So i don’t hate reggae music. Really, I don’t. It just has some really negative associations for me, and sometimes it’s really hard for me to listen to it.
It seems that I spent several years of my early married life pretending to like reggae. You see my (now estranged) husband loved reggae. I mean, Loved (yes with a capital L) reggae music. I pretended and went along, suffering through hours of that same, repetetive, monotonous bassline…one love…woo hoo…not.
Don’t get me wrong, I accept full responsibility for my suffering, because that was what I did back then. The 20-something year old me suffered through countless things that make 42 year old me say “WTF?” A lesson for young women: Speak your truth now. It will save you a lot of time and trouble later.
Reggae has become the soundtrack to a time in my life when i was miserable in my situation. I added insult to injury by continuing to pretend I liked it because I was too afraid to admit that I never actually liked it in the first place.
Was it Bob Marley’s fault that I was too afraid to express myself? (in my best Jamaican accent) No mon! Should I have embraced reggae music as it was intended to be– the music of an oppressed people? Maybe so since I most certainly felt like an oppressed person at the time.
I guess the lesson to 42 year old me is to not hate the reggae music, but to acknowledge that hurtful part of my life as the life lesson that it was, learn from it, and move on. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to listen to reggae and if not enjoy it, at least it will not cause me bad feelings. Apparently, I haven’t gotten there yet.
On a recent encounter with reggae music, (recent meaning, about thirty minutes ago) i could feel myself sliding into a literal, and apparently noticeable
funk. “Are you okay?” Now here was my new dilemma. Do I speak my truth and spoil the good time being had by someone else listening to the music, or do I do what I always did, and suffer through?
Well, I actually did not have to decide. I began composing this blog instead of focusing on how the music was making me feel. My thoughts drowned out the beat, and within literally moments it seemed, ( I’m not sure because I was so engrossed in my writing, I really did tune it out) the music was changed to contemporary jazz. (again with the accent) No problem mon!