’Tis The Season To Be Preachy
Baby, it’s freezing
It’s that time of year. White billows cover the ground, exasperating motorists and pedestrians alike. A million energy-wasting lights sparkle in the night, children are excitedly waiting for presents that will invariably disappoint, Jingle Bells jangle from every supernumerary loudspeaker and well-meaning people are wringing their hands how Baby It’s Cold Outside is rapey.
It is not.
First, rapey is not a word, and if it were, it would have to be expunged from every dictionary for being an affront to the English tongue.
Second, the lyrics don’t mean what you think they mean, because of this thing called cultural context. Want to know what the song is really about? Come, take my hand (nothing creepy implied) and let’s go take a look.
My mother will start to worry
As mothers do. Fathers too.
My father will be pacing the floor
Worry, worry.
The neighbors might think…
Those neighbours had better extract their noses from where they don’t belong, wouldn’t you say? Seriously, do you peek into other people’s bedrooms? You do? Well, don’t, it’s not polite.
I ought to say “No, no, sir!”
She ought to, because of mother, father and neighbours. But one wonders what the lady herself wants. Maybe we’ll find out.
My sister will be suspicious
Nah, sis knows exactly what’s going on. Jealous, maybe, suspicious, no.
My brother will be there at the door
Bro needs to chill. Who does he think he is?
My maiden aunt’s mind is vicious
Well, we all wish we could do something about auntie, but we’re stuck with her for the duration. Pass her another glass of sherry and avoid making eye contact if you know what’s good for you.
But maybe just one cigarette more
Smoking is bad for you, but not even tobacco companies knew that in the year 1944. We’ll accept that one, even if we shouldn’t.
This evening has been
So very nice
Ah, so this is what the lady thinks.
But maybe just a half a drink more
And drinks. In moderation.
I simply must go
The answer is no
Well, that seems definite.
The welcome has been
So nice and warm
But she’s tempted.
Say, what’s in this drink?
Stop screaming! Calm down, it’s not what you think. No, no, no, Rohypnol wasn’t even invented back then. No, neither was extasy, not for another half a century. No, Spanish fly is a myth, always has been. There was a veterinarian medicine for cattle by that name that was reputed to make bulls frisky, that’s where the story came from. Calm down. Deep breaths. Feeling better? Ok, let me tell you what was in that drink.
Alcohol.
That’s the reason she accepted it. Perhaps she is feeling a bit jittery and needs the drink to relax, but far more importantly, in the forties, that particular phrase was code. It was code for “I’m about to do something socially unacceptable and I need an excuse. Hand over the booze.”
Did you notice: the lady has been listing all kinds of reasons to leave, and every single one of them was about what other people think, not a single one about what she wants. That’s because she can’t say what she wants if she doesn’t want to be cast out of polite society. There was a saying back then: “If a lady says yes, she’s not a lady,” so she has to play her part and look for a socially acceptable reason to stay.
And the gentleman? He’s playing his role too: trying to find excuses for her, so that she can console her parents and beat back the neighbours. He’s not very good at it, all things considered, but he’s doing his best.
Anyway, there’s no fooling sis, and auntie’s always been a lost cause.
So here are the entire lyrics, rewritten for a modern audience:
A woman finds a way of expressing her sexual agency within the strictures of a patriarchal society that seeks to ostracize her for independent thinking.
That’s fine, right? It may be the most anally retentive sentence I’ve ever written, but you should now be able to enjoy the rest of December, knowing that the woman did exactly what she wanted and the man was not much more than her prop. Now go jingle them bells, or whatever strikes your fancy.
