I live sweat...

“The things that separate us are constructed, they are learned, taught, and most importantly they are challengeable.” - Ces Pearson on the improvements she’s seen in UK punk, and how there’s more to be done.

Over the years, I think that overt sexism within the punk scene in the UK has undoubtedly lessened. Perhaps I’m comparing punk rock shows to hardcore shows, and letting them off lightly, in terms of violent macho bullshit undermining any audible messages of solidarity and inclusion; but so many punk bands are singing positively and about things that matter, and this feeds into the audience, without all the aggression seen and felt in the context of hardcore. The frame of reference is shifting slightly; overt sexism and immature gender stereotyping are not cool, and not acceptable. Bands that include women, or that sing about women’s issues, are currently both visible, and inspiring, in the UK. Seeing artists like ONSIND, Caves, Ducking Punches, Porches, Pudge, Helen Chambers, and now Great Cynics, is a breath of fresh air. Alongside recognition of issues regarding women specifically and their participation, is the growth in what appears to be a more inclusive and less macho male environment.

It’s hard to go to a show after having been doing the same thing for 8 years, and see it as anything other than a regular puck rock gig. After so long it just doesn’t register how uneven the gender make up is at shows, and in bands. It’s just how it is, and how it’s always been. A woman in a band is an inspiration, someone to get confused about, am I in love or do I just wanna be them so badly? Do guys feel that way when they see a band play? My guess is not nearly as much, because it’s not an inspirational break from tradition to see a guy play a show. It’s positive and empowering to see a woman on stage, but given that we’ve been present within this subculture, and made vital contributions to it throughout its inception and development, should it be such a special occasion? It should be the norm.

As soon as a woman steps onto the stage, and picks up her guitar, bass, or mic, or sits down behind the drum kit, there is so often a palpable sense of expectation in the room. A woman in a band has reached arguably the most highly respected platform of participation in the scene, she’s no different from the males that surround her, and yet she’s still got to work twice as hard to be accepted in this role. When a guy sucks in a band, he just sucks. If a woman plays badly, it’s because she’s a woman. Immediate objectification takes place – if she looks like a Front model, she’s just there to look at, and if she doesn’t she mustn’t be heterosexual and therefore worthy of your attention, because obviously if she was she’d have made more of an effort for you guys right? And if a woman can’t be tamed by your sexual prowess then what is the point in acknowledging her? This is of course a generalisation, one based upon negative aspects of behaviour at shows, but nevertheless, it is one which needs to be highlighted and challenged.

Punk is a space in which we can liberate ourselves and challenge what we have shoved down our throats day in day out. We can challenge capitalism, we can challenge far right politics, we can challenge signs saying ‘no skateboarding’, and bylaws against drinking cider in the street, but we can’t seem to shake off those influences we find in nearly every aspect of modern life, which depict women as sexual and domestic beings, and men as the boss, both defined by their overt heterosexuality. Our subculture has been infiltrated by these gender assumptions; you can see it in the presence of a Front magazine stage at Hevy Fest, in the complete re-write of women out of the history of punk music and subculture, and most evidently, in the gender make up at shows and in bands.

As men and women, we’re sold different lives from the very beginning and we need to challenge this, not drag it along with us into something as liberating and exciting as punk. The things that separate us are constructed, they are learned, taught, and most importantly they are challengeable. We’ve learned to objectify and to sexualise one another, and we can just as easily forget that shit, and gain so much more from each other, if we let ourselves.

Ces Peason is a postgraduate student currently finishing an MA in Social Policy. The UK punk scene has been a huge part of her life for the past 8 years or so and she has written extensively, during her undergraduate degree, about gender and sub culture, with particular reference to punk and hardcore in the UK. To learn more, email her.