What are You Doing Here?: A Black Womans Life and Liberation in Heavy Metal By Laina Dawes

The subject matter was very interesting to me, as a black woman on the fringes of alternative music and the sister of a black female metalhead, but the writing style - very rambling and at times unfocused - made it hard for me to really get into and enjoy all the truths that the book was telling. But it was nice and refreshing to hear a perspective in music that, while common, is rarely heard. Laina Dawes A fascinating perspective on what something was like. Random white guy me could figure out that Dawes would get various sorts of crap from white people, because everything from condescension to overzealous liberalism to screamed slurs, is predictable by anyone who's every read or listened to a black person talking about their experiences. I was surprised to hear other thing about her experiences and those of the women she interviewed as a black women metalheads, such as how much crap she gets from black people for liking THAT music and how odd it can be to go from being the only one to one of a few.

Taking the title at face value, I was a little sorry Dawes went heavier on the life than the liberation. I'd have liked to hear more about what metal makes her feel, but obviously it's a hard thing to put into words. And I rolled my eyes a bunch because of how tone deaf she seems when talking about hip hop, but well worth reading for its strengths.

It also made me think a lot about how who's performing it plays into how I or other people react to music.

Given the cliche about dancing about architecture, I'll list the less known rock/metal/other bands with black members (I think in all cases?) Dawes talks about or interviews, so anyone can go listen and see what they think. Straight Line Stitch, God Forbid, Genetic, Sole Heiress, Empire Beats, Rise From Ashes, Tamar-Kali, Dormitory Effect, Misery Index, Tetrarch, The Family Stand/Sandra St. Victor, Blaxam/Saidah Baba Talibah, Swear on Your Life. Laina Dawes Heavy metal has defined me as a person! I didn’t want to get with Metallica, I wanted to BE Metallica. And Jonathan Davis. And Sevendust. And Shine Down. And Nine Inch Nails. And Staind. Et cetera — music circa 1996-2001.

Dawes’s book, published by Bazillion Points Books, is a mother-luvin’ hot mess. I mention the publisher (I typically do not) because I have to wonder if they even care about what goes out to readers, readers who have paid for their books. The introduction appears twice in my Kindle copy. When I saw “EPILOGUE,” I sighed with relief, but was confused as to why I was only 75% through the book. It’s because the small survey Dawes distributed is copied three times. You’d think someone got happy with the copy and paste functions and didn’t care to review the final product before publishing it. And typos. Typos as far as the eye can see. Small presses struggle, but they have to have pride to have customers.

Laina Dawes’s work lacks credibility in a way that made me mistrust everything she said. Sources are not cited (there’s a bibliography at the end, but most of it goes to entire books that are not referenced often, suggesting she’s cherry picking information). Dawes references the same few sources repeatedly, including one documentary and a couple of musicians, basically asking them to prop up her poorly researched argument.

And it is an argument — a “should” argument, the kind I taught college freshmen for years not to make. If you argue that “women should make equal pay to men,” that’s not a strong argument because if they “should,” then the would. It’s too simple and lacks nuance. Dawes argued that people “should” be able to listen to whatever music they want without feeling like an outsider or being harassed. Yes, in theory, but it’s not true, as evidenced by her numerous anecdotal evidence.

Dawes purports to be a journalist, but lacks the ethical guidelines of a good journalist like Rachel Louise Snyder. Instead of speaking to the white men Dawes claims side eye her at concerts to give them voice, she assumes they are racist. Am I saying she’s wrong? No, but this wasn’t a memoir, it was a work of biased journalism, which is a no-go in my book.

There are a number of assumptions, too, rather than real investigation. Here is just one example:

Labelle, the ’70s super group that consisted of Patti LaBelle, Nona Hendryx, and Sarah Dash, were known for their glam rock style and their willingness to combine rock ‘n’ roll with societal issues that many singers in that era avoided. Did their images and music preferences stay in line with what black folks thought was appropriate behavior? No. Did they care? Probably not. [emphasis mine]

Dawes, who was a PhD candidate at Columbia University, had access to a research library. I searched “Patti Labelle” on their library site and came up with 14,835 articles and 21 items in the music/book catalog. Is that a huge number of resources? Of course, but that’s part of being a serious scholar in a PhD program.

