Dear Grimes,

Within the intersection of the manifold forms of Feminism there is a kernel of profound spiritual truth. Outside of its political, media, critical-theoretic, academic, personal forms it is fundamentally a movement with a single, unified aim. That aim is to Protect the Thing That gets Crushed.

When we are very young we’re wide alive and free and scared and beautiful and our spirits are deep, overflowing with creativity and wondrously connected to every phenomena around us. And then, many of us are separated from our parents and “educated.” We are compared to our brothers and sisters — told that we are “better” or “worse”. We are thrust into the mean heart of a society that wants to define us, measure us, use us, label us. And many of us are crushed, captured, wounded, bent, broken into more useful or palatable shapes. Our spirits retreat into our hearts and we put on our masks and put up our shields and take out our daggers.

But some know that this is not as it should be. Some escape the machinations of that system, and emerge free and untouched.

I grew up in a suburb of Wilmington, Delaware. I’m a guy. I was prized for my ability at math. I was not prized for my emotions or my visions, or the truth or love I felt in my heart. I got into a good college. Life kept putting me on track. Life kept telling me “you’re good at math, you’re good at programming, this is what you are, perform for us” and I kept telling life “fuck you.” But your music flipped that whole script — because in its center I could see you reaching out, I could see that you were not crushed, that you wanted others to be uncrushed, that you especially wanted girls to not be crushed, that you wanted to help, and save. That like Bernie Sanders, and the Pope, and Marguerite Porete you were living a defiantly uncrushed life, and you wanted to teach us how to live that way, too.

OK, that’s a lot of big names. I’m not saying you’re the Pope or Bernie Sanders. For one thing, they’re pretty old, so they’ve had time to get over their own stuff. And you’re young, and you probably haven’t gotten over all your stuff. And shit’s gonna happen that might take you off track, temporarily, or for a while. Which is all just to say — I see and respect your humanity.

Which is all just to say that when I say I love you, I’m not trying to put you on a pedestal, or indicate that I think you’re special in some fundamental way. I saw Dave Chappelle a few nights ago (4/21) at the Chapel in SF and he talked about Prince all night. I’ll always remember what he said about him: “Prince was just some guy. But what a guy!” I don’t know you! Probably you are special in some fundamental way, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

What I’m trying to say is that I’m deeply grateful for your effort. I think you’re in a special and crucial position, and you’re doing an incredible job, and it seems hard, but you’re doing it. What you’re doing makes my heart feel like it’s on fire and puts a tear in my eye. It makes me feel like it’s possible that the Thing that Gets Crushed in me might actually not be crushed. It inspires me to reach out and help those who are getting crushed, who are trading their sparkly fire wonder for walls & weapons & safety, and help them stop. It is courageous and marvelous and beautiful.