Arn't I A Woman?: An Open Letter to Devin the Dude

Lisa

Lisa
This blog intends to be a safe public space; A communal cyber sanctuary from oppression. All are welcome here.

Apr 16, 2012

An Open Letter to Devin the Dude


Dear Devin the dude, 

Here’s why I think you’re an asshole.

 I went to your show last night in Atlanta, Ga.  I was excited. I like your music a lot; I think you make great records. I was really exited to see you perform.

I work as a waitress, which means I work late nights and weekends. But luckily, Atlanta is a city that is notoriously late for everything, so I got off before you had gone on. So I was like, that’s what’s up, I’m gonna go see the Devin the Dude and smoke weed and drink gin and tonics with my friends. It should have been a really awesome night!

                                                 what my night should have been like 


When I got there I dished out the 20 dollars at the door, which I had just earned from commodifying myself to the point of oblivion. But if I know (think) I’m gonna see a really good show I’ll pay for it.
It’s too bad that you failed to perform until almost 2 in the morning, after the audience had endured basically three hours of people on the stage hyping us for Devin the Dude.

Yeah, I wanna see Devin the dude, dude, that’s why I’m here. I don’t need you to keep reminding me. I would just like to see him now. Is this going to happen? Did I just pay to stand around all night getting hit every time someone walked by, spilling half my drink from the bar to my spot, trying to stand on my tiptoes to make sure I could catch the performance? Is this gonna be like that MF Doom stunt where it wasn’t really him performing at all, it was an imposter? But instead of it not being you, you just pretend to have a show and then just never go on?

That’s really what it felt like.

The only saving grace was Boog Brown, who is a local female MC who is INSANE. She is fucking amazing, and probably way more talented than Devin the Dude. She doesn’t have the mindset of “I’m Devin the Dude I can do whatever I want” so she shows up on time to her shows, performs, kills it, and appreciates the fact that people who consume her art are essential to her continuing to make it.

It’s kinda that mentality where if you haven’t made it yet, even if you have all the talent in the world, you want to work for it. And if you have reached a point where you have established yourself, you don’t feel that fire as much.

So back to the point, you (Devin) stroll on the stage around 1:30 with like 40 fucking people, I have no fucking idea who they were, a) barricading the edges of the stages hindering anyone from even seeing you, b) who the fuck are you? Why the fuck would you need that many people with you? I don’t even think the President has that many people around him at one time. I just wanted to be like, Devin, do you even know these people? Or are you just trying REALLY hard to feel important?

And don’t get me wrong here- I love assholes; I love people that don’t give a fuck. But you’re not even doing it right!

The best part is, when you came on and finally the crowd was like yeahhhhh Devin the Dude, like, we were still feeling it, you hadn’t totally lost it, after two hours of watching the Coffee Brothers “perform” we were still gonna get down (not sure if that is their name, that’s just what someone said). But then you just walked off. Your entourage stayed, but you walked right back off the stage. I was just looking for Ashton in the crowd at that point.

                                                          seriously, where's ashton? 

So you seriously thought you were important enough to walk across the stage for a second so we could I guess bask in the glorious presence that is Devin the Dude, and then disappear. Devin the Dude, you’re not the Beatles. You continued to make us wait after that. At this point the crowd is booing you. There is a very drunk man in an Irish t-shirt prancing around everywhere giving high-fives. Someone is peddling bootleg Devin the Dude DVDS for five dollars. I stopped trying to go to the bar for fear I would chose the exact moment when you would finally come on and never make it back through the crowd. I couldn’t smoke weed, because I was afraid if I stepped outside I’d miss you. So I’m at a bar not drinking, at a hip hop show not high, I’ve been at work all day and am totally exhausted.

At this point one friend just had his head in his hands, I think my other friends had left, between us we had all gone to another bar at least three times WHILE WE WERE WAITING FOR YOU. In the three-hour span of waiting for you to come on (while you were probably jacking off to a picture of yourself or something) we literally went to another bar to drink.

this is not happening


So you finally come on stage, not with a bang but a whimper I might add, and no one gives a fuck anymore. Everyone is pissed off, because we all just paid our fucking hard earned money doing the types of jobs you don’t have to do because you ARE A FUCKING HIP HOP ARTIST, one of the coolest jobs ever, while we all wait tables and sell you cars and shit and do your taxes, I don’t know. I know that you have the luxury of being able to travel around the country and world, performing your art, probably smoking a shit ton of weed, and kicking it while you create awesome shit. That sounds awesome to me. So I would like to think I’d be respectful to the people who allow me to do that if I were in that position. The thing I guess you don’t realize is that treating fans of your work with utter disregard for their time and money, making them wait all night to see you hobble on the stage at 2 AM and start rapping to what kinda sounds like a vocal track, is a little annoying.

After about three songs, I left. You didn’t even come in with some awesome performance. It was boring. Maybe I would have liked it better if I wasn’t in such a bad mood at that point, or maybe you’re just a total asshole.

                                                              it must be nice, dude

Sincerely,
Jessie Feigert 

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Sojourner Truth

Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter. I think that 'twixt the negroes of the South and the women at the North, all talking about rights, the white men will be in a fix pretty soon. But what's all this here talking about?

That man over there says that women need to be helped into carriages, and lifted over ditches, and to have the best place everywhere. Nobody ever helps me into carriages, or over mud-puddles, or gives me any best place! And ain't I a woman? Look at me! Look at my arm! I have ploughed and planted, and gathered into barns, and no man could head me! And ain't I a woman? I could work as much and eat as much as a man - when I could get it - and bear the lash as well! And ain't I a woman? I have borne thirteen children, and seen most all sold off to slavery, and when I cried out with my mother's grief, none but Jesus heard me! And ain't I a woman?

Then they talk about this thing in the head; what's this they call it? [member of audience whispers, "intellect"] That's it, honey. What's that got to do with women's rights or negroes' rights? If my cup won't hold but a pint, and yours holds a quart, wouldn't you be mean not to let me have my little half measure full?

Then that little man in black there, he says women can't have as much rights as men, 'cause Christ wasn't a woman! Where did your Christ come from? Where did your Christ come from? From God and a woman! Man had nothing to do with Him.

If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back , and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.

Obliged to you for hearing me, and now old Sojourner ain't got nothing more to say.

Sojourner Truth

Delivered 1851 at the Women's Convention

Akron, Ohio