I’m not really a pop fan, and my opinion of Robin Thicke is really nonexistent. I remember liking that first song that made him big… or second or third, I don’t remember, exactly. And I don’t care enough to look it up either. Anyway, I actually like Blurred Lines. That shit is catchy. And here’s the thing, the song is more about cheating than anything else, and frankly. WOMEN DO EXIST WHO enjoy the attention of the dude across the room, who actually LIKE to be pursued. Even the most liberated, feminist woman can still get freaky and enjoy letting a man take the lead. Jesus Christ. There’s no point in the song that indicates the female subject is resisting or rejecting the advances.
Can’t we just have a fun summer party song? Did anyone ever analyze Lil Jon’s Get Low?
Dear capital-F Feminists, Please Stop the Slut-Shaming. Love, a lower-case-f feminist.
The first time I heard the funky beats of Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” emanating from my radio, I did what any normal, able-bodied human being would do…I boogied my ass off. But just days after the song’s meteoric rise to the top of the charts, scathing criticisms began to arise, citing sexual harassment, slut-shaming, and victim-blaming among many of the artists’ apparently blatant offenses. Because I could never QUITE make out the words behind Thicke’s panting falsetto, I decided to do my own research into the lyrics and see what was really causing the problem. What I found was shocking. I began reading the words fully expecting to arrive at the bottom not only incensed at their content, but also ashamed that I had ever bopped my head and shaken my buns to the beats.
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