Cyndi Lauper: A Memoir Read Online Free Page B

But deep down I secretly still loved some of the fashion they looked down on, even though I agree that there are elements of fashion that are anti-women, like high heels that slow us down. Being in that car at the age of fifteen was so intense though that I could never say, in my hand-me-down Queens vernacular, “I still love them shoes, though.”
    As for my big moment in front of the trash can, I brought one of my mother’s old bras that she gave me after I outgrew my training bra. It was pointy and old-fashioned. I walked up to the mesh trash basket, held up my mother’s old bra, and said, “I burn this for me, for my mother, and for my grandmother!” It was a good moment in my life that offset a lot of not-so-victorious moments. And I also felt my mom should have thrown that bra away, anyway.
    This was a new time. It was the time of protests and thinking free and being free. Although I always thought that “free love” thing seemed like a dirty deal for women. It was free, but for who? Say you felt like you wanted all the liberties a man was afforded, and you wanted to sleep with whomever, right? You still were considered a tramp. And say, like a man, you chose not to sleep with someone? Then you were frigid or a lesbian. You should be able to have control over your body and your life—just like a man. But birth control had come into play over the previous decade. And at the time, young women and girls were dying all over the United States from illegal and unsafe abortions.
    Susan and I also formed a folk duo called Spring Harvest. (What the heck? I shoulda known that wouldn’t work. There’s no such thing as a harvest in the spring.) But it was still a great experience. We performed twice together in a small café in Queens, on a road that ranfrom Woodhaven Boulevard to the Alexander’s store on Queens Boulevard. It was a cute place, but they didn’t pay, and we had to get our friends to come see us. Later on in my professional life, I would come to know that setup as a “pay-to-play” situation. Instead of the club paying you, you’re kind of paying them by bringing your friends.
    At our first gig, a comic opened for us, and Elen and Wha came with their friend Dominic, who heckled the poor guy. Unfortunately Dominic was funnier than the comic, which was a big problem for us. When we went to check out everything before the place opened, the owner said to me, “Look, girlie, there’s no microphones here. But there’s an acoustic tile right up there on the ceiling. Aim up there, and everyone will hear ya.” Now, as far as I know, acoustic tiles control sound reverberation and are used to make the room sound better. But this guy didn’t have a whole ceiling of acoustic tiles like you’re supposed to—he just had one tile hanging slightly on a diagonal from a dropped cork ceiling, like the kind my friend’s father used to refinish their basement. I aimed for that tile from not really a stage, but more like a wooden dance floor in the center of the room. I aimed and I aimed all night, especially on the soft high singing parts I did in Eric Andersen’s “Thirsty Boots.” The guy had me believing that it worked. (Hey, it was my first gig.) Funny how now I can still aim my voice if I need to.
    The duo was a distraction and contrast to school and home and my sister leaving. All of a sudden I could function and define myself. I felt like maybe there was something for me to be good at. But that didn’t work out, because we were so young. We did have a meeting with an agent/manager once. Susan found him. Susan was one of those really informed take-action types of people. Susan was even writing Joan Baez’s mother letters. I guess it started as fan mail and turned into her asking for advice. And to Joan Baez’s mom’s credit, Susan got responses. Anyway, we played for this agent/manager andhe informed us that we needed to have some boys in the band, so that if we got married, we wouldn’t split up. What