Graham Haught/Staff

At my high school, there was one fully out gay kid. He called himself “the flagship gay,” and his name was Ray. Naturally, he became Gay Ray. It seemed like his coming out put a wedge in something so that others could come out. We lived in a very conservative town, and it wasn’t easy for anybody. A lot of us got involved in protests and the effort to start a Gay-Straight Alliance at our school, and we identified ourselves by sexuality first and in dramatic ways. Ray took on the obligations of being gay in a place where it’s hard to be gay, and he let us place all our assumptions, expectations and our own identity issues on him. He also bore the brunt of abuse. There is a lot of hate in small towns.

Leaving my little red dot in a big blue state helped me appreciate climate change — not the scary kind that threatens polar bears but the atmospheric shift that comes from living in an area where being gay isn’t that big of a deal. However, the politics of identity are always complicated. I’m not Gay Ray, but I definitely belong to the LGBTQIAA ever-expanding alphabet club. I don’t usually have to pick a letter because nobody asks me. I’m an invisible queer in a heterosexual pair bond, and I never had to come out. I dated girls in high school, and I have followed the news from the Supreme Court on the Defense of Marriage Act and Proposition 8 like my own marriage is at stake. I grew up in a place where this was all “Us” versus “Them,” and I have always been one of “Us.”

Many of the younger LGBTQIAA kids I meet aren’t concerned at all with coming out. Most of them aren’t interested in identity politics, and they don’t see the necessity of absolute labeling. They don’t think of themselves as gay first, not defined by this facet of identity but by other aspects of themselves. Although I enjoy this broadening of attitudes and am always glad to see the binary disappear, I can’t help but think of Gay Ray. He didn’t ask to be an ambassador. He never set up a booth with a sign that said, “PLEASE ASK ME ALL OF YOUR FRIGHTENINGLY SPECIFIC QUESTIONS ABOUT GAY SEX AND LOVE,” but through his visibility, that task fell to him. I want to share something about what I know with those of you who are coming out or hanging back without a label.

Most of us in the LGBTQIAA category aren’t Gay Ray. Many of us have the luxury of passing for straight. Because I married a man, people will assume I’m straight. I have taken almost every opportunity to disabuse them of that notion. I know my marriage will be viewed as valid and “normal.” I feel my privilege every day because I could just as easily have been without it. I admit it because my best friends have to file joint taxes on state and single on federal, with an attached legal form detailing the ongoing issues of Proposition 8. I admit it because what we have is precious and protected and should be offered to everyone.

In 2000, California had its first fight on the definition of marriage in Proposition 22. I was very young then, but that was when I joined the fight. I worked for Equality California, making phone calls and distributing leaflets until the vote. When Prop. 8 passed, I felt so betrayed by my open and liberal state. I hated my privilege, and I hated the climate of the whole state. The Supreme Court decision to strike down DOMA during this very Pride season helped to heal that betrayal. Some part of me has been sitting on that same corner, protesting, since 2000 and 2008. Some part of me is still impressed by Gay Ray, worried that he’s not safe and wishing I stood up before I did.

Those of us whose difference is invisible have to stand up. We have to own our privilege and become as visible as we safely can. Despite the victory over DOMA, this fight is not yet won. These are not issues to be solved in a single state, or with a single vote, and we are fighting for so much more than gay marriage. We are still fighting for the right to work, equality for trans* citizens, rights to adoption and so much more. Gay Ray and trans* folk and others are still on the front lines, bearing the brunt of damage and insult. During this Pride season, I am calling on the invisible queers. The tide is turning, and it is time to come out and stand up.

Contact Meg Elison at melison@dailycal.org.

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Have you ever repeatedly Googled Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s GQ photo shoot? Do you frequently hashtag “#unf” when you reblog pictures of One Direction? Chances are, if you’re really into something, you’re a Fanperson. You know who you are, which is all of you. I would know because Ezra Koenig from Vampire Weekend has kwassa-kwassaed his way onto my iPhone lock screen.

Urban Dictionary defines a Fangirl as a “Fan with an obsession over (fictional) characters, or over real people like the Orlando Bloom or the guys in simple plan (sic). Some may go as far to create cults, fanlistings, and shrines. … (F)angirls have a habit of glomping (i.e. enthusiastic hugging).” The mentality behind the Fanperson is to take in as much of the object of fandom as possible. There’s no shame in it because it’s not quite stalking — but that’s only because they conveniently have no access to do so.

