I consider myself socially conscious, language appropriate, aware and on top of things when it comes to talking about relationships, gender, sexuality, spirituality, addiction and mental health. After all, I’m a licensed social worker, who has seen clients in various venues for over 40 years. I am also a journalist who writes about these topics with a degree of professionalism and appeal that has people coming back for more. In addition, I am public speaker who addresses audiences in professional, faith, and community settings. I hold myself to a high standard when it comes to being inclusive and affirming in the way I talk about all kinds of subjects.
Once in a while I get caught with my metaphorical pants down.
Like much of the world, I was in awe of the performance on the Grammy stage with Tracy Chapman and Luke Combs offering forth Chapman’s epic hit Fast Car.
I have been a fan of her music since she launched into orbit in the late 1980s. It is a combination of voice, lyrics and instrumentation and that sometimes indescribable thing called ‘presence’. You know it when you see it and hear it. It is a feeling of being in on the experience described in word, note and chord. Some of my faves are New Beginning, Heaven’s Here on Earth and The Promise. When I initially heard about the Luke Combs’ cover of Fast Car, I admit that I rolled my eyes, thinking that he was appropriating the song and making it his own without considering that this woman, this Black Gay woman had her own hit with it decades ago. And then I listened to it and read that he deliberately didn’t change one word in it, including the line about being a sales girl, so that Chapman would get writing credit and the compensation that came with it. I smiled. So, when I heard that they were going to be performing together at the Grammys I was delighted, but no way was I prepared for the onslaught of emotion that I was riding when I watched it that night and then multiple times daily since then. It wasn’t just the beautiful combination of voices or the musicianship. It was that ineffable feeling of watching her beatific smile, deep dimples and glowing presence and his adoration of this legend that he clearly felt blessed enough to be standing next to her on a worldwide stage.
Since their performance, sales and streams of the song and others of Chapman have soared into the stratosphere. I’m thrilled that new generations will know her music and hope that they will explore her entire catalogue.
I knew I had to write about the experience. In this piece, I shared my insights about the storyline. Even though I identify as a ‘heteroflexible woman’ who has had relationships with men and women, I made the assumption that the addicted, irresponsible partner and owner of the fast car was a man. I got called on my perception by someone who read the article and asked why I assumed that, particularly considering Chapman’s sexual orientation. I took a deep breath and gulped and realized that as a therapist who has worked with couples in that situation, I have primarily seen cis-het couples. I then reached out to my editor and asked if she would change the gender pronouns to they/them and use the word ‘partner’.
An excerpt: “I wonder if Chapman could write a song that is the next chapter, in which she gives the partner an ultimatum and tells them they need to sober up and get a job or the relationship is over. Her partner goes to rehab and AA and gets clean. She goes to therapy and Al-Anon or CODA (Co-dependents Anonymous) and their relationship can be on the right track. They break the generational addiction cycles so that their children don’t find themselves in the same position.”
While I felt I had cleaned up a mess, I simultaneously experienced a wake up call that the lens through which I see people, relationships and dynamics is a bit blurred. I have now, at least for this moment, cleaned my glasses.
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This Post is republished on Medium.
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Photo credit: Unsplash