punk rock utopian fantasy
MRR #320 JANUARY 2010
Part of the reason I set up punk shows is that I somehow still feel compelled to work toward this vision I have of punk rock being this thing that attracts & benefits all kinds of people. It's like I have my own utopian fantasy of what I think punk rock should be and some small part of me feels like it's possible, so I can't let it go no matter how many times I get let down. Fantasies of utopia are what get you hooked on punk in the first place right? When you're a teenager, the unfairness of everyday life begins to feel unbearable, and then along comes punk rock, offering you a different way to relate--a different way to have community and live your every day life that feels more fair, honest and free. At moments, it really does feel perfect even though nothing ever really is. When I was around 19 and 20 years old, I believed whole-heartedly in the ability of the punk scene to actually be anti-sexist, anti-racist, anti-capitalist, feminist, anarchist--all of these things existing perfectly inside a bubble.
Numerous people by now have made the point that punk rock isn't as separate from the "regular world" as we'd like to think it is. Many people have also pointed out that no matter how punk we believe ourselves to be, there's still a little piece of The Man inside us all that recreates the injustice we wish didn't exist in the world. After a while, it's easy to feel disillusioned when you start to see all of the flaws in your community and in yourself. Maybe the feminist anti-rape collective you've been a part of tries to confront a known sexual assaulter, fails to make real justice happen, subsequently disintegrates and it leaves you feeling angry and lost. You're queer or a person of color and the isolation you're experiencing in your local super-white, super-straight punk scene is bringing you to the depths of despair. Your band breaks up, or you have a falling out with another punk you really loved. Oh, heartbreak.
I remember reading this Nomy Lamm article sometime before I moved to the Northwest. I think she was living in Olympia at the time. The piece was included in the anthology Listen Up: Voices from the Next Feminist Generation, and her words probably influenced my next major punk rock utopian fantasy the most. She wrote from the perspective of a fat, queer, Jewish, punk rock feminist with a peg leg. Obviously, her point of view is unique and quite bad ass. Her writing was politically fierce--a lot about self-acceptance, learning to love your body, rejecting the standards of normalcy that make you feel inferior--all of it made me feel like out there in The Great Northwest were a group of truly open-minded, punk rock, riot girl dykes who would readily accept me. Don't we all wish we could find a space where things like race & gender cease to matter (in a negative way)? I just wanted to feel free.
I needed to hear Nomy Lamm's words and to believe that their perfect manifestation existed somewhere in the world. It seems so naive now and kind of silly in a way, but at this point, I can see it both ways, I guess. Nomy was writing from her heart, from an internal universe that we create to exist inside of, to protect ourselves and heal ourselves. That place is real, and writing about it helps it come to exist in a material sense. When I was living in Portland, I met straight girls, queer girls, fat girls, trans girls, and even a couple brown girls who made zines, were in bands, and put on important events around town. There were queer punk basement shows and events like Fat Girl Speaks. It was a utopia of sorts, but then on the other hand, it was disappointing to see the queer punk scene sort of devolve into empty gay dance nights and cookie cutter fashion topped off with side swept bangs (this was around 2004). And besides, I hadn't dated anyone in years and I didn't have any other black friends. It felt like time to move on and so I did.
I think it's mostly because I'm black that I never thought of punk rock as forever home. When things start to go bad inside that world, my first impulse is to withdraw or try to leave it behind. At some point, every black punk kid I know has had to wonder, "Do all these white kids really have my back?" But then you draw yourself out of that cynical place and you realize that a select few of them do, and then you make more brown friends and finally things start to feel more balanced. Then after you complete that process, you can say, "Well I've created this dope community for myself, maybe I can do it for others." And that's where the fantasies come in. "Maybe the punk scene could be more like _____. Maybe young queer punk kids or young brown punk kids can have more support now." No matter if many of my utopian punk rock fantasies have been a let down, they still inspire me somehow. It's not so much about making the fantasy real, but using it as fuel to move forward, and being grown-up enough to look back and see all the good shit, not just the disasters.
