Oddly Specific Places to Cry in Boston

I watched crocodile tears roll down my cheeks and knew that it was the end of an era and the beginning of a legacy. I realized that day that it hurt more to smile than to cry. As I grew up, my crying got more professional and moved from a one woman show in my mirror, to a five star performance surrounded by my adoring fans (uncomfortable pedestrians.) To me, crying in public is one of the chicest things a person can do. It requires commitment, over active tear ducts, and a sort of magic melodrama that you have to be born with. If you think you have what it takes to master the art of water works, visit my top picks and report back to me. Better yet, tell me in person because you will 100 percent find me at any of these spots telling you to never change.

1. BPL Outside Staircase on a Wednesday in the Rain

These steps are sacred. As I think about that hallowed ground, I get flooded with my French actress complex and I can only see in Sepia. Crying outside in the rain is one of the most melodramatic breakdowns a person can have, and after seven hours of watching videos of aggressive performance artists instead of actually writing a paper about them, you will be ready for a release. One tip is to never let the rain one up you. It is complimentary and there to transform you into the silent film star you are. If people say anything to you respond with “Pas s’anglais” and your chic points will skyrocket.

2.  The Third Duck in the Public Garden  

The third duck stands for everything a public crier believes in. She is original, real, and clearly also crying. Unlike the rest of the poser ducks, she doesn’t give a shit about what people think of her. Her stunning back arch and mysterious downward glance makes her the perfect pedestal for your catharsis. Even though she is beautiful, she also has an ugly duckling facade. It is so relatable that no one will even think it’s weird that you are 20 and dry heaving on a duck. However, if little kids ask if you’re okay, say no and run away because the third duck lives for the shock value (her butt is up in the air after all.)

3. Bathrooms with Codes You Memorized

Not only am I brilliant and perfect, but I also have 17 different bathroom codes written down in my planner (obviously I don’t have a planner, they are in my iPhone notes). This is the place you go when the cry is no longer aesthetically pleasing. This is for the snot trains, the coughing fits, and the face-into-the-hand-dryer-confidence-boost. The coded bathroom is your sanctuary; it is your hiding place and your temple. Only you can unlock the chamber of privacy with the codes you worked so hard on typing and because of your dedication, take your sweet ass time. Ignore every knock, every “ma’am are you okay in there?’ and every impulse to leave. This is your house honey, don’t ever forget it.

4. An Uber Your One Night Stand Paid For

You lock eyes with your driver and, for a second, you feel like you’re floating. First of all, ignore this‒you are just coming down from the one night stand high. You aren’t in love, you’re just a little overwhelmed. By this point, we both know that weeping is the only way to sort through your ~feelings~. He was cute, not psycho, funny (good funny‒like Jim from The Office funny), and called you an Uber. Your heels don’t hurt anymore and your driver can tell. You are both happy. WARNING: this moment can be easily ruined if you realize it's 6 a.m., you’re still drunk, and have 39 missed calls from your boss. Good job, you little hopeless romantic.

5. Into your Omelet at Brunch after Your Card Gets Declined  

Goat cheese, spinach, egg whites: everything is perfect. Boozy brunch is usually cute and gossipy, but today, it is pathetic. Your mom told you she transferred 30 dollars into your account so you could buy food (alcohol) and you assumed the money went through. You’re on your third mimosa when the waitress comes back and says the most common phrase in the entire dictionary of college: “do you have another card? This one isn’t working.” Silence, death, tears. As someone who is in this position every Sunday, I have the best advice ever: DO NOT REMAIN CALM. Weep, sob, scream, or make up some bullshit story about being robbed. All you have to do here is perform and if you have ever cried in public, I’m sure you know exactly what I mean.

Text by Jenny Griffin

I Know A Place

Why are we dissatisfied? Everyone I know seems to feel cripplingly inadequate. We compare ourselves to each other, and to what we perceive as greatness.

Why am I not a published writer? Why don’t I work at a production company? Why don’t I have a robust online following of adoring teen fans? When will I get invited to Fashion Week?

I know I am not the only one with seemingly ridiculous dreams and aspirations, coupled with a serious tendency to disparage myself and my achievements.  

I cannot deny within myself a desire to change‒to be satisfied here. With all my heart, I wish that I could relish the present and take joy in working hard, right here where I am. It seems, at times, the scope of my dreams is crippling‒the fear of not achieving them, even more so.

Will I be able to make myself even a fraction of the person I want to be?

Great women are my biggest inspiration. Recently, I’ve been inspired by the girls in the up and coming pop band MUNA. They’re three confident, queer women whose lyrics offer raw honesty and empowerment.

While observing the success of young women, I often find myself caught between two opposing feelings. I compare myself to them, feeling jealous of their achievements that contrast with my mountains of confusion and perceived failure. At the same time, there is nothing more exciting to me than seeing women being empowered and celebrated for their abilities.

In MUNA’s song “I Know A Place,” the lead singer Katie sings, “I can tell / When you get nervous / You think being yourself / Means being unworthy / And it’s hard to love / With a heart that’s hurting / But if you want to go out dancing /  I know a place /  I know a place we can go / Where everyone gonna lay down their weapon.” I recently saw the band play at Brighton Music Hall and those simple lyrics struck me. Why do we constantly fall into a cycle of focusing on our own unworthiness‒whether it’s at work, at school, or in romantic relationships?

The band wrote the song for the post-Trump era to empower the LGBTQ community, as a source of liberation and celebration in the face of so much pain and even violence. In addition to physical weapons, the weapons of hate and political oppression have also been used against queer people for far too long, and the lack of relief is staggering. The lyrics speak to that as well as to broader issues of shame and self-loathing within and outside the community.

Greatness is not objective. There is no peak of achievement I need to reach in order to be happy. No accolades, fame, or financial success will make me love myself.

After seeing MUNA’s Lay Down Your Weapons tour, I feel the need to lay down the weapons I use against myself: comparison, discouragement, shame. I want to use my inexhaustible dreams, not to attack myself, but to motivate myself to work harder and create more. I’m tired of letting my hopes and dreams become a shadow hanging over my head. I want them to become goals I am motivated towards, rather than reasons to beat myself to a pulp whenever I think I fall short.

Text by Abigail Baldwin