Concerts and conflicts…

I love live music.

For me, there is no better feeling than singing and dancing as a collective. Energy surges. Joy is contagious.

General admission was the only way to go in my youth. I’ve had the pleasure of watching some killer bands, like Audioslave, The Rolling Stones, Metallica, Oasis, and Alter Bridge from the floor beneath the stage. I loved it because I could do what my brother, Tim drilled into me from a young age: stand and dance at concerts.

As time passed, things changed and I bypassed the floor for any number of reasons: the people I went with, the price of tickets, my weak bladder. But age hasn’t stopped me from buying a seat and dancing the night away with the collective.

I realize there are people who disagree with this, largely because they wind up sitting behind me. This usually leads to shoulder pokes or passive-aggressive shouts all aimed at telling me and the women around me to “sit down” and “have some courtesy.” (Interestingly, my six-foot-three-inch husband has never been told to sit.)

Friends, these are not orchestra concerts. These are country or rock shows where over 80 percent of the venue is on their feet from the first song through the encore.

Historically speaking, I am accommodating to a fault. I was raised by my mother to go out of the way to make others feel better even if it comes at my expense (like apologizing after someone bumps into me).

But the older I get, the less I want to bend over backward for anyone trying to guilt/shame/order me into doing something they believe they’re entitled to more than I am.

I no longer care to please the few—whether that’s at a concert, a school board meeting about book bans, or the front lines of a women’s clinic. Instead, I’ll continue to stand and advocate for those around me who need my voice because they aren’t where I am yet.

Yesterday, I bought general admission tickets to see my favorite band, Old Dominion in June. For the first time in decades, I’ll be in the section where everyone stands. Alongside my daughter, we’ll all dance and sing and laugh and cry and feel the music together without shame or guilt.

Just as it should be.