Kate Bush and the Rubber Band Girl Who Broke

Is Kate Bush a powerful and complex person? Are we more than the labels we deny or accept? Are boundaries important? Is mental health misunderstood? The answer to all of these things is yes.

Kate Bush is a powerhouse in the music industry. With a voice that is ethereal and powerful all at once and compositions that are equally so, she has written music that has captured the hearts and inspired people since the late 70’s. With at least 5 generations of fans and renewed popularity due to Stranger Things, she is a force of musical nature.

In a male dominated industry, especially in the late 70’s, she not only made her mark in the industry, but she did so by ensuring EMI gave her full production control and ownership of her music.

David Gilmour of Pink Floyd had come across a demo of hers that had been rejected by label after label. He felt there was something spectacular in her compositions and voice and aided the 16 year old into the music industry. In these early days he and others helped her navigate the dangerous waters of the recording industry so she could carve her own path on her terms.

When EMI signed her, she got a sizable advance which she used to study interpretative dance and other creative endeavors. She did this for 2 years while signed on and did little recording. But when she did record, it was lighting in a bottle again and again and again.

10 studio albums, two live albums, two compilation albums, six video albums, four box sets, five extended plays, 36 singles, seven promotional singles, and 39 music videos. Almost 7 million record sales and chart toppers on almost every album in not only the UK and the US, but around the world.

Kate Bush has always held full creative control of her work and gets the proper share of her music’s profits. From the beginning of her career she accomplished something that many successful artists never get to achieve in that regard.

And her inspiration to other artists is immense. I would love to give the comprehensive list of artists that she has inspired and influenced, but I would not be able to do the list justice and this article would be so very long. I am providing an exhaustive listing that is likely not complete from Wikipedia that has been properly sourced and vetted.

Though Kate Bush has accomplished a musical career on her terms in a time where that was unheard of for a woman, she does not identify as a feminist. Despite being an inspiration to many feminist and strong women in entertainment, she is dismissive of feminism. It is complicated.

In a 1982 interview with 19 Magazine Kate Bush had this to say about women, music, and misogyny.

“The more female artists that get in, the more that will be allowed a chance. It’s lovely to think that I could be an example to other girls. I don’t feel that strongly about the women’s movement. I think male chauvinism is just a gesture; men who are sure of themselves have no need to put women down.”

In a 1985 interview with Hot Press she would take it further.

“Feminist is one of those words. When you hear “feminist” you go “”ummgh!” It’s a “concept” You get all these terrible images – like women with hairy legs and big muscles...And they are terribly aggressive and quite illogical: “What have we got men for!” I think a lot of women feel very confused by the whole thing – I know I do – where you’ve just got to get in there – that’s the thing – and work!”

After narrowly defining feminism she continues in the interview to define what she thinks should happen instead of feminism.

“I would like to think that there is actually a very strong force of women who believe we should have equal opportunities, be able to work, be treated nicely without any threat, all of that. And not necessarily come on with “We hate men – Off with your balls!” Do you know what I mean?”

I cannot step into her mind, but it feels like while she exemplifies and speaks to what feminism is, she distances herself from it on something it is not. Unfortunately, feminism has received a bad image that permeates it. That image does not come from feminism, it comes from those who oppose the very things Kate Bush stands for and wants.

In 1994 Kate Bush moved herself out of the public eye and off the radar. Many tabloids and even mainstream press painted her as a recluse and speculated on reasons why she left the public eye.

She has spoken openly that she has had mental health struggles and the death of her mother had an impact on her.

She does not go into details or speak to specific diagnosis. That is her business and anyone who has any condition deserves to be accorded the respect to speak of these things on their terms.

It is enough to say that she speaks about it without shame to her and others and it is enough to say that she believes women should have equal opportunities in the workplace.

And it is more than enough to say that she has changed the face, and sound, of the music industry.

It was a date with a woman who wanted equal rights and suffered from mental health that exposed me to Kate Bush. She also changed the way I see mental health, women, music, and boundaries. Her name was Cassie. We were in love.

