Happy Friday one and all. I hope there was joy in your week and that you fearlessly weathered all the storms that threatened to shake your soul. Being the end of the academic term, I was neck-deep in giving and grading exams, calculating final scores, and generally drowning in the suckiest parts of my job. If sitting is the new smoking, I’m the new Marlboro Man.
The litany of professional responsibilities this week–made more dehumanizing by the unrelenting cold and darkness–left my mind fragmented, phantasmagoric as I described in a previous Sabbateur. But in those quiet moments when all the pins were in the air, I kept coming back to reader feedback I got this week.
I don’t request nor do I receive a ton of reader feedback. Frankly, if my substack were to blow up or if I had to engage with a zealously interactive readership, I would surely fail to manage it. But I do enjoy a manageable stream of reader feedback. In fact, this week I got two messages from two readers from two countries and two different chapters of my life. A former student and a dear old friend both suggestively asked why I don’t write about the news du jour. El Crisis del Día. The Greatest Hits of my week in Doomscrolling. They know me well, they know I’m a news junkie, a veritable political animal. So why not write about it? Offer a "Friday morning hottake after a week of reflection," suggested one. Put my "hat in the ring of political discourse and cultural commentary," suggested the other.
Since my week got gobbled up by work, I shamefully failed to reply to either of them. So here’s a reply of sorts…
Yeah. Sure. Okee. I’ll see what it feels like to put my hat in the ring.
This week, I had a couple compelling conversations about this week’s “big news” about Billie Eilish. I dig Billie. She’s a bona fide American Treasure. I’ve seen a few interviews with her (her appearances on My Next Guest with Letterman and Hot Ones with Sean Evans stood out) and I’m wowed by her winning personality, her work ethic, and her creative spirit. In fact, if I could dine with any one of the larger than life icons on the current Mt. Rushmore of pop, I might choose Billie. I’m a borderline Swifty (Time’s Person of the Year for a reason). But still, Billie. The only fresh pop icon I might (might!) invite for dinner in her stead is Beyoncé, but this is mostly because we have so much in common, notably our mutual predilection for riding neckie on illuminated ponies.
In case you missed it, this week Eilish was kinda sorta outed as being attracted to women. Kinda sorta? Yeah. She chose to say in a cover interview for Vanity Fair that, “I’ve never really felt like I could relate to girls very well…I love them so much. I love them as people. I’m attracted to them as people. I’m attracted to them for real.”
Then, dare I say predictably, she was confronted by the press about her attraction to women. The BBC reports:
Billie bashed Variety for "outing" her "instead of talking about anything else that matters" and went on to say she didn't really believe in the concept of "coming out" and the idea that people should have to reveal their sexuality...
"Why can't we just exist?," she said. "I've been doing this for a long time and I just didn't talk about it."
This week I thought about her rhetorical question. Does her sexuality matter?
Hmm. Well not not to me. But it matters enough to her to say it to a Variety reporter, who then "outed" her. It matters to many among her legion of fans who are navigating their sexual identities and seeking relatable role models. If it matters to just 1of the 1.8 million LGBTQ youth who seriously consider suicide each year in the US or if it matters to 1 LGBTQ youth who attempts suicide every 45 seconds, then yes, it matters.
I wish it didn’t matter. But does it?
It certainly used to matter when someone came out. Coming out was courageous. Coming out risked losing family, friends, fans and followers with the reward of being true to one’s self and an ally to to LGBTQ+ community.
Does it matter anymore? Billie says no. But despite some hard conversations this week, I’m less certain of this than Billie.
I also had some hard conversations over the battle cry "from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free." I’ve followed Middle Eastern politics rather closely for three decades. I once taught a modern Middle East history course. I might even have a few things to say about the War in Gaza. Here, I’ll say this. I have always been troubled by "from the river to the sea" as a battlecry. I’ve never met a Palestinian I didn’t genuinely like. My sympathy for the Palestinian liberation movement–and thus my loathing for decades of Israeli policies and practices–is very real. That said, I can’t escape the conclusion that "from the river to the sea" means the eradication of the state of Israel and, by extension, the inhabitants, mostly Jewish, thereof.
