Beat That Bitch With A Bat…Well, Kind Of
The rhythm, methodical. The lyrics, controversial. The feeling, euphoric. For a song that debuted in 1992, two years after I was born, who could have known that it would latch into my heart as if I had been in the studio during its creation? Yet, as I sat watching “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” one random day in 2015, it happened. As Kimmy pleaded with her best friend Titus, to switch to a song with words, he pressed play and magic gushed forth from the speakers. “I beat that bitch with a bat. I beat that bitch with a bat. I beat that bitch with a bat. I beat that bitch with a bat. I beat, I beat, IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII beat. I beat that bitch with a bat.” As Kimmy looked in horror, Titus simply responded, “I can’t fix America.” How prophetic his response would prove to be, but alas, this is about one of the dopest songs, to come from one of the most revolutionary music genres: House Music. America will have to wait.
As a Chicagoan, House music is stamped on our backsides the moment we’re born like an Acme cartoon. This fusion of Pop, RnB, and Funk, with a splash of Disco, is the wild child of many musical art forms, created by social outcasts of the Black community. If no one else has told you, gay Black men spun the world into gold by creating this iconic sound. Frankie Knuckles, aka the Godfather of House, and his contemporaries, took it from West Loop to the Western hemisphere and beyond. If it needs to be drilled down further, you have no Chappell Roan without this King (argue with your mama and not me.) For me, House music was a unifier. Rap made my parents gasp, to them Jodeci and 112 were too mature for my ears, and they were divided on anything past 90’s rock, but House music? House music was a surefire win. Granted they would not have approved of one of my favorite house songs, but by the time I heard it, who would stop me? I am grown and I pay my taxes.
The Godfather of House Music, Frankie Knuckles
It wasn’t just in my household, however. You could be anywhere within Chicago and see this sound soften even the hardest of hearts. Stone-cold gangsters would drop their shoulders and bop along to the rhythms. A car could fly by blasting it and people would turn their heads and say, “Heyyyyyyy.” Traffic jams were made more tolerable as long as there was a rush-hour house mix playing on the radio to distract everyone. I once saw a policeman on his horse during a parade watching the floats pass and as the music blasted, I could have sworn I saw the horse do a little shimmy. Was your party even worth attending if it didn’t have House on the playlist? Yes, House found its home within our city’s walls, and it was beautiful.
As I grew to truly understand the significance of this music, it reflected the potential we had as a society to be more accepting. Honestly, redemption was needed. Just like Chicago gave birth to House it also killed Disco. The city, more specifically, Comiskey Park, home to the Chicago White Sox was the scene of the infamous Disco Demolition Night, on July 12, 1979. What started as a radio promotional event for then-shock jock Steve Dahl, ended in an all-out riot. While that event had many donning “Disco Sucks” signs, after a crate of disco records was blown up, a simple enough gag, the crowd’s reaction revealed a more sinister truth. After the initial explosion, spectators stormed the field, destroying the batting cages, stealing base plates, and tearing the field to smithereens. Some historians likened it to the Nazi book-burning degradation of the 1930s (personally, I think it was giving January 6th, but I digress.) The immediate aftermath was a baseball stadium with thousands of dollars worth of repairs, a forfeited second part of a double-header citing improper playing grounds as the reason, approximately 39 arrests, and a rolling rebellion nationwide against Disco. The soft underbelly of this event targeted those who were deemed left of center. Disco had morphed into a representative of gay culture, and many saw the genre as the call of the perverse. What that rampage really said was, “The gays need to know their place within Americana, and it begins and ends with a closet.” No one wanted to reconcile the fact that the event was homophobic, sexist, and racist.
Complete mayhem and buffoonery as spectators storm the field.
Comiskey Park on Disco Demolition Night, Chicago, July 12, 1979.
So the creation of House, was a do-over of sorts, a way to once more expressionism to spring forth, and for people to feel comfortable to be free within themselves. There was also a bit of aggression attached to House, a sort of, “You tried to erase us with Disco, but keep it cute because we fight back.” Who better to lead this movement than Black Gay men? Pushed to the fringes of society by race and sexuality, and here they were boldly proclaiming that they were worthy, that we ALL are worthy. The fears found within bigotry that somehow one will be eradicated if another is allowed to take their place in the sun, reflects how insidious this disease is. Even when confronted with the reality of how Disco Demolition Night traumatized many, Steve Dahl defended the event, "as a romp, not of major cultural significance." Even if his intentions were not to reflect such poisonous thinking directly, doesn’t mean it wasn’t a part of the larger conditioning. Therefore, House is more than an assembling of rhythms and synthesizers. It is a homecoming of human compassion.
By the time I was introduced to this art form, it had solidified itself as one of the marks of a Chicagoan. There were few options for me when it came to the matter. Either love House music or love House music. I proudly chose the latter. I let this sound spin me across the dance floor. The culmination of this love letter to freedom is the annual “Chosen Few” House Music Picnic. To see the city descend on the South Side for a weekend filled with food, family, running into loved ones, and old mistakes, alike, takes your breath away. It is proof that acceptance is attainable, one song at a time.
“House music is a spiritual thing; a body thing; a soul thing.”
Whether playing it when I am home cleaning, studying, or out with friends, when I hear “I Beat That Bitch With A Bat” and those visceral, enchanting lyrics, I let the spell be cast. I shelter myself under its battle cry. I repel my insecurities on whether I can dance or not, and remove my anxiety. I am“less than” no one. I am present. I am seen. Damn it, I am free. What House represents is happiness and catching these hands. It is an act of reclaiming oneself and not shrinking back for other’s comfort. It is a revolution. And who knows, maybe I Beat That Bitch With A Bat was the call to action from House music that Disco needed, because sometimes you need to fight like hell if you want to get to your peace.
What’s your favorite House track? Drop a comment and share your love for the genre!
