Tuesday, August 22, 2017

Velvet Days

I am exhausted.
It seems like a no brainer to condemn white supremacy and all that goes with it, but ... um.... huh?

In 1988 I hung out with a group of peace punks in southern California. Once a month we would have punk picnics where maybe a band would play, people would trade zines, and we would smoke cigarettes and eat really bland vegan food. We were non-violent people in a violent music scene. There were a lot of skinheads who hung out at the same punk shows as us and they were quick to pick on non-skinhead punk rockers and kick our ass. It was toward the end of the second wave of punk rock in So. CA and there was a surging scene of straight edge music coming out of Orange County. They assumed the uniform of skinheads and there was often confusion, because though the straight edge folks look similar to the neo-Nazi skinheads they were anti drug and drink. There were lots of splinter groups because of the violence that happened and I can recall on more than one occasion where I was chased, shoved, or  physically threatened just because I was not one of them.
It seemed like the late 1980s there were a lot of skinheads in the media. The Geraldo Rivera show skinhead brawl, which left the host with a broken nose is the first to come to mind, but I also remember reading articles about them in Rolling Stone and Spin. It was not just a southern California thing.
The band I played in had a drummer who hung out with a bunch of fellas from the O.C., who did not identify specifically with the skinheads and their ideology directly, but rode the edge of it. We didn't realize this until we played a party where my friend was in jeopardy of getting his ass whupped for wearing a skirt (he was goth). I had to drive him home, because I was afraid for his safety.
Obviously, the drummer was out of the band, but not before we played our set and the guitarist sang "f^&% you Nazi sh*^heads! Why do you  care who wears a dress you homophobic assholes" in every song, whilst pointing at them. He changed the lyrics a lot that evening. Those are the only ones I remember, oh, and he wore a habit. The drummer was a Catholic and the guitar player thought it was a nice touch.
I have no idea why he had a habit though.

The other day on BART, a person who I suspect was not well was spouting off some "us verses them" rhetoric. He started kind of directing his business on a woman in a head scarf. I said kind of loudly, "Oh, you are a racist.?" And I saw a bunch of folks get out their phones. He moved toward the back of the train.
I know it isn't much, but it felt good to say something.