When I was a kid, we had a piano in our house. I have a vague notion of the power it took to move it in there. I think I remember my father and grandfather were involved in the move from where ever it was to our front room. I taught myself to play a simple “Mary Had a Little Lamb” and “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”
One year I had the notion to ask for a guitar for Christmas, and I received it.
From these pieces of information, you might think I’m quite the musician now. But in both cases, no lessons followed the availability of the instrument. At one point someone bought some piano or guitar books, but I didn’t have quite the initiative or persistence then to learn in that particular manner. I picked up the notes on the piano, but not much more. The guitar remained a mystery. My dad already knew how to play, and I expected him to pick up as my teacher. In hindsight, he would have been a terrible guitar teacher: impatient, gruff. But no one else filled those shoes, so the guitar sat and collected dust.
Fast forward to now. I have a guitar and a ukelele hanging from my wall. I pick both up occasionally, but I have to overcome a lot of inertia for both. Less for the ukelele. Even after owning a guitar for years, I can manage a few chords. A few songs. But that’s it. I just don’t practice enough, and it’s challenging to fit that into my adult life among my other interests.
But what if I’d been trained as a child. What if my interest in music had been built up? Nurtured?
Too, I was an angsty child. Our family didn’t communicate well. We harbored anger that erupted into family fights every so often. I harbored anger that erupted into torrential outbreaks every so often, because I didn’t know how else to express myself.
But what if I’d been trained as a child how to communicate? What if my interest in being understood had been built up? Nurtured?
My impression of the Girls Rock Camp tonight embodies both of those things. While I was only a passive participant in tonight’s final showcase, I see what a powerful event this could be to young girls. A way to make their voices heard. A time when they make sure to make their voices heard.
One of the girls got up and said, in her 9-year-old experience, girls are usually supposed to do what boys want. But in Girls Rock Camp, it wasn’t like that.
How empowering, at that young age!
Another got up and said that one of the processes in Girls Rock Camp was that anyone could lodge a complaint against anyone else. You could do this at any time. And while you had to try to be kind while doing that, no one else was allowed to tell you to be quiet. That wasn’t important. In Girls Rock Camp, it sounds like they made an honest attempt to make sure everyone’s voice was heard, and that they tried to solve problems through communication instead of silencing.
Amazing. Lessons that are challenging even as an adult, yet they were doing them in this camp.
I’m glad I went to this showcase. The girls in it were inspiring. But the better message is, those girls are going to go on to be powerful girls and women.
Each of those girls went into camp a week earlier, not knowing much about music. Presumably, some knew more, some knew less. Regardless, they took that one week and turned it into a song. That’s more than I’ve been able to do in many years of tinkering with a guitar.
I’m glad I went and supported this organization and what it stands for. I even picked up a cool “Smash the Patriarchy” tank. Huzzah. I might try to get involved with the organization next summer. Inspiring girls to be powerful in their own skin is certainly inspiring to me. I wish I’d had more of that when I was a kid…
