GQ USA - 11.2019

(Jacob Rumans) #1

There were gender-fluid elements to the
way you dressed long before it became
a national conversation. It started with
the “I can pull that off” thing. I wore a lot of
Chanel, and I wore tons of Céline. Like,
I got all the O.G. Céline. Because they were
clothes I could fit in. When you listen to
yourself and you’re comfortable in who you
are, you wear what you feel like fits and
looks right on you. And that’s it.


So what shifted for you, that you realized
you could carry a purple crocodile
Birkin bag in 2007, or that you could
show up to a GQ shoot in 2015 with a
pastel Céline coat? At the time, wearing
even select pieces of womenswear was
unheard of. Well, I’m ashamed to say


it was an aesthetic choice first. I liked
something, and I put it on. Then the
philosophy came behind it. And I do have
my lines. Like, I can’t wear no skirt. Nor
am I interested in wearing a blouse. That’s
not my deal. But things that are made
for women that I feel will look good on
me—that I like—I will wear.

The musicians who are following in your
footsteps when it comes to blurring the
gender lines of fashion—the Young Thugs
and Lil Uzis—they’re into that. That’s
totally for them. And my point is, why not?
What rule [is there]? And when people
start using religion as the reason someone
shouldn’t wear something, I’m like, What
are you talking about? There was no such

thing as a bra or blouse in any of the old
sacred texts. What are you talking about?
I was also born in a different era, where the
rules of the matrix at that time allowed a lot
of things that would never fly today.

Such as? Advertisements that objectify
women. Song content. Some of my old
songs, I would never write or sing today.
I get embarrassed by some of that stuff.
It just took a lot of time and growth to get
to that place.

When did things shift for you? As you
said, it’s not the masculinity that’s new,
it’s the conversation. Which really kicked
off with #MeToo. Was your awakening
related to that timetable? No. I think
“Blurred Lines” opened me up. I didn’t get it
at first. Because there were older white
women who, when that song came on, they
would behave in some of the most surprising
ways ever. And I would be like, wow. They
would have me blushing. So when there
started to be an issue with it, lyrically, I was,
like, What are you talking about? There
are women who really like the song and
connect to the energy that just gets you up.
And I know you want it—women sing those
kinds of lyrics all the time. So it’s like, What’s
rapey about that?
And then I realized that there are men
who use that same language when taking
advantage of a woman, and it doesn’t
matter that that’s not my behavior. Or the
way I think about things. It just matters
how it affects women. And I was like, Got
it. I get it. Cool. My mind opened up to
what was actually being said in the song
and how it could make someone feel. Even
though it wasn’t the majority, it didn’t
matter. I cared what they were feeling too. I
realized that we live in a chauvinist culture
in our country. Hadn’t realized that. Didn’t
realize that some of my songs catered
to that. So that blew my mind. And then
here comes “Happy,” a record that I didn’t
write for myself, that I ended up being on,
that made people feel happy. I wrote that
song for CeeLo. I don’t have the capacity
to write that kind of song for myself. When
I do songs for myself, they’re always too
complicated, and too smart, with six
bridges. Because I’m weird like that. But
when I do stuff for other people, that allows
me to channel things for them, and so the
universe set up the perfect conditions to
get me to write a song like that. That made
me cry. It literally made me cry. Like, I was
on the Oprah show for my birthday, and
she showed me a video of people around
the world singing that song, and that shit
fucked me up. Bad. I was never the same. So
I don’t beat on my chest. I haven’t been the
same since any of that music.

78 GQ.COM NOVEMBER 2019

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