Confessions of a Teenage Punker (Mish's Column)

Punk as fuck. Those words have been emblazoned as the as the motto for the renegades of society. Those crazy-haired kids who wear plaid pants with suspenders hanging off of them, combat boots, and some ratty black band t-shirt that should have been washed two weeks ago.

Punkers. We all know or have seen them.

And I used to be one of them. First, I spent a year as a poster child for the Hot Topic generation. I then moved on to the DIY style and then the skater punk style for the latter years of my high school sentence.

If there was anyone to blame, I blame my 6th grade crush. I liked the Offspring and he liked them as well, which made me want to listen to the Offspring even more. I can also blame the guy who sat in front of me on a field trip to a solar power plant. He sang this song about masturbation. The only line I can remember is “The reason guys like me can't get a date/Is because guys like me masturbate.” Intrigued, I asked him who the band was and he told me “No Effects“, which I soon found out to be NoFX, but to this day I still do not know who wrote that song or even its name because it is not by the band. (If you know, please tell me!)

I relied on word of mouth and the radio for new bands. Luckily, the San Diego radio stations weren't too saturated with commercial interests at this time. I began to learn about local music from “Lipstick” by RFTC (Rocket from the Crypt for all you non-fans) to “My Town” by Buck-O-Nine, and my personal favorite “Dammit” by blink-182, which I had to refer to as “Dang It” in my 5th grade attempt to be a music journalist.

My love for punk music grew like a seed in moist soil. Watered by my Catholic school’s strict hatred for any form of musical expression that may invoke thought. My school even held a parent meeting to encourage a boycott on Jewel. Fertilized by the fact that I was truly a nerd and didn't feel like I fit in with the rest of my class, I delved deeper and deeper into punk mythology. Bands such as the Sex Pistols. Crass, and the Dead Kennedys emerged from the annals of history. Then I bought my first pair of bondage pants. I can still remember them today - purple plaid with black suspenders. I wore them to the first day of high school orientation topped off with my pink Good Charlotte shirt. Mind you, this was when no one knew who Good Charlotte was, during the first pressing of the first CD and when I liked Good Charlotte. OH GOD WHY? I refused to wear anything but “punk” clothing. Black plaid bondage pants. Boots that were two sizes too big. High top chucks. Fishnets and plaid skirts. I bought it all. I wore these with pride going to my sold out Rufio shows.

Then, of course, I jumped on the “If you're punk and you know it, STOP SHOPPING AT HOT TOPIC” bandwagon. I began to make my own clothes. I would buy cheap clothes from Marshals or thrift stores (normally oversized. It was cheaper that way) and proceed to lengthen, shorten, and safety pin to my heart’s content. Judging from the pictures of the day, I probably should have stuck to shopping from Hot Topic. I had these one pair of Capri pinstripes that I lengthened and tried to attach belt loops to. Let’s just say it had all the marks of DIY sewing by an impatient girl: safety pins all over, an torn hemline, and the best part: uneven pant legs. I would buy adult small shirts at shows and then sew them smaller. Actually, I would get lazy and just cut them smaller. I wore extremely large Dickies pants, ties. WAY BEFORE AVRIL. I had to lose the tie after she came around, and anything to make me stand out as I went to my Academic League and Science Team matches. (See told you I was a nerd)

Then came the tragic part. I turned my back on the bands I used to love, because they didn't fit the definition of what was “punk”. Who defined punk music anyway? If I remember my trivia correctly, the word punk is actually 18th century British slang for a child molester and it has nothing to do with classifying music. I denounced pop-punk and only listened to what some other snot-nosed kid told me I should listen to only because he looked more punk than me.

By the time senior year of high school rolled around, I realized the absurdity of the situation. Second semester, I bought my first pair of jeans. My friend Jennifer responded by staring wide eyed and whispering “Who are you and what have you done with Michelle?”. The first day I walked into class sporting my denims. I realized that it wasn’t the clothes that made the punk. It was the lifestyle. The idea that I was going to do whatever the fuck I want, because I am an individual.

Today, I dress however the hell I want to dress. Note to shopping fiends: wear nothing but PUNK clothes throughout high school. Your mother will be so grateful for the change in style that she’ll buy you ALL the clothes you want, just if you promise to get rid of those ridiculous clothes. I’ve sported heels, but I normally wear Chucks or Vans. I still own a ridiculous amount of black band shirts and the colors of black and red in general. Unfortunately, since I go to UCLA, it doesn’t work out. I wear jeans, but I’ve got about five pairs of Dickies lined up in my closet. I’ve donated the bondage pants to charity, but I still can’t find it in me to give away my plaid messenger bag with the strap covered in band pins.

When someone asks me what I listen to, I respond, “Punk, psychobilly, and Ska”. My favorite bands still to this day old blink-182 and the Offspring, although Operation Ivy, Alkaline Trio, Rancid, My Chemical Romance, Dead Kennedys, old Unseen, Crass, Horrorpops, Nekromanitix, Green Day, Suburban Legends, and the Mad Caddies make close seconds. I embrace the fact that I like pop-punk as much as I like punk as much as I skank to ska and as much as I like everything under the blanket umbrella of alternative/punk music. And I really don’t care if someone tells me I’m not punk enough, because I’m listening to what I want to listen to regardless if anyone likes it or not.

Now that’s punk as fuck.