In a world of carefully curated social media aesthetics and overly polished streaming singles, Sarah Herrera is a rare kind of artist—one who tells the truth, no matter how messy, how vulgar, or how uncomfortable. Her latest album, I Give To The Poor So I Can Have Something To Steal, is exactly what it sounds like: a raw, chaotic, brutally honest ride through her thoughts, trauma, humor, and inner world. But beneath the layers of profanity and punk absurdity lies something more personal and important—an act of quiet support for a community under fire.

A Song Wrapped in Profanity, Rooted in Love

“Song For My Niece,” the track that’s grabbing the most attention from the album, might on the surface sound like the most outrageous thing ever recorded—and it kind of is. Composed from days of drunken ranting and spliced into a barrage of surreal, unfiltered insults, it’s being called by some insiders the most profane song ever released on Spotify. But despite the chaos of words like cockgobbler and fucktornado, there’s a strange tenderness in its origin. It was made for someone Sarah loves.

Like much of her music, it’s satire, it’s expression, and it’s the complicated way she processes life. And even when she’s spewing insults or raging through a track, there’s intention behind every line.

A Quiet Line That Speaks Volumes

In the middle of the album rollout, Sarah reached out with a simple request. A close friend had just come out as transgender, and while she didn’t want to expose or endanger anyone—especially given the dangers many trans people face around the world—she wanted to make one thing clear:

“I support trans rights because I’m not an idiot.”

It wasn’t a press quote or a brand partnership. No rainbow banner or hashtag. Just a private statement of support, now shared publicly as a subtle but powerful part of her latest project. In a time where trans rights are being rolled back in many countries and hateful rhetoric is rising online, even a sentence like this becomes an act of resistance.

And it’s not performative. It’s real. In a world that often demands LGBTQ+ people and their allies perform pain to be believed, Sarah doesn’t ask for attention. She just makes space.

Beyond the Chaos: A Voice That Makes Space for Outsiders

Sarah herself has never fit the mold. Growing up as an outcast in the Bronx, showing up to high school in beer-stained shirts and no shoes, and passing out drunk during her SATs, she’s long existed outside the lines of what’s considered “acceptable.” But that outsider perspective has become her superpower—and her empathy.

Whether she’s talking about mental health, being neurodivergent, or simply refusing to participate in systems she doesn’t believe in, Sarah continues to be fiercely herself. And that same mindset is what fuels her compassion for others who are also trying to find a place in a world that often pushes them out.

She doesn’t vote anymore, doesn’t believe in corporate systems, doesn’t glamorize fame. But she does believe in protecting people. Especially the ones whose existence is politicized just for being who they are.

Unfiltered Doesn’t Mean Uncaring

Her album is still packed with wild, offensive, unapologetically out-there material. Tracks like “We Sucked A Lot of Cock To Get Where We Are Today” and “Official Fentanyl Testers” pull no punches. But even the most ridiculous songs are rooted in lived experience and deep pain. Addiction. Mental illness. Violence. Identity. Loss. They all surface in their own strange, chaotic ways.

And while she might be laughing—or screaming—through it all, she’s never laughing at the people who are already struggling. In fact, she’s holding space for them in her own messy, broken, fiercely loyal way.

An Album That’s a Safehouse in Disguise

To most, I Give To The Poor So I Can Have Something To Steal might seem like an album that doesn’t care. But look closer, and you’ll see it’s the opposite. It’s an album that cares so much, it can’t help but scream.

Underneath the mayhem, there’s love. There’s empathy. There’s support for trans rights. There’s grief for a world that feels like it’s falling apart. There’s frustration with capitalism. And there’s an open door for anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong.

It’s not neat. It’s not family-friendly. But it’s honest. And sometimes, that’s the most powerful thing a record can be.

Stream the album wherever you’re brave enough to hit play.
And if you’re trans, queer, or just different—Sarah Herrera’s got your back.