Cassie and I were both 18 and worked at a mall where we had met. Our first date started after a misunderstanding about a photoshoot I was doing for her. In that time one of the things that bonded us was a love of Blondie. Over the next few months as we started dating she would expose me to the music of Poly Styrene. Around that time we would both encounter a man who raped her. In 2 dramatic encounters with him and other powerful men who wanted to silence us, we professed to one another that we were in love.

It was almost Christmas of 1988 and the mall was incredibly busy. Our dates turned into us going to her aunt’s townhouse where she lived to watch movies, play cards, and make out. I would then drive my tired ass home in my blue ’77 Monte Carlo, get a few hours of sleep in and go back to work. Life was simply amazing at this point.

One night we had just finished watching “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” on VHS. When we turned off the tv I told her I should go. She was laying on the sofa with her head in my lap. She grabbed my left arm and looked at my watch and said “We have time.” I asked her what time it was and she unclasped my Seiko, removed it and jammed it in her pocket. “We have time, babe.”

She pressed a button on her aunt’s stereo remote, the record player dropped an album and the pop hiss of the record started as the needle made contact. A song by Kate Bush called “Sat in Your Lap” started playing. Cassie’s blonde hair felt good in my fingers as I asked who this was.

Cassie sat up, kissed me, and said, “Are you serious right now, babe?” I shrugged. “Kate Bush. One of my faves. Cuddle and listen.” I did. It was eclectic and brilliant. Every song was distinct and her voice was unusual and could be harmonic and gentle and discordant and disturbing in the same song. It moved me and I was hooked.

Eventually she turned the album to the second side and put her head back on my lap. I caressed her hair gently and we both fell asleep on the sofa before the second side ended.

I woke up to Cassie’s aunt saying, “Wake up lovebirds!” I groggily stirred and looked at my wrist. My gold Seiko was in Cassie’s pocket. I asked her aunt what time it was. She told me it was a little past one. I said I should go.

“Your not going anywhere, Romeo.” Her aunt said. “It took me almost an hour to get home because of the weather outside. You’re in for the night, Pat. I’ll get you blankets and a pillow for the sofa.”

“Em!” protested Cassie as she sat up. “My boyfriend! My room!”

Her aunt had been her caretaker since her mom died when Cassie was 9. Her aunt Emily looked at us both for a few moments. She sighed deeply. “All right. But no hankey pankey!”

Cassie smiled and said, “Deal! I’m too tired to pop his cherry tonight anyway.”

“Cassie!” her aunt Em and I exclaimed almost in unison.

We went off to her bedroom. I realized in this moment that I just had the clothes on my back. She undressed and told me, “No hankey pankey can be clothing optional.”

Holding her close to me skin on skin felt amazing, it was also so comforting and relaxing that falling asleep again was going to happen soon.

“Babe.” she said as we got settled into her bed.

“Yeah?” I replied.

“Do you want to try to make love again? Things got in the way last time.”

“Now?” I asked.

“Tempting, but my aunt storming in would be a mood killer. What do you think about after Christmas and New Years when we can get a few days off at the mall? Maybe get a room at a Holiday Inn or something? Make it special.”

“Ever been to Lake Geneva?” I asked.

“No.” she said.

“I have a credit card. Let’s get a room there, have a special dinner and 2 nights together.”

“Babe! Yes! Oh my god! Really?”

“Yeah, really.” I said.

“I love you, Pat.” she said.

“I love you too. Really love you, Cassie”

We fell asleep in her twin bed bodies pressed together. This felt good.

A few days before Christmas we were taking a break together at the mall food court with our friend Doug who worked at the record store. I called him my supplier. My gold Seiko was dangling loosely off her wrist. We were all tired and the customers were getting more and more demanding as we got closer to Christmas.

Our friend Norah who worked at Marshall Field’s came over and hugged Cassie from behind the chair. “You ready, Cass?” Norah asked her.

“Oh hell yes!” she said.

“Where are you two off to?” I asked.

