At the Taylor Swift Concert
Last weekend, on my wife’s birthday, I surprised her with tickets to see Taylor Swift in Kansas City. We were thrilled about attending the concert in a city where we didn’t know anyone, and where we could enjoy the classic, well-preserved buildings, restaurants, and bars of a smaller American city. We had lunch at a Mexican restaurant that I wish existed in NYC, and dinner at a dimly-lit steakhouse where they placed a birthday candle in my wife’s baked potato since we didn’t have time for dessert.
Before long, the sun beat down on us and 74,998 others at Arrowhead football stadium, where it quickly became obvious that the crowd was overwhelmingly female. Tickets were expensive and hard to get, so instead of playing chaperone, caravans of parents sat outside the stadium in minivans awaiting their kids, many of whom traveled in packs of 8 or 10 and dressed in pink from head to toe.
“I’ll meet you right here,” I told my wife as we separated in search of our appropriate bathroom. I casually strolled away, well aware that regardless of the venue, the line for the men’s room always seems shorter. Five minutes later, my pace quickened due to mounting pressure on my bladder and Taylor’s imminent performance. But every men’s room had a line of women outside, and the once male figure on the sign was now replaced by a female figure. After passing men’s room after men’s room that had been converted to women’s, I started to worry.
Feeling frustrated, I became the subject of amusement for two women in their early twenties who waited in line. I joined in their laughter, then I posed the question that popped into my head: “Is this what it’s like?” They both nodded and laughed a bit harder. When I finally found the men’s room—which was packed with women—I thought about my question. When I asked, “Is this what it’s like?,” I wasn’t asking if it was equally difficult for women to find a bathroom at an event where the audience is mostly male. I was asking if this is what it felt like to exist in a space that was obviously built for someone else.
The conversion of the bathrooms, while necessary and functional, took on a fascinating political undertone that nominally disrupted my night and caused me to think. In the process, it empowered countless others. For two nights last weekend, that Kansas City football stadium was filled with tens of thousands of people who gave off the confident glow that it was theirs.
This Monday July 17 from 3-6pm, I’ll be a guest on Radio Ravioli with Olivia on WFMU radio, where we’ll talk about life and play lots of music. You can listen online here, and the show will be archived for future listening.
This Friday July 21 at 7pm, I’ll be in conversation with Brooklyn Magazine’s Brian Braiker at Prospect Park. We spoke last year on Brooklyn Magazine’s podcast, and I’m looking forward to continuing our conversation. It’s free with RSVP here.
I’m headed back to Los Angeles and Seattle-ish in August. LA is 8/23 with Traci Thomas, host of The Stacks podcast at the amazing bookstore Reparations Club. Seattle is actually in nearby Port Townsend, WA on 8/25 at the Thing festival, where I’ll be in conversation with my former bandmate, John Roderick.
Fall will be officially titled “Back to School” with events at universities and venues in Arizona, North Carolina, New York, California, Texas, Michigan, Wisconsin, and more. Event details and updates can always be found HERE.
Fri Jul 21: Brooklyn, NY @ Prospect Park’s Lena Horne Bandshell in conversation with Brooklyn Mag’s Brian Braiker. 7pm (this moved from 8/4)
Wed Aug 23: Los Angeles, CA @ Reparations Club / in conversation with The Stacks podcast host Traci Thomas. 7pm
Fri Aug 25: Port Townsend, WA @ Thing (music festival) / in conversation with John Roderick. 12:45pm (early)
My memoir My Life in the Sunshine is out now. I’d love it if you picked up a copy at your local independent bookstore. It’s also available at all the big places, and for your Kindle as well. There’s an audiobook that I spent 20 hours of my life reading (it’ll only take 7 hours to listen). You can listen to the 5-minute intro for free on Spotify.
I hope to see you somewhere soon.
Nabil Ayers / Brooklyn
Nabil, some of us tried that at Jazz Fest this year and the guards kicked us out of the men's room with out delay