Onwards and Upwards: Playing My Way Through the Gender Division
Independent Author and DJ
<http://dx.doi.org/10.12801/1947-5403.2017.09.01.14>
From as far back as I can remember, my preference for music always fell under the EDM umbrella. It wasn’t just about the music for me. I was lucky enough to catch the back end of the ’90s when the dance scene was peaking. I loved the feeling of connection and freedom the dance movement brought. On the surface, it seemed all about letting go, and being open minded. Ironically some of my experiences at the start of my journey seemed to lack this ethos. It wasn’t a problem making friends in the crowd, it was getting onto the other side of the DJ booth that seemed to be an issue.
I had set my intention to start DJing while I was still at University. Why not get paid for something that you love, but my rose-tinted glasses got a bit cracked as I slowly realised the hurdles that lie ahead. Vinyl was still at its heyday and equipment was expensive. Youth opportunities didn’t exist for studio time, and by the time it did I was too old to participate. DJ school also wasn’t yet a thing, or at least not something I had discovered. My god, we didn’t even have internet in our Uni halls (We are talking back in the year 2000. I was in attendance at one of the Universities in Sheffield. I would say the nightlife didn’t have an impact on my choice to study there, but pre commercialised Gatecrasher and Hed Kandi were based there). I had started buying records long before I had my own decks. I set my intention to be positive. There was no use having decks with nothing to play on them. Even record buying felt daunting sometimes; I didn’t notice many other women buying records. The record shops seemed to be choc-full of over-confident young males. The shop assistants were affable enough, and before the days of Shazam, happily listened to my descriptions of tracks that I had heard in clubs at certain nights and helpfully offered a selection of records to listen to; that’s if I could get on the decks at all to listen to my prospective purchases. My funds were limited so I had to choose carefully. Holding space on the decks when I managed to get on them to listen to my prospective purchases was another thing in itself. Everyone else seemed to take ages, their need seemed greater, and I will admit I let the projected frustrations of others chivvy me along.
I needed my own set up and for that I needed money. The best break I could get at the time was as a corporate DJ for a relative’s firm. My sister also worked for the same firm and we decided to team up. I wasn’t so fond of more mainstream flavours of music or events, but it paid. This was going to be my springboard, and looking back, I realise it was. I learned about performance contracts and how to hold my own behind a stack of music equipment. Most nights were fine, but it’s funny how the more unpleasant incidents seemed to stick in the psyche. Sadly, when I did get to play in dance music venues some of my experiences were not so dissimilar until several years later. I was prepared for unwanted sexual advances from men and built up a repertoire of verbal deflection tactics and cheeky one-liners. I always found it interesting, the concept of being at work and the need to deflect advances (almost like going to your job and people assuming that maybe you were only there because you wanted to get “on the job”). Or odd people that wanted to openly criticise you whilst you were working. Comments regarding my clothing, appearance and capabilities, or perceived lack thereof, were a regular source of annoyance. Thank goodness, I didn’t experience these problems during my daytime pursuits. Sadly, though some male punters pushed boundaries and it became awkward, sometimes it felt outright dangerous, and sometimes it was even the bouncers who were sleazy. I always went away feeling very unsettled after experiencing unwanted attention from the door staff. That always left a bad taste in my mouth.
What always shocked me the most was when other women seemed negative about the prospect of a female DJ. I remember one lady let the side down somewhat when she walked straight up to a young man that happened to be helping me out that evening and started talking business. I interjected politely and assertively stating that I was the DJ for the evening and the look of shock on her face was like I may as well have gone and given her a good slap with a wet kipper. Sadly this experience wasn’t so uncommon. On other occasions I was clearly the DJs girlfriend, or he had just let me “have a go” on the decks.
On the other hand, life always exists in balance. The positive feedback from people who enjoyed what I did was enough to keep me going forwards. In parallel, I was studying to become a biological research scientist, and was quickly getting used to being a young female in male-dominated environments. In both contexts I felt like the odd one out. I missed out on lads’ nights and such. It was an interesting dynamic really, no one was outwardly unkind, but by the same token it almost seemed like I was politely tolerated and kept at arm’s length. It even felt like, no matter how good I was or what potential I had, I wasn’t quite good enough to be in there. I didn’t even feel considered at times, which was most frustrating. I knew I was living and working in a time when females were under-represented in many areas — and incidentally both areas I was interested in (i.e. STEM subjects and EDM).
