Can there be anything more outrageous than the idea that a healthy, grown woman, full of life and passion, must deny nature’s demand, must subdue her most intense craving, undermine her health and break her spirit, must stunt her vision, abstain from the depths and glory of sex experience until a ‘good’ man comes along to take her unto himself as a wife.
Emma Goldman, Anarchism and Other Essays, 1910. (via monaeltahawy)
Jacob checks his phone. There’s a text message from his wife to be. It reads: Ani ohevet otcha. Lila tov. He smiles and shows it to Maya. She nods and says, ‘Tu amore. Bueno.’
‘I thought you didn’t speak Spanish,’ he says.
‘This doesn’t bode well for our friendship. How can I believe anything you say?’ he asks.
‘The thing I told you about the diminished fifth is true,’ Maya says. ‘Listen to that chord. Listen to how it vibrates. It’s like the sound of a heart breaking, that tension…it’s orgasmic.’
‘When you put it like that, Jacob tells her, I retract everything I just said about not trusting you.’
Jacob nods to the music. ‘It does sound like a heart breaking.’
‘I read somewhere that minor chords and the diminished fifth were outlawed in Europe. Before Mozart. It was a sound that incited people to licentiousness,’ she slurs on the suffix.
‘So basically, everyone broke out and had sex when they heard it.’
Kanye has words for days — words that don’t agree with each other, ambiguous pronouns, homonyms, insults, “Strange Fruit” quotes. There are ideas in “New Slaves” and “Black Skinhead” that are echoed in the editorial pages of The New York Times, but Kanye’s songs give them volume and heart. They are a reminder of what music can do — and the isolation artists feel when they say things we don’t want to hear. People need to stop saying hip-hop is dead. There are brave people making it, and we should be proud