Creative Nonfiction

Why the Change? by Bryson Gates

Growing up, I only listened to pop music. My rotation was Taylor Swift, Sia, Andy Gra-

You know I don’t want to start the story like that? Why don’t you want to start the story
like that? I think the readers may misinterpret the message I’m wanting to portray if I start from the beginning. There’s a possibility I may be judged. How do you want to start it then, Bryson?
Well…

…

I have a close friend who is obsessed with Taylor Swift. Her name is Aubrey. We went to
the same school together, and we both were in theatre. I decided to catch a ride home from her and as we were leaving theatre rehearsal, we walked down the long, smooth parking lot to her car. It was pretty dark since we didn’t get out until 9pm. As we arrived, she said. “Can you put the address in for where you live? I’ll use GPS so that we can be on our way.” During the car ride, I heard the voice of a very familiar artist come from the speakers.

Salt air, and the rust on your door
I never needed anything more
Whispers of "Are you sure?
Never have I ever before

The voice sparked something in me that I didn’t think I would remember. I asked Aubrey
about the song she was playing and the answer caught me off guard. “Taylor Swift. I’m surprised you didn’t know. Have you listened to her before?” I had, but it had been so long.

…

I rocked my hips to the beat like I never had before. “My ex-man bought his new
girlfriend, she’s like Oh my God! I’m gonna shake.” I loved listening to Taylor Swift. I was 10
years old and I would snap my fingers, purse my lips and scream to the top of my lungs. Taylor Swift was the definition of childhood for me. Anytime I would hear her music, it was like I was free from life and in my own world. The energy that she was putting onto the track just spoke to me a lot in my childhood. She was so care-free and didn’t let anything that anyone said get in the way of her unworried attitude. “Cause the players gonna, play, play, play… I shake it off, shake it-” Banging comes from my bedroom door. “Oh, Oh!”

“Bryson, can you come do the dishes…” A tall figure stood behind me and the nerves in
my body shot up like fireworks on 4th Of July. I could feel the presence of beady eyes staring down at me. My heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. My father is standing behind me. “What the hell are you doing?” When my dad was my age, his childhood didn’t entail listening to Taylor Swift. There were no divas in his parents' household. So seeing his son shaking his hips must be a bit confusing. I tell him that I’m listening to Taylor Swift. He looks at me, confused and disappointed, but he doesn’t continue the conversation. He just says, “Come wash these dishes.” I start to panic, pacing around my room and slight tears start dropping from my eyes. Why did he seem mad? Older me knew that he wasn’t, but younger me seemed lost. Was it wrong to shake my hips to Taylor swift? Should I even listen to Taylor Swift anymore? I thought I was care-free, but this made me care. The care I had turned into insecurities.

When middle school rolled around the corner, my love for Taylor Swift had been
thwarted. The dynamic was so much different from elementary school and there was a trend
going around that made me fall out of love for her music. This trend was known to be the
Soundcloud Era. Teens my age including me fell for the trend, but it was these years that I picked up on rap music. Everyone that I was around listened to rappers like XXXTenacion, Lil Uzi Vert and Ski Mask The Slump God. I was still in my soft girl pop era phase, but that ended up being suppressed. Suppressed by the judgment of other teens around me, and pressured to fit in. I had decided to leave Taylor in the past. I felt the need to act tough and lose sight of the personality that I had held onto for so long. It was like being hidden within society, trying to fit in with the crowd instead of embracing who I truly was as a person. I did like the idea of listening to rap music, but if it was going to change my ability to express who I actually was deep down. Then, there might have been a problem.

…

On the car ride home from my middle school orchestra rehearsal, Dad and I sat in silence
until I asked him a question. He looked so disappointed in me for shaking my hips, snapping my fingers and shouting Taylor Swift. He sits in silence first, not sure what I am asking, but then he finally asks the question I never thought younger me would hear. “Are you homosexual, Bryson?” I didn’t know how to respond at first. I knew that I wasn’t homosexual. I didn’t really have any feelings for guys. I’m always attracted to women. I just happened to carry some feminine qualities with me. “No? Why would you think that?” I said. My dad didn’t grow up like me, he wasn’t ever around people who had feminine traits to their personality, but aren’t necessarily homosexual. “You don’t have to lie to me, Bryson,” he said. “If you are homosexual, just say it now. “ I didn’t say anything back and turned away from my dad. Tears drop from my eyes, and sniffling fills the air around me. However, I stay quiet because I don’t want my dad to see me crying.

…

I am now an adult. I have facial hair and my voice has grown a lot deeper than it was in
middle school. There is no more “high-pitched” Bryson anymore. So I ask myself, why the
change? Did I still feel that my dad was wrong?

Are you homosexual, Bryson?

Walking out from Mathes Hall, I take my phone out of my pocket, put on my tunes and
type these words into spotify. Shake It Off, then I shake my head left to right. I’m not
homosexual, but I still have traits that are opposite of my gender in terms of personality. So what are you then, Bryson?

I purse my lips, shake my hips and stick my tongue out anytime I want too. On the
contrary, I have a pretty deep voice, a flirtatious attitude and love to blast rap music in my
headphones. I paused my music and went to google on my phone. “Hey Google, what does it
mean to have feminine and masculine traits?”

Androgynous: a style that exhibits both masculine and feminine traits in behavior,
appearance or personality.

I realize that I accept myself as a man who likes to do feminine and masculine things
because there aren’t any rules that say I couldn’t do what I pleased.

Salt air, and the rust on your door
I never needed anything more
Whispers of "Are you sure?
Never have I ever before

Never have I ever thought to question myself again. I came to terms with myself. A grin
filled my face with joy and I unpaused my music, feeling the lower half of my body move side to side, shaking off the “rules” that society put onto me. I didn’t care. Taylor didn’t care. We didn’t care.