Though you could consider the blog Dawes maintains a personal space separate from her scholarly and journalistic pursuits, she admits she’s reporting on concerts she attends, including the time she attended a concert with multiple bands, heard a rumor that one of the bands said or did something racist, and then wrote about it in a blog post. She claims she didn’t name the band, but it was easy for her readers to figure it out, and people slammed her for publishing unfounded rumors. If Dawes wants to be a journalist, she can’t conduct herself like a tabloid version of the profession. Because she argued that what she did was acceptable, and later deleted the post, I didn’t trust her ethics.

Sadly, I was disappointed the entire time I read What Are You Doing Here? Poor sources, a questionable author, a seemingly careless press — there wasn’t much to root for. I did check out some of the musical acts she mentioned, surprised that many had a more 1990s alt-rock sound like The Cranberries than a heavy metal sound. Straight Line Stitch was the exception. This is an important topic that likely needed to be a memoir, or perhaps Dawes needed more support — financial, personal, and academic.

This review was originally published at Grab the Lapels. Laina Dawes While there were a few anecdotes worth noting, I found it mostly redundant in nature, and pretty predictable. Hey, these rebellious white people turned out to be not so rebellious when it comes to race matters. Saw that coming a mile away. At the same time, it's a book I think should exist alongside other work in its vein. So if you read a lot of material about race and social issues, there are zero surprises here. If you don't, or if you read a lot of music stuff and little else, this could serve you well. Most of the people I know are in the first group though. Laina Dawes Star detracted mostly because of both genders mention, although this book may need an update anyway since some of the music pages are MySpace pages which... Yeah.
Anyway aside from that, anyone and everyone should read this book. It touches on a lot of social issues that are broader than the metal community and also paints a pretty good music history lesson in the process, all from a black female FoR, which is refreshing because it is so rarely seen.

Despite the fact that I'm not black and our experiences differ, through intersectional experiences I can still relate. There's a good reason my local punk scene is very adamant on the no racism, no sexism, no homo-/queerphobia rule (although the addition no ableism would be welcome but that's not even tangentially related). Even being vocal about it, the crowds are still (well, pre-covid anyway) mostly white and often mostly male unless the target audience is clearly indicated differently. Issues with some types of men in metal also clearly resonated with me.

But even if you're not into metal or punk at all, go read this anyway. Laina Dawes

review · eBook or Kindle ePUB Ø Laina Dawes

What Are You Doing Here? investigates how black women musicians and fans navigate the metal, hardcore, and punk music genres that are regularly thought of as inclusive spaces and centered on a community spirit, but fail to block out the race and gender issues that exist in the outside world.

“The first time I heard rock music it was really exciting. I felt that this new music and vibe was really me. I remember going to bed and having dreams that I was performing this music and visualizing myself on stage, way before it actually happened… What always appealed to me about rock music is the feeling of freedom, that I could finally be who I wanted to be and sing the music that I felt in my heart. Some black people that I met in the music industry felt that we could be stronger and better empowered if we all stayed within in the same box, but I had always relished the fact that I never belonged to any cliques, or any scenes…”—Skin, Skunk Anansie

“I wanted to find other black women like me: metal, hardcore, and punk fans and musicians that were rabid about the music and culture and adamant about asserting their rightful place as black women within those scenes. I wanted to find other women who put aside the cultural baggage that dictates that we must listen to certain musical styles, and simply enjoy the music that influenced us, not just as black women, but as individuals who grew up in an era when, thanks to technology, a large variety of music is accessible and available to everyone. I found many black women and have shared their stories, but I also realize there is still a lot of work to be done.”—Laina Dawes

CONTENTS:

