My grandmother gave me my first drum set for Christmas when I was 9 years old. I will never forget the moment of seeing my own little drum kit for the first time. I grew up in Portland Maine where I'd played in the basement by myself until me and some girls from elementary school made up hypothetical bands like "The Slurpee Sisters" and "Pinball 8". They didn't have instruments but I'd bring my mom's little four pad drum machine and beat on it with sticks as we played pretended. In middle school, I paid for drum lessons and kept banging on them alone in the basement. In high school, I no longer had my own kit but for my 18th birthday, someone surprised me with one. Once again, there was a hypothetical band this time amongst me and some scenester guys but they kicked me out of it after one week (they never actually had one practice). Throughout high school, I was friends with the local musicians and spent my weekends going to shows. The scene at the time was all-male, I can't think of one local female musician in the 2000's. It was feeling impossible for me to get the opportunity to play music with other people.
When I moved to San Diego for college in the fall of 2006, I saw a flyer on a campus bulletin board that read "All-girl band drummer wanted". I took a trolley to Lemon Grove and played on their old drum set (since I didn't own one). They picked me and I quickly fell in love with playing in a group. It was a riot-grrrl band and my current "girl who grew up next to a farm in Maine" low-maintenance look fit the bill, for now. But like any little seedling out in the California sun for the first time, I was growing and changing.
When I started playing in bands, I found it hard to fit into the physical aesthetic of "rock and roll". Unlike the women I saw dominating the stage with long lean figures and fierce androgynous looks, my body type was the opposite: short, big chested and curvy. I felt way too feminine and sexual--like more of a Katy Perry than a Joan Jett. I grew up believing that, if I came off too sexy or feminine, I wouldn't be taken seriously in the indie - alt - boys club - no wave - whatever rock scene. I thought that because of the way my chest and thighs looked, I would be objectified and discredited as a musician. Unfortunately, after being in bands for 9 years, I can say that I have felt both objectified and discredited as a musician based on my gender and the way I look.
In my first band (the riot-grrl gang) instead of embracing my curves, I wore clothes that hid my body (see photo of me sitting on amp). I had been hanging onto tomboy tendencies since I was a pre-adolescent, maybe because getting attention for my body made me uncomfortable. Even with my inner punk at full bloom in this band, my look and attitude stuck out like a sore thumb. They'd tease me about being too girly and having good hair days almost everyday. I was later kicked out for being "too different" and "not having what it takes".
Since I was old enough to dress myself, I have loved using my clothing as an outlet to express myself visually. I love experimenting and being bold (like a wearing a bright yellow plaid skirt with matching knee socks to the first day of 4th grade, long before the movie Clueless came out). I love hats, fringe, glitter and sequins. I don't like converse sneakers or flannel. I found it hard embrace the heroin-chic look because with my boobs, nothing looked androgynous on me. I felt I shouldn't wear a crop top or a low cut top because of how my body naturally spilled out of it. I shouldn't wear a dress or heels because that isn't rock and roll. I shouldn't do my hair because it makes me look like "I try too hard". These ideas of "I shouldn't wear this because I will look too sexual or too feminine" are repressive.
After the all-girl band didn't work out, I started a band called The Very and I began to reveal my personality (see photo of me drumming with a white bow in my hair). Soon, I went from playing drums to teaching myself the keyboard. Being out from behind a drum set meant I could sing and dance more. I remember the first time I wore heels on stage, it felt amazing and empowering. I stopped hiding my chest and legs started to wear what I thought was fashionable regardless of how sexy or feminine people perceived it.
It takes courage to get up on stage and share what you've created. To me, shows are one of the best parts of being in a band. To play music with a group of people live, loud and for an audience, is a high that I can not describe. It's a moment in which I spill my guts to the room and lap them back up again when I'm done, feeding off the energy of the room. With each performance I became more confident, embracing my body and celebrating my style. I started to allow myself to do what feels good for me, regardless of other people's thoughts and reactions to it. I am done feeling ashamed for having big boobs or thighs that touch. I am done feeling like I need to hide parts myself because it's inappropriate.
The last show I played I wore the following outfit (see photo right). I've come a long way from dressing myself down in over-sized sweat shirts, a messy bun and sneakers to proudly performing in whatever I want. From sparkles, sequins, long fringe, billowy kimonos, crop tops, bright colored wedges, to teal eyebrows, zombie face paint and rhinestones on my face-- because what's the point of being on stage if you have the hold back?
To the people who may hate on your vibe, or tell you you're trying too hard, or can't pull it off, offer forgiveness. When you let go and detach from the negative opinions that's being thrown at you, you'll see that their judgement is a reflection of something that affects them, not you. When you release responsibility for other's discomfort or unhappiness, you can enjoy the ways you wish to express yourself more freely and contently. Everyday is a new experience that we can choose to rock the hell out of.
Until next time, FJ