Ah yes, that time of the year, when scorpio season ends and mercury gets the fuck out of regrtrograde, thinkfeeldoers moult from their inertia into a confettied celebration of DO THE THING DO ALL THE THINGS because the energy is explosive and contagious and I found myself rehearsing the intro to this blog post on the toilet the same way I rehearse how I’m going to begin a session with my therapist on the car ride there like “Yes! This sounds so good, let’s not forget it!” and I recite it over and over in my head until it’s reduced to phrases that make absolutely no sense but sounded poetic in my head. And then I plop it all somewhere or forget it with regretful intentional amnesia because would it have been authentic anyway? And I can’t shake Cameron’s most recent Sex Ed in Color podcast about how not being ready is a shitty, lazy, excuse and part of me immediately kneejerked into an anxiety maelstrom about ablism and feeling shamed, part of me was like, is this an unapologetic call to action to get out of my funk? and what the hell is the funk anyway? I’ve been writing papers nonstop HOORAY finals and midterms, working my ass off at HiTOPS and doing Masakhane stuff, spending the lull hours at PROUD researching articles about pleasure based LGBTQ inclusive sex ed policy, and experimenting with a batch of new toys I want to review but also don’t know where to begin. From bullets to buttplugs, a thrusting toy I hated but Mike graciously rehomed into his collection, an oak paddle that basically embodies my entire identity, a g-spot toy in transgender colors that actually feels good on my post-testosterone nethers…I don’t know. There’s just so much. I’ve neglected blogging, even within my identity, still habitually comparing myself to the dedicated action of fellow bloggers and grappling with the idea that I am not defined by what I create, and how capitalist white supremacy makes me feel obligated to curate content towards demand and appeal when really I just want to write. if it makes sense, wahtever, if there’s spelling errors, whatever. it’s a glorified livejournal with dildos and politics, which I think, if lj still existed, would have been what mine looked like anyway. what an evolution that would have been, from taking quizzes about WHICH L WORD CHARACTER ARE YOU to talking about the empowerment of identifying with toys. I have an entry I want to write about with regards to punk and ska, how adolescence in the late 90’s/early 2000’s taught me so much about finding community, actively putting your heart on your sleeve, using your body to exist weirdly in weird spaces, doing it yourself but knowing when, wehre, and how to ask for support. how a break from the pit sitting on dirty stairs and sharing a bottle of water with a total stranger could look like self-care. how screaming lyrics with a middle finger in the air in a sea of middle fingers, shouting about fuck the man, fuck authority, don’t judge us, don’t give up could look like activism. how finding bands on mp3.com but understanding the importance of buying the whole cd and hanging around merch booths could look like supporting local creators. how teaching someone that getting a leg up to crowdsurf to the front was an easy way to get out of the pit if they started feeling exhausted was a skillshare, and that tapping the people around you with the universal “up” gesture as they lowered their two hands for your foot could look like consent communication. how a circle pit of skanking kids organically choreographed so nobody accidentally swung into each other could look like a ritual dance. how pissing in the boys bathroom without a second glance could look like gender euphoria. it all makes so much sense now. I know my sexuality was always fucking weird, gender too. I knew I was just weird in general. but I wonder how much of me identified as punk before identifying as queer. or maybe, as language evolved, I was always those things and will always be. how there was so much power in this little jersey scene, and when I wear my battle vest, I am making a call for recognition but also alliance and reflection. I rarely tell people how I chose my affirming name back in 2008. there was a band in the scene, one I actually helped book at my local church, called avery. there were a few bands back in the local scene with girls, but avery stood out so much to me. I felt right at home with my brothers, but avery extended a new possiblity I had never considered outside of the riot grrl scene and a few female-fronted punk bands from the west coast. avery showed me what local diy looked lke from a girl’s perspective, and even though I never really identified, something inside of me resonated so strongly with the confidence to represent themselves, to own their shit and have fun on the ride. I reached out to nina saporta recently from avery after binging many, MANY episodes of mike doyle’s this was the scene podcast where steve from lwl was talking about his stint in avery and how he ended up naming his little girl after the band. it looked like this:
Subject: in a nostalgia hole, thanking you for it.
Message: So I don’t know how I hadn’t discovered This Was the Scene, but I’ve been binging episodes and just hit the one with Steve from LWL. He starts off talking about your band, his stint, how he named his daughter after it. My legal birth name is Amanda. I helped the boys from Something 2 Say/The Consequence organize that show with the Bank Robbers and Socratic at my old church in Roseland, Our Lady of the Blessed Sacrament. Also volunteered at EPOCH at the Madison YMCA when one of my co-volunteer babes first introduced me to your sound.
Growing up a little punk in the early 00’s scene, being perceived as a girl, queer girl, whatever, in a mess of dudes, it was so empowering to discover yr band. I saw you at Bloomfield Ave Cafe, a few other places… When I transitioned and came out as genderqueer in 2007, I chose Avery as my new name. Folx asked me why, and I always included you guys in the rationale. I’m just grateful, so fucking grateful to have had such a supportive environment as a teenager…I don’t think I would have ever held my identity so close if not for the NJ scene. Thank you for being a part of what makes me me.
And the response…
Re: Form Submission – Nina Saporta website contact form – in a nostalgia hole, thanking you for it.
Wow, this message really stopped me in my tracks. I’m so grateful that you took the time to share this incredible experience with me. The thought that we could have empowered you in any way is so moving. Janet and I had been going to shows for a while (ALL DUDE BANDS) and it didn’t even occur to us that we could have our own band until we saw a band called Pillow at the Summit Christ Church, who had a frontwoman. It blew our minds. We had to see it happen before we could have even imagined that we could do it. To hear that we then were able to empower someone else in that sort of way is pretty amazing. And I’m going to guess that you have empowered someone else along your journey as well.
I really get your appreciation of our scene- it was so utterly transformative to have a purpose and space outside of school to come into our own. I’m so happy to hear that you felt supported during that time, and hopefully as you transitioned. I love that you chose Avery as your name!!! If we play another reunion show (we did 2 this summer!) please come!! I’d love to give you a shirt and some stickers with your name on it, and get to give you a hug.
Again, thank you so much for articulating and sharing all of this with me. We often tend to keep these experiences to ourselves, and miss out on the chance to connect in these really deep, meaningful ways. I appreciate your vulnerability and am so happy to know you!
Have a wonderful day AVERY!!
Love,
Nina
It just sealed it for me, sent it straight home into the feel center of my heart. The ethics of the punk scene in NJ were always so damn accessible. You could walk up to any band, any person at a show and just get into these amazing conversations about literally fucking anything. It didn’t have to be music, or punk, it could be about wombats, or cutty sark, or what fucking ever and it was still valid and usable. it taught us as kids the merit of interaction, of taking that risk of saying hi, grabbing a free sticker, offering a handshake or a “great set dude” and the reward of feeling seen, appreciated. it was all reciprocal, full of fucking gratitude and passion, and it’s something that imprints on us forever. it’s a payphone-using, wayne firehouse loitering, having 5 extra bucks for disco fries at peterpank diner after the show once youve found your missing shoe, stub-collecting tribe of fucking weirdos and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Well shit. I guess I just wrote the blog post anwyay. unedited. spelling mistakes and all. because fuck it. thanks cameron. needed that fire under my ass. <3