Still In The Air
Kesha, Defiance & The Dunk of the Year
Photos by Jason Myers & Garrett Ellwood
Much of our lives relies on resistance, especially in a world steeped in systems built to swallow us whole. A hopeful defiance. Disproving what’s heaped on us by people we love and those who want us dead, knowing that on any given day I may find myself in either place. I believe in the idea that we can create our own possibilities through resistance. Another world is possible if we fight for it — which is to say the life we want for ourselves and others isn’t promised. A new world requires rebellion. Collective work towards a more full emergence of ourselves.
But we’ll come back to that.
For the few years my family and I lived in Columbia, Maryland, we had a finished basement in our house we didn’t spend a lot of time together in. But for me, it was my domain. A personal arena. I would go down there in basketball shorts and a white tank top and spend hours dunking a foam basketball into a cardboard Nerf hoop I had hanging from the door. There was also a huge stereo down there. You know, the kind that looks like it could cosplay as a shipping container. I’d crank it up and play 99.5 FM, the local top 40s station, while I tested out different dunks.
There are certain songs I remember hearing while playing like The Killers’ “Somebody Told Me” and Rob Thomas’ “Lonely No More.” But at the time, I was more of a passive listener. Especially when it came to pop music. I knew the words of songs and picked up on different melodies, but mostly I liked having the background noise while dreaming I’d be able to dunk on a 10-foot hoop one day.
In high school, music became a bigger part of my friendships and I even started writing my own songs. But I never could have predicted how Kesha (stylized as Ke$ha at the time) would transform the way my friends and I listened to music. When “Tik Tok,” the lead single from Kesha’s debut album Animal, got big between our sophomore and junior years of high school, my friend Taylor and I were obsessed. Along with our friend Josh, we made our own music video to the song at Taylor’s house. The video started with Josh pretending like he was passed out on a slowly moving treadmill and sliding off to the ground. In the final seconds, we reversed the whole video and had it end right where it started with Josh sliding back up the treadmill as if he’d been resting there the whole time.
At the time, Taylor was one of my only friends with a car. I remember riding with him to Five Guys one time when he played Kesha’s Cannibal EP, a follow-up companion to Animal. We sat in the parking lot and listened through the whole thing. I already knew Kesha’s hit singles “We R Who We R” and “Blow,” but I freaked out hearing the drums on “Sleazy” for the first time. And I knew Kesha did something special when she rapped:
Rat-a-tat-tat on your dum-dum drum
The beat’s so fat, gonna make me come (Um-um-um…)
Over to your place
Kesha’s music was playful. And for kids who had to pray before every class and make sure their shirts were always tucked in at school, Kesha’s irreverence was exhilarating. It’s with Kesha’s party anthems like “Your Love Is My Drug,” “Blah Blah” featuring 3OH!3, and her feature on Flo Rida’s “Right Round” that I began owning my enjoyment — and eventual love — for pop music. But it’s “The Harold Song,” the song that felt most uncharacteristic for Kesha at the time, that cut me the deepest. It helped me better understand Kesha as an artist and as someone attempting to love and be loved in the time we have together here on Earth.
Jason Scott, a writer for B-Sides & Badlands, described “The Harold Song” as a “synth-soaked mid-tempo tear-jerker,” which sonically isn’t all that different from Kesha’s early work. But lyrically it’s “such a departure from bitchy songs like ‘Grow a Pear,’ where [Kesha tells] a sensitive guy that he has ‘a vag,’” Nicole Frehsee expressed to Kesha in their 2010 interview for SPIN. Kesha explained, “‘Harold’ is about the only guy I’ve ever been in love with — and our relationship didn’t work out, obviously.” It’s heartbreaking to listen to, even now, as she opens the song listing the things she misses about Harold:
I miss your soft lips, I miss your white sheets
I miss the scratch of your unshaved face on my cheek
And this is so hard, ’cause I didn’t see
That you were the love of my life and it kills me
“I locked myself in a room and cried like a little bitch,” said Kesha in her SPIN interview when talking about writing “The Harold Song.” “I can’t even listen to it. But I wanted to do a vulnerable song because it’s a side of myself that people haven’t seen.”
Now, over 12 years later, with Kesha no longer sporting the dollar sign in her stage name and giving herself more fully to a country-rock sound in recent years, along with ballads more reminiscent of “The Harold Song,” it could be easy for me to dismiss Kesha’s party anthems as not being truly her, especially since they’re so sonically tied to her former producer Dr. Luke, whom she accused of physical abuse and sexual assault in 2014 and is still in an ongoing legal battle with. But what has always been true of Kesha and her music is her propensity for defiance. “I love making something beautiful out of things that others have thrown away,” Kesha wrote in her illustrated autobiography, My Crazy Beautiful Life, named after another one of her songs on Cannibal.
