Life of Wry

Peter’s now listening to music in his room a lot.  Tunes in on this little boombox-of-evil.  Listens to the music of the day,  including one song, I Love the Way You Lie. Here are a few of its teen-appropriate lyrics:

He (Eminem) says:

If she ever tries to fucking leave again
Im’a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire
I’m just gonna

She (Rihanna) says:

Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that’s alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that’s alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

Etc.

And.. sigh.

As Jim says, in our email back and forth on the subject (because that’s the way we roll): “The story is way more complicated than most listeners (especially 12-year-olds) may realize.  The male character recognizes the pathology of his conduct in the relationship, but feels trapped by it.  The female character is less verbal–her words don’t reveal much self-awareness, but her actions do (she packs up and goes, but he talks her into coming back).  It’s a description of a relationship in deep trouble and unsatisfying for both partners.  Anyone experiencing that kind of relationship dynamics needs professional help.”

Duh, and yeah.. whatever. Totally complicated, and TOTALLY over the heads of its 12-year old audience (Its WHAT?! Pre-teens listen to I Love the Way You Lie? What thoughtful, conscientious parents let their kid listen to stuff like that?) (I guess we do.) (And, you know, aside from the lyrics, it’s a rockin’ song.)

This is what I think Peter hears: blah blah blah fucking blah blah blah tie her to the bed blah blah blah I like the way it hurts blah blah blah set this house on fire blah blah blah I love the way you lie.

So, man is violent, abusive, dominant. Woman loves it!  Bring it on, treat me like shit. I am victim, hear me wimper.  Nice.

Kinda fah-reaking out here. I realize I’m on a well worn battle field, living a parental cliché—and it’s both embarrassing and reassuring. Really? I’m going all Tipper Gore on my ass? (Please smile at my attempt at tough talk.) Am I really shocked at shockingly misogynistic lyrics, shockingly aimed at the teen crowd, who is appropriately shocked (even if they work hard not to show it)?

Yes. I. Am. Well, maybe less shocked, and more, Now What Do I Do?

My little doughy, naïve, guileless boy, who–his doctor told me two days ago at his well-child visit–is in stage one of puberty (with plenty more stages yet to come), must be lost at sea in the company of his vampy teenage girl counterparts, who are all now going to parties together and listening to this music, and who knows how on earth he processes those lyrics… oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD.

Conversations will be had about the respective boundaries of art and reality. Reaffirmations about the respect we show our friends, especially the girl ones. You get to listen to and enjoy the music of your generation, buddy, but, just so you know, the messages are way fucked up. It’s art, not to be mistaken for life, and it’s certainly not how men and women talk to and treat one another in the real world. Dad and me? See? We’re nice.

But before we ever take it up with Peter, Jim and I have to get our stories straight. I’m looking at the I Love The Way You Lie lyrics this morning on Peter’s computer screen after he’d left for school, and yeah, felt like a queen sized prude, my knickers in a major bummer of a twist. I march into Jim’s office and I suppose my relative hysteria gave him room to be Mr. Calm about the whole thing. (That was annoying.)  And really, I’m not hysterical so much as, Okay, it’s time, we now have to deal with song lyrics, teen angst, misogyny, rebellion.

Before we have a conversation with Peter about his music–which, it looks like now’s the time–we need to get aligned, so that we can approach it in a mature, calm, and wise way.  And we better play this right so he’s got room to be developmentally, appropriately teen-y, but doesn’t get too off the rails.

Stay tuned.