Why Kesha Should Have Won the "Best Pop Vocal Performance" Grammy
In this op-ed, West Coast editor Ella Cerón explores why Kesha's Grammys loss — at the height of the #MeToo movement — feels so much like a missed opportunity to stand in solidarity with sexual assault survivors.
In February 2016, a judge ruled that Kesha could not break from her contract with Kemosabe Records, the imprint led by Lukasz "Dr. Luke" Gottwald, the man she alleges sexually assaulted her and subjected her to years of psychological abuse. Nearly two years later, at the 2018 Grammys, she was nominated for Best Pop Vocal Performance for a song that seemed to address her alleged abuser directly: "You put me through hell," she sings before the song's impactful climax. "I don't need you, I found a strength I've never known."
Tonight, while the world watched in disbelief, Kesha lost her Grammy. To Ed Sheeran.
On its face, this feels like a misstep, for a number of reasons. While "Shape of You" was everywhere on the airwaves, it was designed to be — Ed wrote the song with Rihanna in mind, before saving it for his own album. The rest of his album, ÷, faced a barrage of withering reviews; Pitchfork noted that "you can practically hear Rihanna’s laugh after being offered the tropical house concession" that is "Shape of You" in particular. Rainbow, the first album Kesha recorded in five years, was generally critically acclaimed — and that is due, in no small part, to the fact that the songs were from an archive of her deepest emotions, and were a soundtrack of her very public reckoning with, and recovery from sexual assault.
This was the music Kesha wanted to make all along, but wasn't allowed to, precisely because Dr. Luke allegedly pushed her "party girl" persona onto her, dating back to her breakout song "Tik Tok." She's been open about the emotional toll her trial and its subsequent countersuits had taken on her. Dr. Luke may no longer be Kemosabe Records's CEO, but that didn't happen before the label tried to block Kesha from performing at the 2016 Billboard Music Awards. And while she has since moved on to working with other producers, like Zedd, the fact remains that Kesha is still linked to Kemosabe, and therefore to Dr. Luke, though he "does not have the authority to act on [the label's] behalf," according to The Guardian.
Before #MeToo or #TimesUp, Kesha was battling her alleged abuser and institutionalized sexism in court, and therefore, on an immensely public stage, all while being literally silenced from recording new music — and thus, raising her voice. But we now live in the #MeToo era: Since the October exposé that led to the downfall of alleged abuser Harvey Weinstein, we have seen more and more people come forward about the ways they have suffered at the hands of people in power, mostly men. And hearteningly, survivors have been largely been believed. How we are talking about sexual assault has changed, and it feels like people are actually doing something about ensuring that sexual misconduct is eradicated for good. #TimesUp has established a legal defense fund for survivors who don't feel protected enough to come forward about their own assaults, and men like Weinstein and Larry Nassar are actually facing consequences.
And yet there is Kesha, whose career has suffered so catastrophically because of the allegations she made against her former mentor.
Sometimes it feels like she came forth with her allegations a few years too early. In 2017, Taylor Swift won her case against the man who groped her at a fan meet-n-greet; she later said Kesha supported her during the trial. Police are now looking into allegations against Weinstein and Kevin Spacey. Elected officials have stepped down following allegations made against them. (Glaringly, President Donald Trump, who was accused by multiple women of misconduct, is still in the White House.) Things are happening, and times are changing; the stigma that was once ascribed to victims for something that was done to them, and no fault of their own, seems to be fading, day by day. It is dangerous to live in a world of hypotheticals, but what could have happened if Kesha had come forward at a different time? Would the people who applauded her performance tonight have stood with her sooner, instead of turning a blind eye?
Kesha has yet to be rewarded for her bravery; this year's Grammys could have been that moment. Award shows do not live in a vacuum from the rest of the world, and they should not. Music has been always been a political medium, and the Grammys are almost always a microcosm of political statements. The 2018 show is no exception: Kendrick Lamar opened the show with a powerful performance that featured backup dancers falling down in time with gunshot sound effects, and dozens of stars wore white roses to stand in solidarity with sexual misconduct survivors. Lady Gaga shouted "Time's up!" in the middle of her performance. But activism doesn't always result in awards.
It's not merely that Kesha should win on the basis of her song's depth or gravitas — which, when compared to Ed's song about a casual hook-up, feels altogether more compelling and timely. On technicality alone, consider that the category for which "Praying" was nominated is called "Best Pop Vocal Performance." Throughout "Shape of You," Ed maintains a nonchalant, low register throughout his song, barely straining or exercising his range. On "Praying," Kesha transcends octaves all the way to a dog-whistle register — one even she is reticent to perform live, given how difficult the note is. (When she does hit it, it is glorious; look to the reaction videos that YouTubers recorded when her single debuted as proof.) What starts as her sad, low growl slowly builds to a crescendo following those fateful words — a scenario hoped for by so many survivors of assault and violence: "When I'm finished, they won't even know your name."
Shortly after her snub, Kesha took the stage with Cyndi Lauper, Andra Day, Camila Cabello, Bebe Rexha, and Julia Michaels, as well as the Resistance Revival Chorus, which was created directly following the Women's March. The group sang "Praying," and the singer's voice nearly broke on the line "I can make it on my own." At the end of the song, the women embraced, and Kesha cried.
It was a moment of recognition that, for Kesha, was long overdue. For so many, her triumph made us feel seen, too. If only that had extended to music's highest honor — the trophy that, no matter what the Recording Academy says, was rightfully hers.
Related: Kesha Took the Grammys White Rose Protest to the Next Level