Photo: Don’t Die Wondering
“Society has taught us to suppress certain things and not do certain things,” said Kesha in her 2010 Rolling Stone interview. “You’re an animal, you live, maybe this one time is your lifetime — go there. Who cares what somebody else thinks? They shit, too. Whatever.” Kesha’s career is a demonstration of going there, even when the odds have been against her. Even when people attempted to dismiss her as a joke or as unintelligent. Even when that’s all her former producer wanted her to be. “Something that was always told to me: You’re fun. We’re going to capitalize on that,” Kesha shared with Taffy Brodesser-Akner in her 2016 interview for The New York Times. “I was like, ‘I am fun, but I’m a lot of other things.’ But Luke’s like: ‘No, you’re fun. That’s all you are for your first record.’”
For Kesha, going there has meant not giving a fuck (“You can’t imagine the immensity of the fuck I’m not giving” from “Sleazy”). And it has also meant admitting when the pain is too much for her to handle (“They say that true love hurts, well, this could almost kill me” from “The Harold Song”). But through it all, Kesha has prioritized being herself and staying true to her story. Continuing to soar, to seek freedom, to go higher as many have tried to keep her down — even herself at times.
As kids, we want to fly. We turn our favorite blankets into capes and climb to heights our parents pray we don’t fall from. We jump on beds just to feel the air beneath our feet. We fly and we fall and we try again, hoping to stay in the air just a little longer this time.
From early on, we believe in the possibility of flying because of those we’ve seen do it. As a kid in my basement, I tried to imitate all the dunk contest dunks I saw my favorite NBA players do. Between-the-legs. Arm-in-the-rim. Off-the-backboard. All with the hope that maybe one day I’d get to feel the air the way they did. That I’d know the power that comes with slamming the ball through the hoop. But as it goes for many of us, I never ended up dunking on a 10-foot hoop. And as the NBA dunk contest happened year after year, and with each contest, a new pressure to come up with something people had never seen before, I witnessed dunks that would be impossible for me to do even on a Nerf hoop — none of which was more true than with the controversial face-off between Aaron Gordon and Zach Lavine in the 2016 dunk contest.
The championship round, which ended up going four rounds in and of itself, featured Aaron Gordon scooping the ball out of the Orlando Magic mascot’s hand—while the mascot spun on a hoverboard—and dunking the ball with ease. It feels wild even writing that; it was crazier seeing it. In the championship, we also saw Zach Lavine do a windmill dunk from the free-throw line. And in arguably the greatest contest dunk ever, Gordon utilized the mascot again. This time, the mascot held a basketball above its head while Gordon jumped over the mascot, putting the ball under both of his legs at the same time—legitimately sitting in the air—before dunking the ball behind his head. It’s not hyperbole to say Aaron Gordon defied gravity with that dunk, as well as the expectations of everyone watching. The crowd reactions ranged from Jon Stewart crossing his arms back and forth as if to signal Gordon already won to Kenny Smith repeatedly yelling, “It’s over, ladies and gentlemen!”
But of course, it wasn’t over. Instead of a perfect 50, which Aaron Gordon and Zach Lavine had both received on all of their dunks through three championship rounds, Gordon received a 47 on his fourth and final dunk. Lavine went on to hammer home a between-the-legs tomahawk from the free-throw line to secure a 50 and the coveted first-place trophy. Despite Gordon and Lavine both giving all-time dunk contest performances, I wasn’t alone in feeling like Gordon should’ve won — or that the contest should’ve at least ended in a tie. Gordon’s family was disappointed too. But Gordon told Dan Patrick during an interview after the loss:
“I kind of had to put it back into perspective for them a little bit: this has been my dream for a long, long time — to compete in the NBA dunk contest. I went out there and did exactly what I came here to do besides winning the trophy. And then I think once they realized how happy I was just to be present and to be able to soak that experience in, I think their mood changed too and they were very, very just proud of me more than anything.”
Aaron Gordon is a rare example of the kid who wanted to fly and he did. The kid who wouldn’t take “no” for an answer, regardless of who was saying it. Dunk contest judges. Gravity. His family. “My brother [former NBA player Drew Gordon] could dunk from an early age and I saw that and I thought it was the coolest thing in the world,” said Gordon in a 2016 interview for the Orlando Magic Daily. “I told him one day that I’m going to be able to jump higher than him. He was like, ‘No, you’re not,’ and I was like, ‘Watch.’ That kind of inspired me.”
Four years after his 2016 loss, Aaron Gordon returned to the NBA dunk contest, again putting on one of the greatest performances of all time. And again he pulled off dunks the world had never seen, including jumping over 7'5" Tacko Fall in the final dunk of the night. And again he fell short of winning — this time getting perfect 50s on each of his first five dunks before falling a point shy on his final dunk over Tacko Fall, leading to a victory for Derrick Jones Jr. After the contest, Gordon told reporters that was his last time participating in the dunk contest:
“It’s a wrap, bro… I feel like I should have two trophies. You know what I mean? So, it’s over for that. My next goal is going to be trying to win the 3-Point Contest.”
