Speakeasy Reading Series

I know a lot of people, including women, who will not go to poetry readings because they say most readings are just «man-​hating» by «angry little girls» (quote from a young woman). I have enjoyed many, varied readings and know this to be ridiculous. Until I attended a Speakeasy Reading Series reading.
I naively did not understand that there are actually two types of poetry: poetry as art, and poetry as therapy. At the last Speakeasy reading, the therapy session started quickly, and kept coming. Men as abusers, men as rapists, men as sadists… there was not a single redeeming human of my gender. After the first hour or so of this, I actually began to feel a little lousy about myself. Bearded, skinny men with thick frames in the audience laughed and clapped along. I would have left, but was concerned getting up would draw attention to myself – «Look, it’s an m-​a-​n!». I shrunk a little in my chair.
There certainly was no art to any of the readings, save one. As I drove home, I considered that first, artful poem that had built up into a crescendo of righteous anger at two men who were loudly considering whether it was proper to slap a woman… a woman who had started the exchange by threatening to kick them in the balls. «How dare those pigs threaten violence!» was the message of the poem, sadly lacking in irony, hipster or otherwise.
The guest of honor at this reading was a professor of some local poetry celebrity who treated us to a piece about an older woman luring a young boy into her home, disrobing him, having sex with him, and then throwing him out before he had a chance to put his clothes on properly. Oh, how the poets cheered! There were cheers as the clothes came off, laughter as she lit her cigarette and kicked him out. I couldn’t help but wonder how a poem about an old man «seducing» a little girl, then tossing her out rumpled-​clothed, would go down. Would there be quite as many cheers?
Psychology is a warning sign in my circle of friends. Psychologists are regarded as studying the subject in order to get a grip on their own deep, abiding issues. You date a student of psychology at your peril.
I blame Pitt for this train-​wreck of a reading. Their academic advisors are clearly not properly guiding «poets» to a psychology major (or psychotherapists) as needed. Until such time as they do, go to Chatham’s wonderful Word Circus Readings instead.