Why "Black Metal" Girls Will Never Be Happy
By Staci Traynor
Every subculture has it's fair share of freaks but not every freak has a subculture.
Enter the New York black metal scene.
Last weekend I had the unlikely (dis)pleasure of accompanying a friend of mine to the famed Duff's heavy metal bar in Williamsburg — not my typical stomping ground but it was Saturday and the excitement once gleaned from my usual hangouts felt as though it was wearing thin, and I was invited, and I didn't have any other plans at the time, so yea, what the hell, I thought.
It was a decision made moreso out of boredom than anything else. If there is one thing that consistently manages to get my creative juices flowing, it is the complete, unabashed immersement in the far depths beyond my comfort zone and this place proved to be nothing short of it.
What surprised me most about Duff's as I first walked in was not the obscene amount of album posters on the walls or the red Christmas lights lining the ceilings, or any of the copious amounts of distastefully gruesome "artwork" and grotesqueries that adorned the shelves, but rather the piercing glares of the scene girls that befell me as I tried to nudge and maneuver my way up to the bartender.
"You do realize how out of place you look, right?" was what one of the nicer girls told me later in the evening when I inquired about the odd looks, surly attitudes and altogether horrifying levels of rudeness I was attracting. It must be a black metal thing, I thought. "Sorry, I really don't mean that in a bad way, but to be totally honest with you the way you are dressed isn't helping your situation." As I said, she was one of the nicer ones. Nicer, in that she actually addressed me to my face.
Her name was Tiffany. Tiffany was wearing a Watain shirt, black leather jacket, fishnets, and boots that clearly have seen better days. A long strand of weathered duct tape had been wrapped unceremoniously around her left boot to hold the ripped sole to the rest of the dirty piece of footwear. Being the poet that I am — and seeing that this conversation was getting real awkward real quick — I lost myself in the lyrical thought that the "souls" of the attendees of this place have been "ripped" out by whatever demonic undercurrent this dark brand of counterculture is supposed to represent. There is nothing left to Tiffany aside from a black lipsticked half-frown-half-smirk that she has clearly spent years perfecting, applied with great care to her face each morning along with her makeup.
The only reason Tiffany started talking to me in the first place was because she basically had to out of necessity, to avoid making an awkward situation even more awkward while we both were forced to retreat outside to the cold to have a cigarette. I could see by her anxious expression and continual glances at the doorway that even as much as standing next to me outside on the sidewalk was causing her colossal levels of grief. I almost felt bad.
Almost.
Her friend comes over. I never got her name. She was dressed almost identically to Tiffany except for the fishnet stockings and skirt which were replaced by patch-covered black jeans that were almost a little too perfect. She wore a Burzum shirt. She was a blonde. She was quite unhappy.
You see, this girl came up to Tiffany and said, right in front of me, "Who's that," as if I were a million miles away, as if I were a dopey character on TV and she was talking to her boyfriend while they shared a bag of potato chips on the living room couch. She looked me up and down, examining my designer jeans and Nirvana shirt (this is literally exactly what I was wearing: https://amzn.to/2F5Kfju and the shirt: https://amzn.to/2HRPu9B...I know, just horrifying, isn't it?), immediately pegging me as "someone who doesn't belong here" even thought she never actually spoke the words aloud — the kind of thing you can just read right from the piercing, heavily eyelinered glare of a black metal scenester chick. To be quite honest, I actually almost felt embarrassed at my lack of preparedness in researching just what you need to wear, and NOT wear, to attend a black metal elite social club and actually have a good time. I should have known better, I thought. But then I caught myself and realized I had a brain and I had my dignity — more than I can say for the majority of the sellout black metal girls at Duffs.
If you have ever seen the movie The Duchess with Keira Knightly then you would be familiar with the Duke of Devonshire treating people as if they were commodities, bending their will for his own purpose and gain, not thinking once about how his actions hurt the individual they directly involved. This other girl, the "black metal blonde," could have rightfully considered herself the Duke's daughter in this situation as she clearly possessed the same unbecoming and totally arrogant traits that one would expect from mind-hammered-shut elitists.