And while the three-point contest may still be out of reach for Aaron Gordon, being selected for his first-ever All-Star game and possibly winning an NBA championship are not. Halfway through last season, after over six seasons with the Orlando Magic, Aaron Gordon joined my favorite team, the Denver Nuggets. For a team that has never won a championship but made it to the Western Conference finals multiple times before falling short, the Nuggets feel like a perfect match for Aaron Gordon. For a while, I’ve also had the feeling that the Nuggets are only a player or two from achieving glory. Trading for Gordon felt like a necessary step in that pursuit. And as a fan who watched in amazement as Gordon put on two historic performances in the dunk contest, my excitement about Gordon’s arrival was through the roof. Especially since leading up to his time with the Nuggets, Gordon had developed into a versatile player with the ability to handle the ball, pass, shoot, and rebound, in addition to dramatically dunking a few times per game.
This season, Aaron Gordon has been on an All-Star-worthy tear — with a points-per-game average that ties his career-high, a career-best three-point percentage, and a 61% shooting percentage from the field that eclipses his 47% career average. In the words of Michael Singer from The Denver Post, “Gordon’s game has aged like a California Cabernet.” This is all while the Denver Nuggets have held their position as a top playoff contender in the Western Conference. And as the Nuggets have become more of a threat over the past few years, led by back-to-back MVP Nikola Jokić, who might be well on his way to securing his third MVP in a row, more of their games have been shown on network TV — including a late-night, face-off against the Phoenix Suns on Christmas.
I’ll spare you the full game breakdown but Aaron Gordon threw down seven total dunks against the Phoenix Suns and the game went into overtime. No longer the spry kid throwing alley-oops to myself in my childhood basement, I watched the last half of the game from bed resting my weary bones after a day of flipping back and forth between Hallmark movies and NBA games.
In the final seconds of the game, with the Nuggets up by one point, Suns guard Landry Shamet, who’d had a career game otherwise, missed a shot to give the Suns a lead. Then, I watched as Aaron Gordon grabbed the rebound and sprinted down the court. In a 2-on-1 situation with only Nikola Jokić and Shamet up ahead, I thought Gordon might dump the ball off to Jokić. But I should’ve known. With Shamet attempting to hold his ground in the lane, Gordon took flight, making contact with Shamet’s body, which seemed to propel Gordon higher as he flushed the ball through the hoop. I immediately whisper-yelled, “OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD,” trying not to wake my wife but secretly hoping she’d wake up so I could share this moment with her. Gordon called it the best in-game dunk he’s ever had, but I think it’s fair to say it’s the best dunk in recent history and most certainly the dunk of the year.
The night that Aaron Gordon defied gravity. The nights that Aaron Gordon defied gravity. Choosing to soar, to keep soaring, even when it didn’t feel like enough. To continue taking flight as judges repeatedly denied him victory. It feels like a gift that I get to watch Gordon still surprise and amaze fans while also coming more fully into his own, expanding what’s possible for kids who want to fly.
Now back to what I was saying about resistance.
Resistance is necessary for survival. Survival on our own terms. An existence that allows for evolution and, most importantly, freedom. I’m no stranger to the odds against us, but I’m also not blind to the power within us. To what’s possible when we honor the child within ourselves who wants to fly and honor that within each other too. With this in mind, I remember the kid who freaked out the first time he learned André 3000 hopped on a remix of Kesha’s “Sleazy.” The kid who belted out the bridge of “The Harold Song,” screaming along with his best friend.
I remember the younger me who thought some dunks, or even a Denver Nuggets championship, were only possible in video games. And I see in that kid a life worth fighting for. Worlds that need building and boundaries that need defying. For me, and each other.
Due to Kesha’s legal battle with her former producer, she was barred from releasing music for several years. In 2017, five years after her last album, Kesha finally delivered her third full-length project Rainbow. The intro track “Bastards,” an acoustic country song, opens with Kesha singing, “I got too many people I got left to prove wrong / all those motherfuckers been too mean for too long.” Kesha’s first verse feels like she’s at the end of her rope. Then, in the chorus, she warns about the people who got her there:
Don’t let the bastards get you down, oh, no
Don’t let the assholes wear you out
Don’t let the mean girls take the crown
Don’t let the scumbags screw you ‘round
Don’t let the bastards take you down
In the second verse, Kesha sounds at home within herself and among those praying for her downfall, which feels refreshingly triumphant, especially knowing the odds she’s been up against — and still is:
Been underestimated my entire life
I know people gonna talk shit
And darlin’, that’s fine
But they won’t break my spirit
I won’t let ’em win
I’ll just keep on living
Keep on living, oh, the way I wanna live
Now, as I plan my next trip up to Cleveland to see the Denver Nuggets play in the closest arena to me in Ohio, I imagine subjecting my wife to a game of “Remember this song?” with Kesha’s discography as we drive towards whatever Aaron Gordon has in store. And both in the car and at the game, I’ll turn to her and say, “Watch.”
There’s plenty more to be seen, and plenty more living to be done.
We’re still in the air.