Instead, there are Tumblrs that exist that accommodate all of a Fangirl’s needs. The culture of Fandom has spawned a cartoon series called “Fanboy and Chum Chum.” Even the likes of “Firefly” creator Joss Whedon admits that, “I am — and always will be — the biggest Fanboy. I write from a Fanboy place.” ( )

I know, the Internet has made it hard to connect with people in real life. So we latch onto the assumed personality types of these famous people because they don’t require actual human contact. But the objects of our fandom are made more intangible as a result of fanpersoning. The sad thing is that once we’ve fanpersoned ourselves into emotional attachments to our idols, we automatically remove ourselves from the pool of their potential lovers or friends or acknowledged living beings. Like, why would they want to hang out with someone who sighs longingly over their Tiger Beat posters all the time? Answer: not people worth fanpersoning over. We long for what we’ll never have, which is an excruciatingly pleasurable experience. Why do we do such seemingly pointless things?

Fanpersons are the reason I’m analyzing archetypes in the first place. They circulate the economy of celebrity, which is pretty lucrative given how widespread Bieber’s sagging pants are. Now, I might be influenced by the existentialism that has inundated my “Pulp Fiction and Film Noir” class this semester — as well as my lack of sleep — but I’m just going to say that Bieber’s sagging pants are not innately meaningful. It might be a stretch, but the truth is that things are meaningful because we attribute meaning to them. That’s why breakup albums and songs you share with loved ones and pant sags hold special places in our collective heart.

The whole purpose of this column was to point out patterns in the types of people that society upholds. And the process of fandom is an exaggeration of pattern-making as Fangirls play a big role in the creation of archetypes. Archetypes don’t concretely exist — they’re just organizational constructs. By projecting ideals onto some ultimately arbitrary celebrity, Fanpersons create a meaningful archetype out of an empty husk of an image. That’s not to say that the celebrity doesn’t contribute to the development of the archetype, but the Fangirl processes already existing characteristics into the archetypes’ final form with logic like, “Oh, Harry Styles has a nice facial structure. Therefore, he must be my boyband husband.”

Archetypes provide insight into societal values — which apparently include party rocking, being divalicious and having the cynicism of a curmudgeon. In a way, we have many of the same characteristics as the rock stars, divas and curmudgeons of our pop culture — so, Fangirling is really an indulgence in our own ideals. I guess that’s why Gordon-Levitt is always on my dash.

Contact Caitlin Kelley at ckelley@dailycal.org. Check her out on twitter at @misantherapy.

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Kevin Mazur/Courtesy

SFIFF Master Class: Making the Music Doc Rock with Lian Lunson
Not many people can claim that their job is working with figures such as Leonard Cohen, Nick Cave and Willie Nelson. Australian actress-turned filmmaker Lian Lunson will speak about her unexpected and intriguing career in this master class for the San Francisco International Film Festival. Her most well-known work, a documentary on Leonard Cohen produced by Mel Gibson, also features a performance exclusively for the film by Leonard Cohen and U2. Besides the big names, however, one will have the opportunity to see what techniques Lunson used to demystify these icons of music.

Cinco De Mayo Festival at Mission Dolores Park all day Saturday
Dolores Park is always entertaining with its assortment of Bay Area archetypes and its beautiful view even on the calmest of days. For those who don’t see tequila and cheap sombreros as the best way to celebrate Mexican and Chicano heritage, there will be performances and programs ranging from authentic Mexican folk dance to Zumba classes all day on Saturday, May 4.

“Inequality for All” screening at Sundance Kabuki Cinemas on Saturday
Though many who have taken a class from Robert Reich don’t need a film to convince them that the professor voted Best of Berkeley knows what he is talking about, perhaps the rest of the world does. Director, Jacob Kornbluth, describes his collaboration with Reich as the “Inconvenient Truth” of economics — specifically addressing the widening income gap in America. The film is the centerpiece of the San Francisco International Film Festival. What better way to celebrate the shitty economy than by paying $25 to see the film and $10 per drink at the afterparty at Roe in San Francisco?

The Rolling Stones at the Oracle Arena in Oakland on Sunday
After 50 years of playing music together, the Stones are still some of the most energetic performers despite their leathery skin. On top of the amazing fact that they have even survived this long, Mick Jagger’s dancing and the promise of seeing some of the best rock songs of all time should entice you to drop the hefty price to see them in Oakland.

A.J. Kiyoizumi covers visual art. Contact her at akiyoizumi@dailycal.org. Check her out on twitter at @Ajkazoo.

