An Interview with Lucy, 2.5 Years Old, About Justin Bieber’s “Sorry”

Sara Aboulafia
No Anthem
Published in
4 min readMay 2, 2016

Sara Aboulafia: Lucy, what do you think about the tropical house and dancehall vibe of Justin Bieber’s “Sorry”? Do you think it’s cultural appropriation or appreciation?

SA: Oh, yes, totally, it’s like the song’s producer, Skrillex, is saying #sorrynotsorry, but using Bieber as a proxy to say it. There’s the level of Bieber expressing his own regret and then there’s the producer also working in his own ironic version of that sentiment, almost throwing it back in our faces, a white man daring the progressive to dance, no matter our concern — a pop apologia, if you will.

SA: Right! Exactly! It is an unmasking and a masking at once. Skrillex is behind the frame but also part of it, riding that young pain like a wave, and yet in places he’s pitch-adjusted and filtered Bieber’s voice to such an extent in the “ooooohs” that it’s like something totally non-human is silently harmonizing behind the pop star, which pushes Bieber’s “sorry” to the front, making it even more raw and human and naked. This reminds the listener of Justin’s nude leaked photos which, to be clear, he should not apologize or be slut-shamed for.

SA: You hear it too! The earnest intensity of Bieber’s apology acts as an enactment of a celebrity ritual — the apology-as-performance and symbolic (but no less real?) bildungsroman of wayward-child-star-to-fully-adult-performer — while also being an invitation for us to question our cynicism about this ritual. Should we take this oft-repeated apology at face value? Are we even *entitled* to this apology? Take this line: “You gotta go and get angry at all of my honesty.” Bieber is aware that the response to his apology may be pushback or defense, and he also knows that we, too, are guilty (“there is no innocent one,” he asserts), and yet he keeps repeating the refrain “I’m sorry” again and again. He is exposed here, both subject and object at once, daring us to accept him and forgive him, all the while forgiving *us* for our missteps and our stubbornness. He is shouldering more than his own misdeeds.

SA: Yes, you said it first. He’s not just apologizing for himself — rather, the song’s apology is the sword on which he falls for us, his millions of fans and detractors. And again we come back to ritual, and there’s something both biblical and even — dare I say it — Christlike about it; he embodies and carries our transgressions, down to his extensively-tattooed form, weighted down by “accessories” (fans/their regrets). And yet he is not a spotless figure, although, to circle back to his childhood, he was raised Christian and it’s so clear that there are religious motivations to this song, that he is not just clearing his name for himself but standing before Jesus, but then in this case Jesus is also the girlfriend he betrayed, and so this woman becomes the *audience’s* proxy — like us, she is wounded by Bieber’s arrogance, misbehavior, betrayal — and of course “wound” is an interesting word in this context, because “wound” is an archaic reference to a woman’s genitals, which is of course grossly outdated and offensive, but when he says “I’m missing more than just your body,” it’s like he’s really reminding her — in case she forgot, because of patriarchy — that not only does he miss her, but that she’s not *just* her body. His apology really serves that purpose. It’s a seal.

SA: God, exactly. Just…yes.

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Sara Aboulafia
No Anthem

Words, comedy, sound | Currently The Center For Fiction / Susan J. Kamil Emerging Writer Fellow '22-'23