On Inauguration Day, I volunteered on a hotline providing legal support to protesters. Hundreds were arrested. Before they were out of jail, mainstream feminism had already cast them aside.
I knew I was going to snap, and I knew it would be in the face of a friend. We only hurt the ones we love, the ones we shouldn’t hurt at all. I knew it was going to happen. The only question was, when?
I know some are clamoring for a new Fugazi but I don’t know that I’d want to sit through another “Guilty of Being White” to get there.
If you’re organizing, thinking about a protest album, or working on art critical of your government then encryption matters to you, as do privacy and safety.
We worked like we were building a wall of our own — one made of power chords, cymbal smashes and sweat — to keep out bigotry and hatred.
I believe that we have a deep responsibility to care for one another and for the people who come to see us play, and that though any kind of independent musical community is immensely fractured, some of those fractures can be healed by everyday thoughtfulness.
I have credited music for saving my life in the past, for although it is a cliche, I know it to be true. But it wasn’t music that saved my life that day, it was my best friends.