You see, this is the main reason black metal girls will never allow themselves to feel at ease with the world. They see themselves as the unintended victims of a high society that they feel they must detest in order to secure themselves with their sense of identity — the victims of a world of "popularity" and carefree "fun" that they have never been invited to experience on a deeper level and so they seek refuge in the dark underbelly of the music-meets-culture mentality, choosing instead to deny themselves fun and happiness in exchange for the common thread of shared depression and disapproval. Very strange but hey, whatever floats your Viking longship, I guess.
Black metal girls are the world's best fakers. They can't overcome the innate desires of womanhood (experiences of love and joy and friendship) but, aside from laughing at "vagina jokes," they consciously project the image that they have, postering themselves across the billboards of the world as "the ones who never care" and yet, ironically, they care, more adamantly than anyone I have ever seen before, about what others think of them and how those "outsiders" perceive their identity. This is clear by the "nervous looks toward the doorway" to see who is watching the "one-of-us" cool, black metal girls talking to that silly loser girl in the Nirvana shirt out there on the sidewalk.
You can almost hear Tiffany's thoughts: "I hope they don't see me talking to her. I hope they don't think I'm actually trying to be friends with this outsider girl. I hope they can see that the only reason I am out here next to her is because I need to feed my nicotine addiction and the stupid, sellout, loser Nirvana girl was the only one smart enough to remember to bring a lighter. I hope they don't judge me... I hope they don't judge me... I hope they don't judge me..."
I actually do happen to enjoy metal, and, on occasion, even a bit of that dark, crusty, Norwegian black metal. Aggression is a human emotion and anyone open-minded enough will admit that actively denying yourself the experience of a particular emotion on the human spectrum would be disingenuous with one's humanness. What eludes me is how one can become so attached to a particular emotion that it completely controls their lives, to the extend that their outward expression is an extension of one very small, narrow facade that they have allowed to totally envelope their being.
Black metal girls are morbid and detached and they know it. Hell, they thrive on it. But what makes me chuckle and scratch my head in confusion is how determined they are to make sure that you know it too.
— S
Enter the New York black metal scene.
Last weekend I had the unlikely (dis)pleasure of accompanying a friend of mine to the famed Duff's heavy metal bar in Williamsburg — not my typical stomping ground but it was Saturday and the excitement once gleaned from my usual hangouts felt as though it was wearing thin, and I was invited, and I didn't have any other plans at the time, so yea, what the hell, I thought.
It was a decision made moreso out of boredom than anything else. If there is one thing that consistently manages to get my creative juices flowing, it is the complete, unabashed immersement in the far depths beyond my comfort zone and this place proved to be nothing short of it.
What surprised me most about Duff's as I first walked in was not the obscene amount of album posters on the walls or the red Christmas lights lining the ceilings, or any of the copious amounts of distastefully gruesome "artwork" and grotesqueries that adorned the shelves, but rather the piercing glares of the scene girls that befell me as I tried to nudge and maneuver my way up to the bartender.
"You do realize how out of place you look, right?" was what one of the nicer girls told me later in the evening when I inquired about the odd looks, surly attitudes and altogether horrifying levels of rudeness I was attracting. It must be a black metal thing, I thought. "Sorry, I really don't mean that in a bad way, but to be totally honest with you the way you are dressed isn't helping your situation." As I said, she was one of the nicer ones. Nicer, in that she actually addressed me to my face.
The only reason Tiffany started talking to me in the first place was because she basically had to out of necessity, to avoid making an awkward situation even more awkward while we both were forced to retreat outside to the cold to have a cigarette. I could see by her anxious expression and continual glances at the doorway that even as much as standing next to me outside on the sidewalk was causing her colossal levels of grief. I almost felt bad.
Almost.
Her friend comes over. I never got her name. She was dressed almost identically to Tiffany except for the fishnet stockings and skirt which were replaced by patch-covered black jeans that were almost a little too perfect. She wore a Burzum shirt. She was a blonde. She was quite unhappy.
