graphic by claire evans
At the beginning of 2022, I didn’t have a list of resolutions I was going to take up (and inevitably fail at) — rather I had a list of tours and concerts I wasn’t going to miss for the world. With COVID restrictions being lifted and after two long years of JONESING for live shows, I had a year-long schedule of music I had to catch up on. The one that I had most anticipated was IDKHOW playing in the town right next to mine. The concert was rapidly approaching and I was about to buy our tickets when suddenly and absolutely devastatingly, tragedy struck: my roommate had a rehearsal that they couldn’t get out of (curse you theatre rehearsals).
Now while this doesn’t seem like an issue to the average concert-attending, common sense-minded person, the situation threw me into a terrible fit of panic, astonishment, dread and all the most dramatic words you can think of. Had this happened in Victorian England, I would have fainted then and there from poor nerves and would have to have been taken to the seaside for my health. My options were running thin. I could beg other friends to come with me, but I didn’t want to make them pay for a show they couldn’t care less about, plus some of them aren’t the concert type. The alternatives were to not go at all . . . or worse: go to the concert alone.
Now, because this is one of my favorite artists and because mama didn’t raise no pendeja, I bought the ticket. I’d been to a bunch of concerts before, so how could this be any different? Immediately, I got rid of every hesitant bone in my body, went to the concert, had a Y/N moment and was picked out of the crowd by Dallon Weekes himself and we rocked on for the rest of the night where I, as a legal adult, got adopted by the band and went with them on the rest of their tour.
. . . I wish that’s what went down. Instead, I became a puddle of anxiety, thinking about going to a concert in a scary venue full of strangers who could be murderers or worse: musical gatekeepers. So I did what I always do when my anxiety gets the best of me and I have no control over a situation — I started doing research on concert-going alone.
Looking at different videos, blogs and r . . . re — … Reddit threads (I can barely say it), I found women reflecting on their solo concert experiences with joy and not an ounce of regret. My confidence grew and grew and I thought, “Hey . . . maybe it won’t be as bad as I think.” All was well, but without intending to, I started noticing some . . . uncertainties within my own behavior and the rhetoric of how people referred to solo concerts. Women spoke about taking extra precautions such as telling friends and family their exact whereabouts as they headed to venues, memorizing exits and bouncers so you could speak to them “just in case” and tuning your location on. I changed out of my planned outfit for the concert into something “safer” and less provocative. While I convinced myself that going to the concert was something I was doing out of love for the artist and want of a fun experience, every decision I made surrounding that was one enraptured by fear, anxiety and paranoia.
Unfortunately, I was born suffering the strenuous, pitiful condition known as WOMAN. The responses I was seeing about women concerting by themselves and the hyperfocus on self-protection online was symptomatic of a larger attitude held about, within and surrounding women. The fixation on women’s security is reflective of the culture of fear that envelops our lives and experiences and is something we’ve been brainwashed to believe in and depend on for our own “safety.” While this culture of fear is not as prominent as government-issued curfews for women or anything we see in “The Handmaid’s Tale” (although it definitely may feel like it), this conditioning circulates in and out of our daily interactions and hides in the nuances of our slightest mannerisms. Every time women fake an excuse to leave a sketchy date, force a smile after being catcalled at work, phone a friend as they walk home at night or even change into a different concert outfit than the one planned, this very culture of fear feasts on every moment of paranoia and anxiety.
Living within this culture of fear, we’ve had to mitigate our own wants and needs to accommodate the safety of our own safety. Despite popular belief, I don’t share a Life360 with my friends, look under my car before getting inside it and know that the elbow is the strongest point in the body for combat because I feel like it. I didn’t ask my mom for a stun gun at age 14 for walking home from school because I thought the girlies would think it was cool. While the purpose of these products, services and tips for women do provide security and are useful both for keeping yourself safe and for feeling safe, they still serve and reinforce the very culture of fear that they attempt to weaken.
The most backwards yet reaffirming belief that this culture of fear has instilled in women is that WE are responsible for our own safety, rather than looking outwards for the cause of our insecurity. While women are busy buying cute kitty cat keychains and worrying about how they’re getting home from the party, men who perpetrate violence against women don’t even worry about getting caught. More time is spent teaching women to be afraid than teaching men not to violate women and GOD FORBID women are recognized as individuals rather than commodities, dolls, things to enjoy and toss out.
Oh but we know this — this is so ANNOYING and EXHAUSTING and we hate reiterating it but not more than we hate the endless cycle of fear and self-policing that we deal with day in and out and with each breath we take. WE KNOW IT SUCKS! IT SUCKS! But where does this leave us? And where does it leave concerts or just attending anything as a woman? Are we doomed to a predestined, nightfall curfew and staying at home until we’re granted the opportunity to go out in a group to do anything?
Until we can fully escape the cold, tearing grip of the fear we carry with us the moment we step out the door, all we can do is make do. Of course, this goes hand in hand with educating ourselves, our communities and our future generations to follow through with the egregious task of keeping women and each other safe — but until then, we’re left to our own devices. Beyond education, the only way around this culture we’ve been conditioned to trust and believe in is through it. Even with the anxiety in your bones and crawling up your skin . . . you should buy those concert tickets. It only makes sense, right?
I didn’t live out my Y/A fantasy at that concert, but what ended up happening was that I showed up hours before the show, met some cool people in line and made a couple of friends, went into the show and had the night of my life. Getting home, I crawled into bed with my ears still ringing and my feet still hurting. Going alone to that show was one of the best things I could’ve done for myself, not just because I was able to see a band that I loved, but because I laughed in the face of everything I believed I shouldn’t have done and had a damn good time doing it. I’ve never felt like more of a badass or main character in my LIFE. On top of that, going by myself gave me the added bonus of not being nervous for anything else I’ve thought of doing by myself. Needless to say, there’s not a moment where I’ve felt more empowered in my life.
Now, common sense disclaimer time. This is not to say that you should thoughtlessly run toward potentially dangerous scenes and situations. After all, fear and trusting your gut is essential in helping you navigate your responses in different scenarios. But letting fear and paranoia dictate your decisions and experiences will only riddle your life with what-ifs and regrets. There are few things as rough as missing out on good times because you were scared to do it alone. Trust your intuition, protect yourself — but do it all while enjoying yourself. Women are meant for experience, so go out and do shit that scares you and come back looking hot, sexy and with good stories to tell, bitch.
Girlies. Babes. All I can tell you now is to just go out and do shit alone. Don’t wait for shit to happen with you and go make things happen for you. It’s not awkward, it’s not weird that you’re by yourself. It’s a Hot Girl Moment™. Go to a concert alone and talk to strangers and make friends — you’re all listening to the same music anyways, that’s already something in common (or don’t!). Go have dinner by yourself, fuck it, go on a solo trip to Europe during the summer and meet the love of your life and have your OWN MAIN CHARACTER MOMENT. We’re done asking for permission, we’re done waiting for people to do things with us. Do the shit that you like for you. We’ll be waiting to hear what comes of it, cheering you on the whole time.