Dear Kanye,
I feel like I should be upfront with you. I tried selling your tickets. Only two of them sold, leaving me with two to use. I was more excited about the date I had lined up to go with me than I was about the headliner of the show. I had all these preconceived notions about who you are and what you sing about, that I never really gave you a chance. I assumed I was Team Taylor because, well c’mon look at me, I’m Team Taylor.
Once I stepped into Madison Square Garden and realized that you had no opening act, I thought, “so Kanye, keeping all the attention on himself,” and when you kept us waiting almost two hours after the intentioned start time to come out, I also thought, “so Kanye, making us all wait like we have nothing better to do.”
But you changed my mind about you in a matter of hours, regardless of those initial thoughts. You came out, barely visible in a hooded camouflage outfit, on a small stage that moved above the general admission crowd. It was just you, the lights and the music. And it was insane. It was clear that no matter what you chose to wear, what you chose to say, and what you chose to do, you had an army of fans literally looking up to you. Your passion was undeniable. Your dedication to your art was beyond what I expected, and your ability to make the record setting crowd at MSG feel happiness was incredible.
Being a rapper, I assumed I wouldn’t really know or be able to sing any of your songs. But as soon as I heard “Mercy” and “Heartless” and “Stronger” I couldn’t help but sing along to almost every word. But the highlight of the night for me had to be your performance of “Only One”. Not only is this my favorite song of yours (I admittedly listened to it on repeat for hours before the concert, and in all honesty, didn’t know the other songs were yours) but it was also a weirdly emotional song for me. I started slow dancing with my [now] friend, but someone who was also once my high school crush. Swaying to the music in his arms and having him look at me the way my 15-year-old self never thought a man would ever look at me, made me smile. In that moment, I thought about how far I’ve come, and how much has changed. I remembered being that awkward, unsure, 9th grade girl in his math class whose day was made if he asked to borrow a pencil and flashed a smile. And somewhere on the inside, I’m still that girl. I had to pinch myself a few times to believe we somehow got here, to me in his arms on the first night of my junior year at NYU.
And in this moment, hearing him sing along to every lyric incredibly-terribly-for-a-really-good-singer, I was happy. Genuinely, unequivocally, happy. And it was because of me. I was the girl my high school self would have been jealous of. I was finally the girl who was good enough for him, and more importantly, good enough for myself. I was the girl who finally found her best self. Everything I wanted had happened, and in that moment, Kanye showed me that. You allowed me to step back from it all and appreciate the amazing moment I was in. And whether that’s because you are in fact a “God” as you say you are, or because something just clicked while you were singing “I know you're happy, cause I can see it. So tell the voice inside ya' head to believe it,” and “you’re not perfect but you’re not your mistakes,” I don’t know.
So yeah, Kanye, you sing about yourself. And you insult Taylor Swift. And you sell your shirts for $70. But you also have an admirable amount of passion. And you have a confidence about you, and somehow being in your presence, some of that confidence transferred onto me. And I left your concert a better person than I went into it. So thank you, Kanye, and I’m sorry that I ever doubted you.
Your new fan,
Ali