You see, this girl came up to Tiffany and said, right in front of me, "Who's that," as if I were a million miles away, as if I were a dopey character on TV and she was talking to her boyfriend while they shared a bag of potato chips on the living room couch. She looked me up and down, examining my designer jeans and Nirvana shirt (this is literally exactly what I was wearing: https://amzn.to/2F5Kfju and the shirt: https://amzn.to/2HRPu9B...I know, just horrifying, isn't it?), immediately pegging me as "someone who doesn't belong here" even thought she never actually spoke the words aloud — the kind of thing you can just read right from the piercing, heavily eyelinered glare of a black metal scenester chick. To be quite honest, I actually almost felt embarrassed at my lack of preparedness in researching just what you need to wear, and NOT wear, to attend a black metal elite social club and actually have a good time. I should have known better, I thought. But then I caught myself and realized I had a brain and I had my dignity — more than I can say for the majority of the sellout black metal girls at Duffs.
If you have ever seen the movie The Duchess with Keira Knightly then you would be familiar with the Duke of Devonshire treating people as if they were commodities, bending their will for his own purpose and gain, not thinking once about how his actions hurt the individual they directly involved. This other girl, the "black metal blonde," could have rightfully considered herself the Duke's daughter in this situation as she clearly possessed the same unbecoming and totally arrogant traits that one would expect from mind-hammered-shut elitists.
You see, this is the main reason black metal girls will never allow themselves to feel at ease with the world. They see themselves as the unintended victims of a high society that they feel they must detest in order to secure themselves with their sense of identity — the victims of a world of "popularity" and carefree "fun" that they have never been invited to experience on a deeper level and so they seek refuge in the dark underbelly of the music-meets-culture mentality, choosing instead to deny themselves fun and happiness in exchange for the common thread of shared depression and disapproval. Very strange but hey, whatever floats your Viking longship, I guess.
Black metal girls are the world's best fakers. They can't overcome the innate desires of womanhood (experiences of love and joy and friendship) but, aside from laughing at "vagina jokes," they consciously project the image that they have, postering themselves across the billboards of the world as "the ones who never care" and yet, ironically, they care, more adamantly than anyone I have ever seen before, about what others think of them and how those "outsiders" perceive their identity. This is clear by the "nervous looks toward the doorway" to see who is watching the "one-of-us" cool, black metal girls talking to that silly loser girl in the Nirvana shirt out there on the sidewalk.You can almost hear Tiffany's thoughts: "I hope they don't see me talking to her. I hope they don't think I'm actually trying to be friends with this outsider girl. I hope they can see that the only reason I am out here next to her is because I need to feed my nicotine addiction and the stupid, sellout, loser Nirvana girl was the only one smart enough to remember to bring a lighter. I hope they don't judge me... I hope they don't judge me... I hope they don't judge me..."
I actually do happen to enjoy metal, and, on occasion, even a bit of that dark, crusty, Norwegian black metal. Aggression is a human emotion and anyone open-minded enough will admit that actively denying yourself the experience of a particular emotion on the human spectrum would be disingenuous with one's humanness. What eludes me is how one can become so attached to a particular emotion that it completely controls their lives, to the extend that their outward expression is an extension of one very small, narrow facade that they have allowed to totally envelope their being.
Black metal girls are morbid and detached and they know it. Hell, they thrive on it. But what makes me chuckle and scratch my head in confusion is how determined they are to make sure that you know it too.
— S
Book Recommendation: "This Is Me: Loving The Person You Are Today" by Chrissy Metz
Buy on Amazon: https://amzn.to/2IUFrjt
Retard
ReplyDeleteTotally unacceptable word to use here or anywhere else for that matter. No need to apologize, simply refrain from using that word ever again and have yourself a nice day.
Delete—S
Retarded
DeleteSeriously? Just stop.
DeleteSometimes you just have to be ok with not fitting in. This is basically an article of whining and crying and absolutely failing to grasp what 'black metal culture' is all about.
DeleteTalk about generalizations about females. Yikes.
This article is proof that just because you CAN write, doesn't mean you SHOULD.
I attend this har and know many of the people who do. They are happy and that bar is a blast.
Did this 'writer' ever think that her hipster, smarmy, holier than thou attitude perhaps was written on her smug, judgy, non understanding face and that maybe just maybe that had something to do with the frosty reception she got?
