I judged her harshly while others in social media defended her and lifted up praises to her holy name, screaming, "She is woman, let her roar!"
My reaction (screamed aloud at the television) was more along the lines of, "Holy... what the hell? Miley, you slut!"
We don't always watch the Video Music Awards at our house, but decided to catch it this year. When my twelve and fifteen year old girls told me excitedly, "Mom, Miley Cyrus is on," I was anxious to see her. I was anxious, that is, until the minute she stuck her tongue out, which I think was about two seconds into her arrival on stage.
We all know what happened after that. More tongue, more twerk, more Uhh - Mah - Gawd!
Yes, Miley, I see your tongue. Now, put it back where it belongs, young lady! I hate it when little kids try to lick me and now I'm terrified of ever meeting you in person. You say you stick your tongue out all the time because you don't like to smile? What are you, four years old?
Yes, Miley, I see you pointing at your va-jay-jay. I know you're a big girl and we don't have to spell the word s-e-x around you anymore. I get it. You're not a virgin and you want the world to rally around your public pubic point-a-thon.
Yes, Miley, I see you simulating a sexual position with that poor little Thicke boy. You have now somehow ruined the image I have of his father and the fond memories I have of watching him on TV when I was young. I'm not even sure how you did that to me, but you somehow put ick all over anything Thicke. Shudder!
Yes, Miley, I saw your new video for Wrecking Ball and no, it does not remind me in the least of the Sinead O'Connor Nothing Compares 2U video. As I recall, she didn't seductively lick a thing, much less a sledgehammer, in order to get me to like her. Phallic symbolism, anyone? Cough, cough. Ahem. Furthermore, Sinead did not get nekkid and straddle a giant metal ball (poor set cleaning lady, ewww) on a chain in order to show me her vulnerabilities.
Sinead's was art. Yours was tart.
Okay, so there was my opinion. Now the surprising part.
I really like Miley Cyrus and I still consider myself a fan of her work. I think she is extremely talented. I love her music and her acting ability. I love the ever-so-rebelliousness of her lyrics doing what they want to whomever they want, whenever they want. You're right, Miley. It's your mouth, your house, your life party and you CAN do what you want with it and it's okay.
So why am I coming off like a hater? Let's look at some options:
- I'm a religious nut, judging Miley unfairly. Nope!
- I'm afraid she'll influence my teen and tween age girls. Negative!
- I'm jealous because she's got better boobs than me. No way! I've got curves, girls...
- I'm a goody-two-shoes and have never seen such atrocities... my eyes, my eyes! Wrong again.
The truth is, I don't like Miley's behavior because she reminds me of... well... a younger version of me.
Miley is... my mini-me!
I should clarify that I don't behave that way anymore. But oh my sweet baby Jesus, she reminds me of exactly where I was so many years ago. I was no better. I acted sleazy, rebellious, filthy; and I was proud of myself.
I cursed like a sailor. I showed too many strangers my body parts. I tried to be seductive, thinking it would gain respect and make me feel... loved. I was pathetic, lost, broken.
And I had no idea.
Video footage of my ultimate immature period of life would put Miley's to shame. My hope is that all persons possessing such video footage have passed on or become morally accountable to a higher power and have burned the evidence. There were no teddy bears involved, but there were definitely beer bongs and fellow girls gone wild in attendance. And I... wanted to be their queen.
Now, so many years later and after tons of soul-crushing therapy, I know that deep hurts caused my behavior. These were painful events so deep that I couldn't even understand their depth or form them into intelligent thought patterns.
Don't worry. There will be a book someday.
The point is, I am now embarrassed about how I behaved and I feel that it's probable that Miley will someday regret her actions. And as I well know, you can't take them back.
Am I glad I went through all of the things I went through in my life to get where I am today? You bet! I know I wouldn't be who I am without going through rape, divorce, betrayal and all of the life tragedies I endured.
My loathsome past actions are part of my metamorphosis into who I have become today. I am still proud of myself no matter what I did.
I just don't want to have to see Miley go through what I went through. I worry about what happened to drive her to the same extreme outward manifestations of pain I displayed.
For me, it seemed fun at the time. In retrospect, it was just a sad representation of my lack of self worth and my need for attention and love, at whatever crazy and humiliating cost.
I'm angry with her. I'm disappointed. I'm afraid she might not go through this period, but get stuck in it instead. I'm afraid she's in with the wrong crowd and can't find an escape route because she isn't looking for one. She probably doesn't even know she needs it. It's hard to see through the clouds of misconception.
I know how it works. I loved it. The attention made me popular, but at what cost? In the end, the payoff was short-lived and I paid dearly with my pride.
I scream at her because she is a previous version of me. I wanted someone who genuinely cared for me to scream at me and tell me I was doing wrong. But I wouldn't have listened. I would have only labeled them a hater.
Me. A hater of my former self? Am I allowed to do that? Yes, in my own home. But face to face, I would give her advice if she asked for it. I'd give her counsel. I'd give her my love.
Have you ever yelled at your children for their childish choices and ways? Do you still love them?
Miley, I love you, but that doesn't mean I have to like you right now.
I hope you understand.