Equity vs. reality.

Night of Joy at Mass Art in Boston. (Photo courtesy of Ryan McRyhew)


We—Night of Joy + Hideous Men— returned from a 15-day day tour of the East (Coast, mostly) Sunday night. It was life-changing. It was eye-opening. It was something I want to do a million times over. The experience of playing shows almost every night in new places to new people was thrilling and something I still can't wrap my head around. Traveling and playing music forever changed my perspective on the art/industry I have been obsessed with since I can remember. It made me question why I make music, why I write about music, and why I love music so much. When an experience like touring can make you examine the things you have blindly and unconditionally loved so much for three decades of your little life, it truly is mind-blowing. I have come away from these two weeks a different person, charged up and desiring more out of myself, questioning whether or not I want to be a music journalist anymore, and ready to support my community more than I ever have before.

In all of the greatness and love and senses of community I came away with in every city we played, I can't help but wonder: Where were the women? While we played with some powerful bands that contained both genders (Girlfriends and Geffika, and Kid Romance—one fucking radical band that blurred the lines of sexuality/orientation into oblivion) the state of equity on a DIY level in this country felt dry. It felt dead, not there.To be fair, the women who did come to the shows were awesome and assertive, and almost all of them wanted to talk to us about making music and art, which fucking ruled. (And if we connected with one person in each city, our purpose was served, and that definitely happened.) I know I had some pretty far out notions of touring in 2010, but I didn't think there might be a lack of women playing/participating. Sure, we were virtually unknown bands playing in cities who rightfully had no clue who we were or that we were playing, but shows still felt overwhelmingly void of both sexes, and the vibe was sometimes hostile towards us as musicians.


Night of Joy at the New Haven Bike Collective in Connecticut. (Photo courtesy of Ryan McRyhew)

The people we connected with, the friends we made, and the safe space we were given to stay and play (most of the time) was incredible, but I can't downplay the oppressive vibes that came through at some shows. Most shows felt great and went well, but there were a handful that felt downright uneasy. At one show in particular, the man who designated himself to the role of "soundman" repeatedly ignored our requests for adjustment to the monitor and PA levels. Beyond ignoring us altogether, he addressed us as "hun" over and over and over again, and felt the need to embrace me when I was just trying to get the agreed-upon money so we could get the fuck out of there. At this same show, three men barricaded the stage, backs toward us, mid-set. I don't know if this was a show of defiance, drunken, juvenile stupidity, or a combination of many things, but it felt squeamishly oppressive.

I know that looking at where you come from as a reference can often be a biased view, but in Denver, gender seems to be more of a non-issue. Maybe its that we've created a community of our own where both sexes and all orientations feel comfortable and welcome (most of the time) to play music and explore art on various forms. I can't speak for anyone but myself, but my own involvement in the formation of Titwrench has lent a hand to me feeling radically supported by other musicians. But even outside of the Titwrench warmth, there are bands/dudes who have always been not only supportive, but have never treated me any differently as a musician just because of my gender.

If anything, I came away from the few sexist experiences with a desire. A desire to foster and participate in a community that can/will/does produce phenomenal music and art in a safe, comfortable space, free of bullshit and smelly old rock n' roll norms. I'm not proclaiming to be anyone special or powerful. I am just putting a foot forward in the direction of equity, after my experience walking through some pretty senseless shit. The equal and equitable DIY presence is alive and well in people who believe in it. But its important to let those who don't know in on a little secret: It doesn't take much to build something awesome. Positive energy is a fucking powerful thing, so stop calling us "hun." It makes you irrelevant.