My week as a roadie for Girls Rock Vegas

As a Mormon boy growing up, summer camp for me meant going out somewhere with the Boy Scouts. After I entered high school, summer camp was either an advanced chemistry or biology course at the University of Utah. There were probably music camps I could have attended, but I guess I had neither the awareness nor a great interest in attending any (especially considering my very ill-considered years hiding in my room to avoid piano lessons as a kid).

At age 32, I have to say I missed out.

As a result of my relationship with Heather, I've been involved in the Girls Rock Vegas rock and roll camp for girls. Since this is my blog, I'm going to take a bit of credit for it, since I was the one who originally proposed going to see the Girls Rock! film at the Tower last year (and paid, I believe, at least for the dinner at Thai Lotus afterward--one of the best dates I've ever been on). Of course, I simply thought it would be a great film to watch and moved on my merry way.

Not Heather.

The film inspired her. So much so that she contacted the Girls Rock folks up in Portland (officially the "Rock and Roll Camp for Girls, Inc." an Oregon non-profit). A few months later, Heather had developed a relationship with the Girls Rock Camp Alliance people and received permission to set up an official camp in Las Vegas.

I don't believe a single week has passed since January of this year when Heather and I haven't spoken about the Girls Rock Vegas Camp (GRVC). And I'm sure that in that time, I've more than filled my recommended 50 hours of pro bono legal work on behalf of the organization. For her part, Heather got to work assembling an all-star cast of camp counselors, music instructors and private and corporate donors and partners. She put in hours finding instruments, venues, even lining up food donations from Einstein Bagels (those of you who were at the camp know what I'm talking about--THOUSANDS of bagels...).

Daisy Rock Guitars generously donated two guitars and a bass and sold us another guitar at a very nice discount. Heather's principal gave us use of the Rose Warren Elementary School. Sam Ash Music was super cool and agreed to let us use their stage for the showcase concert. My uncle Newt at his House of Guitars store even chipped in and hooked us up with a smoking deal on a couple of basses and equipment (guitar straps, stands, cables, picks, polish cloths, etc.).

Fourteen girls signed up for camp. At least as many counselors signed up, too. When I flew into town on the 7th, Heather had all the elements together for a successful camp to start on the 9th. On the 8th, after the final planning meeting, I pieced together some stencil letters and picked up two fabric spray paint bottles and wrote "Girls Rock Vegas" in pink and green on the front of a white t-shirt and "Roadie" in pink on the back.

Over the next week, we met an amazing group of girls, from a variety of socio-economic, racial and ethnic backgrounds, and (presumably) sexual orientations. Most of the girls had never picked up a guitar or bass before. My job was simply to work in the background to make things happen. Which is a surprising role for me because I came to camp having only the vaguest of vague ideas about how the instruments were supposed to work.

But I fixed a bass drum pedal on the first day (after probably only ten minutes of scratching my head about how it operated), and managed to keep everyone (mostly) hooked up with their amps and with the right instruments in hand. Thursday morning I did an artist spotlight on Joan Jett.

Which brings me to the real reason I'm writing this blog (no, my roadie stuff was pretty mundane, with the possible exception of getting the local NBC station to come out to do a story on the camp). Women's issues are compelling to me.

My brief foray into faux-misogyny notwithstanding (mostly I just despised the manipulative, hypocritical, self-centered, mean-spirited teenage girls I went to high school with), I feel a kind of kinship with women. True, I don't menstruate. Fears of rape or sexual assault almost never cross my mind. My earning potential is automatically greater as a man.

On the other hand, I rage over economic and social inequality. I hate corruption in politics, business and religion. Long ago, I decided to hand back my ticket, which mostly meant I made little money, had little influence over my peers, and resulted in long hours sulking in corners and basements while white men raped and pillaged through my brothers (and sisters) who seem to me to be all too willing to bend over for the fascination and thrill of being fucked (forget the bloody mess that inevitably comes after).

At least sometimes women do object to it.

So a project like Girls Rock Vegas, which aims to empower girls to resist, to stand up against the social-political machine bent on subjugating them, appeals to me. It gives me little shreds of hope that maybe, if a group of teenage and pre-teen girls can pick up drumsticks and electric guitars, call themselves The Flaming Skulls of Death, and jam out together, humanity might someday reform itself and pick up braided scourges to drive out the money changers from their Father's house.