Oh and by the way, this millennial ummm writer was wearing the shirt of a band leader who literally blew out his brains from depression. And you wanna tell me Watain and Burzum indicate deep unhappiness ???
What a joke.
Non metal people, ya know what, fuck off and stay the fuck out of our scene.
Thewokefeminist was banal and superfluous and she knew it. Hell, she thrived on it. But what makes me chuckle and scratch my head in confusion is how determined she is to make sure that you know it too.
ReplyDeleteThere's a considerable amount of generalization and projection in this article that makes me disregard any validity to it. Rather than a subculture expose, it comes off as a petty article in which the writer had a bad time at an unfamiliar scene and sought to feel better by using a strawman fallacy. I can't speak for New York's black metal scene, but elsewhere I've found plenty of happy, social, and (gasp!) confident black metal girls.
ReplyDeleteAs indicated, a woeful lack of research was done and it looks like there was no follow-up research prior to pouring out hurt feelings into a blog. Black metal has its elitists like every other subgenre of every music scene, but not everyone is a Degrassi stereotype mean girl to the "poor loser in the Nirvana shirt."
Please next time back up your claims with researched sources before spouting off how all us poor black metal girls have sacrificed happiness and joy to keep up a persona. Until then, hail freedom and keep it kvlt!
Hello! I really liked your comment and you bring up some wonderful points, some of which have been expressed by other readers. I am planning on doing a follow up piece to address these points. If you have anything to say for inclusion in the piece, such as issues I may have missed, please either respond here or email me at thewokefeminist@gmail.com and I will be sure to include your thoughts and insights in the article (either credited to you or anonymously depending on your preference.)
DeleteThank you!
—S
I think, "retarded," summed it up better.
Deletethis sounds really salty
ReplyDeletesounds like you had one bad experience, read into it too much and decided to rag on all the girls in one scene
Not at all the case but thank you for your thoughts nonetheless. People don't grasp the bigger picture here — these girls are going out in public, actively representing their subculture, and totally painting a negative image of what it means to be "black metal." I would suggest that if you go out in public as an ambassador of a movement, at least act like a respectable human being and not a total asshat. Usually gives people the wrong idea.
DeleteAmbassador for black metal? Are you fucking serious? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. You have a very simple and narrow view of things, and then accuse others of not "grasping the bigger picture". You think these girls speak for all of black metal? You think they speak for all women?
DeleteAgain, missing the point. And I appreciate you not putting words in my mouth, thanks. I am sorry you do not seem to grasp this but it is a pretty basic idea: if you actively represent a subculture, you are an ambassador of that subculture whether you think of yourself as one or not. You REPRESENT what it means to be "black metal" when you dress and act as such in public. By acting in a demeaning and rude way, you thereby taint the essence of the scene which you represent. I would wager that the rest of the community would not be amused at having their scene be displayed in such a bad light.
DeleteBut see that's the problem here. Just because you SAY that doesn't make it true. You don't get decide who represents what. If I'm wearing a beer shirt, it doesn't mean I represent all beer drinkers. Does that make sense? If that doesn't make sense then I can't help you. You're talking about not making sweeping generalisations just because someone is wearing a Nirvana shirt but then doing the EXACT same thing to others and trying to tie it into an argument about an entire subgenre of music and the people listen to it. There's a philosophical disconnect in your line of thinking that is really pretty amazing to watch. If you can't make that connection then there's really no hope for you. Clearly you have some growing up to do still. I'd say good luck, but I don't really care if you figure it out or not, so instead I'll just say go fuck yourself.
DeleteHow old are you? Grow the fuck up. Pathetic article and horrible writing.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry you feel that way. Have a great weekend! <3
DeleteSo let me get this right, you went to ONE show and had a "bad" experience with a few girls and so decided to write a hit piece on an entire gender and their taste in clothing, music, etc. and an entire genre .... What the hell is the matter with you? Are you really that salty that some total strangers didn't act the way you felt they should have towards? You aren't owed anything by anyone, so get over yourself.
ReplyDeletethank you. My thought exactly
DeleteAs someone who has been a lifelife fan of dsbm/doom/funeral and other bm counterparts, I'm going to ask you to fuck yourself.