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Now that you’ve come back from two weekends in a row of Coachella and blowing your college savings on, well, blow, it’s time to reflect on the Rock Star. I’m even drinking one as I write this column in the early hours past its due date. Um, I’m talkin’ ‘bout the energy drink, ya dummy! But your suspicion of my liquid consumption does raise the question: What does “Rock Star” even mean these days?

There are 69 different definitions of “Rock Star” on Urban Dictionary. I know, the number “69” is hilarious to your childish sensibilities. But it’s fitting because most of the definitions are associated with partying. Today’s idea of a Rock Star is made clear when Rihanna sings, “Rocking this club / Got my middle finger up / I don’t really give a fuck” in “Rockstar 101.” It’s the MTV of lifestyles, where its original musical basis has been eradicated, and the “Rock” of “Rock Star” (like the “Music” of “Music Television”) is rendered meaningless.

In other words, Rock Stars aren’t necessarily rock anymore. Musicians of varying genres, like the R&B R. Kelly, pop princess Hannah Montana and even the popularly hated Nickelback all have songs on the subject. Even nonmusicians like foodie Anthony Bourdain, comedian Russell Brand and the video game publisher behind Grand Theft Auto have built their images around this archetype.

But the term “Rock Star” wasn’t as loosely applied in previous generations as it is today. If you search the definition in slightly more reputable dictionaries, you get “a famous singer of rock music.” The aspect of debauchery hadn’t become the definition itself yet — although it was an implication. According to my favorite scholarly source, Wikipedia, “The phrase ‘rocking and rolling’ (was used) … as a sexual analogy.” So, R-rated aspects of society are intrinsic in the term. Rock Stars used to be greats like Mick Jagger, who trashed hotel rooms by 10 p.m., impregnated a lot of women and allegedly ate a Mars Bar, um, inside of Marianne Faithful.

Now, anyone in tight neon pants who likes to party rock can claim that fame. It’s not that the broadened application of the term means that there are no Rock Stars in the rock genre anymore. I mean, the Strokes were like that — back in 2000, right? Father John Misty lit a joint for a homeless woman during an interview with CHARTattack.com once. Oh, and the seemingly straight-laced Vampire Weekend are ideal for crazy dance parties.

Rock musicians’ personas became less traditionally rock-god-oriented when the popularity of ’80s hair metal transitioned into ’90s grunge. Although drugs and sex and all that good stuff were still around, a musician’s presence was generally more subdued — to the point where the most famous of rockers at this time, Kurt Cobain, hated the “Star” aspect of his job. So, the embrace of fame became unnecessary. And the appeal of high social status combined with debauchery is not limited to rockers. You only need to go as far as frat row to figure that out.

Rock music is not at a loss because the term “Rock Star” has exceeded the boundaries of its initial label. The genre is way too broad to only accommodate one type of persona, anyway. As Jack Black’s character in “School of Rock” teaches his pupils, “Rock ain’t about getting loaded and being a jerk.” It should be about the music, not the lifestyle. The lifestyle is merely an enhancement of the musical experience — so the expansion of the term means an expansion of the genre.

Contact Caitlin Kelley at ckelley@dailycal.org. Check her out on twitter at @misantherapy.

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World Peace Through/Courtesy

Phoenix’s Bankrupt!
Monday welcomes the arrival of the new Phoenix album, Bankrupt!, four years after the release of their 2009 breakout record Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix. The 2013 Coachella headliners have since spent two years in both New York and Paris studios crafting this new record, which is sure to impress if the single “Entertainment” is any indication of what’s in store.

‘Blancanieves’ Shattuck Cinemas
Opening on Friday at Landmark’s Shattuck Cinemas is “Blancanieves,” a 2012 silent black-and-white film based upon the Brothers Grimm fable “Snow White.” This is a “Snow White” adaptation like no other, with the title character as a bullfighter and the kingdom set in 1920s Spain. “Blancanieves” is a movie for the silent-cinema film buffs and anyone looking for a different cinematic experience from the mediocre, if creative, films of today.

John Leguizamo’s ‘Ghetto Klown’
John Leguizamo, best known for his work in “ER,” “Moulin Rouge!” and the “Ice Age” films, has taken his one-man Broadway show on the road and will be performing “Ghetto Klown” at the Orpheum Theatre in San Francisco for a two-night limited engagement. “Ghetto Klown” tells Leguizamo’s story of struggle in the entertainment world in true Leguizamo fashion — lightheartedly and in the most comically pleasing way possible.

