Page 11 of Shame Me
“What?” I spat out before I could stop my reaction. “Women?”
“No. Videos.”
My voice came out flat. “With slutty women?”
“Well…yeah.”
“Bullshit.” When Zack and I had had our metal awakening, I’d watched hundreds of music videos, and I knew better. “They still make videos that exploit women. Have you ever seen Mastodon’s video for ‘The Motherload’?”
Zack sat up. “Which one is that?”
“It’s that gross one where the women are shaking their asses all through it.”
Meanwhile, Cy had taken the remote and had already found it and started playing it. “I haven’t seen that one.”
Zack asked, “Why do you have such a problem with it?”
Braden looked like he wanted to shrink into the couch.Here they go again.
“They’re sexually exploiting women—like we’re nothing more than sex objects, there for visual pleasure.”
The way Zack smirked, I could tell he was weighing the idea of saying something sarcastic that would piss me off further. But he surprised me. “They’rechoosingto be in the video, Dani. It’s not like they were forced to do it.”
Meanwhile, Cy had been forwarding the video until he got to the more egregious spots where there was nothing but slow-motion twerking on the screen. Watching it again, my anger flared further—because what I was witnessing was more than sexual exploitation. Part of it felt like the director was making fun of the women. I couldn’t be sure, but that idea nagged at me. “I know nobody had a gun to their head. But they were probably promised fame or lots of money. Why else would they do that?”
Cy pulled his eyes off the television. “Maybe theylikeit.”
“What’s there to like?”
“Adoration, being lusted after, being wanted.”
That shut me up for a little bit…because wasn’t that what we all desired deep down? To be wanted and loved? Maybe not by anonymous viewers who’d jack off later with those images in their heads, but for one special person to want you more than any other?
That was whatIwanted—but Zack wasn’t going to give it to me. And so I was looking for it elsewhere. My encounter with Danny hadn’t fulfilled anything inside me, and I knew I needed to find a way to get over Zack for good.
When Zack spoke, it pulled me from my internal dialogue. “So maybe your argument holds up with these unknown women in this particular video—but what about women like Maria Brink? Taylor Momsen? Lzzy Hale? Carla Harvey?”
I knew the first three women but the last one wasn’t familiar. “Who’s Carla Harvey?”
“She used to be in Butcher Babies. I was getting ready to say Heidi Shepherd too. She’s still with the band.”
“What about them?” I asked, already knowing what he would say but hoping to buy some time to figure out how to make my argument.
“Did you ever think maybe these women are comfortable with their sexuality? Maybe that’s why they have no issues posing nude or almost nude.”
How could I argue that? Because he was right. How could I judge them if they enjoyed what they were doing? At least in the case of the women Zack had named, they seemed to have control over what they chose to show.
But then it hit me. “Okay, so I’ll give you that. Good for them for being comfortable in their own skin—but all those women you named are talented musicians—and it feels like a lot of what they do is like a lazy way to advertise. ‘Men will buy my albums or watch my videos if I show some skin without regard to my talent.’ It’s bullshit. Does that mean I need to act like that just to get us seen?”
Cy finally paused the video. “Not a bad idea—but we should get you a boob job first.”
My body grew tense with anger and I wanted to literally lash out—but Zack shook his head. “Not funny.”
Cy was grinning from ear to ear. “I disagree. That was fucking hilarious. Sorry, Dani—but you should see your face.”
I could only imagine how the rage would appear—possibly making my cheeks red, my pupils big and black, causing my nostrils to flare, all while gritting my teeth. Even if it had only been a joke, it was tasteless and uncaring, even though it was classic Cy. But I was more worried that he’d been half-serious. All at a time whenIwas trying to become more comfortable as a sexual creature. After all, I’d just bared my midriff for our last show—and why had I done that? I myself was conflicted and, themore I thought about it, the angrier I got at the women rockers who made it seem like Ihadto do that too—boob job or not. All of that was swirling in my head and heart, yet all I could manage was “Glad I could amuse you.”
Braden stood and, for a second, I thought he was going to leave the room to escape the tension, something he often did. But, this time, he didn’t. And, for one short moment, I felt seen by him. “You don’teverhave to do anything with your body just to promote our band, Dani. If our music can’t stand by itself, then we shouldn’t even be trying.”
