Dance this mess around!

Ya’ll, I’m beyond over fielding comments for my Odd Future post.

Feminist Music Geek will enjoy its second anniversary this Wednesday. It’s a bummer that the blog entry with the most traction in the site’s brief history is about a group whose most ardent fans seem to demonstrate little interest in feminism (or respecting feminists). As a result, I’ve had to wade through a lot of condescending rape equivocation and toxic snark, exclusively from first-time commenters who don’t care about what I’m trying to accomplish here. Occasionally someone will provide thoughtful commentary. More often folks will dash off diatribes about how Odd Future are misunderstood artistic geniuses and that I don’t “get it”. Then there are the comments that roughly equal in number what has been published that you will never see. Since this blog’s inception, I’ve deliberately chosen not to give audience to hateful trolling. If you have something insightful to say, you have my attention. If you just want to vomit opinions to affirm your own supremacy, your trash gets trashed.

Before I published the Odd Future post, I couldn’t count on all ten fingers the instances when I chose not to post a comment. I assumed that the name of my blog was an immediate deterrent. Who’s going to write some misogynistic bullshit on a relatively obscure feminist blog when they don’t know me and probably think I’m on my period? Isn’t there a wash cloth to relieve oneself into instead?

Apparently a lot of people feel compelled to comment. By comment, I mean I’ve been invited to tend to various members or instructed to return to the kitchen or informed that I was a twat like all feminists or that feminists and gays just like to bitch about things. At least once a day since it went live, I’ve had to decide whether to reply to a comment in order to defend my turf and drop much-needed feminist science or just roll my eyes and press delete, knowing that this rage dump is the only time I’ll receive a message from some stranger who probably stumbled onto my blog while Googling images of Tyler, the Creator. It’s gotten really old. While I don’t like shutting down conversation, I am so sick of seeing unread messages containing the subject header “[Feminist Music Geek] Please moderate: “Assessing an Odd Future with Syd tha Kyd” in my inbox and wondering what misspelled invective awaits me.

Perhaps most disheartening is how few people want to talk about Syd. Despite her inclusion in the entry’s title, I dropped her in rather clumsily at the end of the post. I wanted to discuss her role more thoroughly in the comments section. A couple of people want to talk about her. Considerably more are set on telling me that I need to listen to this Earlwolf track and STFU.

Actually, no. What’s most dispiriting is that I know that these squabbles don’t actually matter. This world has considerably larger problems than this.

Also, I published the thing nearly two months ago. I haven’t given Odd Future’s music much thought. If I’m proven wrong and the group unseats Kanye in two years time, I’ll continue to focus on artists who are exciting me at the moment. At present, there are a lot of good things happening in my life and, frankly, I’d rather be dancing instead of knitting my brow and firing off a rebuttal.

I recently revisited the Le Tigre remix EP, which includes Analog Tara‘s take on “Très Bien.” I also read Ruth Nicole Brown’s great Black Girlhood Celebration. Brown evaluates the success of SOLHOT, an after-school program for black girls she founded in Champaign, Illinois that is informed by hip hop feminism and takes seriously the significance of dance and corporeal expression. I missed Lady Kier when she came to Austin last week, but I did enjoy my friend Erik’s recent set at Chain Drive and look forward to catching Scratched Vinyl founder Chi Chi spin at Cherrywood next month. I can’t stop listening to Odyssey’s “Native New Yorker” after I heard it sampled in Von Pea’s “The Yorker.” And I keep imagining strapping on some platform shoes with the Chances crew up in Chicago. In honor of Electro Feminisms, Emily Manuel’s current blog series for Bitch Magazine, I thought I’d post some songs that get this life-long disco fan moving. Why don’t you dance with me? I’m not no limburger.

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