The One About Beth
Photo by Marten Bjork on Unsplash
I am devouring a book by a new-to-me author that I heard about on NPR. It’s called A Bit Much and it’s a book of poetry. Mind you, I have a degree in English Literature ergo I have read some poetry. And am allowed to used words like “ergo” in sentences unnecessarily. Go on. Read the rules. I’ll wait.
However, other than the odd reading of e.e. cummings or some of my hero Margaret Atwood’s poetic meanderings, since graduating college back when it was all biggest possible hair, sexual predators as heroes, and leg warmers, I have not knowingly enjoyed rhyming as a way of consuming words.
But I found myself entranced by the sound of Lindsay Rush reading her poem She’s a Bit Much so much I got a copy and have been re-reading it on repeat lately.
About that same time, I saw one of those car window cling bits of philosophy that was not Live Laugh Love or a funny cartoon T-rex eating someone’s stick figure family. This one said “In a world of Disney Princesses, be a Beth Dutton.” It gave me the sort of pause that window cling philosophy usually doesn’t. At first I was all, “Well, ok, sure, let’s encourage the youth of America to be maladjusted, perennially pissed off at the universe, unable to sustain a relationship with anyone other than an equally maladjusted, albeit hot cowboy, bossy boots bitch who drinks too much. Sure. That’s healthy. Sheesh.”
Don’t get me wrong. I’m a fan of the first season or two of Yellowstone. Meeting a character like Beth was a total breath of fresh air when it came to female protags. She took no shit. She gave out a lot of shit. She was large, in charge, hot, not to mention the hottest possible mess, unapologetically AF. As I began to ponder how I’d bring you my deep and redeeming Substacked thoughts on the topic of Beth Dutton v. Disney Princesses, thinking I’d frame it as a “whoa now, let’s be careful who we idolize, shall we?” sort of a thing, I realized something.
Beth is the ultimate “bit much” female type. She more or less defines everything about what Lindsay Rush relays so eloquently (and with plenty of humor) throughout her book of poems about women who are, shall we say, out there, a la Ms. Dutton. I believe her character was meant to be a foil to Jamie, the brother not an actual brother (spoiler alert, sorry not sorry it’s a lame bit of storytelling IMO) but ended up so popular in the first season that we were treated to more and more (and more) Beth and her Extreme Personality Dysfunction that it more or less overwhelmed the entire story. Well, that and the fact that I never knew how to access the damn series after season 3. Thanks, Paramount or whoever.
Kevin Costner bolting to do his own version of the Western Experience as Extreme Trauma Porn didn’t help but the world can use fewer Kevin Costners, generally speaking.
Beth and Rip, the man who (more spoilers ahead, shield your eyes as needed) knocked her up as a teenager, which lead to her being sterilized because she had to get her abortion on a native reservation, where such things were the norm and expected in order to cul the continuation of said natives, form the core of what’s left of that series.
Beware newbies: Beth is a walking talking trauma case, given the facts of her mother’s death (kinda sorta her fault) plus the whole teen pregnancy oh now whoops you can’t ever have kids stuff.
But I’m not here to critique the (very wrong) directions this series has gone. Tyler Sheridan does great tv and in Beth Dutton he gave us the Queen of Fuck You Very Much. She has some of THE greatest lines a woman has ever been given especially in the Super masculine wild west oeuvre. (there I go again, with my English Lit Permit words, sorry)
To wit:
"Where’s the fun in wrecking a single man? When I break you, I want to know I’m breaking generations."
“No, martinis have vermouth and are enjoyed with friends. I don’t like vermouth, and these aren’t my friends.”
“Every so often, you say something that makes me think you’re smart. And then I look at you, and that thought fades.”
“I am the rock therapists break themselves against.”
"You are the trailer park. I am the tornado."
“Actually, God gave me these for free. Looks like he gave me yours, too.”
“Buddy, this is your one chance to leave me with your self-esteem intact.”
and my most favoritest of all time:
“I am not starting this day sober.”
GET IT girl, seriously. And thank you Tyler, for creating her and to Kelly Reilly for inhabiting her so perfectly. Do yourself a fav and watch seasons 1 and 2 of this show (if you can find it—-Paramount maybe? not sure anymore) and then listen to Ms. Reilly talk in her native accent (British) if you want a serious case of cognitive dissonance.
So yeah, be out there, ladies. Be a Bit Much. Or just be you, and don’t fucking apologize for it. I mean, we are all constantly trying to shove our variously square selves into the many round holes that we’re supposed to want to be in: sad mom, yummy mummy, perfect daughter, boss babe, trad wife, bad wife, bad mom, dog mom (canNOT wait for this movie! It was one of my fav reads last year), best friend, worst friend, girlfriend, she-sleeps-around, she doesn’t want kids she must be ill in the head, she has five kids she is definitely sick in the head. But all of them feel at best performative, at worst, false, and unfaithful to our true selves.
Be yourself. If that self is a Beth Dutton, then own it. If that self is a Disney princess, own that shit. Don’t let anyone tell you who to be, no matter who they are to you.
The following is an excerpt from the poem She’s a Bit Much by Lindsay Rush a.k.a. @maryolliversdrunkcousin on Instagram. This is from the transcript of the NPR interview where she read this aloud. Enjoy. And click here for the origin story on NPR that got me hooked.
“She's a bit much. You mean like a bonus French fry in the bottom of the bag? Like a champagne shower? Like triple-texting good news? Like buying coffee for the person behind you in line? Or did you mean a bit much like an unexpected upgrade to business class, or theme parties, or the band pretending to go offstage and then coming back for an unforgettable encore? Perhaps you are referring to that thing of being astonished by a sunset or how puppies flop around when they learn to run or the way some people take karaoke really seriously. Maybe you just meant sprinkles, confetti, balloon drops, witty comebacks, generous tips, fireworks, water slides, serotonin, cherries on top, and the fact that maybe we were put on this planet simply to enjoy ourselves. Then yes, I agree, she is a bit much. Aren't we so lucky she's here?”
xoxo
Liz