that the right wing model does: creating impossible standards that, when not achieved, entrench anti-social, misogynistic attitudes.

    I think hooks has the better articulation of what a new masculinity could look like. In The Will to Change, she describes “good men” as those who seek to love and be loved, those who embrace feminist practice as a means of being “whole, authentic human beings,” those who reject domination because it cannot coexist with love. For hooks, being a good man is about living with an eye towards justice, embracing reciprocal healing, love, and mutuality. It means consciously rejecting and intervening to stop misogyny and receiving criticism with gratitude. In other words, good men are just good humans. They love and heal others, they work to create a context where others feel safe and valued. They don’t dominate, they lead.

    hooks’ articulation of a healthy masculinity is a lot more vague than Emba’s — there’s no “go to the gym and lay good pipe” in The Will to Change. But I think a more forgiving, expansive definition of manhood is good and necessary at a moment where the broader world makes attainment of more specific markers of masculinity hard. Telling men that they need to be uniformly strong and economically successful and sexually proficient will breed a bunch of men indistinguishable from the Men of the Past, while leaving a good chunk of the rest embittered failures mad at the world.

    That’s literally what’s already happening.

    By contrast, a masculinity that’s rooted in being empathetic and building community and common cause with others is more useful. It builds out the new ethics that Emba et al. try to include as an afterthought into a full practice. Being pro-social blossoms into a full-throated embrace of love. Being a protector isn’t limited to a classically minded swords-and-boards defense of damsels, but grows into a broader civic-mindedness. Men in hooks’ mold don’t let their undocumented neighbors get rounded up by ICE, they don’t let trans folks get harassed on the street. It’s an open question if the men Emba envisions would intervene to stop either, especially if their sexual desires and social cachet aren’t implicated. Put more simply, the men of hooks’ imagining live solidarity.

    The hooks model of masculinity has the knock-on effect of taking an issue that has political valences and making it explicitly so and tying its solution to a broader political project. Masculinity in Emba’s estimation is almost painfully depoliticized — her solution takes the classic centrist approach of taking vibes from the left and symbols from the right and Frankensteining them together into an apolitical whole. But hooks sees a better masculinity as an explicit goal of feminism and a core element of left politics. You cannot build a revolution out of bitter, hateful men who hate their comrades. You cannot build a better world outside of capitalism if the dominating logics of it are encoded into people’s sense of self and identity. If being a man is predicated solely on being a sexual athlete, protector, and provider, then the meaning of those things becomes core to his identity. And if being a sexual athlete means dominating women and coercing them into unfulfilling sex; if being a protector means being skeptical and hateful towards a mythic Other; if being a provider means fully embracing the rat race and capitalist accumulation, then those things will poison the new masculinity just like they did the old masculinity.

    Is This Even Real?

    What’s funny about the Man Question is that the discourse both under and overstates the issue itself. The much-vaunted “loneliness crisis” is more evidence of a broader social issue amongst all people vs. a male-specific one. There’s a strong argument that current elite concern with masculinity in crisis is more about politics than a legitimate issue in need of ink and action. There’s an even stronger argument that the crisis is not so much that masculinity is changing, but that the Old Guard is trying desperately to keep the corpse of the old alive, propping it up through violence.

    Therefore, bigots decrying the “woke” agenda of self-determination need to espouse, for example, that gender is biological or god-given in order to maintain the heterosexist societal status quo. They enforce their beliefs through both legal and illegal means—what we’ve seen in abundance most recently, in the form of executive orders, proposed and passed legislation, and harassment and violence. The very existence of these myriad conservative efforts point to the fact that masculinity is not an irrefutable biological fact but a social construct. It becomes a spectacle through ideological desperation to soothe the wounded egos of fragile men.

    Masculinity is socially constructed and is constantly changing. The generational fights to define it are not new, and the twin schools of thought that we see today are themselves descendants of long-standing ideological camps. Christine Emba acknowledges in her piece that elite discourse on the state and decline of men is as old as time:

    Anxieties around masculinity aren’t unique to this moment.

    As early as 1835, Washington Irving lamented the new American upper class’s tendency to “send our youth abroad to grow luxurious and effeminate in Europe.” His alternative? “A previous tour on the prairies would be more likely to produce that manliness … most in unison with our political institutions.”

