The Rage Club: Liberating Our Teenage Minds

I befriended the friendless and the outcasts, I shared fashion magazines with the gay kids wearing Armani at 14 in a redneck town named Boonville, I made friends with the group home kids, dated the Mexicans and encouraged the geeks to run for student office because they were the smartest. I listened to the Dead Kennedies and Sweet Home Alabama, I watched A Clockwork Orange, Honeysuckle Rose and Helen Caldicott. I had posters of Willie Nelson and Prince and Jesus on my walls. And I admit, a Matt Dillon. I saw Mary Daly as a tiny child, and I loved Dolly Parton.
I shopped at second hand stores and got vintage clothes when it was decidedly not cool. I rode a skateboard and carried my teddy bear that I have had from birth in my backpack with his head sticking out – he wore a white bone carved Buddha on a black leather string, his name was Girton.

Evolution of A Punk Rock Princess on Highway 101

When I was a teenager one of the most important things to me was to be original. It was clear to me that not only did I not fit in, I did not want to. Even sometimes when I was able to “pull it off” by being normal enough or popular enough even for one day, I kind of felt sick to my stomach about it. At the time I did not have language for what I felt. But now I know that who I had to be in the world according to who other people expected me to be – was not who I actually was. But did I even know who I was? Not really. Life did not afford me that many opportunities to SEE or KNOW who I was and so I was in the dark, like many…