I started working on this revamped version of my 2011 full length "Red Ship" in late 2020. A pandemic, 2nd baby, a work fire, an official autism diagnosis, an official adhd diagnosis, an ongoing genocide, a US general election, and many mushroom trips later, all tracks are finally done including a handful of new songs that weren't on the original release. There's 2 more songs left to mix before we master, then it goes out to the world.
I know I don't owe anyone any explanation as to why it took me so long but it would feel good to share. Being a working mother with this brain that I have is a huge factor. Learning to self record in a way that works for me has been a huge undertaking. I'm feeling pretty good about the process now, using Audacity in my bedroom, and my relationship to my guitar has never been better. But it took a LOT of trial and error and embarassing questions. I'm also a better drummer and bass player now. Making this record has given me all the glimmers that I so desperately needed to keep from drowning. If that sounds over dramatic, you're probably an allistic white cisman without little people to be responsible for, good for you.
One thing I'm struggling to reconcile with is the DIY ethos I absorbed from the DC scene, converged with the model minority myth, capitalism, our current social media landscape, and my capacity. What I've been missing is community. For a long time, I assumed I'm not deserving of community.
On the one hand, I've internalized the idea that "if you work hard, you'll achieve your dreams, otherwise you don't really deserve it", even if cognitively I have the understanding of what a load of horseshit that is. Watching music marketing talking heads (most of them cismen) say how easy it is to use social media to share your music, how 'no one has any excuse' to not do 'the work' has not been the greatest thing for my mental health. It doesn't just come from those dudes, but also this insane invisible pressure to make sure my immigrant parents' sacrifices are worth it. I mean, they both come from the same place. On the other hand, I deserve to have my songs, my BIG AUTISTIC FEELINGS, not just heard but intensely felt all over.
From my teens, I'd always felt my only option was to be a rock star because my brain is not otherwise compatible with the demands of capitalism. I knew, long before any of these diagnoses, long before understanding capitalism, that I could never fulfull the ideals my parents had for me as the first daughter born on US soil, to become the doctor, lawyer, engineer or whatever tf else they needed me to become otherwise. Even just a mediocre version of any of those is impossible. I've been fired numerous times. Not only have I been lacking the executive functioning skills, but turns out...when you're autistic or have adhd, lack of interest in something is a real disability...even if you are highly verbal, even if you're able-bodied, even if people call you "exotic" or "really talented". Pursuing music in the way I wanted to was out of the question, and of course, I understand that their social location in white capitalistic hell meant they did not feel safe to let me follow "my dreams." I tried - worked different jobs, went to college, was a software engineer for 5 years where I wondered every day if I'd get fired. Every day I went in the office and quietly dicked around, booking shows, stim-listening to music, promoting my music, emailing tastemakers, etc etc in order to get closer to my goal of 'making it' in music because anything else would not be sustainable for my brain.
I became a sex worker because as it turned out, that was the best way for me to accomodate this brain while I desperately tried to become a rock star. But wanting to be that rock star meant I had to have yet another set of invisible skills I didn't understand - social skills and a certain sensory profile - to find community. I struggled with that greatly, and at the time I attributed it all to me just being a naive yet selfish asshole. The sex work, while I felt liberated in having clearly communicated boundaries and scheduling flexibility, also added to that burnout with trauma that futher impaired how I interfaced with the world. I did learn to mask very well, though, and saw that as finally developing social skills to integrate into the world, though it was at great energetic cost.
Becoming a mother revealed another special interest: giving emotional care. Not just to my daughters, but anyone I felt I could reach. Sure, it started off as a fawn response. But now I take pride in how I hold space for others, especially those with marginalized identities. I took pride in the emotional labor I provided as a sex worker, but becoming a parent to two littles has amped it up to the point where it feels like a political mission. I'm a massage therapist for income, it's another way to care for people without the sexual trauma. I've also held space as a tripsitter and psychedelic facilitator, with an intense desire to help people access joy and euphoria when they're contantly told they aren't deserving. Yet, I have this unshakable drive to make the world feel my BIG fucking feelings.
Jumping back into music, after more or less releasing some shame I had for burning out in the 2010s, required that I confront this feeling of "failing my ancestors". How do I engage in my special interest, when it pulls so much of my brain away from things I'm supposed to be doing...like making money with my 'real job', where it can be legitimized?
I'm back to "being a rock star is the only real option". It sounds hokey but Autistic people can relate...it's a sensory need, a real brain need, and it takes up all my time. As a mother of 2 and daughter of Viet refugees I am inundated with messaging that I do not deserve this. And yet, I have a real responsibilty to provide. So in order for me to justify 'investing' so much of my time, energy, and money into this seemingly frivolous thing that doesn't bring me an income right now, I need to REALLY make it big in the context of white patriarchal capitalism. Unless we can tear this all down and I can be free to sing my big ass feelings for no pay as much as I want.
But what if I want to make it big? What if I actually deserve it? I fucking do. I want my songs, my big ass Autistic, traumatized feelings felt by the fucking world over, I don't fucking care who gets uncomfortable. I hit my drums, tear my cuticles, wear out my voice to be heard and felt. Most urgently, I'm craving community. I'm really craving my village, one that white patriarchal capitalism has withheld from me and many others. As an Autistic person, with my 'social deficits', how the hell do I do that? How do I find others who share these big feelings of rage, joy, grief, and overwhelming love who also believe in our inherent right to experience life so fully? I sing and fucking cry out as I'm meant to.
I look forward to putting this album out and finding my people. Expect March 2025.
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