I have long tried and failed to distance myself from this conclusion. This week I heard one of my favorite journalists, once a guest on my podcast, the always surprising, never doctrinaire Mike Pesca, hit the nail on the head in confronting the language of "from the river to the sea." I might urge you to listen to Pesca, especially if you’re inclined to chant that at your next rally.
Since I just linked to Pesca’s pod on Spotify, it dawns on me that maybe I have time to share one more reflection on the week in news…
Upon seeing my Instagram feed blow up with people’s Spotify Wrapped–as though I needed a reminder that there’s no accounting for taste–this week I marveled at how wildly successful Spotify is. Up from 345 million users in 2020 to 600 million users today (44% being paid subscribers), Spotify is en route to achieving its goal of a billion freakin’ users by 2030. The Swedish platform earned €65m in the third quarter of 2023 alone!
To celebrate that, Spotify cut 17% of their workforce on Monday morning. WTF? Equally WTF: artists receive on average $0.004 per stream. That’s $4 for every 1,000 streams; $4000 for every million streams. For realsies? In what world is this not criminal?
While appalled, I’m not shocked. Neither are you. I use Spotify. I publish this podcast, this podcast, and my music there. I use Spotify to build playlists, which I love to share. Have I shacked up with yet another devil? Should I quit Spotify? If so, what of the innumerable other nefarious actors I support? Apple has its shameful sides, though not as shameful as most of its suppliers. My digital world is powered by amazing batteries thanks to cobalt mined by slaves in a legit Congolese hellscape. Most of my textiles are made by wage slaves, mostly made from materials sourced by slave slaves. And doggone it, I’ll share this post on Instagram, despite how nefarious Meta is. But I stopped using Twitter. There. Virtue signaled. We good? Yo, my high horse might be illuminated, but my naked ass will fall off it just the same.
Listen. I tussle with my newsfeed every day. I obsess over the complexities of geopolitics and gender. I think seriously about sexuality, slogans and Spotify. Every day is a crisis of conscience.
Why don’t I write about it here? There are many reasons. But the main reason is that in our Age of Polarization, I’m allergic to one-way communication about the vexing issues of the day. Luckily, I have family and friends, students and colleagues with whom to engage on such matters.
In fact, I advise a student group devote to grappling with this tough stuff. We have weekly meetings, bi-weekly podcasts, and quarterly journals to create a proper conversation.
They actually discussed the “from the river to the sea” mantra on Monday (fortuitously, I was giving a final exam and couldn’t join that particular conversation) and I wouldn’t be surprised if they discuss Billie at next Monday’s meeting. We might even record that meeting as a podcast. Up to them. Stay tuned.
My point is that when conversation is called for, I want a conversation, not a platform. I don’t want to sit behind my screen and peck it out. Per request, I tried it this morning. But the world is on fire and my computer keys feel like matchsticks.
Uninspired to write about the news of the day, I prefer to discuss it with my peeps. But I acknowledge that I’m super lucky to have peeps. I’m surrounded by people willing to engage. I go for long walks with good people. Beers optional. I have a standing Tuesday call with my dearest childhood pal. We dig in and we hash it out.
But way too many adults don’t have close friends. Loneliness is an epidemic that didn’t end with the pandemic. And hey, if you are lonely, if you need a pal to process the pain or pursue some common ground, drop me a line. Let’s talk!
But I don’t wanna write about the dumpster fire. Not on my Friday morning. Nein danke.
Happy Hanukkah to those who celebrate and have a lovely weekend…
Yours,
DL
I’m learning how rituals that mark time matter to me. So this year, I am carving out an hour or so on Friday to sit quietly before my family wakes to write about what I obsessed about that week. If you enjoy this weekly reflection, please subscribe so I can send it to you every Friday.