tall tales ~ issue 24

issue 24 ~ MOTHER
december 2023

still from MEAN GIRLS

mother is mothering
and other thoughts on the erotic
 

Hello, mates! It’s me again. I finally updated the description for this newsletter to include the phrase ‘monthly-ish’ and that’s called self-care. November flew by so quickly I was shocked to discover my period had arrived on exactly the day it was supposed to. I have not been busy, I have been watching every available video regarding the film May December. I also read three non-fiction books in November which makes a grand total of three non-fiction books for the year. 

At the end of November I caught a cold that turned into quite the five act opera, but I’m finally feeling better and all the things I purchased on the internet during my illness are starting to arrive. This past weekend I only left the house once, and it was to go to a music festival for approximately 90 minutes. It was a stellar decision and I would like to tell you why.

My boyfriend is a music producer and occasional session musician. He also mixes music which is something I did not understand until probably last week or maybe I still don’t understand it. Occasionally I join him on tour, often just for a weekend in Hobart or Sydney or a small town in regional Victoria called Dookie. In the case of a festival, I’ll hang out in the tent with the best cheese board until it’s time for the changeover, and then I’ll wander out into the crowd and realise that I am extremely sober and one hundred years old. I’ve become accustomed to watching live music by myself, and in some ways I prefer it—particularly if I really love the artist.

Jessie Ware is, in her own words, ‘a lady, a lover, a freak, and a mother,’ and actually same queen, although I do not have any children aside from my two surfboards. She makes the horniest music you’ve ever heard, in addition to hosting a podcast with her mum called Table Manners. If you haven’t heard her music, you’ve likely listened to an episode of the pod. Her podcast persona, which I can only assume is close to who you might run into at the supermarket, is daggy and self-effacing. If you weren’t familiar with her music you might not peg (non-sexual) them for the same Jessie.

On Saturday night I dragged my phlegmy ass out of bed to watch Jessie perform at a festival, in the pouring rain, at the St Kilda Marina (the bad place). No one checked my ticket when I arrived and the only non-alcoholic drink available was red bull so it wasn’t exactly a Meredith Supernatural Amphitheatre kind of situation. I elbowed my way to the front of the mosh and for that I am sorry although not sorry enough. Maybe my experience was amplified by the very little social interaction and also Vitamin D I’d received the week prior, but when Ms Ware strutted on-stage in her floor-length red chiffon gown I went a little bit feral. I don’t think I’ve had that kind of live music experience since I first saw my boyfriend play live, and you have to understand that in that instance I was fuelled by the knowledge that we were definitely going to have sex afterwards. 

I wound up standing next to another person who had come to the festival alone. Every thirty seconds—and I know that sounds like hyperbole but I think it’s at least close to the truth—they clicked their left hand in the air and screeched, ‘Motherrrrrrr!’ They knew every word to every song and I could tell that they were also having a quasi-religious experience. 

I think, when I break it down, the thing I loved most about this performance can actually be defined by ‘Motherrrrrrrrr!’ If you’ve been on the same internet as I have, you will have seen mother as a descriptor for any of these women and also many more: Angela Bassett, Toni Colette, Sarah Paulson, Rachel Weisz, Cate Blanchett, Lady Gaga, Beyoncé. I didn’t know until I was putting this newsletter together that mother has her roots in the ballroom community—the mothers of the ballroom houses were (and still are) the original mothers, and the success of Drag Race was largely responsible for bringing this phrase to the wider lexicon. 

While the qualifiers for daddy are generally just ‘hot and over forty’, mother is many things. Mother is a source of inspiration. Mother is a protector. Mother might seem like she’s just a statuesque, straight actress playing a lesbian again but she’s so much more. Or, maybe it’s not about what she is or isn’t—it’s about what she represents. I love this quote from Ben Kessler in the New York Times: ‘In 2023, daddy is dead: Long live mother. Mother’s ballads raised you; mother’s widely panned performances gave you life; and mother’s mothering mothered so hard that you must show her the respect she deserves. To do so, call her mother.’