“To Field’s” Norah said, “I’m getting Cassie a dress for your fancy dinner in Wisconsin! We’re also gonna hit the lingerie department for dessert!” I blushed a little.

“Oh yeah!” said Doug, “Cassie’s turning our little boy into a man!”

“Oh Jesus!” I said. “Is there anyone in the mall who doesn’t know I’m a virgin?”

Norah looked at Cassie with a grin. “Did you tell Lance at Silverman’s?”

“My assistant manager took care of that for you” I said. “Lance knows.” Everyone started laughing.

Doug said, “No one talks to the assholes at Bachrach. So your secret is safe from them.” We laughed some more.

Cassie handed me my Seiko back and told me to put it on. I did. She grabbed my left arm, looked at my wrist, and said, “Time to go.”

She leaned forward, kissed me, and whispered into my ear. “Love you, babe.” And with that her and Nora were off.

I asked Doug for advice for my first time. He was a few years older. He just said to take my time, know the first round will be fast and that is normal and to make sure she is cool with everything we do. Then we were off to work.

A bunch of us from the mall got together on New Year’s Eve. Lisa from Marshall Field’s pulled some strings and got us into their corporate New Year’s bash. It was beyond epic with a live band, dj, every kind of food you could imagine, open bar that did not card or care, and dancing. Cassie was in full Blondie glam punk that night and I was wearing a black suit.

She looked breathtaking and I could not remember a time I was ever this happy. I had an amazing girlfriend, good friends, and life was ahead of me.

As the magic moment came Norah and her husband and Doug and his girlfriend found me and Cassie and we counted the last 10 seconds of 1988 together. As the dance hall exploded with sound the world stopped as Cassie mouthed that she loved me and I gazed into those blue eyes and we kissed a kiss that made time stop and we were alone despite the crowd.

1989 was here. This was my year. This was our year.

A few days after New Year’s I picked up Cassie in my Monte Carlo and we were off to Lake Geneva. I had booked us a room at the historic Button Bay Inn mansion with dinner reservations at 7:30 at the restaurant that was part of the Inn. I am not sure how I got a Master Card with a $5,000 credit limit, but I got a pre approved offer in the mail and accepted it. So here we were. I had a gold card and worked at the mall.

When we pulled up to the mansion she looked at it and said, “Holy shit!”. When we walked into the lobby with the ornate fireplace and regal lounge she looked at me and said, “Holy shit!” The clerk looked at as as what we were. Kids.

I handed him my gold card, smiled, and gave him my name. He looked at the gold card and suddenly we were treated as if we were elite guests. He offered us a free upgrade to a suite and within moments a bellhop was taking our luggage up to the room. The suite was like something out of a movie. As soon as we walked in, Cassie said, “Holy shit!” The bellhop asked if we needed anything else. I asked if we could have some ice to chill the champagne I had. He asked if we needed flutes. I handed him a tip and said that would be lovely.

He left. “Holy shit, babe!” Cassie said. “Champagne?”

I smiled, “Present from Doug. Pretty sure he stole it from the Field’s party.” We explored the historic suite and could not believe how ornate it was. A few moments later there was a knock at the door. It was the bellhop. He entered the room and placed an ornate silver container on a table in the living room of our suite full of ice and placed two flutes by the container. Another staff member came in with a more traditional insulated bucket also with ice and placed it under the table. They left and the room was ours.

Cassie started kissing me passionately and I felt her hands undo my belt.

“Now?” I asked with anxiety and excitement.

“Just an appetizer. You’ll last longer after dinner and I get to have some fun!”

I had just entered the sensual world.

We walked about downtown Lake Geneva and took in the winter sights. The pier was beautiful and the lake was frozen over from the winter. After taking in the sights we went to the room and changed for dinner. I put on a suit in the bedroom and she took over the bedroom. When she came out, she was a vision. She was wearing a red evening gown with a seam going up her leg to her thigh and candy apple red stilettos. Her lips matched the dress and her blue eyes were accentuated with blue eyeshadow that had a dash of punk flair.

“Holy shit” I said.

