Imagine me, in business casual (barely), sitting in a dirty Brooklyn dive bar to see one of the DIY punk bands I’ve been following for all of three months. I can barely stay still from the excitement. Yet, I notice, like I always have, that I stick out like a sore thumb. I’m not referring to the business casual attire; we all do what we can to survive in the city.
Regardless, I’ve started to challenge myself and ask, “Do I really stick out at these shows?” Partly because I always end up leaving with a new friend when I attend a show alone.
And mostly because whenever I go to a show, the band’s lead singer stops their set to discuss a political issue that belongs to the ideologies of the left. As a black woman, this makes me feel safe. As an avid music fan and someone who is hyper-fixated on the history of anything and everything, I’m intrigued.
Uncovering Punk’s Anti-Establishment Roots
For the next few days after the concert, I did a deep dive into punk music and its anti-establishment roots. In the mid-70s, the punk subculture emerged in the United Kingdom and New York.
The punk movement began among teens and young adults looking for a more combative approach to rebelling against societal norms compared to the tamer peace and love movements of the 60s and early 70s. Punk music is and has always been grounded in counterculture — from fighting for working-class inequality to fashion to non-conformity in the realm of self-expression.
I discovered that you can’t separate punk music from politics, even in the slightest.
@mycelium_queen Replying to @mycelium_queen ♬ original sound - Mycelium Queen 🦋
Death Versus Bad Brain
As soon as I was old enough to go to shows alone, I submerged myself in the DIY scene. I had no idea what I was doing, I scoured the internet to find “small concerts,” as I called them, in Boston, where I went to high school.
I identified with punk for myself. But when I made the connection between punk and politics, I opened myself up to a whole new world of music.
Lyrics like: “Politicians in my eyes / They could care less about you / they could care less about me as long as they are to end the place they want to be,” from the band Death — considered to be the pioneers of punk music as a genre — spoke to me.
I was even more pleased that the actual founders of the genre — originally a jazz fusion turned hardcore punk band called Bad Brain — were Black Musicians.
I once declared that I’m only an amalgamation of those who came before me, so hearing this quite literally brought tears to my eyes (I’m so far from joking, it’s almost funny again). At my favorite DIY punk, emo, and rock concerts I belong just as much as anyone else.
I’ve always loved that punk music and its subculture take a stand for its listeners.
Feminist Punk: The Riot Grrrl Movement
Shortly after fully immersing myself in the scene, I was introduced to Bikini Kill and the Riot Grrrl movement. Emerging in the early 90’s, the Riot Grrl movement came about out of necessity for a space for women in the punk scene. Riot Grrrl directly combats sexism and works to normalize female anger and sexuality.
In 2023, I began filming a documentary about Boone, North Carolina — a small town rich in music, culture, and activism, especially for the LGBTQ+ community. My production team and I soon noticed that the conversations solely about the music scene quickly became political, especially for Babe Haven, a Riot Grrrl band hailing from Boone.
I now have the pleasure of calling the band members my friends. They’re an integral part of the history of punk and the Riot Grrrl movement, from their songs about objectification of women, like “Uppercut” and “Daddy’s Little Girl” to firsthand accounts of the band from those who believe that punk music has always been all about men — particularly white men.
“Riot grrrl is the way we dress, the way we talk, and the way we stand up for ourselves and other feminine folk. It’s aggressively inclusive, and that’s why we’re so drawn to it. We have on one hand, this outlet for our collective anger and grief, and on the other, we have this platform for queer and feminine celebration.” – Babe Haven
Jonathan Courchesne
Through the Looking Glass
Now, my eyes are peeled for signs and signals of the punk scene and its connection to politics. From the moment of silence for Gaza at a November concert to the New Jersey-based punk band Funeral Doors’ moment of silence for Gaza, and Brooklyn-based band Talon in February.
I remember standing in the crowds at that concert in February as the business casual people entered the bar, expecting a relaxing after-work drink with some light chatter in the background. I watched their faces as they slowly backed out of the door. While they heard howling, the fans listented to Juni, the lead singer of Funeral Doors, screaming, “F*ck trans genocide!”
Everyone was immersed in the safe space the band had provided us. Somewhere in the crowd, there was someone — or 3 or 4 individuals — struggling to truly be who they are. And — if only for a brief moment — they felt like they belonged.
Lead singer of Funeral DoorsERYNN WAKEFIELD
Inevitable Misunderstanding
Although there are essential conversations happening within the punk and DIY communities about what it means to be a part of the subculture, we still have work to do. Recently, I had an extremely jarring experience as I was peacefully scrolling through TikTok.
I came across a string of videos about right-wing punks trying to claim the subculture for themselves. Soon after my feed was flooded with stitches and clapbacks from left-wing people explaining the subculture of punk music and the inability to remove it from left-leaning political discourse.