“Who Put That Shaven-Headed Black Woman on the Stage?” Foreword by Skin

Introduction, by Laina Dawes

I. Canadian Steel

II. Metal Can Save Your Life (or at Least Your Sanity)

III. I’m Here Because We Started It!

IV. So You Think You’re White?

V. “The Only One” Syndrome

VI. Too Black, Too Metal, and All Woman

VII. The Lingering Stench of Racism in Metal

VIII. Remove the Barricades and Stagedive!

Epilogue

Appendix: “What Are You Doing Here?”—The Survey What are You Doing Here?: A Black Womans Life and Liberation in Heavy Metal

Before I met Laina, I was unaware of all the young sistahs who had grown up as I had--feeling like an outcast for being more devoted to rock than R & B. When she contacted me to talk about my experiences as the first black rock critic to work for a major metropolitan daily, (The Chicago Sun Times), I felt as if I was listening to myself in a way.

But I was listening to, and soon to read, the story of a young woman of today. And though Black women--Black people--are still not fully accepted in the metal realm, things are changing, gradually. Young women like Laina are kicking the doors open, declaring their allegiance...and independence.

This book is the story of Laina and a small group of intrepid travelers blazing their own trails and making their own waves. It's long overdue, and it's written with an urgency born of the long, long way the women in this book still have to go.

It is a tribute to those women and perhaps also to anyone who has ever had a dream deferred. But the dream is becoming a reality--this book is the clarion call. We are here. We have always been here--rock has Black roots.

Laina and the women in her book are reclaiming it and remaking it in their own images. Brava! Laina Dawes As someone who has spent most of her life as the weird kid in many, many different places, I must first thank Laina Dawes for writing this book. What Are You Doing Here? offers a glimpse of what it is like to be a Black, female metalhead in this (very often) racist and sexist sphere of music. Including information gleaned from interviews and personal experiences, this book also includes historical tidbits about the music industry, as well as facts about the punk and metal scene that you probably never knew. I highly recommend What Are You Doing Here? to any who has been asked that question from anyone, including themselves. Laina Dawes Sometimes I think this that world wants to hurt me/But if I'm going down it's with my fist in the air... Bang by Benedictum.

This wasn't a book. It was an experience. It was like author Laina Dawes was living in my head and decided to write a book about being that rare bird--a black female metalhead. The same passion for the music, the same looks of puzzlement and/or disdain from those who don't understand or accept individuality, the same sense of making a space in a world where few of us are represented. Even the issues of being black, female and feminist are questions I've dealt with (though I feel metal can be feminist for many reasons). The best part of reading this awesome book is discovering so many incredible black women artists who have more talent in their pinky fingers than all the pop princesses we're constantly regaled with.

Instead of my standard review, I'm going to cite some of the quotes from this amazing work that spoke directly to my experiences as not just a metalhead, but as a black woman:

After all, if the blues, a black-originated sound, served as the musical and spiritual foundation of metal, hardcore and punk, why is there so much resistance among black people to listening to it?

It's a question I've been asking myself and others over the past three decades of my rock/metal journey. Every band I saw and loved, from Judas Priest to Motley Crue to my favorite Queensryche--they all owe something to Robert Johnson, Howlin Wolf, Muddy Waters, Little Richard, Chuck Berry and of course, Jimi. Even Dream Theater, those scions of Progressive Metal, owe much of their style and penchant for odd time signatures to jazz greats like Miles Davis, Thelonius Monk and John Coltrane. So why are we black metal, hardcore and punk fans treated like some sort of cultural traitors or weirdoes for simply reclaiming a musical heritage on steroids and Gibsons? I love that one of the chapters is actually titled I'm Here Because We Started It! Check out the awesome multi-part series 'Metal Evolution' where writer, cultural anthropologist, film-maker and metalhead Sam Dunn makes this very case in one of the first installments.

Black women don't allow themselves to be liberated, says Laura Nichols, who frequented Toronto's punk scene in the 1980's. We do not allow ourselves to be free. It's not just listening to a diverse range of music that is perceived as being outside of black-centric musical styles--it's everything in our lives. Some of us do not allow ourselves to be 'big' because we don't want people to notice our behavior as an example of a negative racial stereotype--'Oh, she's acting that way because she's black'.

