The following is a personal essay (not an op ed) based on recent events in my life.

I have chosen to explicitly share a very personal event that happened to me in the fall of 2020. I hope those that continue to read on can take this privileged information about my private experience and go forth with generosity and understanding. These events have affected my response to COVID-19 and my chosen preventative measures.

In the fall of 2020 I got the sorry news that my uncle had contracted COVID-19 and was not doing well. Although he was testing negative, his body was not able to fully recover from its lingering symptoms. This was a time before we had the option of vaccines. It was a very intense period of isolation for most of us. So when I got the news to call Clarence and say goodbye, it was a surprising and extremely difficult situation to face. I thought about not making the call at all. I was very afraid of the reality that was happening on the other side of the phone. But one evening I mustered up the strength to call Clarence. The voice on the other end was desperate, filled with pain, and sounded like a person drowning, gasping for air. It was horrific. There was no sweet reminiscing or detailed, gratuitous terms of endearment. I could tell that each word took every ounce of energy within him, and I could tell that he could not breath. To say “I Love You” was extremely painful for him to muster, so we left it mostly at that. It was an experience I wish upon no one.

Fast forward to today.  Today I am flying home after contracting COVID-19 two weeks ago while on a European tour. My band, Circuit des Yeux, had 8 shows to play and we only made it to show four. I worked diligently with my management team, my booking agent, my tour manager, and the promoters of each show to firmly request audience members to wear masks at each show.

When it comes to masking and COVID-19 the answer is still awry. The conclusions of vast scientific testing proves inconclusive if masking helps deter the current strains of COVID-19. I know that wearing masks is uncomfortable. But I also know that wearing a mask is the one thing I have control over in an effort to protect myself and my band.

Not only am I soft with trauma, but the safety of the entire CdY crew is my responsibility. I take COVID-19 and the possibility of infection very seriously. The mask requesting, asked through info graphics on social media and large posters put up at every show, was a failure. The audience at each show was about 20% masked. It was disheartening to say the least. There were other side effects to my mask requests that lingered in a dark way. I now have a handful of keyboard warriors and internet harassers. These people screen shot every single thing I post on instagram and have entire IG accounts doxxing my whereabouts. In these posts they explicitly call me very racist and derogatory terms. The promoters of these European shows and myself were also threatened with lawsuits, which as unrealistic as this may seem, is something that if brought to fruition would be even more detrimental to my financial instability as an artist.

The long of the short of it is that going on tour is gambling and I lost big time.

I am sad that I had to cancel my tour - one that dozens of people from around the world worked 18 months to prepare, and one I’ve waited for almost 3 years. The feeling of being exiled from my country until I could test negative (a total of 13 days) was scary and uneasy. The financial devastation is also very real for me. I do not have any second type of income and I have worked hard to steady my course in the arts. But the real heart break is that my band left this experience sick with covid, bruised by sexism, and having endured unsafe spaces while working under my wing. The responsibilities that artists are left to shoulder in this era are unprecedented and inhumane. The lack of safety for artists, specifically ones of minority, is staggering.

In 2007 I started this project as an attempt to mend my relationship to human society. For 15 years I have toured the world with my palms up and strangers have given me a hand to hold. At this juncture much of this hard work feels fractured and it is a scary place to find myself. So I want you to know something…

I want you to know that you are powerful.

You have the extreme power to change my life.

You can, if you so desire, ruin my life.

You can take every safe space I have ever worked toward softening and harden it in an instant.

You can empty my bank account in a single action.

You can say things to me that will sit in me like a stone forever.

You can pierce me easily in my most vulnerable moments when I am under fed, under slept, and opening my chest up in song with no shield in sight.

You can remind me that the digital realm can be a weapon.

You can stalk me, follow my locations and it will terrify me.

I want to leave you with a very distinct memory that came to my mind while I was resting up in France.

I once had a conversation with Jenny Hval. We were on a European tour in 2016. I was traveling alone by train and very road weary. After our first show together Jenny invited me to ride in her van at no additional cost. After a couple of shows together I was explaining to her my frustration with a certain local venue in Chicago. It felt very unfair to me that the door person, the bar tender, the sound person, and the lighting technician all got paid before the artist. At the time it was hard for me to play to 80 people and walk away with $50.00 in my pocket. I knew that the crowd had been present for my art, but I did not feel fairly compensated. Jenny simply smiled and recontextualized my experience in a matriarchal manner. “Instead of feeling burdened by the people who are being paid on your dime, consider the lives your art are supporting.” she said. The thought of strangers paying their electricity bill because I decided to make music amused me.  It reminded me of my mother coming home from a long day of work, making dinner, and serving everyone before she sat down to eat. That is what making art is to me and that is where art and commerce meet - in a mother’s eye and a matriarchal gesture to take care of as many people as possible.

I will play more shows this year. I will continue to try until I have lost too many bets and the well runs dry. But till then I ask you to please take care, and if you can, to help me take care as well.