Beating Dead Horses: Miley Cyrus

If you've been paying attention to the internet at all today, you probably will have noticed that Miley Cyrus has been getting a lot of shit. And she definitely deserves it. Cultural appropriation, ignorance, horrible outfits, lack of a butt, her crimes against good taste continue to mount. But we're ignoring two important points about Cyrus's recent transition from Hannah Montana to the girl with bad hair from last night's VMAs.

Point 1:
We Can't Stop is a horrible song. Just terrible. I mean, the chorus is "La ti da ta di, we like to party, dancing with molly (Miley? Nobody really knows, nor should they care because this song is the worst) doing whatever we want." So even though it was written for Rihanna and Miley co-opted it or whatever you want to say about it, it's probably not a bad thing. Rihanna has enough troubles without being responsible for unleashing this drivel on the world.

Point 2:
Dolly Parton is Miley Cyrus's godmother. Dolly Parton is Miley Cyrus's godmother.
Miley is country music royalty. Do you know how many people would kill to have the kind of music industry connections Miley was born into? It's upsetting that Party in the U.S.A was the pinnacle of Miley's career, because with a little training in music, humility and good taste, Miley could have been the next Shania Twain or Loretta Lynn. Dolly issued a half-assed statement about how Miley was just doing her or whatever, but I'm pretty sure she was ASHAMED.

Point 3:
This is why child stars are a terrible thing. Miley Cyrus should be in a liberal arts college learning about privilege and oppression and music theory instead of smoking salvia and wearing stupid outfits. I wish with all my heart that the rumor that Miley Cyrus was going to Oberlin had been true. She'd still be able to smoke salvia and wear stupid outfits, but she'd also learn about feminism and why it's not okay to decide you're "trying to sound more Black" as a white woman.

Publicity, whether it's bad or good, is what Cyrus wants. We're all feeding the monster.
I wish only the best for Miley Cyrus. And the best is that she gets it together, takes some time off of touring to read some books, spends more time with Dolly and less time doing molly, and returns to her glory days of The Climb and See You Again.

Insurance Privilege

While at Oberlin and working for the STAY Project, I learned a lot about privilege and the ways in which I am privileged. I'm about as aware as a straight-identifying, upper middle class, white girl can be about the ways in which I am privileged and others are not. But last night I became fully aware of another way in which I am privileged.

I've been very fortunate to always have health insurance. My dad works for a university and it's pretty par for the course. When I was sick or injured, my parents never thought twice about taking me to the doctor (I had rabies shots when I was 11 for crying out loud. They were like $20. Ridiculous). After graduating from college, my good fortune has continued thanks to Obamacare. So even though I am a contract worker paid for sometimes less than 20 hours a week, I can afford to do things like go to Planned Parenthood and get an IUD. Because it's completely free for me. My impression of Obamacare has always been that it means everyone my age has insurance. Because everyone my age has parents who have insurance, right? No. Completely wrong.

So I apologize to all the times I've been like "Just go to the doctor if you're sick! Insurance will pay!" or "Get this fancy expensive birth control! It's FREE!" or "How do you NOT have insurance?" These statements were not only moronic and insensitive, but totally ignorant. We have a long way to go until everyone can pay for medical care that they need now or will need in the future. It's really upsetting to me that many of my friends currently have to worry about caring for aging family members who they cannot simply send to the doctor with a $15 co-pay. Say what you will about universal healthcare, but it's pretty silly that in this day and age something as simple as setting a broken bone could cost someone without insurance $7,000. We need to work to make sure that our entire population can afford basic healthcare, because we can't be very productive as a nation if our bodies are falling apart. Going to the doctor when you're sick, or getting access to the family planning services that keep you in the workforce should not be a "privilege." It should be a right.

Seldom Right, Never in Doubt

I come from stubborn people on both sides. It's a running joke that the Lockman family motto is "Seldom right, never in doubt." My favorite story of familial stubbornness comes from my mother's side. My late grandfather once researched and wrote a book about Pocahontas and her descendents just to prove my grandmother's assertion that she was related to Pocahontas wrong. The book is kind of a snore, but the hardheadedness that I've been raised amongst is all there.

It's a miracle that my parents got married as I imagine it would be hard for two people from such stubborn stock to admit that they wanted to try to spend the rest of their lives together. In fact, they dated for 10 years before it happened. And hardheadedness definitely did not skip me. I spent much of my solo cross-country road trip being lost because I was sure I knew where I was going. I hated asking for help in college until it was too late. I don't mind being bad at things, but I don't want suggestions on how to get better. I just want to struggle until I find my own way. So it's no surprise that it has been difficult to admit to myself and to others that I'm worried that I've made a huge mistake in my post-college life.
 
The truth of the matter is, I don't really love Colorado. It's not like Oberlin or Eastern Kentucky or Chicago where I took to it immediately. It's been a lot of struggling with sunburn, suburban living, and the fact that I can't drink more than one beer without getting silly because of the altitude. I'm having a somewhat rough transition, and I'm not someone who that happens to. I can make friends with just about everybody, go with the flow, and find my place pretty quickly. Maybe it's the weird combination of college students, homeless people and yuppies, my lack of interest in smoking the legalized marijuana or even the fact that I work remotely and don't have an instant community of people that I know. It could be that I'm far from home or just moved away from a place that was, for better or worse, home base for 5 years. Maybe it's because I didn't get paid until mid-August for work I've been doing all summer. Or it could be that this is just not the place for me, in the same way that New York or the Philadelphia suburbs are not the place for me. Whatever it is, it's been hard for me to even say that I'm not quite as enchanted by Boulder as most of the people around me seem to be. I mean, I'm terrified of rock climbing and I'd just as soon drink a Miller High Life as something from a local brewery.

 My time in Boulder has by no means been terrible. I've reconnected with some old friends, made some new ones, have a wonderful cat and a great little house in a cute neighborhood. I'm in the best shape that I've been since high school and have been doing many of the things I love. But it's as my wise mother who gave me half of my stubborn genes told me, "If I went to heaven I'd probably hate it for the first year." These things take time and my stubbornness is coated with impatience. If it's sink or swim I try to fly and I usually succeed. And it's hard to admit that maybe I'm really sucking at living in a town.

So I guess this is just to say that I'm doing okay, but am a little sad and confused and may or may not have actually gone to a palmist for life advice a few weeks ago. I don't think this is really special or different from anything anyone else feels when they move to a new place or make major life transitions. Luckily I'm not alone. Between old friends who I want to spend all my time with, a roommate who gets that sometimes you just need to be a cat lady, another rural transplant and appreciator of pop music who understands that sometimes you just need to be snarky, an Oberlin friend who is a force of positivity in my world and a cat who likes to sit on my arms while I type, I've got the companionship necessary to make it through the winter. I'll work this rough patch out. I'm too hardheaded not to.