This statement struck me, to borrow a line from the 'Ryche, like a two ton heavy thing. I've always said the feminist revolution as beneficial overall as it has been, has also been pretty slow when it comes to the intersectionality of race, sexuality and gender. We feminists of color/GLBTQ often feel further marginalized by the very movement which expects our unthinking support, all the while maintaining the very structure of privilege it claims to fight against. Add to that the burden of being the representative of an entire group of people and it's little wonder that our physical and emotional health continue to take a toll on our lives. I still remember my brother and I being warned by my parents to behave ourselves in public because people would judge us far harsher and therefore all black people in general.

Listening to metal, going to shows, wearing a band's t-shirt--from the most aggressive to the gothic/symphonic style-- feels like a welcome release from all that pressure to conform that I have often felt from both black people and white people (though sadly and painfully most of the negative reactions I've had over the years have been from my own). No, it's not the solution (though I wish it was), but just the feeling of allowing oneself to be an individual, of freedom, is priceless. It sometimes feels as if my choice of music is the only thing I'm allowed to own, and there are those who'd try to take that away from me if they could.

A few years ago my father went to Blockbuster Music to purchase 'Time to Say Goodbye' by Sarah Brightman for my mother. The salesgirl took one look at my father, then at the CD, then at my father again and asked him if he was sure he wanted to buy it. He politely asked for her supervisor and proceeded to let the man know how offensive the question was. I've had a few similar experiences purchasing metal music (one reason I'm thankful for the era of digital downloads) and unlike my father, I'm a lot less tolerant of people's fuckwittery.

Throughout my preteen and early adult years I learned that women--particularly black women--are not supposed to show anger, through words or actions. Not only is anger an unattractive quality in a society that prefers women of all cultural and ethnic backgrounds to be gentle and passive, but for black women, being loud and angry harkens back to racial stereotypes that have deterred our social and economic progress.

Just. Yes. Over the years I've seen the right use the 'Angry Black Woman' moniker against Michelle Obama. However, there are those in feminist/progressive circles who also use that when women of color challenge their privilege, not knowing that very argument can be and often is also turned against them when they challenge patriarchy. Considering black women are often the targets of both racism and sexism, we have a right to be angry. In the case of black women, the fact that we're more than likely to be victims of domestic abuse, our rates of HIV-AIDS is higher than the average, and that we're less likely to make as much money as our white female counterparts and yet when we speak truth to power on all sides, there's a damning silence.

However metal for all its agression and rage isn't always angry. I mean, how pissed off is Khan when he sings 'The Sailorman's Hymn'? And while powerful, Stratovarius is far from an angry band. Neither are Rhaposody of Fire nor Epica (Cerebral yes. Angry? Not so much). Hardcore on the other hand uses anger in a healthy and creative fashion and I would say that a kid listening to something like Sevendust and getting their aggressions out that way is far emotionally healthy than a kid who holds it in. I can say from personal experience that music (metal and rock) literally saved my life as a teen.

I'm much more into the Power, Prog and European metal styles than punk or hardcore, though I still rock some Bad Brains, Souund Barrier and John Butcher Axis on occasion. Even Japan, home of Gackt and L'arc en Ciel has a pretty vibrant metal scene with bands like Versailles Philharmonic Quintet, the much lamented D'espairs Ray, Dir en Grey, ExistTrace and Galneryus. One of the cooler things I've noticed is that Europe seems to be far ahead of the States when it comes to the number and variety of bands lead by female singers. From Tarja (ex-Nightwish) to Angela Gossow (Arch Enemy) to death metal trio Astarte (a scary but kick ass outfit) to my goddess Floor Jensen (ex-After Forever now ReVamp). There's Krypteria, a German metal band lead by the incandescent Ji-In Cho, the always awesome Epica (Simone Simmons rocks), Leaves' Eyes, Within Temptation, Lacuna Coil, Mandragora Scream, Angtoria and Tristania (I miss you Vibke) just for starters. Unfortunately with the prominence of so many powerful women expressing themseves in what is still regarded as a male domain, the sexist asshats tend to make their presence (and disdain) felt. Comments on metal boards usually consist of the typical who's hot/who's not or in the case of amazing talents like Sarah Jezebel Deva (Cradle of Filth/Angtoria) and Amanda Somerville, insults about their weight. Put a black woman up there on stage fronting a metal, hardcore or punk band and some folks just want to show their asses, hence the very apt title of this book.

