Patti Smith's Ode to Weirdness

When I was eleven, my dad and I visited the MoMA. We expected to walk the stairs to the top floor, working our way down amidst visions of Dalí, Liechtenstein, Picasso, Warhol. We were oblivious, however, that Patti Smith would be performing in the lobby. I had no idea who this was, but evidently, she was a legend—my dad insisted we watch, despite the herd of people obstructing our view. I did not know what to make of this older woman with stringy hair, reading ambiguous poetry into a microphone, inexplicably able to command the audience’s undying attention. I have since become more open-minded.  

Years later, in the same city of bums and billionaires, I picked up Just Kids at Strand. The title drew me in, and upon seeing the author’s name, I knew it had to be mine. I had heard the sustained buzz about Smith’s reputation of eccentricity, and I was prepared to appreciate it. I could have read the book with my butt glued to the couch, too engrossed to get up to even pee. But like eating a chunk of bittersweet chocolate, I forced myself to savor the text, reading deliberately and carefully. With the memoir as my sidekick, I was ambitious, spontaneous. It was creative ammo simply too precious to waste on one day.

What enthralled me most about Patti Smith was her unwavering commitment to art. She tells stories of scavenging around New York in pursuit of minimum wage and freaks of her same breed, all in wildly intriguing language. I have practically read the book twice, considering the amount of times I re-read sentences, delighting in their perfection, hoping some of Patti Smith’s ambition might mingle with my own. Her thoughts, punctuated with genius insight, revived my child-like urge to grasp a pen and aimlessly embark on a scribbling journey. After reading Just Kids, I realized the dignity in this endeavor.

Patti Smith is courageous. Her sense of self demands expression. She has never stopped listening to this nagging voice, and look where it got her: exactly where she pleases. Her humble confidence is empowering. Not only is she a true artist, but she is a true feminist, an advocate for humanity. So many of us feel too young, too old, too ugly, too superficial, too awkward, too radical. For those of us who feel weird about our weirdness, Patti Smith might just be the patron saint we never knew we needed.