Parisian Phoenix Publishing

On the Parisian Phoenix blog this week, while promoting Lehigh Valley Disability Pride and the latest book we released, Ralph Greco Jr.’s Writing Dirty Words, I wrote a post about the gentleman who decided to bombard one of our Instagram posts with vitriolic posts about how our book Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money was racist, sexist and symbolic of what is wrong with our society. Now, mind you, he had never seen or read the book— but he based all of this on the title alone. If you wish to read the post, it is here, but I’m mentioning it as a way to connect to my next topic: critical theory.

While I was pursuing my second bachelor’s degree and my (still incomplete) masters, I considered myself a critical theorist, with much of my work focusing on post-colonial critical theory.

Before the Dobbs decision (also known as the reversal of Roe vs. Wade) and before the trans-rights issues, there was a moment in recent history when we heard a lot of the term “critical race theory” and it upset some people. It forced me to ask myself if the average (even more than average) person understood the concept of critical theory. Put simply, critical theory allows the researcher (or shall I say questioner?) to examine the past and offer criticism of it— and not all criticism is bad.

When as a writer you attend a critique group, your partners provide feedback on your work, both positive and negative. The idea is to learn from your strengths and your weaknesses. A researcher who applies critical theory to a question wants to understand how actions influence the outcome and apply that to other situations for better outcomes.

So when we talk about critical race theory, we are looking at how the policies of race in the past made certain assumptions and led to certain practices that influenced today. The hope is to use knowledge of those situations and decisions to make better choices today.

Again, why on God’s green earth am I talking about this? Because Chumbawamba and Barbie.

This week I learned that Chumbawamba has a 20+ year history as an anarchist punk band.

I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts, Sixty Songs that Explain the Nineties. In Episode 90-something, yes they have gotten to 90-something songs that explain the ’90s, host Rob Harvilla discussed Tubthumping by Chumbawamba.

Tubthumbing was a one-hit wonder by a punk band who traces their roots to the early 1980s and a cast of characters with rotating vocalists and no capacity to play instruments, according to Harvilla.

Based on his assessment that the band was formed to make anarchist political statements, suddenly the fact that the song Tubthumping made no sense now made sense. I opened Spotify to listen to albums like Pictures of Starving Children Sell Records (their debut album and a criticism of the African drought relief effort, Live Aid) and English Rebel Songs 1381-1984 (which, just as it claims, is the band singing all the English Rebel songs of the last 500 years or so).

My new favorite song might be the now 15 year old “Add Me” from the album The Boy Bands have Won, which depicts a desperate, lonely man living in his parents’ basement begging people to accept his Facebook friend requests in a soft, jazzy tune that seems reminiscent of the 1940s.

It’s a not-so-subtle reminder that satire and critical theory are an important part of societal growth and change.

Which brings me to the next item that has me thinking about society and critical theory.

Greta Gerwig’s Barbie Movie

Someone please come with me to the new Barbie movie. I watched the trailers for months, or so it felt, wondering if it was a kid’s movie or a Barbie fan movie or what. Now, from what I understand the premise is such:

Barbie’s molded-to-wear-high-heels feet go flat, and Barbie has to decide whether to return to the dreamhouse status quo or slap on some Berkenstocks and explore the real world.

So, see— comedy, camp, satire and critical theory.