Hello again, friends! It is my duty in this column to reflect and project about local music, and I certainly have a lot to write about this week. My recent thoughts concern the end of Burlington’s iconic all-ages venue, 242 Main.
Since the public announcement that Memorial Auditorium — the building that houses 242 — would be closing due to structural issues, the local music community has been mourning the loss of what was once a sanctuary for the Northeastern punk movement. As I monitored the reactions to the club’s terminal diagnosis, I began to reflect on my own time spent at the venue as a teenager growing up in Burlington. I noticed something was missing in the historical narrative of the space: The experiences of the young women who bravely navigated the overwhelmingly male-dominated culture that thrived behind 242 Main’s doors.
Last year, Seven Days music editor Dan Bolles wrote an in-depth piece about the history of 242 Main in honor of its 30th anniversary. Detailed in the article are the central roles of two women, Jane Sanders and Kathy Lawrence, in the creation of the youth center. Despite this matriarchal guidance, the photos and flyers chronicling the culture at the venue make it difficult to ignore the fact that the demographic represented is almost completely male.
To further investigate this imbalance, I took a look at the lineup of bands slated to play 242’s last show ever this Saturday, December 3. Please correct me if I am wrong, but it appears that there is not a single female musician in the bunch — and if there is, she is a needle in a haystack. Even a look into the archives of the old Big Heavy World forum, the message board that fueled and organized the 242 scene in the early 2000s, depicts a community dominated by male perspective.
Recently, I spoke to my best friend about 242’s demise and the times we pulled on vintage t-shirts to go see acts such as the River City Rebels. While the conversation started off as a light and fond reflection on our awkward adolescence, it quickly changed tracks with a twinge of resentment. My bestie recalled that the worst verbal bullying she had ever endured took place at 242. I was pained to share that many of my memories involved harassment as well. I had a feeling we weren’t alone in our experiences. I remembered a number of other young women that felt unsafe and unwelcome at 242, a venue that, on the surface, seemed safe and supportive.
I reached out through my social network to gather experiences from other women who grew up attending events at 242 for comparison. The feedback I received confirmed what I suspected: that there was a side of 242’s story that wasn’t being told. I’m sharing their statements in raw form, so their honest perspective has a chance to make the record.
One friend described her memories of 242 Main as, “getting hit on by 20 year old dudes and band members, not just random sleazebags, who I thought were super hot until I looked back and realized they were doing it towards a 14/15 year-old girl who did NOT look old for her age.”
Another friend messaged me with the following statement.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately (mostly because it keeps being brought up by my male friends who are excited about the last show). And one night I was sick of hearing about it and was like, ‘God that place can burn to the ground for all I care.’ And everyone looked at me like I had three heads (or completely ignored me) and I feel like that’s a pretty good representation of how females have always been treated in the Burlington music scene and specifically at 242. I never felt like I was being taken seriously there, ya know? And it hasn’t ever felt like a safe space or an accepting space. It’s just another “boys club” type situation. So in my opinion, good riddance. All the over-30s dudes will have to go find somewhere else to mingle with girls way out of their league and age range and hopefully they won’t have an easy time of it.”
Jasmine Parsia is a longtime employee of Higher Ground, and a well-known creative. I was lucky to become friends with Parsia because of our mutual time at 242. This is how she remembers the venue:
“I started going to shows at 242 when I was 14 or 15 and I went to every show I could — anything to get out of my usual circle and check out something new.“242 became a space to meet people outside of school, people I felt I could connect with and share interests. As a teenager, I often felt like an outsider. I always had trouble truly connecting, particularly with the other girls in my small suburban high school. But at 242 I met a few like-minded ladies that were also interested in digging around for new music or checking out a band on a Tuesday night with five other people in the crowd.
“Though I’d be leaving a huge part of the narrative out if I said that it was all rainbows. There was another side of 242 that became increasingly aggressive, alienating and, frankly, not safe at times. There was an ever-looming feeling that girls, particularly young girls, weren’t welcome — this sentiment that if you weren’t OK with being pushed around at a hardcore show or hit on, then maybe you should just get lost. It certainly wasn’t the ethos of all the guys at 242 — I met some of my most caring male friends there. But it was increasingly the most prevalent.
“I stopped going after a while because it became the opposite of why I treasured it. I went on to work at another venue in town for a handful of years, partly inspired by my times spent at 242, I wanted to be a small hand in fostering curiosity and connection in the music scene, for everyone.”
Ashley Melander, co-founder of Beautiful Music CDs, chimes in on forging female friendships at the venue.
“I started high school as a pretty square kid who envied the punk girls I met in band class. I was invited by them to see shows there that now sound embarrassing, but which were at the time a big jumping off point. A Big D and the Kids Table show actually led me to some of my best life-long female relationships, and a real life interest live music. Ariel Bolles, who was a horn player in a high school ska band called the Bazookas in the late nineties and Ann Grover who played bass in Freezerburn (who opened for Fugazi that time) blew my whole world upside down, and our relationships would have never solidified without that place. So, even as I look back at some time wasted time hanging out with drunk bro-ish dudes in those bands, it still holds such a soft soft in my heart as a place where I could cut loose from expectations and make some serious connections.”
