At 15, I went to a barbecue with my boyfriend to some punk rock couple’s house in Queens I think. The couple was quite striking, both were imposing, physically and personality wise, taking up a lot of space and speaking loud and gesturing big, very comfortable in the world, unlike shy quiet almost invisible me. They both were very stylized in their cool plaid or leather pants, boots. and great dyed spiky hair. They were older than us- me, a junior, and my guy, a sophomore. They lived in a house, we lived with our parents in apartments.
I was a vegetarian and a social misfit so I had no idea what to do or how to act at a barbecue in the broad daylight on a hot day. I was overdressed in boots and black. I also did not know how to take care of myself or pay attention to my needs so I was starving, not being a meat eater, and anxious to leave as soon as we got there. I was good at bearing discomfort for a long periods of time and slinked off to the side and kept quiet like a sick cat
Everyone was very sweet and welcoming and funny. At one point the guy put on a pair of swim goggles and made loud noises and charged at a neighborhood little kid who was peeping at us all through the fence. The kid got scared and ran away and we all laughed.
When we left my boyfriend told me that they had whips in their bedroom and that the guy gestured to them and said, “that’s what happens when you get older.” Getting older did not sound good to me.
this is what the first wave of hardcore out of new york sounded like: