Identity

“Born This Way” is (Kind of) a Giant Lie

by TomLaPille on June 26, 2011

“Born This Way” is an extremely well-built song. The music is upbeat, catchy, and danceable. The lyrics are uplifting, unchallenging, and engineered to be attractive to open-minded people of any persuasion. I admire it for its craft; all the success it has is more than deserved.

But it’s also (kind of) a giant lie.

Lady Gaga was born Stefani Germanotta. Following a chain of Wikipedia references shows that she spent several years as a clean-cut Catholic schoolgirl who was interested in music and dated clean-cut guys. Her name became Lady Gaga, depending on what you believe, when she received a text message that had autocorrected a misspelling of “Radio Ga Ga” to “Lady Ga Ga”, or as a result of a marketing meeting that was called to craft the persona that Stefani and her manager would pitch to record labels. I’m not particularly interested in learning the truth; either way, the process of learning to live to that new name took years and lots of hard work. The Gaga of “Born This Way” may be who she is now, but she was certainly not actually born that way.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Enter Weird Al Yankovic.

“Perform This Way” is Yankovic’s effortlessly skillful send-up of “Born This Way”. It highlights the obvious artifice in the persona of Lady Gaga; lampoons bizarre things that Lady Gaga has done, like wearing dresses made of meat or bubbles; and makes specific reference to how Gaga’s “…little monsters pay/lots cause I perform this way”. I originally read it as an expression of frustration with Gaga’s popularity, which I found almost offensive. I don’t find Yankovic’s work bothersome in general, but attacking Gaga’s popularity by labeling it shock-driven and shallow rings hollow coming from an artist whose penchant for crazy costumes and spectacle is so well-documented. Such an attack would be so childish, in fact, that I eventually decided that Weird Al was way too smart for that to be his point.

Here is the alternate reading that I now favor:

  1. Weird Al consciously created himself as a shock artist, succeeded because of it, and is proud of having done so.
  2. You can create yourself anew as anything you want.
  3. It is offensively disingenuous for Lady Gaga to hide the artifice behind her persona.

The slow rise of Weird Al as a parody artist is well-documented. From accordion lessons at age six to his first big break on the Dr. Demento show in 1976 to being the opening act for The Monkees to seven platinum records in 2006, Weird Al has been at it for a while and is unambiguously successful. It would be strange for him to not be proud of that.

I get the second point from Yankovic’s reversal of the title of the song. Gaga’s version preaches unconditional self-acceptance; Yankovic denies the relevance of the current self, and is worried only about the performance. A functional definition of identity is beyond the scope of this post, but if Yankovic thought that your current state of existence at any point in the past mattered, he might have mentioned it somewhere in the song.

The biting sarcasm present in Yankovic’s version must be accounted for, of course, which is where I get the third point. Yankovic is clearly frustrated with Gaga for something, but it can’t be for achieving success in exactly the same way that he did. As I noted above, that would be stupid. The only thing I can come up with is that he’s frustrated that she has obscured the path to that success so thoroughly. Yankovic’s lyrics are obessed with Gaga’s artifice; although it is hard to speak with a straight face about a meat dress, I don’t think Yankovic’s tone ever crosses from merely-pointing-it-out to outright mockery. He doesn’t think there’s anything wrong with what she does, but he wants to make damn sure you know that she’s doing it consciously.

I find “Perform This Way” to be the far more uplifting version of the song. I’m all about accepting who we all are as people, but I’m much more interested in becoming different and better than I am in rationalizing stagnation. Want to be a superstar even though you aren’t one right now? No problem. Act like one, buy a bubble dress, put a porcupine on your head, and go to town. It may not work, but I’m sure it’s a vast improvement over the zero chance that “being yourself” has.

Identity Crisis, Part One

by TomLaPille on May 18, 2011

I think we use “identity” to mean two different things.

The first form of identity is one of self-description. How would you, or someone else, describe you? Are you a writer? A martial artist? A speaker?

I’ve been described as all three of these things. Why am I a writer? Because I leveraged a previous blog into thousands of dollars of freelance writing and because I’ve written a weekly column for a website for the past two years as part of my job. Why am I speaker? Because I gave a talk about game design at the University of Washington. Why am I a martial artist? Because I have a purple belt in kenjutsu.

Does any of that tell you anything about me, fundamentally, as a person? I claim that it does not. Tim Ferriss is also a writer, speaker, and martial artist, and that doesn’t help you compare him and me as overall human beings.

This is because all three of these identity descriptions are based on results, and we don’t all agree on the results necessary to earn a description. A “writer”, under this discussion frame, is a person who trades words for money… unless you choose to measure someone’s writerhood by how influential their ideas are. The definition of “speaker” is equally malleable, and may or may not require paid work. And who can possibly define what a “martial artist” is in anything resembling a useful way?

Most descriptive identities are vague, and they are especially so when we look at them as aspirations. If you told me that you wanted to be a doctor, and I was feeling particularly snarky, I might ask you how you will know when you’ve succeeded. Will you be a doctor when you get your M.D.? Will you be a doctor when you finish twenty successful heart surgeries? Will you be a doctor when you own your own practice? If you don’t know, then when can you be secure that you’ve made it?

It would be fair to describe me, right now, as a game designer, as I receive money in return for time spent making games. If I wanted to transform from a game designer into a pizza delivery guy, I could quit my job, call up a Domino’s, and deliver twenty pizzas. If I wanted to transform into a college professor, I could start reading behavioral economics journals, apply to graduate schools, get a Ph.D, and then fight for tenure. If I wanted to become a pop star, I could start taking voice and dance lessons, then recording and posting YouTube videos of my performances until a record label signed me. Some of these transformations can happen faster than others, but the point is the same: results-based identity is eminently hackable with some work.

That should be exciting to you. Do you want a new and different description? Define the specific results you want that would make you feel that you’ve earned it, then go and produce them.

There is another consequence of the hackability of descriptive identity: becoming attached to a descriptive identity of oneself is silly. These descriptions are results-based, and you can change them on the fly to match anyone else’s set of descriptions, so they’re useless for the purposes of defining yourself for yourself.

If descriptive identity isn’t useful, we are clearly missing something, as I don’t know anyone who would claim that every human is the same. What is the second form of identity, and how do we find it?

That is a question for tomorrow.

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I Don’t Care Who You Are

May 16, 2011

I don’t care about who you are. I don’t care that you like writing novels. I don’t care that you like taking pictures of cats and writing funny captions on them. I don’t care that you like to drink and do karaoke at bars. I care about what you do, and specifically what you do for [...]

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