Not recognizing Madonna: on growing up alien
A couple of months ago, a friend played a Madonna song and asked me whether I recognized the singer. I did not. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't put a name to it. She accused me of having grown up under a rock or on another planet. "You DO have Asperger's syndrome!" she teased. (Never mind that lots of people on the spectrum are very interested in music.)
Somehow, I managed to grow up in the U.S. in the 1980s and fail acquire more than a rudimentary knowledge of popular music and culture. Why?
I could blame the conservative religious schools I attended, but a more honest answer is this: popular music was (is) about sex, physicality, and emotions, all of which frightened and baffled me. I did not understand what the music was saying (shouting) at me. It sounded alien. All that emotion felt intrusive. I did not like the shouting, moaning, screaming, squealing voices ordering me to move a certain way, feel a certain way, or "love" (have sex with) someone. I did not dance, go to parties, or even enjoy socializing in groups of more than two or three people.
I did not understand the language of popular music. I did not understand the lyrics even when I could hear them over the noise and screeching. It was in code, like the conversations between girls in my middle school and high school classes.The words had secret meanings and I could not understand them. Everyone else knew the code. I was like the fourth child at the seder, the one who does not know how to ask the questions. I did not know how to ask about music. All I knew was that pop music was one more thing my peers shared and I didn't "get."
The music seemed to be for other people: loud, extroverted, sexy people who danced and lived in their bodies. Pop music was not for -- or about-- people like me. In pop songs, the word "love" really meant "physical attraction", and I already knew that I was too ugly to inspire that in anyone. It never occured to me to think about what sort of person I found attractive.
Also, I didn't know the difference between genres of popular music. When the religious school teachers said that "rock music" led to drugs, rebellion, sex, and devil worship, I thought that "rock" meant any kind of secular pop music except maybe country (which all seemed to be about drinking and adultery anyway). When I accidentally watched an MTV video of Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," I honestly thought that I had sinned.
Unlike even my peers at religious school, I did not:
watch MTV
watch Soul Train
watch "Dallas"
watch "Dynasty"
watch "The Dukes of Hazzard"
listen to the radio
see any of the "Terminator" or "Alien" movies
play or watch sports unless forced to in gym class
The few times I did try to connect to pop culture led to embarassment. For example, I tried wearing my hair in side-braids like Boy George. I sang "Let's Get Physical" to myself while cleaning my desk, having no idea that it was about sex (I thought it was about exercise).
Lately, I have been watching "Glee" and hearing a lot of music that I missed. Some of it speaks to me now. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised at how many songs speak about feeling alienated from one's peers, and about accepting (even embracing) one's differences. I wish I had known how to listen sooner.
Somehow, I managed to grow up in the U.S. in the 1980s and fail acquire more than a rudimentary knowledge of popular music and culture. Why?
I could blame the conservative religious schools I attended, but a more honest answer is this: popular music was (is) about sex, physicality, and emotions, all of which frightened and baffled me. I did not understand what the music was saying (shouting) at me. It sounded alien. All that emotion felt intrusive. I did not like the shouting, moaning, screaming, squealing voices ordering me to move a certain way, feel a certain way, or "love" (have sex with) someone. I did not dance, go to parties, or even enjoy socializing in groups of more than two or three people.
I did not understand the language of popular music. I did not understand the lyrics even when I could hear them over the noise and screeching. It was in code, like the conversations between girls in my middle school and high school classes.The words had secret meanings and I could not understand them. Everyone else knew the code. I was like the fourth child at the seder, the one who does not know how to ask the questions. I did not know how to ask about music. All I knew was that pop music was one more thing my peers shared and I didn't "get."
The music seemed to be for other people: loud, extroverted, sexy people who danced and lived in their bodies. Pop music was not for -- or about-- people like me. In pop songs, the word "love" really meant "physical attraction", and I already knew that I was too ugly to inspire that in anyone. It never occured to me to think about what sort of person I found attractive.
Also, I didn't know the difference between genres of popular music. When the religious school teachers said that "rock music" led to drugs, rebellion, sex, and devil worship, I thought that "rock" meant any kind of secular pop music except maybe country (which all seemed to be about drinking and adultery anyway). When I accidentally watched an MTV video of Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun," I honestly thought that I had sinned.
Unlike even my peers at religious school, I did not:
watch MTV
watch Soul Train
watch "Dallas"
watch "Dynasty"
watch "The Dukes of Hazzard"
listen to the radio
see any of the "Terminator" or "Alien" movies
play or watch sports unless forced to in gym class
The few times I did try to connect to pop culture led to embarassment. For example, I tried wearing my hair in side-braids like Boy George. I sang "Let's Get Physical" to myself while cleaning my desk, having no idea that it was about sex (I thought it was about exercise).
Lately, I have been watching "Glee" and hearing a lot of music that I missed. Some of it speaks to me now. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised at how many songs speak about feeling alienated from one's peers, and about accepting (even embracing) one's differences. I wish I had known how to listen sooner.