Let’s talk about Justin Bieber for a second. Before you stop reading, I promise to make this worth your while.
I was a huge fan of JBiebs a couple of years ago when the fresh-faced Canadian lover boy hit the music scene at the ripe and tender age of 13. My friends instantly diagnosed me with a case of Bieber Fever. It wasn’t just his first hit single “Baby” that had me obsessed; it was every song. It was “One Time,” “One Less Lonely Girl,” “Love Me…” The list seriously goes on, I’m not kidding.
For Christmas of 2011, my younger brother (aged seven at the time) gave me a Justin Bieber book put together by who I could only imagine to be a spoiled/Bieber-obsessed British tween with way too much free time. The book contained photographs, fun anecdotes, and must-know facts of the teen superstar. It also contained loads of stickers. I still have one that says “Bieber Fever” in pink graffiti letters on the back of my laptop.
My love for Biebs was so big that I even bought his Christmas album! No, I didn’t. My boyfriend gave it to me after sourly receiving it as part of a gift (along with a bottle of Skinny Girl wine) in a family yankee swap. But let me tell you, Biebs’s version of “Little Drummer Boy” featuring the one and only Busta Rhymes is to die for.
So after all my undying love and devotion as Bieber’s 3,229,509,293 fan, what has he done for me? He’s become a douchebag, Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I SAID IT. Bieber is a douchebag. And though I supported him through what I hoped was a stupid teenage phase of baseball caps sitting lightly atop his head (douchebag move), his attempts to rap and befriend Sean Kingston (douchebag move), and his very public and pretty gross/pre-pubescent/on-again/off-again relationship with Selena Gomez (just a couple of douchebags in love), I realized that I had to give up and just call it like it is: Justin Bieber is a douchey douchebag and a wannabe.
You need look no further than his jeans to know he’s a douche. You don’t even need to look at his Instagram selfies or paparazzi photos of him in leather pants. (Oh and wtf are these?) You don’t need to know that Justin somehow got ahold of an adorable capuchin monkey, (which was later confiscated in Germany) and named it Mally. SRSLY, BIEBER?
I’d like to take this conversation back to the 90s and ask the age-old question: what’s the point of wearing pants if they don’t even cover your ass? I get it, baggy pants are in and whatever (no, they’re not, boys are just stupid) but I don’t buy any of this gangster business.
JB grew up in beautiful Stratford, ON, known throughout Canada for its theater festival, which happens each fall and showcases several Shakespeare plays as well as “other great writers,” according to the festival’s website. 2011’s census revealed that about 95% of Stratford’s population is white and the city is mostly suburban. Both of these facts lead me to believe that there is, in fact, no “ghetto” or gangs in Stratford and there are certainly no traces of any organized crime otherwise.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but JBiebs is just like any other white kid in middle America. And before you label me as an ignorant, stereotyping, good-for-nothing bitch, let me pause here and clarify something: I’m not saying that just because he’s white he can’t be “gangster” or have been raised in the ghetto. I’m just saying that given the circumstances of his upbringing, I’m lead to believe that his lifestyle growing up wouldn’t make him suddenly think he’s a badass motherfucker or anything like that. Just because L.A. Reid and Usher sign you doesn’t mean you have to act like Lil’ Wayne and 50 Cent. Fine, you can be whoever you want to be and act however you damn well please; but given Bieber’s background and the kind of music he makes (and given how those two usually correlate in the music industry), the way he dresses makes no sense.
I didn’t mean for this to become all serious but I’m trying to explain why my love for Justin quickly turned sour and why I think he’s a douchebag. If he’s being forced to look like one, he’s gotta get new management. But since Bieber seems to do whatever the hell he wants (including telling British paparazzi that he will fuck them up), I seriously doubt someone picks out his clothes for him every day or for that matter, tells him what to say.
So why you gotta do me like that, Biebs? Why the big gold chains and those dumbass diamond earrings? Why the moronic tattoos and the baggy pants? And why were you walking around London shirtless and seen wearing an oxygen mask in the same week? (That was a weird month for you.) It doesn’t fit your image. Don’t you want to be a role model? Whatever, I was at a loss when I saw you wearing a leather shirt.