How Weird Street Faire
Kicking off San Francisco’s festival season will be the 14th annual How Weird Street Faire. The Faire will feature 10 stages of electronic music juxtaposed against marching bands, art and parades. This year’s theme is “Weirdi Gras,” paying homage to the Mardi Gras tradition. The event will be taking place from noon to 8 p.m. in the SoMa district. What better way to end the week than embracing your inner weirdo with the best of San Francisco’s offbeat denizens?

Contact Michelle Lin at mlin@dailycal.org.

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I know you’ve all stared at multiple Google image searches of Lady Gaga. And you’ve probably wondered, “How do famous people even exist?” Next to your everyday life of be-sweatpanted mediocrity, the fierceness of Gaga’s inability to wear pants seems mythical.

It seems like artists are one-upping each others’ Personas into increasing states of ridiculousness these days. Gaga, whose fourth album, ARTPOP, should come out any time now, seems to have set the bar for outrageous theatrics that accompany a pop star’s image. That may be why hottie potatties like Katy Perry have relied on blue Smurf wigs to get anyone to listen to their music. But the striking nature of these Personas have been around for awhile. The word “persona” derives from Latin, which refers to a theatrical mask. This etymology is intrinsically linked to acting, or taking on different roles. In previous generations, Madonna was a Material Girl, David Bowie was Ziggy Stardust and Oscar Wilde was and remains the Wittiest Dandy Ever. But in all of these past cases, the celebs were at some point stripped of their Personas — so they don’t equate with artists’ actual identities.

Personas don’t necessarily detract from the art itself. Sometimes, they can even add substance. Musicians like Karen O from Yeah Yeah Yeahs — who are playing at Outside Lands this year — can take a performance-art approach to their live shows with kooky costumes, microphone swallowing and boundless stage presence. Why not add to the artistic experience? It’s only when the Persona compensates for a lack of artistry that it becomes a problem. (Ahem, Katy Perry.)

Most of us change our self-presentation for almost every single person we meet — each of whom has his and her own unique perceptions of others. Even if you work at Chipotle and are forced to tell every customer to “Have a good day,” you will do something subtly different each time that will affect each person differently. You might accidentally monotone so hard that your customer at the moment might think you’re being sarcastic about wishing them a good day. So, we are all different people to each other. None of these perceptions reveal complete personalities, because people can only present facets of themselves. Persona is distinct in that it’s an extreme manipulation of presentation. Whereas most self-presentation occurs without too much planning, the Persona is an exaggeration of, in this case, selected characteristics of the artist.

I know Little Monsters are sad because they’ve been idolizing the Persona of Lady Gaga this whole time. But as Gaga touts in her music video prelude to “Marry the Night,” it’s not necessarily dishonest to turn yourself into artifice. She’s all like, “Truthfully, the lie of it all is much more honest because I invented it.” By crafting her image, she chooses to show the qualities that she thinks best represents her — which gives some insight into her real identity. Particularly, that she’s a “free bitch, baby.”

Our constant exposure to celebs gives us a familiarity with them that can be on par with someone you know, even if they don’t know you exist. But it’s important to understand that you don’t know them or the entirety of their identities. Instead, appreciate Gaga like Pete Townshend, who told The Sun, “What Lady Gaga has done is created an iconic figure … She’s a story, and it’s fascinating to watch.” Rather than assume that Personas equate with artists’ identities, we should just embrace the spectacle.

Contact Caitlin Kelley at ckelley@dailycal.org. Check her out on twitter at @misantherapy.

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North America Cherry Blossom Festival/Courtesy

Cherry Blossom Festival in Japantown

There are only three remaining Japantowns in the United States, and we are lucky to have one in San Francisco. Every year, in each of the three Japantowns, the blooming of the Japanese cherry blossoms, the “sakura,” is celebrated with a festival that attracts hundreds
of thousands. The Northern California Cherry Blossom Festival is spread over two weekends (April 13 to 14 and 20 to 21) and offers a parade of performers, dancers and musicians, as well as a variety of free events that celebrate Japanese heritage and culture.

TNGHT at Midnight in SF

If you love wild and chaotic hip-hop and trap, then head over to TNGHT’s show at San Francisco’s Mezzanine on Saturday, April 20. TNGHT — the trap duo consisting of DJs Hudson Mohawke and Lunice — have gained massive popularity as the premiere trap producers, helping bring the once fringe genre of electronic music to the forefront. Many have dubbed TNGHT’s production as the future of hip-hop, and their shows are known to be full of energy. TNGHT’s show is 21+ and, unfortunately, is sold out. If you can get your hands on a ticket, do not hesitate to go.

