Alice Wheeler
Punk rock 101: Learning the basics at Ladyfest.
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We sent two of our lady reporters down to Olympia (which last week's Time deemed one of America's hippest cities) to check out the post-Riot Grrrl proceedings of Ladyfest, a weeklong conference centered on the sociopolitical, artistic, and musical endeavors of modern women. What follows are some of the juicy bits from their diaries.
Wednesday
Laura: 'Festing headquarters: A cool mag/rag shop in the thick of downtown Olympia. As they pick up what will become the week's ultimate fashion accessory—the arty, laminated Ladyfest pass—'festers eye each other with measured caution. Nearly every faction of modern youth culture is represented here, from drag kings to skater chicks to environmentally aware college kids. The girl to guy ratio is like 20:1.
Everything in Oly looks as if it is meant to be shared, borrowed, broken-in, and loved. There tons of spaces. If youve got an art show, you can call them gallery spaces, if you want to perform, you can call them performance spaces. These spaces convey the political and social agendas of all that have used them. The writing is on the wall. A homemade poster says, Yuppies get the fuck out of our neighborhood, and stickers for the local rock bands the Gossip and Bratmobile collage a bathroom door. Inside one of these spaces, Praxis, we find our first panel, a discussion of alternative menstrual products.
Young women with punk rock hair use grown-up words to educate their peers about the environmental and health hazards of the mans feminine hygiene products. They rattle on like children do after birthday parties. They are excited. They have things to share. They seem so smart, so tuned-in and alive. They say vagina without pausing. They are unafraid and unashamed. They are at least five years younger than me. It is clear that I have things to learn.
Outside the Capitol Theater, crowds of disappointed women grumble about the beauty seminar being cancelled. The butches, the femmes, the rocker chicks, the skater girls, the college co-eds, and the drag set: were all let down. Such is the way with these decentralized affairs, a Ladyfest organizer explains. Because no single person is in charge of this week, some things are bound to fail. And thats cool, we are beautiful already.
That night, a long-time Olympian and Riot-Grrl veteran welcomes the festers and reads announcements about lost wallets and ride shares. She mentions a few of the 'fests sponsors, like gurl.com and the events underwriter, Uncle Paul and his Experience Music Project. She claims that anyone who has issues with corporate sponsorship is welcome to stop her on the street and engage her in discussion. Her tone of voice says, Money is important. If you dont like it, try pulling something like this off without some help. Before kicking off the nights musical performances, she maternally reminds us 'festers to hydrate often. Remember, ladies, here in Olympia, good 'festing is in the water.
Around midnight, I feel the Ladyfest vibe. I am glad I am a girl. Chan Marshall, a.k.a. Cat Power, plays her seven or eight semi-songs, all of which mysteriously have just two chords. The girls, packed tight as sardines, hang on every whispered word. They cheer wildly throughout the poorly executed set and call out, "You're beautiful!" when she quits halfway through a Nina Simone cover. I am both touched by their adoration and disappointed by their lack of discernment. At one point she prompts the crowd, Guess how many chords I know? One girl calls out, Three. Another voice says, Four. Chan settles with, Somewhere between three and four. Im not sure what the point is. Is she encouraging girls to play guitar or is she being self-deprecating and coy?
Outside the theater that night we pull up a piece of curb and are absolutely astounded by the sizable crowd. There are so many variations on the theme of Lady. Its wonderful and beautiful and exciting. In the middle of that thought, a Mercedes sedan pulls up and waits patiently for three mohawk-sporting teenagers to climb inside. Ouch.
Bethany: Ladyfestwhat to expect? All-girl summer camp with rock n roll and postRiot Grrrl feminism and some booze and drugs and sex around the edges? Im simultaneously cynical and excitedhopeful my cynicism will be quickly eroded in the atmosphere of female bonding and rocking out. Im also anxiousI am female: Is that in and of itself sufficient preparation?
No press passes are available, a fact I find cutely homegrown and nonhierarchical. Transgendered ladies are welcome. We arrive in quaint downtown Oly and go to pick up our passes; the ladies handling things at HQ are beautiful and vaguely goth, uber-organized. The show tickets are beautiful too, with stark and mysterious line drawings of day-of-the-week panties for each day of the week, natch, and no other info or text. I feel part of a secret society, a feeling that implodes the instant I look into a local cardroom, my gaze met by some unabashed small-town leering. I didnt know cardrooms existed.
The festers travel in twos or small groups, talking amongst themselves. You have to smile first in order to squeeze one out of them. They look like San Francisco to me, a look I associate with girlfriends there who weld and make comix. I am attempting to approximate this look, but unfortunately the only way to fuck it up is by trying. Laura looks correct; I feel a sham: Audrey Hepburn in drag. I feel close to too old or old-fashioned, but anticipate this will pass. Note to self: Relax, feel the fest.