ReplyDeleteyour article sounds like that never happened. It sounds like you felt like an outsider. you felt insecure, and you took to your blog to make yourself feel validated about your own "unique" appearance in a room full of black-clad, bad shirt wearing fans there to drink and laugh loudly.
i know this is hard to process but we really don't even care that you exist! we're not pretending. apathy is not a connecting quality. if this really happened , a more meaningful conversatcon would have ensued. we have normal lives, with boyfriends, kids, jobs and bills.
throw the whole post away.
THIS THIS THIS. yes.
DeleteDing ding ding!! "Honey, we don't hate you, you're not important enough to hate. Sit down."
Deleteit wasn't even a show. the bitch went to a bar and rubbed her two brain cells to write this. like, go sit down
ReplyDeleteRetard
ReplyDeleteCan you please stop making my school look bad? Thanks.
ReplyDeleteI’ve been around “the scene” for decades and I’ve literally never seen or heard of this happening. Ever.
ReplyDeleteFAKE NEWS
ReplyDeleteRetarded.
ReplyDeleteWow. This is completely ridiculous. It really ought to be titled "I Need To Blame Someone for Not Having Fun at an Event that I Knew I Wouldn't Have Fun at When I Was Asked to Go."
ReplyDeleteThis article is about as "woke" as one of those scary sad metal girls probably was post chugging a fifth of Jameson at the after after party, and about as "feminist" as 1st wave white feminism moaning to poor women of color about being forced to stay home with the kids.
Metal is not without its elitest assholes, for sure. But generally it is also a small, close knit scene where everyone at least knows OF everyone else if they don't know each other personally. Of course a new comer is bound to get a bit of attention.
As an "unhappy black metal girl" who has felt intimidated and out of place "in the scene" in my early days, I usually make an effort to reach out to those in the same position. But frankly, if your personage that night conveyed even a scintilla of the disgust at the "gruesomeness" and "tastelessness" that even this article did then no fucking wonder you got some major side eye.
See, us sad metal girls are used to being judged and gwaked at and made fun of, so we have a good eye for a fledgling fan looking for a good local scene, and insecure little bitches that show up for a spectacle.
I gurantee everyone in there could spot you from a mile away...and it didn't have a damn thing to do with your designer jeans or your Nirvana tshirt.
If you want to continue "pushing yourself out of your comfort zone to the extreme" might I suggest checking your preconceived notions at the door. Otherwise you may benefit by maybe straying a little more closely to your comfort zone (perhaps Korn, or Limp Bizkit cover bands)...."know thyself."
Lastly, if you intend on calling yourself a feminist, you may want to avoid angrily and judg-ily lumping all women into arbitrary categories and then speaking of them in such ugly, shallow, and devisive terms. Feminism is about learning from your sisters (which, fyi, you actually have to talk to them and ask questions to do, not ascribe arbitrary meaning to their eye movements towards doorways) and enable women of all walks of life to live the life that makes them happiest, regardless of whether you understand it or like it.
I wish you the best of luck, sweetie because you are gonna need it!
My issue with this article is that you just paint an entire gender of a subculture with a broad brush because you met two girls that weren't comfortable with how you looked? I can guarantee you the other 98% of people there didn't give a flying fuck about what you were wearing. It sounds like you're suffering from confirmation bias. You've clearly never been to a show or you didn't look around the room hard enough because at every extreme metal show I've been to there are always a handful of people that are dressed "normal". How dare you shame these women for expressing their love of black metal through the way they dress? You have no idea and certainly no right to comment on whether they are happy or not. This piece was written out of ignorance. Maybe next time be more open minded.
ReplyDeletethis - again - seems to be an (US-) American problem.. i think here in europe the situation is more relaxed. :/
ReplyDeleteHola Im a woman. And a black metal one too. Cut out passive aggressive and resentful responses. You refuse to think critically and just act like a spoiled arrogant brat of too much comfort zone life. Get some thick skin and stop whining. You are an ignorant narrow minded attention seeker blowing things out of proportion. Dont get around any men, you rape allegations fanatic. Bye.
ReplyDelete