Oh man. So, a conversation about Henry Rollins led me to dig up this goofy-ass video on YouTube. This goofy-ass video saved me. No lie
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Amanda Palmer's Oasis. (Trigger warning: rape, also for the rest of this comment).
I'm not a fan of Amanda Palmer as a person, but her music usually works for me and is nice to listen to in the background. This is not a background song. This is, as I describe it, "the happiest song about rape and abortion you'll ever hear".
I was lucky that my sexual abuse never got so far as to needing an abortion (sitting on the side of the tub with the plastic stick was scary enough), and unlucky that it wasn't a stranger who I could forget about and detangle from. But regardless of the dissimilarities between our stories, for the last nine years, when Amanda sings "and it isn't my fault that the barbarian raped me" I have _howled_ along.
It's the song that's picked me up and said "yep, this sucks donkies but omygod, did you see the photo I got from my favourite band? TOTALLY AWESOME RITE!" You have no idea1 how scary it is to consider that I don't get to be a person anymore, that I'll forever be defined by my trauma
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I was just thinking about this. There have been a number of songs that have been important over the years, but the one I just thought of recently was The Eurythmics' I Need You. I think I listened to that at least once every day for months during one of the lowest periods of my single life. Looking back now, I think I was listening to it ironically, in that I could hear how completely broken this idea of relationships was and was rejecting that, but embracing the tone of desperation--when you're that lonely, even a cracked head can sound good.
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I'm not a fan of Amanda Palmer as a person, but her music usually works for me and is nice to listen to in the background. This is not a background song. This is, as I describe it, "the happiest song about rape and abortion you'll ever hear".
I was lucky that my sexual abuse never got so far as to needing an abortion (sitting on the side of the tub with the plastic stick was scary enough), and unlucky that it wasn't a stranger who I could forget about and detangle from. But regardless of the dissimilarities between our stories, for the last nine years, when Amanda sings "and it isn't my fault that the barbarian raped me" I have _howled_ along.
It's the song that's picked me up and said "yep, this sucks donkies but omygod, did you see the photo I got from my favourite band? TOTALLY AWESOME RITE!" You have no idea1 how scary it is to consider that I don't get to be a person anymore, that I'll forever be defined by my trauma ( ... )
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