No More Fiction DIY punk shows for ladies & queers in New Orleans
nomorefiction@gmail.com
Part of the reason I set up punk shows is that I somehow still feel compelled to work toward this vision I have of punk rock being this thing that attracts & benefits all kinds of people. It's like I have my own utopian fantasy of what I think punk rock should be and some small part of me feels like it's possible, so I can't let it go no matter how many times I get let down. Fantasies of utopia are what get you hooked on punk in the first place right? When you're a teenager, the unfairness of everyday life begins to feel unbearable, and then along comes punk rock, offering you a different way to relate--a different way to have community and live your every day life that feels more fair, honest and free. At moments, it really does feel perfect even though nothing ever really is. When I was around 19 and 20 years old, I believed whole-heartedly in the ability of the punk scene to actually be anti-sexist, anti-racist, anti-capitalist, feminist, anarchist--all of these things existing perfectly inside a bubble.
Numerous people by now have made the point that punk rock isn't as separate from the "regular world" as we'd like to think it is. Many people have also pointed out that no matter how punk we believe ourselves to be, there's still a little piece of The Man inside us all that recreates the injustice we wish didn't exist in the world. After a while, it's easy to feel disillusioned when you start to see all of the flaws in your community and in yourself. Maybe the feminist anti-rape collective you've been a part of tries to confront a known sexual assaulter, fails to make real justice happen, subsequently disintegrates and it leaves you feeling angry and lost. You're queer or a person of color and the isolation you're experiencing in your local super-white, super-straight punk scene is bringing you to the depths of despair. Your band breaks up, or you have a falling out with another punk you really loved. Oh, heartbreak.
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| Nomy Lamm |
I needed to hear Nomy Lamm's words and to believe that their perfect manifestation existed somewhere in the world. It seems so naive now and kind of silly in a way, but at this point, I can see it both ways, I guess. Nomy was writing from her heart, from an internal universe that we create to exist inside of, to protect ourselves and heal ourselves. That place is real, and writing about it helps it come to exist in a material sense. When I was living in Portland, I met straight girls, queer girls, fat girls, trans girls, and even a couple brown girls who made zines, were in bands, and put on important events around town. There were queer punk basement shows and events like Fat Girl Speaks. It was a utopia of sorts, but then on the other hand, it was disappointing to see the queer punk scene sort of devolve into empty gay dance nights and cookie cutter fashion topped off with side swept bangs (this was around 2004). And besides, I hadn't dated anyone in years and I didn't have any other black friends. It felt like time to move on and so I did.
I think it's mostly because I'm black that I never thought of punk rock as forever home. When things start to go bad inside that world, my first impulse is to withdraw or try to leave it behind. At some point, every black punk kid I know has had to wonder, "Do all these white kids really have my back?" But then you draw yourself out of that cynical place and you realize that a select few of them do, and then you make more brown friends and finally things start to feel more balanced. Then after you complete that process, you can say, "Well I've created this dope community for myself, maybe I can do it for others." And that's where the fantasies come in. "Maybe the punk scene could be more like _____. Maybe young queer punk kids or young brown punk kids can have more support now." No matter if many of my utopian punk rock fantasies have been a let down, they still inspire me somehow. It's not so much about making the fantasy real, but using it as fuel to move forward, and being grown-up enough to look back and see all the good shit, not just the disasters.
No More Fiction DIY punk shows for ladies & queers in New Orleans
nomorefiction@gmail.com
This is a lovely column! FYI, I (Mimi) have started to archive all my old punk rock writing on-line too. I'm starting with the Punk Planet columns and a few MRR pieces here: threadandcircuits.wordpress.com!
ReplyDeleteHi, I've just come to your blog, and would like to know what specific racism you are discussing? I'm black and a rock fan so this interests me. Where these punks straight up racists or did they just not want to put you in their social circle?
ReplyDelete