The Antlers at Cal Day

Every year on Cal Day, SUPERB brings a musical group to perform on Memorial Glade. Last year, Dr. Dog played an awesome 90-minute set, and this year The Antlers will be doing the same. The Brooklyn-based indie rock group is sure to set the perfect soundtrack to your 4/20 relaxation and festivities.

Cine/Spin at BAM

It might be difficult to imagine how a group of DJs spinning electronic music and a silent comedy might come together. Student DJs will be mixing over Buster Keaton’s “The General”
at the Berkeley Art Museum (BAM) on Friday, April 19. Cine/Spin is a fixture at BAM and is put on every spring semester as part of BAM’s L@TE series. This event is free for students and $7 for the general public.

Contact Samuel Avishay at savishay@dailycal.org.

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If you’ve been living under a rock (-and-roll-soundtracked fortress with no Internet access), I will repeat the common knowledge that Adele has taken over the world. Homegurl’s got an endless supply of Grammys, No. 1 singles and tears from her fans. Then there’s the fact that I’m hitting some pretty sweet notes as a tenor in the UC Berkeley Gospel Choir. And OMG, did you hear that guy sing John Mayer’s “Gravity” on “The Voice” on Monday night? Of course you did.

So the natural response to all of this information is: How are all of these groundbreaking Soul Singahs around in a time when we can just autotune the out-of-tune?

Further analysis requires a brief breakdown of the history of soul singing. It is rooted in gospel music, which is that stuff that people sing in churches. And that’s probably how the word “soul” became a descriptor, because those religious folk believe in the existence of souls. But that’s just a theory I’ve hastily put together. Anyway, singers had a hard time making it big as gospel singers, so they went all secular. And the ever-reliable Wikipedia says “soul music gradually functioned as an umbrella term for the black popular music” during the 1960s.

You’re wondering, “Have both Adele and Cat been black this whole time?” A peek at my mug will answer that with, “No.” To clarify, you don’t have to be black to sing soulfully, but that kind of vocalization was definitely created in the black community. Moreover, soulful singing is not limited to the genre of soul music. Pop-rock icon Freddie Mercury, for instance, wrote one of the most powerful gospel-tinged songs ever, called “Somebody to Love.” And as I stated in last week’s column, new genres are created by combining elements from previously established genres.

Soul singing is an outlet for emotional expression, especially if you’re deadpan like me and scare passers-by when you attempt to smile at them. Despite the college-kid mentality of party rocking, sometimes you just need to get in touch with your sentimental self. The autotune of LMFAO unfortunately won’t capture the entire depth of your being — unless you’re LMFAO. When Aretha Franklin sings “R-E-S-P-E-C-T,” you can feel in her voice that she wants her man to stop being such a gold-digger and give her some friggin’ respect.

Seriously, the range of expression one can attain via soul singing is endless; it will make you feel like you are stuck in a glass case of emotion. And if you think that reference to “Anchorman” is irrelevant, I will have you know that its soundtrack is really soulful. Seriously, listen to “Afternoon Delight.” You will feel delighted — at your need to get it on midday.

“But,” you argue, “nonsoul-singers like Ke$ha make me feel things — like, I want to dance when I’m drunk in clubs.” “Umm, no,” I counter. Ke$ha makes music that is incredibly hooky — but it doesn’t get much deeper than that. And her vocals are not very emotionally charged.

But what sets Adele and me apart from someone like Katy Perry, whose voice has subtle soulful inflections? Well, there needs to be a rawness of vocal talent that can shine without instrumentation. “Have you heard Katy’s ‘Unplugged’ album?” you argue. “Eh,” I reply. To specify further, soul singing needs to exist outside of the confines of the manufactured, hook-driven pop that she emulates.

So, to answer your first question: Adele and I exist in this time period because our voices are unlike the earworms that only temporarily infect your mind. We have the rich history, depth and lack of autotune that satiate the emotional needs of our audiences. And that’s timeless.

Contact Caitlin Kelley at ckelley@dailycal.org. Check her out on twitter at @misantherapy.

