DESSA: Can We Choose to Fall Out of Love? (Transcript)

DESSA at TEDxWanChai


Hello, my name is Dessa, and I’m a member of a hip-hop collective called Doomtree. I’m the one in the tank top. And I make my living as a performing and touring rapper and singer.

When we perform as a collective, this is what our shows look like. I’m the one in the boots. There’s a lot of jumping; there’s a lot of sweating. It’s loud; it’s very high-energy.

Sometimes there are unintentional body checks on stage. Sometimes there are completely intentional body checks on stage. It’s kind of a hybrid between an intramural hockey game and a concert.

However, when I perform my own music as a solo artist, I tend to gravitate towards more melancholy sounds.

A few years ago, I gave my mom the rough mixes of a new album, and she said, “Baby, it’s beautiful, but why is it always so sad? You always make music to bleed out to.”

And I thought, who are you hanging out with that? You know that phrase?

But over the course of my career, I’d written so many sad love songs that I got messages like this from fans: “Release new music or a book; I need help with my break-up.”

And after performing and recording and touring those songs for a long time, I found myself in a position in which my professional niche was essentially romantic devastation.

What I hadn’t been public about, however, was the fact that most of these songs had been written about the same guy. And for two years we tried to sort ourselves out. And then for five, and on and off for ten.

And I was not only heartbroken, but I was kind of embarrassed that I couldn’t rebound from what other people seemed to recover from so regularly. And even though I knew it wasn’t doing either of us any good, I just couldn’t figure out how to put the love down.

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Then, drinking white wine one night, I saw a TED Talk by a woman named Dr. Helen Fisher. And she said that in her work, she’d been able to map the coordinates of love in the human brain.

And I thought, well, if I could find my love in my brain, maybe I could get it out.

So I went to Twitter. “Anybody got access to an fMRI lab, like at midnight or something? I’ll trade for backstage passes and whiskey.”

And that’s Dr. Cheryl Olman, who works at the University of Minnesota’s Center for Magnetic Resonance Research. She took me up on it. I explained Dr. Fisher’s protocol. And we decided to recreate it with a sample size of one — me.

So I got decked out in a pair of forest-green scrubs, and I was laid on a gurney and wheeled into an fMRI machine. If you’re unfamiliar with that technology, essentially, an fMRI machine is a big tubular magnet that tracks the progress of deoxygenated iron in your blood.

So it’s essentially figuring out what parts of your brain are making the biggest metabolic demand at any given moment. And in that way, it can figure out which structures are associated with a task. Like tapping your finger, for example, always lights up the same region.

Or in my case, looking at pictures of your ex-boyfriend, and then looking at pictures of a dude who just sort of resembled my ex-boyfriend, but for whom I had no strong feelings. He was the control.

And when I left the machine, we had these really high-resolution images of my brain. We could cleave the two halves apart. We could inflate the cortex to see inside all of the wrinkles, essentially, in a view that Dr. Cheryl Olman called “the brain skin rug.”

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