Music is not only for enjoyment. We derive too much pleasure, pain and education from the music that we listen to every day to dismiss it as simply entertainment.

Metal has been part of the tapestry of my life, from the time my uncle introduced me to Hendrix and Thin Lizzy. I grew up in a household that listened to everything from The Doors to Marvin Gaye to Wes Montgomery to Glenn Miller and everything in between. I am still a Journey fan (though I will always love Steve Perry). I just wore my new Kamelot 'Angel of Afterlife' t-shirt and while most people have never heard of them, I'm always happy to share my love of this amazing band. Reading What Are You Doing Here?: A Black Woman's Life and Liberation in Heavy Metal was like deja vu in black and white (okay on a tablet). It's angry, it's challenging, it's in your face...and it's the spirit of metal! The women interviewed, from Skin of Skunk Anansie to Alexis Brown of Straight Line Stitch are not in here to be apologetic or to get people to understand why they do what they do. In fact, there is nothing apologetic about the book in the least. These artists and fans deal with not just racism, but sexism and are not deterred by it. I like that. So when you see me at the next metal show, don't be surprised. After all, I have a right to be here.

If you think I'll sit around while you chip away my brain/listen I ain't foolin' and you'd better think again...
Judas Priest, 'You've Got Another Thing Comin'

Laina Dawes 2 stars. Teenage me would've loved this book with all of her angst and woes. Adult me, though, the one who is very comfortable with being a black woman and being different didn't really care for it at all. I was a mix of bored and annoyed while reading this the whole time. It was just really dull and directionless. Though I will admit that there were quite a few quotes that I liked from this. I think that might be the only positive though.

First let me say that this needed to be edited so badly and it wore me out. I mean there were a lot of grammatical mistakes and weird phrasing of sentences. I can let a few slide but this was just dreadful with how many there were.

I see what the author was trying to do but I don't think it was executed correctly. There was a lot of well black people don't understand me because I'm different waaaaaaaah! and that drove me nuts. As someone who is very much into rock and all of it's different sub-genre (granted not as much as I was in HS but I digress) I understood that aspect perfectly. My family didn't get why I was into screamo music and the ripped jeans and band tees and dyed 'scene' hair. It was annoying having my blackness called into question just because I liked something different but this book was all that it seemed to be about. The author didn't really delve into anything else and sometimes this read like a frustrated teenage girl's diary.

I also was absolutely NOT here for the constant slamming of R&B female artists. I loooooove me some R&B so this was a big issue for me. It was mentioned so many times how all the 'R&B girls' do is get half naked and dance around on stage. Okay? And? What the fuck is your point?? But then turn around and admire when women do it ONLY if they're in the heavy metal or rock scene?? Fuck out of here with that. It pissed me off so much. Don't police black women's bodies. Period. End of story.

Overall, this wasn't what I wanted in the least. I wanted this to be a badass black girls rock type of read but instead I felt distant from it. Only good thing to come out of it is that I am now on the hunt for more books dealing with this topic by black women. There has to be a good one out there somewhere. Laina Dawes The only problem I had with this book was the lack of proofreading. It took me out of the book more than few times, focusing (even for a second) on the typos. Other than that, great book. Felt like I was reading about my kin. I was one of few people listening to rock music (mainstream, indie, metal, etc) and getting a lot of flack from my peers about the type of music I was (and still am) into. Granted I'm no metalhead, I could definitely relate to the author and many of the people she interviewed. I also loved how she opened my eyes to all of these different musicians I had never known of before but now I'll be digging Youtube for them. Laina Dawes