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‘42’ at United Artists in Berkeley

This one is for my fellow fans of America’s favorite pastime. The surprisingly modern take on the famous rise to glory of the MLB’s first African American player, Jackie Robinson, looks like it will score a home run with both baseball fanatics and movie-lovers. It’s also a chance to catch Harrison Ford before he once again disappears into a galaxy far, far away for the “Star Wars” reboot.

Ray Kurzweil at Zellerbach Hall

Don’t know the name Ray Kurzweil? Give it a few years. The leader in technology innovation and praised prophet of the future will visit our campus to share his widely popular predictions for human advancement, robotics and when exactly Siri will become smarter than you. Not prime date-night material — for that, please refer back to “42.”

Friday Nights at the de Young

This after-hours entertainment buffet of live music, theatrical dance and participatory arts and crafts has been brought back by popular demand from now through the summer at the prestigious de Young Museum in Golden Gate Park. If you’re looking for something fun and original to do, this is your ticket. Plus, a Friday night spent in the city is worth it in itself.

BareStage Productions presents ‘The 25th Annual Putnam Spelling Bee’

This Friday marks the opening of BareStage Productions’ latest venture, their rendition of the Tony Award-winning musical-comedy “The 25th Annual Putnam Spelling Bee.” Although the setting is a middle school spelling bee, this is guaranteed to please all ages. Check it out in Room 20, Cesar Chavez basement this weekend.

Contact Ryan Koehn at rkoehn@dailycal.org.

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I spent my spring break reflecting on how I ended up with the aesthetic tastes upon which I plan to base my prospective career as a writer. I know, pretentious, right? This was partially due to the fact that I was unhealthily obsessing over Wavves and FIDLAR after seeing them play in San Francisco. But the main reason was that one of my childhood best friends, Jennifer, died last week. She was charming, free-spirited and what my mom called an “old soul.” What I remember most about her was that she laid the foundation for my music taste and had a peculiar view about the authenticity of listening to punk.

In short, her view was that you have to be a member of the punk subculture in order to properly appreciate the music. Even though she was a huge influence on me, I’ve outgrown her guidelines. There exist nonpunk appreciators of punk who, in theory, could enjoy Backstreet Boys and still have as much of a right to injure themselves in a mosh pit.

Jennifer was a punk rocker all the way back in sixth grade. Her wardrobe included black Dickies and green Converse. She ripped her band shirts and stuck safety pins in them. She had a Sid Vicious poster hanging above her bed. She seemed more worldly than me, so I wanted to be just like her. But according to her, my initial foray into rock’n’roll made me a “poseur.” I’ll admit that in 2002, I thought Avril Lavigne was the height of subversive culture. But in my defense, the transition of appreciation for the Backstreet Boys to the Misfits is kind of a big leap.

We eventually parted ways when we attended different middle schools, and I ended up framing my identity outside of the punk subculture’s aesthetic into a low-maintenance wardrobe of jeans and T-shirts. (Ain’t nobody got time to tie 20 shoelaces on his or her Doc Martens on a daily basis.) But I never stopped listening to punk music.

The music and the subculture seemed inextricably intertwined. But I soon discovered that’s false. Guidelines that identify authentic punks are ridiculous because the genre of music and accompanying subculture have gone through many transmutations. Seriously, Wikipedia notes 27 different subgenres of punk, including psychobilly, riot grrrl and whatever cowpunk is. Multiple subcultures have separated from anti-establishment politics to horror themes to fratty debauchery.

Ultimately, the number of strategically-placed safety pins in your shirt won’t define what it means to be punk. It’s only natural for the genre to branch out, as do all genres. New music is created by mixing already-established sounds. Even the original punk scene was contrived — people didn’t just magically grow mohawks. That scene deconstructed previous ideas of what music was. And when punk itself became a “previous idea,” it branched out.

But it’s understandable where the attitude of exclusivity comes from. The one connecting thread between all of the variation of the punk genre is the attitude of challenging authority. And by challenging hierarchical social constructs, punks would naturally want to protect their music from falling into the wrong hands of, say, bros. But the truth is that all kinds of people — even bros — like at least some aspects of the wide range of punk music, making an exclusive sense of ownership over an entire genre impossible.

And if it’s so punk to challenge authority, isn’t it punk to reject the rules of punk? I think so.

Jennifer might not have been right about the restrictions regarding authenticity in the punk scene, but she did introduce me to music that has shaped the person I’ve become, and I’m forever grateful to her for that.

Contact Caitlin Kelley at ckelley@dailycal.org.
Check her out on twitter at @misantherapy.

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