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There once was a little girl living in a small seaside town in South Carolina. She had a big backyard to run around in, a nice school where she learned how to play violin, and a family who told her she could grow up to be anything she wanted. She was surrounded by friends and developed an undying love for alternative music. Her parents took her to Warped Tour every summer, allowed her to hang posters all over the walls in her room, and talk endlessly about her favorite bands at the dinner table. Everything looked perfect. However, this little girl was harboring a terrifying secret. She wasn’t a little girl, she was a little boy…and that little boy was me.
After coming out as trans a little later in life, with high school behind me, I was lucky to have a family and friend group who loved and supported me. I felt seen, respected, and cared for in every aspect of my life except one: The music scene that I so dearly dedicated so much of my time and love to. I looked at the faces at the front of this scene and they looked nothing like mine. Not only were the bands and artists different than me, but so were the photographers, journalists, label execs, agents, managers, and promoters. I had dreamt my entire life of finding my place in the alternative world but felt that coming out as trans would kill this dream. There was nowhere for me to belong or fit into this scene. I wasn’t like them, and they weren’t like me.
Once I had fully transitioned I thought for a while I could just blend in with the boys. I thought my best bet would be to hide my identity as a trans man and perhaps convince the world I was cisgendered. Maybe that would give me a chance. Who would want a poster of a trans guy on their wall? Who would want to hear a trans guy talk about his journey on stage? Who would want to listen to songs about being trans? I thought it would end my career instantaneously. So I was pretending, again.
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This didn’t last long. I started meeting fans, and younger trans people at shows and festivals, and events. They were everywhere. There wasn’t a single alternative space that I went to that didn’t have at least one trans person younger than me there. This blew my mind. We are everywhere. We exist in this scene. I certainly was NOT the only one. So why was I so afraid? My community was surrounding me. Then I started to think about my 13-year-old self and how bad that kid needed to know there were other people like him in the scene. I decided I wasn’t going to hide anymore, that I was going to be open in the hopes that perhaps I could reach at least one of those trans kids and make them feel less alone.
“Isn’t punk rock supposed to be about rebellion and acceptance for all? What’s more punk than a trans person?”
After I came to this decision and started being loud about my identity, I was met with tons of other trans artists flooding the scene that I wasn’t aware of before. They were grinding. They were working SO HARD, just like I was to integrate queerness into the scene. There were these amazing little pockets of trans artists all over the world, building communities to support each other. Just because they weren’t getting signed as quickly, or getting the same amount of media attention or tour opportunities, didn’t mean they weren’t there. It just meant they were being pushed down. Trans people have ALWAYS been making music. We have ALWAYS been passionate and creating art…but no one was hearing or seeing it.
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In recent years, we have definitely seen a big change. Slowly but surely, trans artists have been breaking through the mold. We are having to work harder than everyone else though and we still aren’t at the top. This isn’t forever. “Be the change you want to see.” This responsibility arguably falls on our allies. The people who are at the top who see the disparity between cis artists and trans artists. You can help aid your trans friends in gaining the platform they deserve. Because us trans people aren’t giving up. We are going to continue to write, and create, and tour, and push our art no matter what. But if we are going to reach the far ends of the scene, the dark isolated corners where a lonely trans kid might be hiding and in need of inspiration, we need your help.
“If you are trans and reading this — don’t give up. Don’t think for a single second that you can’t be someone in this music scene. That isn’t true. You are capable of ANYTHING.”
We need to inspire the trans youth. We need to show them that they are welcome in all the same spaces. We need to tell them that they belong, and are loved and needed. We can change the experience for the next generation and it could quite literally save lives. We can do this by signing more trans artists, putting more trans artists on support tours, interviewing, photographing, and discussing more trans artists. If you think there isn’t a big enough demographic for trans artists in the money machine…YOU.ARE.WRONG. Who cares about the money anyway? Isn’t punk rock supposed to be about rebellion and acceptance for all? What’s more punk than a trans person?
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If you are trans and reading this — don’t give up. Don’t think for a single second that you can’t be someone in this music scene. That isn’t true. You are capable of ANYTHING. Be proud to be who you are and people will gravitate toward that. Be unapologetically you and people will respect that. Demand the space. Demand the attention. Demand the floor. You deserve it just as much as anyone else.
If you aren’t trans and reading this — you can make a difference. It’s never too late for you to show your love and support. Be someone we can trust and count on. Sometimes something as simple as a smile and nod when we walk into a room can be life changing. We can both share success. There is enough for everyone to have. We don’t only belong on LGBTQA+ platforms and in LGBTQA+ spaces. We belong everywhere. We deserve to be ingrained into the normalcy of the industry.
I started Punk Goes Pride as my effort to connect more trans people, queer people and women making waves in this music scene. It might not change the world, but it’s something and it’s a start. It’s what I can do. What can you do?