The day is March 7th, 2020 – just one week before NYC declares the first Covid lockdown. The virus's sinister wings were closing down around the city, and I was at my usual Friday night spot, Hudson Bar & books, in the West Village. My husband and I were sitting at the bar talking about the ominous threat when a friend next to us decided to stick her tongue out and proceeded to decisively lick my face down from my chin all the way up to my forehead.
Firstly: Ewwww! Secondly: Don't mess with Covid, girl!
And thirdly: Hail to Gen Xers! Shout out to the people from the shortest generation in history whose defiant, iconoclastic, and contradictory irreverent attitude dared to challenge the order! Bless those nights when when we bonded with my friend over Dolly Parton – yeah, Dolly rocks! – and NYC style loaded with dry martinis and cigarettes puffs at our favorite smoky joint.
Fast forward to today, walking back home, AirPods on, listening to Jolene, this song reminded me of that night. It also made me think that Gen X's spirit has become the next generation's mannerism.
If it hadn't been invented by them, Gen Xers perfected the concept of pop life, aloof coolness, existential boredom, defiant irreverence, sex, drugs, and rock'n roll. But unfortunately, this energy subsequently served on a silver trail to following generations, was mostly regurgitated, often missing the mark.
Today, in our constantly on pause Covid lives, always glued to our feeds and believing that this simulation of life is actually living, it looks like Millennials and Gen Zers are copying the spirit, but unfortunately, simultaneously missing the substance. Here's a question to them: Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
I hear all around the cries out to be brave, be a maverick, be daring, shake society's foundation. But these became only words; they sound like empty chants that find no correspondence in actions. Sucked into our devices, we forgot the value in shock value, opting instead for mere disturbance. Yes, James Baldwin was right; artists are here to disturb the peace. But he also said that out of the disorder of life, art is about recreating a new order.
I got it; today, it is all about tracking. Slap some recognition on it – likes, tweets, tags, hashtags, badges, trending topics, you name it – everybody is out there looking for validation only. Attention-grabbing, show stopper, oh boy, all buzz words. But the authenticity veneer is only is a schtick. If this is the new order, it was born old. So then I say, out with the new, and in with the old! Don't try to be number one, don’t care about second best either; be an odd number.
I miss the original hotstepper who could march into a room with a stray cat strut demanding attention with uniqueness. The Met Gala or any Kardashian appearance should not be confused with Ballroom culture spunk. These are no more than costume balls. It's all fun, but come on! All dressed up for the part but missing the role. We love the texture, but we deserve more context too.
So, strike a pose, Madonna. But stop trying to be relevant by copying the following generation's twitch– which, frankly, is just a caricature of what you did decades ago, Boo. Speaking of posing, give me Billy Porter over Harry Styles any day of the week. The category is authenticity, y'all!
And just like that, make it new. But, please, don't give me a New York reload that feels more like a New Yawn. It's time to update. Let's free Britney from the prison we put her in, but let's not forget Janet there too. Let's stop canceling and rather kick off the revelation. The revelation is that the wheels are still spinning, and the time needs to be changing. So I think it's time we stop. Everybody look, what's going down?
Too much sharing how wasted and how many people you had sex with last night. Sex, drugs, and rock'n roll is a state of mind. And empowerment for the sake of empowerment can quickly trap you in a despair and disillusioned cage. Enough with recreation. We need more creation! Do it like Keith Harring, Prince, Bowie, and Basquiat! Put that sex drive and attitude to work. Like Ru Paul says, you better work, bitch! Work the room of life, show us range, and in the process, give us some rapper's delight too. Be lit, c'est chic.
Hello, hello, hello, how low. It smells like shinny happy and kinky afro people need to rock the Casbah with some sex pistols again. But, from this time, unchained, we're all looking at a different picture. Losing our religion and opening the glory box.
It’s time to follow your heart, don't be dragged by it. Because being pulled by all your desires isn't freedom; it is slavery. Instead, be a slave to the rhythm. Own your body and soul, and let your mind flow. Be a master blaster, be a chameleon. In between days, go for never being boring. And let’s dance! We've been walking through walls and floading down for too long. Bring me back the dancing horses, unicorns and cannonballs. However do you want, however do you need me, we need more love tearing us apart. Feel free to hate me. Call me old if you like too. I'm good with it. I'd rather be old than outdated.
To my friend who unapologetically licked my face, I bow to your spirit.
Finally, to everyone else, don't be literal, please.