“Yeah?” she asked and smiled. I went to kiss her and she stopped me and said, “Fresh lipstick, babe!” I stopped. She kissed me then went to the bathroom to touch up her lips as I wiped the lipstick from my face.

We went to the restaurant and were seated. We ordered our dinner. When soup was served I noticed her leg was thumping up and down rapidly and she would take an occasional deep breath. Something was wrong.

“Cassie?” I said quietly, “Are you all right?”

She did not respond but now she was waving her hands loosely in front of her and her breath was getting quicker and she kept whispering to her self “I’m not. No. No.” And with the last no it was loud enough for others to hear and she was pale and shaking. The waiter came to refill our water as she got up and half stumbled out of the dining room. I asked him to have someone bring the dinner to our suite and ran after her.

She had bolted through the lobby and out the front door in only her dress. It was cold outside. I followed her. She was leaning over the railing and was hyperventilating and moaning. I was at the other end of something I had seen before when I had panic attacks. There was no training and I was always alone when they happened. I shot from the hip.

I took off my wool suit blazer and draped it over her shoulders and rubbed her back underneath the blazer and spoke calmly even though I was freaking out inside.

“Cassie, I’m right here. I need you to breath for me, baby. Can you do that? C’mon…in….out…slow it down. In…out…you can do this.”

After a few moments she started trying to do it between deep gasps for air. Her knees started to buckle and I held her up. In time and with soothing affirmations I got her to slow her breathing down. Tears started flowing from her face as her breathing slowed and she kept saying she was sorry. We walked back inside and went to our suite.

An ornate tray was in our room with two plates covered in silver tops. She was still shaking and her legs trembled. I sat her down at the edge of the bed and got her some water.

“Hey. It’s okay. Your okay.”

“No, Pat. I’m not okay. I’m batshit crazy and I’m a liar.”

Cassie told me everything out of sequence, but here it is in order. She never told me how her mom died. Cassie woke up one morning when she was 9. She had overslept and missed her school bus. Her mom always woke her up and she did not understand. She walked into the bathroom and her mom was in the tub. Her body and the bloody water in the tub we both cold and her wrists had deep gashes. Her mom had killed herself.

Cassie’s aunt was the younger sister and only 22 or 23 and just married. Cassie’s grandparents were not good people and did not want to take on the responsibility. It was Cassie’s aunt or the foster care system. Those were the options.

Her aunt’s husband could not handle the stress of a traumatized child and wife so he left before Cassie was ten. Her aunt had to take every extra shift as a nurse she could to afford life for the two of them in the townhouse. There was no money for a sitter so Cassie was alone for most of the time. By the time she was 12 she ended up in the psych ward for the first time.

Cassie never did well in school and did not, in fact, graduate high school as she told me. She did not have enough credits and was planning to get her GED someday but it was so hard to work and focus.

Cassie wanted to become a model because all she thought she had is pretty. She saw this as the ony way out or else it was marry someone with money or work retail her entire life.

Cassie felt her mom’s death as a single mom was her fault. She felt her aunt’s financial struggles were her fault. Her inability to get good grades was her fault. Being insane was her fault and she was a fuck up.

She did not expect me to be in her life and she felt that now that I knew what a fuck up she was maybe we should break up before she ruins my life like she has everyone else’s.

“No” I said. “I am not leaving you.”

“Then I’ll leave you, babe!” she said.

“No!” I said louder than I intended.

She shrank a little at my raised voice. “Don’t you fucking yell, babe!” she said firmly.

I took a beat and lowered my voice.

“You’re still calling me babe. So you don’t want to break up. Your mom. I don’t know why she did that and I am so sorry but you were a kid. That is not on you. Something else was wrong with her. Your aunt chose love and she could have fostered you out but she didn’t. Your grandparents and your uncle and your dad are assholes who abandoned you. And school? I don’t care! I’ll help you with the GED. You’re not dumb. You’re not a fuck up. And you are so much more than just pretty!”

“I am?” she asked.

“Yes! I mean fuck! You’re beyond gorgeous but that is not why I fell in love with you. You know so much about science and history and music and you are funny and kind and we aren’t breaking up.”