    Skip ahead a few decades, and new worries about faltering masculinity turned into an obsession with fitness. An October 1920 issue of Physical Culture magazine advertised to men instructions on “How to Square Your Shoulders” (and to women, some advice: “Shall I Marry Him? A Lesson in Eugenics”).

    Still, by 1958, Arthur Schlesinger Jr. warned that “the male role has plainly lost its rugged clarity of outline.” Writing in Esquire magazine, he added, “The ways by which American men affirm their masculinity are uncertain and obscure. There are multiplying signs, indeed, that something has gone badly wrong with the American male’s conception of himself.”

    Worrying about the state of our men is an American tradition. 

    She, of course, notes that this new crisis is different — neoliberalism hollowed out industry in the U.S., leaving men worse than they have been since the advent of industry. Men are uniquely struggling in modern capitalism because they are groomed by patriarchy and capitalism to reject the kinds of skills and practices needed to succeed, skills that are coded as feminine. Because of this, women are doing better. There’s a palpable bitterness emerging among men, many of whom don’t know what they’re being asked to do.

    This is all true — the crisis of masculinity is both an elite obsession and a problem that deserves some discussion. But I think that it is better seen as a symptom of broader issues (patriarchy, capitalism, domination and hierarchy) than as a free-standing problem that can be rectified through books, podcasts, and gym memberships. In order to truly solve this crisis, to the extent it is a crisis, we must first address the fact that men and women alike are being exploited and dominated. We must address the fact that society asks both too little and too much of us all, and that the attendant expectations of being embodied are becoming too much for most folks to bear. How we relate to each other interpersonally and at a macro level must be interrogated and changed if we want to finally end these cyclical crises of identity.

  • It is no good bearing false witness

    It is no good bearing false witness

    I finished Ta-Nehisi Coates’ The Message recently, and one thing that stuck out to me more than anything was the profound sense of obligation that he feels towards readers, his political allies, and the ancestors. His writing is less about him having great, illuminating truths to share and more about serving as a conduit through which other currents can flow. This self-effacing role for the writer — the one left once those who really drive history have done their work — is interesting to me as someone who thinks of writing not just as a a political, social act but an artistic one.

    Coates seems to imagine the role of the writer, the artist, as someone who discovers truth and remakes myth. Someone who “walks the land” in search of answers to tough questions and shares them with a world eager to hear them and willing to change in response. The writer is a combatant at the front lines of an epochal war over meaning in the world, their role is to not only defeat harmful established myths, but to establish new ones. This is a beautiful, albeit idealistic, way to cast the artist’s role. Put this way, the role of reporter or griot or poet or rapper or songwriter is deeply important sociopolitically — clarity on what the moment means comes not through elections or movements or violence, but through the pen.

    But what happens when this fundamental relationship between artist and audience breaks down? Can an artist truly move people if the people they’re trying to reach aren’t listening?

    This question has been swirling in my mind a lot in relation to Ethel Cain’s new album/EP/project Perverts. At first billed as her sophomore album and then recursively cast as an EP, a side project, or whatever else, the record is at turns horrifying and beautiful. It’s a record not just about Cain’s stable of trusted hurts — God and religion, shame, punishment — but also about the ways in which our relationship with the world shapes us. It very well may be the best record of the year.

    A lot of ink has been spilled about Cain’s frustration with the reductive way that critics, fans treat her art. Cain wrote on her Tumblr that she was frustrated that fans seem to treat her work more as a joke or a product than as something that’s worth considering intellectually and emotionally. There’s no discourse about her work, she contends, just memes.

    Perverts has been mostly considered as a response to this concern. It is almost hilariously antagonistic to modern pop sensibility — the first couple of tracks are minimalist drones meant more to evoke dread or anxiety than sublimity, the few traditional singer-songwriter songs (“Punish,” “Vacillator,” “Amber Waves”) undercut themselves with titanic length and uncomfortable subject matter.

    But I think this reading of Perverts is too reductive. Like Coates, I think Cain sees the role of the artist as a combatant who seeks to upset the audience’s pre-established narratives about the world. It seems to me that the aim of Perverts, more than some adolescent antagonism, is to force listeners to confront the ideas that they hold about the world and themselves.

    The characters populating Perverts, rendered minimally, are exactly what’s described on the tin, and their neuroses fill the album with an odd eroticism. This isn’t shock jock horrorcore, these are lovely rendered portraits meant to demonstrate the strange and haunting similarities between the listener and the ostensibly “bad” people populating these tracks.

