Punk Rock 101: Dressing "punk" verses being Punk
There are lots of people out there who dress “punk” but very few punks. If all the kids who talked the talked, walked the walked, the world would be amazing. But this is not the case. Most of the time these punks are little more than frat boys in leather jackets. My friend Alex suggested that I write about the difference.
First off, anyone who claims to be a “real” punk is a poseur. It is impossible to be a real punk in capitalistic America. From the clothes you wear to the food you buy to the gas that gets you around – someone is being exploited. No one’s hands are clean. We are all guilty by association or are we the mere victim of society? Anyways, the crust punks you see begging for change for money to do drugs: not punk. They are still living off the system by being leeches. They still depend on money and the system. Plus, they smell bad and are annoying. Most of the time, when they are done playing street rat, they have a trust fund waiting at home.
Drinking, doing drugs, and smoking: Not punk rock. The beer you drink is made by some corporation that is doing evil things to the world. The drugs you buy are transported and damage lives. The cigarette companies are terrible plus harmful to the environment and yourself. Putting chemicals in your body is self-destructive and irresponsible. Imagine if people stopped smoking, doing drugs, and drinking and put that money and time to changing the world: that’s punk rock.
Being punk is all about a mindset. It’s about thinking for yourself, being independent, and not a sheep. Most people who dress punk are assholes and violent – thanks to the media representation of punk rock to give punk rockers a bad name. A real punk is probably one of the nicest people you will ever meet because they know the world is a cesspool and the only way things are going to change is if the people change. Be that change.
People who are activists are punk rock. People trying to make the world loving, tolerant, equal, and free from oppressions are punk rock. People wearing a punk uniform and doing what they think they should do rather than what they know they should do: not punk rock. People getting an education to change the system from within: punk rock. Someone dressing punk who listens to punk music but remains ignorant: not punk rock.
Listening to punk music doesn’t make you punk rock. Dressing in punk clothes doesn’t make you punk rock. Being DIY (do it yourself), learning, growing, and sharing are all punk rock. Just being a good human being is punk rock.
Essay: Genderqueer
Are you a boy or a girl?†A perplexed waitress at a Dunkin’ Donut in the heart of New York City asked of me when I entered the shop. “I just wanted a muffin; I don’t think my gender matters.â€Â I said but she didn’t seem to understand, she was rather too interested on what was in my pants. “Are you a boy or a girl?â€Â I sighed. I don’t identify as either being genderqueer but I don’t like having to explain myself all the time to everyone. Mostly because people can only wrap their head around the gender binary and not think outside the box. It got me thinking though, why do perfect strangers care too much about what’s in my pants? It doesn’t matter to anyone unless they wanted to sleep with me. But, for some reasons, this lady’s whole identity was formed around a world of boys and girls. I bite the bullet since I really wanted my muffin, “I’m a girl.â€Â She let out a relieved sigh and then got my muffin. Again, I was forced into the oppressive gender binary to comply with the needs of an oppressive society. It isn’t just the males that oppress; it is also other women who’ve been conditioned to think as such.
In an ideal society, I would have been able to get my muffin without being hassled about what’s in my pants. However, this is America – home of the free if you are rich and fix into neat boxes. Most people can’t wrap their head around genderqueer – which is outside of the gender binary. I am something else – not just another gender but I am beyond gender. People can at least understand transsexual, but when it comes to genderqueer, people just don’t get it. They want to box you in. I am sometimes envious of my transsexual allies because they have a gender identity to claim – even if they are handicapped by being born into the wrong body. I, however, have no place to go. No identity. I suck it up and usually go with lesbian because I am female bodied and like women but that doesn’t describe me. I’m queer but queer is considered to be such a dirty word by polite society.
The LGlittleBinvisibleT community has no love for anyone who’s not a Stepford Gay. If you don’t fit the mold of what a “safe†gay is – being gay but assimilating, the community turns their back on you. It is a threat to society, the mainstream, the social constructed order, to be an individual and think for yourself. We live in a society based on group think with team sports, entertainment and job rhetoric paving the way for the classless individual who functions as a cog in the well oiled machine of greed and anonymity. I – for one, am not going to be part of any machine. I’m not going to wear the clothes they tell me to wear, I’m not going to watch their programming (it’s called programming for a reason), and not going to take part in their world of a giant rat race.
I am going to fight the system with knowledge and education, compassion and understanding.  As Crass said, “You can’t change the system by bombing number ten, the people will go into hiding but they’ll be back again.â€Â The only way to change the system is to change the people. The only way to change the people is with education.
Sometimes, it’s really hard, trying to change things. I struggle with trying to get people to understand what “genderqueer†means. Sometimes, it’s dangerous just being who you are. Every third day, a transperson is murdered. I’ve been assaulted before at a punk show which was supposed to be about peace and equality for being a “homosexual. “ I just want a world where I can go to punk shows without getting punched and get a muffin without being hassled about what’s in my pants. I can’t do it alone. Will you help me?