“I’ll ruin your life, babe!”

“No.”

“I’m nuts! This freak out is just the tip, babe!” she said. “There’s more. There is so much more, you don’t even know.”

“Then tell me. Tell me the more.”

“No!” she said. “Noooo!” she screamed.

This is the point I screwed up.

“Now who’s raising her voice?” I said.

“I’m scared and I don’t want to talk about this anymore! Can we just stop and talk more in the morning. I’m all mixed up and I don’t know what to do!”

“No, Cassie!” I said way too firmly. “We need to figure this out.”

She was in tears. “Babe. I’m tired and upset! You don’t understand. I need you to understand and listen. I need to stop. Please!”

“Tell me the more!” I demanded.

She was crying and shook her head.

“Cassie. I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me!” I was out of line and on some level I knew it but I wanted to fix this and fix her.

“You can’t help me if you don’t listen to what I need!” she gasped. She was on the verge of another panic attack. “Ya know what? I’m sleeping in the living room. Don’t you dare follow me out!”

“Can I get my food?” I said.

She scoffed incredulously. “Get your food and leave me alone!”

I ate my cold steak and twice baked potatoes in bed. I knew I screwed up and she had never been mad at me. Everything in me wanted to fix this and I wanted to keep talking but she did not want to talk. I could hear her sob in the other room. Every so often I would ask if we could talk. She would say no and don’t you come in here.

I gave up. Turned on the radio and listened to music afraid we were done. I am not sure how, but I fell asleep.

I felt a hand touch my face and Cassie’s voice say quietly, “Babe. Babe. Wake up please.” I was having a hard time waking up, then she said, “I need your help. I fucked up.” I was up. I turned on the bedroom light. She had a look of fear on her face and her left arm and right hand were covered in blood.

“What the hell!” I started to reach for the phone.

“Babe no! They’ll put me in a hospital again. It’s horrible there. Just look at it. Help me!”

She had small cuts up and down her left arm and for the first time I noticed small scars on her arm. I did not understand. Most of the cuts were superficial, but one was deep and bleeding badly.

I ran into the living room where the champaign and ice was. The bottle was empty. She drank the whole bottle. I wrapped some ice in a napkin and came back to the bedroom and put pressure on the wound and my other hand on her joint by her elbow. After a few minutes I looked at the wound. The compress was working.

“Cassie. I need you to hold the napkin and ice on the cut. I will be back in a minute. Can you do that?” I was gentle in my tones.

“Don’t get anyone. Please!”

“I have a first aid kit in my trunk. I am just going to get that. Promise.” I kissed her forehead and left.

The night air was refreshing and it helped clear my head as I got my first aid kit. I was CPR and first aid trained. Just something I felt I should know in life.

I came back to the room. The bleeding had slowed enough that I could clean it and put some iodine (it was the 80’s) and pinch her skin and close the cut with a couple butterfly bandages. I then slowly worked on the smaller cuts to make sure they were clean.

“You ready to leave me, babe?” She said.

I looked at her and said. “If I only could, I’d make a deal with god, and get him to swap our places.”

Her eyes welled up with tears and she smiled. “You should be singing waking the witch. This is a horror show.”

“It’s you and me” I said. Then continued. “If you still want me. I was out of line, Cassie.”

“It’s okay. I don’t know why you want me still.”

“I love you, Cassie. That ain’t just when things are fun. It’s when it is this. Look. I’m not gonna force you to talk, but this. Was this you trying to kill….”

“No no no!” She interrupted. “It’s just something I do when I’m upset. It’s hard to explain.”

After I was finished cleaning her up we did not say another word. She crawled into bed with me and fell asleep. I stared at the ceiling until the sun rose holding her close and scared out of my mind.

The next morning I went to a Piggly Wiggly and got some cleaning supplies, first aid equipment, and got her some McDonalds breakfast and 2 coffees. The first thing I did was drink the coffee and then attended to changing her bandages with something less rudimentary.

