monster 1. noun a badly behaved or cruel person, something that is absurdly large, or a fictional and frightening creature.
Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.
Friedrich Nietzsche
* * *
As I write this, the state of Tennessee is open for business. You can walk into any number of businesses and see self-righteous individuals without face masks. We are in the middle of a global pandemic. A highly contagious virus continues to spread and take lives. But they will not be told how to participate in a solution. And that’s nothing new.
* * *
The Spring of 2018 found me on tour with the band. We were finishing up a ten-state tour of shows that doubled as voter registration drives. We specifically targeted the “blocker” states, which are states that make it as difficult as possible for people to register. They don’t have online voting, they have voter ID laws, you have to hand-deliver your registration form, etc. The preparation for the tour involved me reaching out to the appropriate offices in every state we planned to visit and requesting hard copy registration forms, among other things. We took it very seriously. Tennessee was last (LAST) in voter turnout in the 2016 presidential election. So, we figured we’d do our best to make the mid-terms of 2018 count, try to sway our peers away from the apathy and self-involvement they wear like loose garments in this life. You’d be surprised how many rock musicians don’t vote.
Maybe you wouldn’t.
Maybe you wouldn’t.
Either way, I don’t believe in doing nothing—a phrase that describes me in a number of areas. So, we hauled ass and made it happen. For the most part, it was a successful effort. We played, we met other cool bands and show-goers, and we did actually help many people register to vote. And then we hit a glacier and the boat sank. But not before it cracked in half.
* * *
The thing about self-righteous people is that they can always find like-minded folks to support their bullshit. Always. I’d argue that it’s easier for that kind of person to land a community than it is on the other end of the spectrum. Read a few books on how divided the feminist movement has been for the last fifty years, you’ll see what I mean. We get nowhere. Meanwhile, the other team can find unity in a wild plethora of disjointed beliefs and practices, from feeling bullied by Ravelry to feeling comforted by the Plandemic video. One thing unites them, as far as I can tell: they just want it all to be someone else’s fault. Boundaries make them victims, requests make them angry. They're never part of the problem.
These people are assholes. It’s important to move away from these attitudes and behaviors, lest we become the same way.
* * *
The end of the voter registration tour routed us through another town in our state, and then Atlanta, before bringing us home. A band was added to our already very full bill at the Tennessee show; the venue owner had made that call himself without running it by us. Normally, this isn’t a huge deal. This time, it was a huge deal. Without getting into excruciating detail, I’ll reveal that the group was another duo, their music and its presentation were a terrible fit for the show at hand, their attitudes and behaviors were even worse, and they sang a fucking transphobic song. Oh, and one of them is related to a very famous old white man in Country music. The famousest, you might say. (Why not use bullshit words for a bullshit construct?)
As I said, they sang a fucking transphobic song. I’ve written about this experience further in another essay, but I will say it here for the purposes of staying on-message: I lost my freaking mind.
The rest of the evening, the month that followed, and the lead-up to speaking out were all very heavy for me. As a human being, as an activist, and as a person who tries (imperfectly, I’m sure) to do no harm, this was a burden. These two people were also based in Nashville, had made their record here (with people I know!), and had played the song on Nashville stages for the better part of two years. (I discovered that last bit right after I spoke out; I’ve never respected Nashville less.) My bandmate was on the fence about me speaking up. There was a fear that doing so would derail my own career and standing in this town. After all, very famous old white men in Country music wield a good deal of power here. One might argue that they’re the only ones who ever have.
But I couldn’t live with it. I’m not from here, I don’t listen to very famous old white men in Country music, and I don’t co-sign bigotry. The long and short of it is that I spoke up. And they got in trouble, as much as white people related to very famous old white men in Country music do. But what followed, friends, was a whole other thing.
* * *
I used to read a lot of Stephen King. In “The Body,” he writes:
You always know the truth, because when you cut yourself or someone else with it, there's always a bloody show.
I find this to be exactly true, time and again. It’s interesting to contemplate that Stephen King might now be against what I did, as he was recently outspokenly against the publisher pulling Woody Allen’s book. He seems to confuse freedom of speech with people being uninterested in giving problematic people a platform. But here, thirty-five years ago, he had some clarity. For anyone else who might be confused: in the United States, one has the freedom to say what they like (to an extent). But It doesn't mean that the rest of us aren't allowed to respond to what is said, most especially if it injures anyone else.
Back to the bloody show.
Back to the bloody show.