So, what am I getting at here? Because I am a cisgender white woman and really I have no authority on who is or isn’t mother. For the last year or so I’ve found myself preoccupied by a thought that boils down to this: what does it mean to live in a body, that is sometimes gross and often surprising, and experience the erotic? I’m sounding a bit wish.com Esther Perel here but please, stay with me. In recent times I’ve found myself drawn to women—both in the public eye, and in my real life—who seem to understand this part of themselves completely, whether they voice it or not. Because I was born in the early 90s and it was a deeply confusing decade for so many. When I think about all the sterile nonsense we were told was sexy I want to do a murder. 

For so long we were told that youth was aspirational, and that if you were not nineteen you were practically dead. Actually, I think we’re still being told that, but do you know about the concept of eroticism? Not the erotic as the strictly sexual, the erotic as a way to engage with life. Audre Lorde said it better than me: The erotic is a measure between the beginnings of our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings. It is an internal sense of satisfaction to which, once we have experienced it, we know we can aspire. For having experienced the fullness of this depth of feeling and recognizing its power, in honour and self-respect we can require no less of ourselves. The erotic is about living! And mother is all about the erotic! And you simply cannot be mother at nineteen years of age and thank god for that!

At the St Kilda Marina, I was struck by how erotic Jessie Ware’s performance was. And it wasn’t because someone told her to move her hips like that. I know, because I have a Bachelor of Arts in Music Theatre and a director once made me crawl across a rehearsal studio ‘in a sexy way’ with the goal of seducing him. I was nineteen years old, and he was practically dead. Jessie Ware's performance was a celebration and also a riot. It made me so happy to be alive in a body that is sometimes gross and often surprising. It folded me up very gently and slid me back into the pocket of my sense of self. I’m coming to you live, right now, from that very pocket—it’s really cosy in here! If you feel you have strayed from your own proverbial pocket, I can only recommend that you return to mother. I mean, John Early ran a highly-curated fan website for Toni Collette in 1999 and now he's famous. Reach for the moon, and you’ll land among the billionaires. Reach for mother, and you’ll probably be bullied in high school but one day all your friends will be on tv (for good reasons, not for crimes).

julia fox said her book was a masterpiece and she was right

Stories of Note

Remember when I said I read three non-fiction books? I'm going to tell you about them.

Tissue by Madison Griffiths

A moving, contemplative collection of personal essays on abortion, by a Naarm-based writer and also incredible tattoo artist. I really loved this book—Griffiths takes a holistic look at the physical and emotional experience of abortion, in addition to exploring how intersectionality affects access and debate. 

Down The Drain by Julia Fox

I have not shut up about this book since I finished it. My friends are getting sick of receiving texts that say 'I'm going to need you to purchase the Julia Fox book'. Prior to this, I wasn't really familiar with Julia Fox—I only watched Uncut Gems for the first time last week. But let me tell you: the woman! Has lived! A life! Kanye is only mentioned in one chapter and she was allowed to write about it because she never signed the NDA he gave her, and I love that. If you'd prefer not to read about addiction and overdose, perhaps give this one a miss. 

Stolen Focus by Johann Hari

I too have a love/hate relationship with my phone, and since becoming a one-man band (sole trader) I've had to take a long, hard look at my work habits. Our tiny little brains are not meant to have this many available distractions, so reading this book was vindicating in a way. My biggest takeaway was to seek flow every day. It will make you smarter and happier. And it will make your YouTube search history less embarrassing. 

 
<3 
 

Share your own recommendations with me. Email c.elisabeth.wilson@gmail.com, or DM me @chloeelisabeth

this newsletter was created and produced on the unceded lands of the Boon Wurrung and Wurundjeri peoples of the Kulin nation. I pay my respects to elders past and present, and acknowledge their rich history of storytelling and knowledge-sharing. 

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