Blaming The Body

Giulia Becker made a song called Verdammte Scheiße where she traces everything wrong in her life back to her vagina. School, work, being taken seriously—all of it follows from the same source. The song is entirely serious about this. She sings I have a vagina like it’s finally the answer to something, repeating It’s my vagina’s fault like she’s cracked a code.

Acknowledging that being female makes things harder is one thing. Deciding that your body is responsible for all your failures is another. The song confuses the two and somehow convinces itself that’s honesty. It’s not. It’s surrender that’s learned to sound like self-awareness.

I grew up hearing something different. Not your body decided everything, but the world is unfair—that’s your problem to solve. It was demanding, not kind. But it left room for actually winning. The song doesn’t. It just hands you permission to stop trying and calls it truth.

Maybe that’s the real thing about it—not the crudeness or the tangled feminism, but that it’s handing people an excuse. And dressing it up as bravery, as honesty, when it’s the opposite. Surrender dressed as self-knowledge.