No…let’s not hear it for the boy

I was biking home last night when Deniece Williams’ “Let’s Hear It For the Boy” came on my ipod. As any good child of the 1980’s I have heard this song many, many times before. I mean Footloose….hello!

But last night was the first time I ever really listened to this classic’s lyrics, and I realized something disturbing. Thanks to Deniece Williams, girls my age grew up being told to hear it for the boy.

Even if that boy is kind of an asshole.

Talk about a mantra for settling. The dude in the song doesn’t seem to be able to do anything, to the point where you wonder if he drools constantly and should be praised for managing to tie his own shoes. But Deniece doesn’t just want to praise him for graduating from Velcro to “big kid” laces.

No, she wants us to gather all our pompoms and cheer him on at the Bowl-A-Rama (although she clearly tells us in the song he never scores). I’m no saint, but even I know to give a place with rented shoes and Cinnabons a little more respect than that.

Now, I’m not implying that Deniece is entirely responsibly for me being stood up for junior prom because sixteen-year-old me loved dating jerks. But the guy in the song certainly sounds like a version of the Evil Erick I knew (note the unnecessary “k” ladies…surest sign of trouble). The boy in question is: poor (check), he dresses bad (check, check), and he doesn’t talk sweet…aka nice (triple check).

The only two things Deniece mentions that the boy does do well are “pull me near” and “his kisses knock me ov-ah… makes me wanna yell.”

Oh, Deniece.

Why didn’t you just say so earlier? You don’t like the guy at all, really.
You just wanted to sing a promiscuous song without it being considered slutty.

You should have stuck with the original title “Let’s give the boy’s genitals a hand.”
High school boys would have totally dug it.

– Lindsay

About Lindsay Golder

Freelance writer, book-fiend, lover of shamefully bad films regularly featured on TBS or TNT.

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