@c4b1n_1n_th3_wxxds_ Sorry i look kinda bad 💀 ive bad a rough few weeks . . . . . . #punk #punkstyle #punkclothing #punkrock #punkfashion #crustpunk #folkpunk #queer #gay #lgbtq #pride #leftist #leftistpolitics #anarchism #Anarchy #Socialism #anarchocommunism ♬ original sound - C4b1n 🔻
Punk's Proclamation: A Movement Rooted in People’s Power
I’ve said it time and time again: artists must reflect the times. It’s both comforting and empowering that this genre I love so much does not deny me. And it wouldn’t be what it is without me. As silly as it sounds, I often return to a meme, one that declares that people — if they choose to create — need to carry the burden of the world they’re living in. This has only proven to be true.
Punk music and the subculture behind it aren’t merely screaming and studded belts from your local Hot Topic (if they’re a thing anymore). The punk scene highlights the struggles of the working class, sheds light on political issues relating to marginalized groups, fosters community, and fights for what’s right.
Punk music has always held a space for me; all I had to do was claim it.
@wormtriip via Instagram
Why I’m Becoming a Catholic in 2019
I have come to believe that atheism is a kind of cultural cancer, a nihilism: in essence, a cultural depression.
"Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit sniffing glue." - Air Traffic Controller Steve McCroskey (Lloyd Bridges) in Airplane
Why would anyone become a Roman Catholic at a time like this? Fresh new reports of victimization (nearly all of it preceding 2002, for those who care about such details) are still in the headlines and many more embarrassing news stories are on their way. Church leaders are openly quarreling over the cause of the recent abuse crisis and even the future of the Catholic Church. There are even rumors of a schism by the American Catholic Church. Joining this group would be like being adopted into a family going through a custody battle. Why would anyone do that?
Well, look around. We increasingly live in a world where up is down, right is wrong, compassion is ridiculed, and forgiveness is nonexistent. "Truth" is defined by the websites you repeatedly check and the Twitter personalities you follow. On the right, you are regularly admired for how much you can humiliate the other side. On the left, you are admired for your status as a victim or your level of self-condemning "wokeness."
Social and cultural norms are collapsing all around us. What it means to be a good person is being warped by navel-gazing notions of "social justice" or "happiness"—two seemingly zero-sum endeavors for folks on the left. It is now worse to utter an offensive thought than to get someone fired from his job for uttering or, more likely, tweeting an offensive thought. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.'s dream of a colorblind society is a laughably quaint notion in a culture that created and eagerly wants to believe Jussie Smollett.
What does all this have to do with Catholicism? It is what happens when a society once rooted in Christian values loses its way. As America has increasingly eradicated Christian references from the public sphere and as folks on the left openly ridicule Christianity, our culture and national identity have given way to the anodyne multiculturalism (Easter egg hunts are now "spring egg hunts" at my local library) and moral relativism that defines modern life.
But in my own experience, I found an even darker side of atheism. At times, my atheism led me to believe that life was pointless, that it would be a terrible thing to bring kids into this cruel world. My son reminds me continually how foolish that kind of thinking was. It is through that experience that I have come to believe that atheism is a kind of cultural cancer, a nihilism: in essence, a cultural depression. It is choosing to be an orphan in a cruel world. It was out of this realization that I found myself looking for answers in the Catholicism of my grandparents.
I wasn't merely rejecting the incoherence and short-sightedness of the secular world, though. I've always been drawn to the many beautiful aspects of Catholicism. For one, it's a better way to look at the world and has an answer to every difficult question. Viewing all those around you as God's children is a great remedy for racism, sexism, and many of the other "-isms" and "phobias" that the left obsesses over. Loving your neighbors and enemies makes the many rude motorists out there somewhat easier to tolerate.
The Catholic Church, more than any other institution, upholds the centrality of family in a culture determined to chop it up and redefine it. Indeed, the reason the Church struggles so mightily with how to handle the issue of homosexuality is a testament to this. The Church does not want to do anything to undermine the traditional nuclear family while loving everyone. It's complicated.
I'm also drawn by the discipline of daily practice and Catholicism's many beautiful traditions. Daily prayer, daily expressions of gratitude, weekly mass, seasonal spiritual renewal: These are the keys to a life in which you have your priorities straight. And in this time of spectacularly high rates of loneliness, when so many of us live across the country from our families, it offers connection to others. This cannot be understated as a social problem. The growing disconnection from family and community that modern humans experience is a cultural catastrophe. If we allow it to continue, rates of suicide, addiction, and other measures of cultural despair will only grow.
Finally, there is the notion of God. Like many, I struggle with this one somewhat. But for the first time in my life I've opened my heart and mind to a higher power. As I read the gospels and study the words of Jesus, I am at times blown away by the moral perfection of His statements. Maybe this is wishful thinking or maybe my heart is changing the way God wants it to. Either way, it is clear to me that Christians are not the "crazy" people in our society; rather, it's the people who think they know enough to navigate the world alone who are lost.
@dogma_vat is an editor and writer based in Washington, DC.