    Coates writes that “[a]ll our conversations of technique, of rhythm and metaphor, ultimately come down to this–to the stories we tell, to the need to haunt, which is to say to make people feel all that is now at stake.” He does this by writing explicitly political tracts that speak directly to history — the essays of The Message challenge the right-wing effort to censor anti-racist books, the near-century long ethnic cleansing of Palestine, and how his trip to Senegal reshaped his thinking on Blackness. Cain similarly does this by excavating the darkest corners of her heart, using composite characters and allegory to force discussions about our proclivities. One cannot listen to Perverts, a record filled with divine condemnation, sexual repression, and body horror, and not be haunted.

    This process, Coates notes, is difficult not only because it involves confronting the world, but also confronting oneself. It involves reckoning with the narratives that one has internalized and interrogating them. Coates does this constantly throughout The Message — he challenges his internalized anti-Blackness in Senegal, his cosmopolitanism when he decamps to South Carolina, and his tacit acceptance of Zionist lies when he visits Occupied Palestine. In each essay, he revels in his own initial ignorance, he’s almost gleeful in revealing how wrong he was.

    Cain, by contrast, seems to delight in playing the opposite role. She renders deeply unsympathetic characters in sympathetic hues, forcing the listener to sit with how much of themselves is reflected back in these portraits. Take a song like “Onanist,” which sketches out the character rejecting religious dogma in order to pursue sexual pleasure. There’s a lot here: there’s the seductive pull, the attendant shame, the climax. It’s pretty heavy. Through it’s nearly 7 minute runtime, we’re made to sit with that weight. Like Coates, Cain seems to revel in the confrontation between what we’re made to believe and what is.

    “Housofpsychoticwomn” sketches out the one-sided love that a woman has with an abusive partner (heavily implied to be God Himself). This track is wild in a lot of ways — it’s 14 minutes long of mantric repetition — but this central perversion of the traditional relationship between God and believer is so interesting. God in this song breadcrumbs our protagonist, promising again and again magnificent, fantastic love and never delivering. There’s hints of Genesis and Eden here, as well, which complicates the whole thing even further: a woman pleading with a God that’s rejected her for love. The core subversion here is a powerful idea: God as manipulator, as abusive partner. It challenges the listener to play with received ideas about the beneficence of the divine, and the overt sexuality of the dynamic calls into question the line between the sacred and the profane. All of this is couched in the language of perversion and obsession — nothing here is as it should be, nothing here is pure.

    I don’t want to draw too much blood from this stone: Coates’ book, like his previous masterwork Between the World and Me, is soulful and resonant in ways that Perverts isn’t and arguably doesn’t try to be. While both seek to dislodge socially constructed narratives and challenge their audiences, they do so for different reasons and in largely different ways. But it struck me in engaging with them both the strange affinities between them, and I felt the need to tease them out here. At core, both of them view the artist as a provocateur, someone who has a duty to challenge the audience and society at large. This duty is what the artist owes their audience, and we as an audience have a duty to engage.

  • What I’m Reading – Week of 12/2/2024

    What I’m Reading – Week of 12/2/2024

    I want to talk a bit about what I’ve been into lately. I try to engage with a diverse diet of media and so, as a way of fostering discussion and to keep myself accountable, I’m going to try and maintain a weekly series where I briefly share and talk about what I’m into.

    Feel free to reach out and share what you’re listening to, reading, watching this week.


    Listening: “Sister,” venturing

    This week was Spotify Wrapped/Apple Music Replay week, and my top artist was Jane Remover. venturing is her alt-rock side project/ARG/band. They’re gearing up to release an album in February and single “Sister” has been running my life ever since it dropped.

    I’ve loved Jane’s music for a minute now, and I’ve been fortunate to see her in concert twice (once as an opener for brakence and then on the Designated Dreams Tour, where I actually got to meet her!). Her music as venturing exists in the space between Frailty, which leaned towards emo and alt-rock but with a healthy bit of electronic flourish, and Census Designated, a more conventional shoegaze/noise rock album. The project has mostly existed in ephemera — SoundCloud posts since deleted, then reuploaded by others, user-made compilation albums of snippets — but it seems like now that Jane is again pivoting to new sounds for the main project, venturing is a good place for her rock songs. An honest-to-god venturing LP is slated for official release in February.