* * *
Where some of the people who supported my efforts went wrong, was in making fun of the other band. It became a classic internet pile-on. Insults were slung, cheap shots were taken, and it diminished the power of the statement. That’s not how you win. You win by keeping it together and having the stronger argument (watch footage of Ruth Bader Ginsburg for examples of how to be). You don’t make attacks based on looks, clothing, or any part of the presentation. Most of the women who backed my effort to call out hate speech failed the mission. In the moment, there was no organized effort. I wasn't in control of anyone else, but it was a bad look. You don’t fight the good fight with Mean Girl antics. But they did.
And the people who supported the band with the transphobic song? Well, it turned out that they were the Conservative Right. Of course! Their fanbase appeared to be largely inherited from the very famous old white man in Country music, and so they came after us with more than mocking. They called us Nazis.
They called us Nazis.
Then there were the other musicians in Nashville who didn’t like being called out for their complicity in the whole thing. But people here had recorded the song, mixed it, mastered it, pressed it, many people had reviewed it, and many venues had let them perform it. And friends, if you’re doing some sort of mental gymnastics to make the song not as bad as it is, let me give you this sobering detail: there’s a slur in the title. I lost some friends—is that the right word, “friends”? Maybe not. I lost some peripheral dudes who liked to be right about everything and were embarrassed that their friends had worked on the record, so they made me the problem. Next.
But the others called us Nazis. Nazis, the white-supremacist hate group responsible for genocide. Nazis. Because we were angry that a pair of cis-gendered white people were mocking the trans community by performing a transphobic song with a slur in the title. Nazis.
It gets worse. For every self-righteous conservative comment that we were Nazis, or that trans people had a mental illness, there was a "like" from the band. That's a horse of different color. I absolutely don't forgive it, to this day. If you fuck up, don't make it worse by allowing someone to do more damage in your honor—and then like it. That's on you.
* * *
I kid you not, my partner just alerted me to the Facebook status of a mutual acquaintance here in Nashville. The post is railing against the mayor’s order for music venues to stay closed at this time. He calls the mayor a Nazi.
(You all really need to get your shit together with using that word. Read some books. Help yourself understand how lazy and irresponsible it is to throw it around every time you’re uncomfortable. Understand that white people using that word in a tantrum looks exactly like what it s. You’re so privileged you can’t even get a grip on how inappropriate it is. Unfriend.)
But I digress.
* * *
After the dust settled, everything went back to business as usual in Nashville. A handful of people no longer spoke to me (no major loss there), I made a note of everyone who worked on the transphobic song and have steered clear, the feminists who raged-out at the band all receded back into not caring about me or what I do again, and the band themselves seemed to move on from the project. That’s probably best. All around, who cares.
But the experience of coming up against that group of people who felt the need to call us Nazis stuck with me. It still does. And it made me see how close to that line our side had gotten. The women who backed my call-out didn’t use the word “Nazi,” but they didn’t all speak from a place of respect or concern. And me, I didn’t address the band at all. (Well, I did once plainly ask them to explain their choice of words. They've still haven't answered.) I addressed Nashville, land of complicity, all around. It didn’t make me popular, but I sleep at night.
* * *
When I sat down to write “Among Monsters,” the tensions were still high. I was still receiving communication from men telling me that I was choosing to be offended, or that they were friends with the band and I was misunderstanding their intentions (how many go-rounds on the carousel of Intent Vs, Impact must we have in this life? Jesus Christ), and I was watching two grown people side with self-righteous conservatives in lieu of being accountable for their actions. It was a tough time. I kept coming back to this thing you hear in some 12 Step programs about letting someone be where they are: allowing someone to experience the consequences of their actions is an act of kindness. And every time I was tempted to cave to the outside pressure, I held on to that. Change occurs only if you don’t allow the same thing to keep happening. Period.
some got high enough to lose their ground, lose themselves
some unkind enough to injure others when they fell
who do we help up, and who do we leave?
is flat-on-the-floor just the place some need?
The mobilization of both sides was pretty upsetting. Neither seemed interested in solutions, both seemed delighted by a reason to attack someone—anyone—else.
do I live among monsters?
I feel afraid
The idea that there were people more comfortable with hate speech than with hate speech being called out was troubling to me. I still can’t make it work. And I’m a cis-het white woman. If I can’t make it work, it doesn’t fucking work.
are we safe?
are we safe?
can you imagine a world where you feel okay?
