By Naomi Stellone
Ayesha Erotica has to be one of the most embarrassing artists to be featured on your Spotify Wrapped. I don’t know how I’m supposed to share this on social media. What if someone asks who she is or what type of music she makes? What am I supposed to tell them, the truth? “Oh yeah, Ayesha Erotica is one of the most talented producers ever who makes super horny hyper-pop.” Like that even explains anything. People who aren’t chronically online don’t even know what hyper-pop is. And imagine if someone saw that she was my most listened to artist and then decided to listen to her music. I would be horrified.
It’s not even that I’m trying to act like I’m so different and quirky for listening to her. I don’t have a problem with partaking in traditionally socially-unacceptable things. Not only is Ayesha incredibly problematic (music from early in her discography contains several uses of racial slurs), but she also conflicts with my idealized image of myself as a sad indie girl. The music I listen to is supposed to be a reflection of who I am, and Ayesha Erotica is everything I am not. I’m not a music-making, drug-taking, Gucci-rocking party b***h. I’m not smoking crack in the back of your step-dad’s hotrod, and I’m not a cocaine superstar.
But is anything a greater reflection of who we are than our actions? I might not like that Ayesha Erotica is going to be my most listened to artist according to my Spotify Wrapped this year. I’m almost certain that she will be. But it’s undeniable how influential of an artist she is to me. And not everyone else will understand that.
While part of me wants to self-censor my Spotify Wrapped this year, I think sharing the uncensored version presents an opportunity for myself to be vulnerable, even if it’s just via an Instagram story post. So, I call on everyone reading this to be vulnerable and share the unredacted version of your Spotify Wrapped. Unapologetically embrace who you are and the listening decisions you make, even if not everyone understands.
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