I then went to work on cleaning the blood stains from wherever she bled in the rooms. She kept offering to help and saying she was sorry. I told her to rest. She had brought her small boom box and she played Kate Bush’s “Hounds of Love”.

I asked her if she was ready to talk yet. She said no. This time I respected it. After I was done cleaning I was exhausted. I laid down in the bed and was out like a light. As I was falling asleep I felt her fingers caressing my hair.

When I woke up it was dark out. We ordered some room service and played cards. She was not ready to talk yet but she was affectionate and apologetic and I kept telling her not to be sorry for who she is.

She fell asleep and I stayed up past midnight and just caressed her hair and her shoulders as she slept until I fell out.

The next morning we had breakfast at the inn, checked out, and drove home. It was mostly quiet until we were back in Illinois.

“Babe,” she said. “Thank you. I don’t want to break up, but I don’t want to drag you down this road.”

I held out my hand. She grabbed it and clenched it tight.

“If you let me, I want this road. I want you.”

I took her home and asked if she wanted me to come in with her. She said no. But we would have lunch at the mall court tomorrow. We kissed and she looked at me for a long moment. “I love you, babe. I need you.”

“I’m not going anywhere” I said. She kissed me again and went in her aunt’s townhouse and I went home and slept.

The next day I went to work. I was helping a customer mark his pants so we could hem his pants on a suit he just bought from us. Lance, a co worker, called over to me.

“Pat. You got a phone call.” I gestured to the client. “I got him. You take the call.”

I picked up the receiver and said hello.

“It’s Em.” She sounded stone cold. “My niece is in the ER. She’s going to be admitted into psych after they make sure your work on my niece is not infected. But I need you to come here to tell the police what happened.”

I left work and drove to the hospital. When I got there I asked if I could see Cassie. I was told no. I sat in a room with her aunt and two police officers and answered every question they asked. I asked several times if I could see her. They said no.

At one point through a window in the door I saw her strapped to a gurney as they wheeled her away. She looked at me and she looked scared. I ran for the door and one of the officers restrained me as I screamed her name. I saw her face break into tears.

A few days later I had received a letter delivered to me at work by a Sheriff’s police. The letter advised me that her aunt had taken custodial guardianship of Cassie and I was not to make contact. It had a letter head from a law firm on it.

For over a month I did as was asked. She never came back to the mall and no one was able to contact her. They said the number was disconnected. I had decided enough was enough. I drove to the townhouse. Her aunt’s car was not in the driveway, but neither was Cassie’s. I knocked on the door. Then I saw something through the window. The townhouse was empty.

I lost her. I needed god’s help to cope. I stood outside.

God, give me these moments back, give them back to me. He never did.

Epilogue

Decades later I found out she had been diagnosed as schizophrenic and put on meds that messed her up badly. Like Poly Styrene, it was a misdiagnosis. She was never the same.

Of all the women I wrote about and will write about, she was the strongest of them all and I still feel I should have done more. I also later found that letter was not binding. There was no judge’s order. It was a bluff on a law firm’s letterhead and it worked.

Cassie was not the conventional feminist. But she was strong and so much more than what others saw. Her parents let her down. Her grandparents and her uncle did as well. Her aunt likely did the best she could but her and the medical community did not understand cutting and back then misdiagnosis and bad drugs given to young women was common and it destroyed them.

I do not live in regrets, but if I am being honest, I would love to have had that weekend and the subsequent weeks back. I would have loved to have called her aunt’s bluff and shown her I was not the enemy. But in the real world, an 18 year old boy would not have been able to counter what the hospital did to her.

The real world needs to be gentler. This is why we need feminism and allies. Maybe less strong and amazing women would be lost.

If this is your first time. This article is part 3 of a trilogy.

Part 1 : Debbie Harry And The Value of Blondie’s Deal

Part 2: Poly Styrene & the X-Ray Spex That See Through Bondage

Dedicated to Erika

Every Feminist Friday is Dedicated to my friend Erika!

Erika died on Christmas leaving behind a family that has immediate needs.

Click here to read the story of how Erika saved my life when we were teenagers.

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