Almost as bizarre as the Conservative Right calling us Nazis, was the do-nothing message being generated by my peers in the Nashville music community. These are people who consider themselves liberals. How liberal are you if your response to a transphobic slur is, “Meh, they probably didn’t mean it. TLDR.” Get it together! Stop pretending you're a badass on Twitter, only to back out of real opportunities to engage. These are the moments that define the side you’re actually on. You’re either for or against hate speech. Say it with me now.
I don’t want to be the only one out on the ledge
but I will do it if a single ray of light is shed
but, where is the line here, and why is it me?
put in your new eyes today and let’s all see!
Watching the feminists attack the band in the name of progressivism was also odd. Why do we give a shit what the band looks like? The only focus of criticism should be the dangerous rhetoric. Period. If we make it about everything, we make it about nothing. Be better than the other side. Be better than your base-level instinct. Aim higher.
do I live among monsters?
am I the same?
My choice of the word "safe" was intentional. I think being safe works two ways: first, are we ourselves safe from harm? Second, are we doing harm to someone else, with words, actions, or something else? This should be considered at all times, the two sides of safety.
The whole time I was in this action of standing against the hate speech, I was deeply afraid of what the fallout would be. Once the fire caught, it was hard to contain. I was both committed to being on the side of trans folks and creating safer spaces, but also aware that the other side had not only unhinged people but the invisible backing of the very famous old white man in Country music. In this, a patriarchal Country music town. Not a great seat to occupy. I knew it would all trace back to me, but a small part of me wanted to hide until it was over.
are we safe?
are we safe?
are we safe?
can you imagine a world where you feel no pain?
are we safe?
are we safe?
are we safe?
can you imagine a world where you feel no hate?
The whole time I was in this action of standing against the hate speech, I was deeply afraid of what the fallout would be. Once the fire caught, it was hard to contain. I was both committed to being on the side of trans folks and creating safer spaces, but also aware that the other side had not only unhinged people but the invisible backing of the very famous old white man in Country music. In this, a patriarchal Country music town. Not a great seat to occupy. I knew it would all trace back to me, but a small part of me wanted to hide until it was over.
do I live among monsters?
don’t say my name!
* * *
The tension in my own body informed the musical structure of the song. The odd bars in front of the verses and the sort of whiplash melody of the guitar part on the verses were musical descriptions of my own frenzied state. The bridge where the bars of 9 and 5 go back and forth was what the fighting felt like. Say something short and pointed, get pounded back for it. Repeat. The chorus sections, which I love, were meant to sort of blast-off from the rest of the song and ask bigger questions. The way that Ballou mixed those parts helped to serve that effort, I think. Jerry’s punctuation there is also really important. It took us a good while to feel like we knew how this song went, just as it’s taken me a while to understand what happened in this story.
* * *
I have nothing against that band today. We’ll never go kayaking or whatever people do, but I don’t hold them to anything I don’t hold myself to. I am boldly against anything that harms the LGBTQ+ community. And I am also all-the-way-against the use of the word “Nazi” being used to describe anyone who is concerned about the harm of others. I don’t know what water those people are drinking, but I want none of it.
As I said earlier, self-righteous people are assholes. It’s important to move away from these attitudes and behaviors, lest we become the same way. And believe me, it’s easier to become that than you think.
Thanks for reading,
Buick Audra
Friendship Commanders
UPDATE: the original lyrics for this song contained an ableist term. I apologize for this misuse of language. The term has been replaced with "unkind," which actually works better anyway.
UPDATE: the original lyrics for this song contained an ableist term. I apologize for this misuse of language. The term has been replaced with "unkind," which actually works better anyway.
AMONG MONSTERS
some got high enough to lose their ground, lose themselves
some unkind enough to injure others when they fell
who do we help up, and who do we leave?
is flat-on-the-floor just the place some need?
do I live among monsters?
I feel afraid
are we safe?
are we safe?
are we safe?
can you imagine a world where you feel okay?
I don’t want to be the only one out on the ledge
but I will do it if a single ray of light is shed
but, where is the line here, and why is it me?
put in your new eyes today and let’s all see!
do I live among monsters?
am I the same?
are we safe?
are we safe?
are we safe?
can you imagine a world where you feel no pain?
are we safe?
are we safe?
are we safe?
can you imagine a world where you feel no hate?
do I live among monsters?
I feel afraid
do I live among monsters?
I feel afraid
do I live among monsters?
am I the same?
do I live among monsters?
don’t say my name!
