5/29/2023 0 Comments Concert mosh pit![]() I was accepted by a music scene I’d loved for so long, but whose hyper-masculine audience I had feared out of a justified concern that my sex would lead to someone taking advantage of me. He then called for a female-only mosh pit, and I knew I was right where I was supposed to be. ![]() Ironically enough, violence isn’t ever really the answer, even at a garage punk concert, but the delighted faces of women in the crowd whose specific struggles for the first time had been recognized in this music scene showed there was appreciation for the gesture. His sermon concluded with a reassurance that any woman groped at their concert had full permission to punch her assaulter in the throat, assuring that she would have the band’s backing. Those whose presence scares women into the back of the crowd, the back of the venue, or out of the alt-rock scene altogether. What followed was a heartwarming and socially aware speech about skeevy opportunists who use the jam-packed floors of music venues and mosh pits as hunting grounds. Standing with his all-male band, looking out over a sea of men, the singer held the microphone tight, repeating again “I’d like to address something: sexual assault.” I assumed nothing that followed would interest me. His voice got quieter, more sincere and as the room creeped to a muttering silence, he said there was something he’d like to address. So, I put the thought on the back burner because I still liked the music and my punk rock persona didn’t allow for heavy introspection.īut, at this FIDLAR concert, it came to me.īack on my feet, I saw lead singer Zac Carper signal to his skinny-jeaned, bucket-hatted California skater boy bandmates to stop playing. Still, I never felt like I fit into the scene in a real way, because, of course, outcast status is basically the only qualifier for emo. I’ve got the studded belt, the piercings and the checkered Vans. Never being able to put my finger on why, I attributed it to my personal issues with social nervousness and constant overthinking.įor instance, I’m a regular at local emo “throwback” concerts, and “Teenagers” by My Chemical Romance was my anthem at 14. Something about it was always exclusionary, I seemed to be the other in every crowd. To me, the best kind of concert is one that I emerge from covered in bruises and in the daze of an unmistakable adrenaline high.ĭespite my lack of concern for injury and my genuine passion for the music, I always felt left out of the alternative rock community. I’m completely fine being - and honestly expect to be - elbowed and pushed around by the crowd at any alt-rock show. ![]() I willingly take on the threat of physical violence that accompanies being in a mosh pit. Being trampled and at one point kicked in the face by screaming fans, it was probably the closest to a near-death experience I’ll ever have. But, I finished strong, still yelling “Cause I’m born and raised in the USA,” as I collapsed to the ground. ![]() Singing my favorite verse of the song, “I got bills to pay, and I got pills to take,” I started to feel my feet slip out from under me. Sweaty and slipping in the grease of spilled drinks on the Tipitina’s floor, I screamed FIDLAR’s “40oz.
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