Almost every woman I know – has a brukout song; that one song that makes her cut loose and connect with her primal instincts and desire for sexual gratification. Regardless how prudish or proper she is, this is the song that speaks to her loins the way intellect and charm cannot. For me that song is Vybz Kartel’s “Freaky Gal Pt 2.”
I remember the first time I heard it. It felt like forbidden pleasure and that made it that much more appealing. To this day I can’t explain the appeal, but I can tell you there is something about giving yourself permission to feel and indulge the parts of you that are politically incorrect. The song is a celebration of everything I was taught to hate and repress and I identify with it. Singing it feels like being invited to an exclusive party where I control the guest list and the activities.
The thing about that song and so many Dancehall tracks like Kartel’s “Romping Shop” and Konshens’ “Do D Ting” is that they are really anthems for the freaks among us. The beauty of it is you don’t even need to publicly fly this freak flag. Freakiness is what you get to indulge in in your bedroom (or any other place you and your consenting partner see fit). It does not require permission. It is about the things you think and feel but many times can’t say aloud. And that is perfectly ok. We have the music to prove it.
I’m not so sure what all the hooplah about freakiness is for. After all, we (those of us who self-identify as freaks) are simply a little different in our appearance or behaviour (though really, it’s normally more about behaviour than appearance).
Freaks don’t generally go around sparking movements and inciting unwilling opponents to join. We revel in our freakiness in appropriate circles. We don’t need permission and couldn’t care less about condemnation. Sex is an integral part of who we are. And with that integral drive comes desires – sometimes too taboo to stand alone and undefended in the light of day. But our desires have little or no regard for political correctness. Who we are and what we want will always shout loudly above the noise of convention and dogma. Some of us are in tune with it while others drown out the voice with the noise of conformity.
I think before even asking, I’ve answered my own question. By my own admission I am a freak, and by extension an adventurer. I don’t believe the two are mutually exclusive. I suppose adventurer is a better euphemism for those who fear the connotations and possible assumptions that may come with the label freak. Yet, in this duplicitous era of multitasking and multi functioning, the technology we so often depend on isn’t the only thing playing multiple roles. We can multitask and wear multiple hats too. The much talked about ‘lady in the street, freak in the sheets’ is the woman of the twenty first century who has her cake and eats it too, with whipped cream, frosting, and all.
Being the freak doesn’t make me any less of a worthy, deserving or faithful wife; knowing what I want doesn’t make me promiscuous; and asking for it certainly does not make me a whore. In many circles, we have long since moved past the Victorian area where a lady is an object with no desires or thoughts of her own. Sure, some are still stuck in that time; but that’s their dilemma, not mine. The rest of us have moved forward. Thankfully, I was blessed to be born in a time where my so-called deviant desires are not enough to get me burned at the stakes or publicly stoned to death.
I need not choose between being a freak or an adventurer, a choice that somehow subliminally suggests that being an adventurer is the less of two evils here. The adventurous freak – she is the new hybrid. So forget what you’ve been told. We can have it all; we don’t have to choose!