My own experience with 242 Main was a frustrating combination of simultaneously awakening to the freedom of counter-culture and the confines of sexism, all while listening to an anti-establishment soundtrack.
It was the first place I worked door admission and the first place I got punched in the face for being in the way of male aggression. It was the first place I felt empowered to participate in a community and the first place that inspired me to advocate for my sisters to feel safe and included.
Despite the difficulty with navigating around the social obstacles of the venue, I found myself there at least one night a week for most of my teen years. And for the record, many of the men that emerged from 242 Main became damn good role models. However, we can’t continue to ignore that fact that young women often don’t get to experience the same comforts as young men, even in spaces many see as positively constructive.
So thank you, 242 Main, for all the life lessons. Here’s to a future of building inclusivity and equality for all participants in the Burlington music scene.
[Editor’s note: Ariel Bolles is the sister of Seven Days music editor Dan Bolles.]Related Stories
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“Please correct me if I am wrong, but it appears that there is not a single female musician in the bunch and if there is, she is a needle in a haystack.”
You might want to double check that line up.
As a female musician, I have definitely experienced sexism in the music scene. But there has never been a time when I’ve personally felt unsafe or discriminated against at 242. In fact, all of my experiences there have been very positive. Maybe it’s just because I’ve experienced a different time with different people. I can’t speak to what it was like prior to around 2009 or so.
I attribute my entire womanhood to 242. Okay, maybe that’s an oversell, but this story makes me feel really sad for the women who experienced the club after my time there. I was a regular from probably 1996 to 1999/2000, and did not feel at all the way Amelia Devoid said she and some of her friends did. I felt like it was MINE. All mine. Just by merit of choosing to, I got to serve on the weirdly consensus-run board, and learn all about nonviolent communication and active consensus-based decision-making, all of which favors all voices over the loudest shouters being heard and incorporated. I met the first shaved-headed girls in my life there, and spent hours hanging out in mixed crews, not exactly divided by gender, but not-not, either. I don’t recall an us-them sense there, and it’s nothing close to how brutal the rest of the word is in real-life. At 242 I got to be doorman, and ran the kitchen, frying vegan fries, and later, used the space to run community groups or alt-film screenings as a college student. It always felt like mine, and I think because of the sense of equality – yup, mosh wounds – I felt more like a human than I did like a girl. Which is the problem, if you’re at a homogenous school district growing up where sportsy and preppy is the only way to be, or you’re miserable. I loved how it was when I was there, dragged any female friends I had out there, and I hope as many other girls/women got that sense too. PS. Thank you for the Avail poster! I gotta queue that up…
I agree with a lot of what you say here. As a (then closeted) trans woman and queer, that environment felt toxic as hell sometimes. Depended on the show. But yeah. A lot of why I stopped going. Just such a macho culture.
I too am disappointed by the lack of representation at that show. I know one cis gal playing bass as a fill in. And me, a trans woman fronting Spies In America.
Amelia Devoid, I wrote a song about it in 1990. Here it is and it’s called “Boys Club”…This is for all the women that felt like they shouldn’t have been there, I wrote this song for us, and I played it to mostly male crowds at 242 many times in the heyday of 242 Main. And at Border, Toast, and then Metronome. Recorded in 1991 a very interesting time in the music scene here. At that time I was the only women fronting/writing/booking for a really loud rock band of all men. I never felt unsafe, and the guys in my band were good to me, but I often felt unwelcome in “the scene” and until I opened my mouth and started singing…lots of male musicians didn’t take me seriously. So I played loud and I played hard and made a big ass noise that no one could say they hadn’t heard. I had a REALLY good time.
So Amelia and friends… ROCK ON. Hope you enjoy this song, it’s for you and for all of us who KNOW what it feels like to watch the Boys Club do their thing.
https://soundcloud.com/peg-tassey/boysclub…
If for some reason you can’t hear it here, you can go to http://pegtassey.com/
Reading this story made me very angry at first, how could these ladies sat such bull crap about my 242 home? I practicality lived at 242 in the 80’s and early 90’s and never felt like it was a “Boys Club”. I never felt “Unsafe”, just the opposite! Everyone at 242 was my family, somewhat disfunctional sometimes but always looking out for one another. No one could touch one of us without the whole family coming to their rescue.
This family is still tight after 30 years so I feel nothing but pitty for these ladies in this article . Maybe it’s just a different generation , your 242 is not my 242.
