About A Girl

I'm envious of people who have unshakable faith. Mine, on the other hand, is like a garden, needing to be tended to regularly, daily, constantly. Like most women, I often view the world through a beautiful and idealistic lens where everything has significance and holds great measure in accordance to a seemingly ordered universe; making it impossible to accept that some people, some relationships, or some moments that felt so powerful could ultimately bare no meaning. I've made a disciplined practice of my faith. I've boarded planes, and crossed oceans; embarrassingly have sought answers from tarot cards and psychics. I've followed my heart and my intuition. I've meditated, took reference of signs, omens, and messages to course correct as if bargaining or making an offer to the Gods, that if I pass the test, if I do this one last thing, all will be justified. But still, the universe can fail to bend to our will. Lately I've had more questions than answers: Where does this lead? How does this end? Did I do something wrong? I think this is part of my motivation to write. To find the words and make sense of that which became senseless. To see what was once so clear but is now blurry. And mostly, to withstand the crisis of faith where we grip and cling to hope, making hope our master while we're just its dog. I think this is how storytelling can possibly answer our 'why's,' by giving context of intention. And when we can't see the end of the road, origin stories can possibly point us in the direction of our 'where's.'

I love hearing about the beginning, the inciting incident, the spark that ignited it all. How at age four, Albert Einstein's father gifted him a compass, which kindled an obsession with the invisible forces that we preside in, leading to his theories of relativity. How Henry VIII unsuccessfully attempted to produce a legitimate male successor with six different wives. That all of his children eventually died before claiming the throne; all but one: Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen, one of the most formidable rulers in all of history. But one of my favorite origin stories is about a young boy in a small town in Washington in the year 1979:

He was a gentle child who showcased artistic proclivities. Coming from a broken home, he was regularly passed around to different family members for guardianship. One night, he witnessed a heated argument between his mother and stepfather while staying at their house. In a fit, his mother pulled a shotgun on her husband, threatening his life. The moment was subdued when the boy interfered. Later that night, when everyone was asleep, the mother removed all the firearms from the house, but unbeknownst to her, the boy was secretly watching, concocting a plan. She took the weapons and dumped them into the creek behind the house. The next morning, the boy fished the gun out of the water and took a bus into town where he traded it at a pawn shop for what would be his first guitar amplifier. That small town was Aberdeen, Washington, and the young boy was Kurt Cobain.

At this point in history, most of us know the lore of Kurt Cobain: a gifted and conflicted young man, argued to be a genius, who crashed through societal norms, became the voice of a generation, and with his band, Nirvana, solidified himself as one of the most influential musicians of all time. Nirvana incubated in the Pacific Northwest and their popularity brought attention to the musical underground heralding an entire artistic movement in the 90's, that not only changed sound and fashion, but blended an earnest anti-establishment ethos and gave face to disenfranchised youth; in short, they changed culture. Allusions of sadness and gun violence proliferated through his work and finally, at the age of 27, Kurt took his life by way of a self inflicted gunshot wound. We know of his bandmates, Krist Novoselic and Dave Grohl. We know of his daughter and only living legacy, Frances Bean. And of course, his wife and the mother of his child, the woman who he referred to in his final words to the world as a "goddess who sweats ambition and empathy," Courtney Love. But there is one major player in the grand opera that is Nirvana who gets far less mention and even less praise: his first girlfriend, Tracy Marander.

Kurt famously had a severed relationship with his mother and the longing for a maternal connection can be felt throughout his artwork, namely within the birthing imagery and the album In Utero. Tracy opened her home to Kurt, giving him a place to live and a space to create during the formative years of Nirvana. She provided for him emotionally and financially which allowed him the time and space to foster and perfect his craft, seeing well that his gifts may not be fully realized had he been stunted by the trappings of working a typical job. Kurt wanted to be a success and Tracy sought to nurture him in the process in any way she could. She worked graveyard shifts, encouraged his songwriting, and even at times acted as an informal promoter for the band. During this time, Kurt wrote dozens of songs, but to Tracy's regret, none about her.

As Nirvana grew in prominence, their relationship began to suffer. Kurt became more distant and though it was never clarified, Tracy believes he left her because he was moving forward in life while she was staying in the same place, ironically the foundation that she built for him. Shortly after the dissolution of their relationship, Kurt entered what could only be described as a six month "situationship" with Tobi Vail, the drummer of Bikini Kill. Unlike Tracy, Tobi didn't reciprocate Kurts affections and she eventually cut him off. This devastating blow to his self esteem inspired a bulk of the songwriting for Nevermind, one of the most successful albums of all time.

I've been spending more time finding correlations in stories to make sense of the past year of my life which has been a great pivot into introspection. There is a fantasy version of me somewhere in my mind as the girl who married her high school sweetheart, who lives in some town in America, works some job, and she wants for nothing. I think about her a lot because aiming to change your external reality comes at the price of facing what you have denied for however long you needed in order to get by. And it's uncomfortable. When our lives shift, the laws of rhythm and correspondence have no choice but to react, and this is when truths may be revealed, people may fall out of alignment, beliefs will crumble, and some hopes may be shattered. There is no pain like losing a future that you were certain was yours. Where does this lead? How does this end? Did I do something wrong?

I wonder if Tracy carried on believing that her closeness to Kurt was in vain compared to Tobi or Courtney. Did she watch from a distance, without closure, as his star grew? Did she feel like the unloved one, the girl that was left behind? Did she wonder if their relationship meant nothing to him in the end? While we may never know what could only be the complexity of that emotion, how on one hand that may be the weight of her truth, she may also understand the other side; that while she wasn't the girl in the spotlight, or the subject of an album, she wasn't nothing either. If we zoom out and examine the story, we can see that had it not been for her, the world may have never experienced Nirvana. Without her ability to nurture, foster, and provide, history may have been completely different. She is, without question, the Matriarch of Nirvana.

It wasn't until years after his death that during a conversation with biographer, Michael Azzerad, that Tracy learned that Kurt allegedly wrote one song about her: About A Girl.

The universe wages wars that we are subjected to fight, and we can never know, no matter how hard we try, how good we are, how perfect we want to be, in what way it will all play out. Why did I meet this person? What is the lesson here? Are they effectual in my story or am I in theirs? Who are the heroes and who are the villains? It may be more comforting to think that all things are random and coincidental, and maybe they are. Maybe our strength is that we are able to find reason and keep the faith when all else seems lost, because, after all, a full life is only when we have something to lose or something to fight for.

Our stories are important because within all of our questions, in all of our confusion, we are able to reference one another and we are reminded of one universal truth: we are not alone. I hope Tracy honors the fact that there is only one living song that remains of her, because often, great songs or prose are not written about the perfect love affairs. They are written about the challenging ones. The ones we need to make sense of.