    “Sister,” both lyrically and sonically, feels like it could have been on Census Designated. The song details the singer’s alienation and anhedonia. She’s afraid, she feels like she’s already dead, and getting fucked up and going to the club are no solace.

    There are lyrical echoes to artists like Rickie Lee Jones and Joni Mitchell that I really love, even if unintentional, and I appreciate the emotion in Jane’s vocal performance. She’s grown markedly as a vocalist since Teen Week, and it shows here.


    Reading: “Detransition, Baby” and “Imagined Communities”

    This week, I finished one book and started another, and they couldn’t be more different. “Detransition, Baby,” the 87th best book of the 21st Century per the New York Times, is a poignant story of three people — a cis woman named Katrina, an out trans woman named Reese, and Ames, a man who detransitioned after facing violence and hardship as a woman — who become linked after Katrina falls pregnant with Ames’ child. Torrey Peters does a really great job of giving every character, especially Reese, a unique voice and viewpoint. The broader discussion of womanhood, motherhood, and identity is really well-done, and I appreciate that, at various points, Peters explicitly points out that the characters’ subject positions (these are upper-middle class white or white-passing people living in a cute, progressive enclave of New York City) are pretty limited to their experiences. The experiences of Black women, especially Black trans women, varies greatly from the experience of someone like Reese, who for all her hardship is still able to fall in with the rich wine moms and housewives.

    Despite being perhaps the most high-profile fiction book about trans people out at the moment (and certainly the only one getting feted in the New York Times), the book doesn’t seek to be the definitive treatise on tranness or motherhood or womanhood. I exists entirely on its own terms.

    After finishing “Detransition, Baby,” I picked up Benedict Anderson’s “Imagined Communities.” This one is a bit of a long time coming for me: way back in 2017 a friend of mine recommended the book and I tried, and failed, to finish it. The prose is readable enough for a work of political science and the points are well-argued and salient. But I just couldn’t get through it.

    In light of the current fascist moment that we’re facing, I feel compelled to give it another shot. Understanding nationalism as a system produced by cultural and historical conditions will be important in understanding our politics going forward. I’ll probably write a blog post about this book and some of the ideas in it in the future.


    Watching: Video Essays about the Internet Sucking

    As I noted in the inaugural post for this blog, the internet has become claustrophobic. The walled garden social networks are cesspools, search engines are poisoned with AI slop, and everything from streaming services to job posting websites are designed to steal one’s data and exploit it for profit. Cory Doctorow’s written about the “enshittification” of the internet, but one of the issues with a novel (and kind of juvenile) term like this is that it makes this issue seem like it’s new when it is just the latest in a long line of utopian projects corrupted by capitalism.

    That’s why I appreciate these video essays by chriswaves (“The Internet Is Dying and That’s A Good Thing“) and Jessie Gender (“The Internet Was Stolen From Us“).

    “The Internet Is Dying…” makes a pretty compelling argument that the capitalist exploitation of AI has the potential to expel human control from the internet, creating a stagnant, entropic hellscape where humans only exist to passively consume and make money for the billionaires who run everything. If the internet is driven by humans producing signs that take on and shape meaning, then this expulsion would functionally strip any real semiotic value from the internet. The signs produced by the corporations and bots would lose any tether to reality.

    In “The Internet Was Stolen From Us,” Jessie Gender traces the radical history of the internet, linking the internet with the radical potential for expression and community evinced by hacker collectives, TV show fandom, and queer message boards. There was a time when the internet promised to melt away the boundaries between folks and offer an opportunity to shape one’s identity in whatever way one wanted. This promise fell away as technofeudalism took hold and everything became monetized, commodified, or radicalized. The internet, instead of a break from the horrors of the world, became a twisted mirror of it.

    Both chriswaves and Jessie Gender lament the loss of the internet’s radical, utopian past and both call for us to use creativity as a means of connection. Art is one of the best tools we have to connect and build with other people, the inherent emotive quality of good art makes it especially potent. Despite it’s best efforts, AI and corporations will never truly get this. Anything produced to satisfy a four-corners algorithm or made with advertisers sensibility in mind has a hard cap on what it can do emotionally.

    Both of these videos get at what will probably be a theme on this blog — the slow, horrible death of the internet and how the ghosts of the internet’s dead utopian moment haunt the present in weird and unsettling ways. Again, we’ll probably come back to this idea in a blog post (woo, hauntology!).