Elvis was wrong.
A little more conversation, please.
The King was in a slump. He had been pushed by his manager into a heavy filmmaking schedule after his release from the army. The Beatles, Beach Boys and Rolling Stones were touring and Elvis, too, yearned to be on stage. A comeback show was planned but before that, "Live a Little, Love a Little", was released. Another formulaic, dim comedy for Elvis, unremarkable except for the inclusion of the song "A Little Less Conversation". It's a catchy little ditty that Elvis sings at a party scene to a pretty blonde dancing. He croons, "a little less conversation, a little more action". She dances a bit more. He continues,
"Come on, baby, I'm tired of talking
Grab your coat and let's start walking,"
He grabs her coat. They start walking. She shrugs and they leave together.
We are each that beautiful girl. Quieted, not by a stunning tenor and good looks, but by fear and capitalism. We try to shrug it off with labor: essential and non-essential acts of doing, producing, consuming, caring. But we're as wrong as Elvis was. Conversation is the action we need more of.
Elvis was a singer, not a songwriter. "A Little Less Conversation" was written by someone else and pitched to Elvis' manager, Colonel Tom Parker. Parker, who was not a real colonel, was an autocrat. He locked Elvis into contracts with film studios and negotiated all merchandising, television and live shows. Parker also influenced Elvis' decisions to go into the military and get married. "A Little Less Conversation" could have been a metaphor for Elvis' own life. Parker managed; Elvis did what he was told.
You and I are not making three movies a year but we have our own overseer: capitalism. We've been conditioned to not only consume but to do. The doing includes the unholy trinity of activities of daily life (healthcare appointments, meal planning, etc), paid/unpaid work-related labor (our "job"(s), however that looks) and caring work (emotional labor from tending to family to coordinating MealTrains to volunteering). But we're not only socialized to perform these actions; capitalism tells us doing is the solution to any problem. Want more money? Work harder. Marriage troubles? Try harder. Kid not behaving? Be firmer. Can't lose weight? You're not trying hard enough.
At the same moment, we also live in terrifying times. There's a pandemic raging, a war in Europe and housing prices are soaring. Racism --all the ism's -- are as pervasive as ever. If we care for littles or vulnerable people, things can feel even more frightening. Is it any wonder that we try Noom, shop for clothes via apps and doom scroll? Conditioned doing with a side of fear yields activities that feel vaguely productive or resemble control. Non-essential activities (binging Netflix!) can be a cool reprieve when the world is burning.
Yet, doing is a yes/and. There exists both too much in our lives and not enough of the right sort. Right actions are like right people; they're the ones our soul needs. They are what feed us.
One of the right actions we need is conversation. Conversation is the way we make meaning in and of our lives. It allows us autonomy in situations and stories where we were once powerless. Conversation is the way toward deeper intimacy in relationships. It reminds us that we're not alone but it can also crack taboos, by naming the unmentionable. Conversation is both the method and the tool that we can use to counter the conditioned doing.
Not any conversation though. We need to talk like we do over dinner on a mild night, seated outside under a setting sun. Without plan or agenda, pettiness or snark. Instead of self-improvement and productivity talk, we need musings, daydreams and what if's. Conversations that allow us to notice, consider, reflect, imperfectly wonder. To talk with no goal other than to hear how someone is really doing. Conversations that lift us from the reactive and set us down gently among curiosity.
The irony is that for conversations like this to happen we do need to do something. An essential non-essential: make room for ourselves in our own lives. Clear space in the calendar only for us. Building room for ourselves is practical --a way to fill our cup--but it's also a liberating act. It's a deliberate rattle of the chains. We can't, nor should we, tackle undoing capitalism alone but we can make some noise about how it affects us and the quality of our lives.
As I write this piece, the urgency of my deadline looms. Do I have time for a walk this morning with a friend? Capitalism not only pushes relentless action and consumption but rewards relationships where money is exchanged. So....no, I don't have time. My friend would understand if I cancel. We've all been there. A cancellation is almost expected at some point. But where am I in my twenty four hours if not in that morning, meandering conversation?
"I will never (again) sing a song I don't believe in." Elvis said to a friend afterwards. Singer Presents....Elvis was a televised concert that aired in December 1968. Colonel Parker's original idea was Elvis singing Christmas carols. Elvis didn't want his first time in front of a live audience in seven years to include "Silent Night". Parker was over-ruled. "It's the greatest thing I've ever done." Elvis said later. No wonder. Elvis made choices that he hadn't been allowed in years including what he, The King, wanted to sing. Putting him, his vibe and style into his own work again, for the first time in years. Singer Presents....Elvis was the most watched show of the season and relaunched Elvis' faded singing career.
Inimitable and ephemeral, conversation is both free and precious. It's a shake of the fist to capitalism, a way of adding us back into our own lives. We don't need to write our own songs but- as much as we can- we need to sing songs we believe in. If we don't, we risk repeating another of Elvis' mistakes: the burnout that comes from repeated doing with little of ourselves added in. Talk is the labor we're missing. We may be quieted but we don't need to be still.
+the information in this article about Elvis comes from Wikipedia.
What’s on My Mind:
The Chris Rock / Will Smith incident at Sunday’s Oscars. Lots of white people weighing in. Lots of Black folx weighing in. Lots of Black folx telling white folx to step back. I asked on my Instagram what folx thought. LOTS of varied responses. Here are a few:
“Violence is never the answer,”
“You disrespect someone’s wife this can happen,”
“Missed opportunity to educate about a disease that affects 1 in 3 Black women,”
“Will Smith seems to need mental health support,”
“Chris Rock did a whole special on Black women and their hair. It’s shocking to me that he screwed this up so bad.”
I’d like to add what Shanelle Genai over at The Root said “I’m also reminded of the fact that in Smith’s memoir Will, the veteran actor talked about seeing his father abuse his mother and the feelings of helplessness he felt as a kid at the time. Those feelings ultimately compounded into a fear of ever being looked at as a coward by the women in his life. So there’s a part of me that wonders—after all these years of laughing off jokes and “taking the high road”—if he’s finally come to a place where he’s no longer willing or has the emotional capacity to endure it…. And maybe, just maybe, we saw a man who decided he was finally tired of playing it cool and putting on a smile, and he finally wanted to play it HUMAN.
Lastly, what I will say is that I am a firm believer in giving Black folks the grace to fail. To mess up and be messy. Society has never been forgiving of Black people who step outside of the parameters of what’s expected of them, we often get built up just to get torn down. What we saw last night was horrifying on a variety of fronts and from a zillion vantage points. But I’m not so perfect or myopic to think that there aren’t some mistakes that you can’t bounce back from if proper actions, time and grace are given.”
If you have thoughts to share, I’d love to hear it: elizabeth@sparkequity.org AND some weeks I’m slower than others to respond. So far, so good this week though.
Larissa Parson and I have started recording season 2 of Wondermine, our feminist podcast that looks at the “wow” and “how” a living a life rooted in curiosity, community and liberation. Catch up on the bonus episodes (books!) before season 2 arrives in your inbox here.
Thanks for reading. See you in two weeks, friends.