What has struck me the most is watching my (male) 242 friends evolve into the very football player-types I went there to avoid, reliving their ‘glory years’ with undying, pathetic passion. Gross. That being said, some badass women took the stage there in the 80s (Strange Flesh!) and seeing them had a huge effect on all of us. Also, that was a very multiuse space back then, with art classes, poetry readings, and coffeehouses – not everyone who wants to celebrate 242 had the ‘punk rock experience’ but that history is much quieter. To me, those were the best days, when we all crossed paths at different events and respected each other’s different interests.
Peg Tassey – this is awesome! It’s awesome in that it’s a capsule in time, a version of the club/era I never went to, and the steady throb-metal is so clearly a predecessor to what I was listening to not four years later as a young teenager. So rad. So cool that you have this on Soundcloud.
This is not journalism. This is a weak editorial piece at best. Please devote your magazine space to more worthy and accurate voices. What a waste of a read.
Needle in a haystack, here! I’ll be playing today, filling in with my friends’ band. They asked me in large part because they wanted females in hardcore/punk to be represented. (For the record, anyone who wanted a say in the lineup was welcome at the open meeting they held. All you had to do was show up.)
I wish you had talked to more women before you wrote this column so that it could have been more well-rounded. I started going to shows 20 years ago, and was heavily involved in the scene for 10. I played in bands, worked the door, and served on the advisory board and programming committee. I experienced more empowerment, freedom, and support at 242 Main than I did almost anywhere else in life. I felt safer there than walking down Church Street. I had negative experiences too, but they were always due to outsiders coming in to the community, and I was surrounded by men and women who were there to back me up with words and with fists.
Speaking of fists, when you speak of getting punched in the face, is it safe to assume that “being in the way of male agression” is code for “standing too close to the mosh pit?” Because if so, I vented plenty of female agression in the pit over the years and took and gave many hits and bruises. And when I fell in the pit, there was always a hand to pull me up and make sure I was okay.
I thank you for sharing this perspective; these are important voices to hear and issues to consider. But if you were going to talk about women’s experiences at 242 Main, I wish you had included a larger sample group of women who were deeply involved in the community. Believe it or not, there were quite a lot of us, and I am not alone in feeling like this piece does not represent the full scope of our experience.
You’re kidding me right? I spent the majority of my teen and early 20’s at 242, before moving to NYC. Soooo sorry that you weren’t coddled and wrapped in clouds to keep you safe from the “boys” moshing. It’s a hardcore show! You clearly were at the wrong shows. This article makes me sick. How dare you!
Hi Everyone…I want to respond thoughtfully to what I am seeing in all the comments here. I commented on this article, and from my heart. I’ve been getting notifications when anyone else comments as well, and have seen that different women have had different experiences at 242, and of course there were many incarnations of 242. I want to be sure that we as a community don’t shut down the women who DID have negative experiences there. The comments I’ve been reading are very similar to what I have read when a woman says she’s been assaulted and other people just don’t believe or validate her experience. Other women have been shaming the woman who wrote about her experiences in the article and shaming and even making fun of
some of the other commenters. I think it’s IMPORTANT to voice the positive experiences that many women had at 242! But I think it’s important to tell our stories without shaming or invalidating other women’s stories. My take on the comments all around is that if you were pretty involved in the 242 community…on the board or doing programming or going daily or weekly, you were treated as an equal. It seems that some who were just going there for a show once in a while or to play music may have had other experiences…and they are all valid.
I’m very happy to read all the great POSITIVE memories women have of 242. It’s inspiring for the way a NEW 242 could be envisioned! xoPeg
I was at 242 in the beginning and it was one of the few places I really felt agency, as a young woman in the mid to late 1980s. I’m so sorry and not surprised to hear that wasn’t everyone’s experience. In the beginning it was a venue for all kinds of music and happenings, many of which we got to design and program ourselves. My friends’ all girl band Ice 9 got their start there, mentored by scene legends Miss Bliss and by Jane Sanders and Kathy Lawrence, of the Mayor’s Youth Office. I did weird performances there, taught younger girls. I debated then-Gov Dick Snelling about US aid to Nicaragua and El Salvador on the stage (wild!). I did see a lot of boys play a lot of hardcore there, and I’m sure some of those experiences reflected the sexism of the scene and the larger world. Over time, the city’s support for 242 as a teen-programmed space dwindled and it became, increasingly, an all-ages hardcore rental venue. I wonder if that loss of agency for young women and girls corresponded in some part to an increase in the kinds of experiences described here. It’s also likely I haven’t fully remembered or dismantled the worst of my own days, or that I experienced some privilege in that setting that others didn’t. When we hear experiences that are different from our own, sometimes it’s good to listen rather than rush in to correct the record. The record has space for a lot of truths. I really appreciate what Peg is saying about not shutting down the author of this story and others, but really listening to learn how we can build more inclusive spaces and programs for kids in the future that truly honor the best of 242.
https://instagram.com/p/BNlg24wD6_q/
Ain’t were no boys club! We told those nice young boys to dance and they obeyed. You missed the boat 🙂