Back then, sourcing my own equipment was a priority. That lingering feeling of being fenced off outside the clique always came back when I tried to take advantage of being at a place with a working DJ set up. Nowadays, the people I am around are really supportive and it is a progressive experience. When I do look back I remember the girlfriends of lots of DJs and other females expressing an interest, and even though they were around the equipment and people, it seemed like there were unspoken barriers in place.
It takes time to find decent people and get decent jobs. Starting out was like being a healthcare intern, getting the jobs that needed doing, which other more established staff would run a mile from. I know this dynamic happens in every industry; it’s always with the view towards portfolio building, gaining experience. Choices were limited, so I took what I could to gain some exposure. You had to at least be able to say that you had played-out somewhere, this was increasingly apparent. Fun times on the dark side included people trying not to pay up, or offering substances in lieu of payment. I managed to wangle taxi fare on one occasion after the promoter buggered off without paying me. The event organiser tossed a couple of bags of white powder across the table and expected me to leave. Feeling a little like a drugs whore, I explained that two baggies of Donkey Smack (my loving term of endearment for Ketamine) wasn’t currency. It was even suggested that I should sell these to get the money. This was definitely not within my remit. I left the baggies on the table, not wanting to provoke another potentially sketchy situation and instead made up the deficit in beer allowance after at least securing funds for transport home. At this point, I didn’t mind doing the odd gig for free to be able to say that I had played out, if it was agreed in advance. On the other hand, having invested in kit and records you could argue that I was already out of pocket and I didn’t want the gigs to cost me. I’m not really into “pay to play” but then I also learned that so many people out there were desperate for a chance and would consistently play out for free. Unless it was my own night I wasn’t willing to get into that. Another amazing gig fail was when I was asked to play at a free party in a run-down area on the outskirts of Nottingham in 2007. I had been to a few good raves in my time. I had the ’90s hands in the air romantic vision of people being in the countryside dancing in unison whilst I got to play some records. I told my friends, rallied support and got ready. The location was kept secret until last minute, which was standard. I got the intel, packed up the decks, had a friend in tow, and off we went. It was not what I considered a rave. Despite being illegal, those I had visited in the past seemed to be frequented by quite conscious and generally very interesting people. I think a squat party was a more fitting description (in my mind a rave and a squat are different). I remember the event being held in a disused industrial building in a practically derelict part of town. The surroundings reminded me of the set of the film Saw, and I really didn’t feel comfortable. I didn’t really feel safe around anyone. Maybe it was the smell of petrol, lads driving cars inside the building or the strange man that wanted me to go off on my own and explore the neighbouring abandoned building with him. I felt like a tourist with some kind of dark insight into the more depraved side of life. People were literally passed out on the floor and using the back walls as a bathroom. This wasn’t my kind of event. The sound system was diabolical, static central. Even if everything else was kosher, the music itself was enough to keep us away. We left almost as fast as we arrived making sure that we cancelled the invitations that were sent out, a suitable excuse was fabricated. I couldn’t be seen there.
Things picked up upon discovering women’s only nights. Due to the finite number of women in DJing, chances were you were guaranteed a set at one of these events (unless you were utterly terrible or had bad politics going on). One of the best breaks I got was playing a night called Demo. This was the edition that was held at the former Blueprint nightclub before it moved to the Maze. The first ladies only edition was held in 2008. I got a prime slot, in a big room, the floor was full, and I got an encore. Even to this day I hold that gig in my personal hall of fame for best gigs played out ever! Getting gigs got easier from then on. People remembered the night being amazing and spoke about it. Being associated with that made all the DJ contributors a little bit amazing too and their favourite DJs got invited back for another event (myself included).
It took me a while to realise that being female and a bit scarce was actually an advantage at times. People were more likely to remember you, and if you as a punter went into a venue and asked about the lady DJ, chances are you would find the person you were looking for. Male DJs were “10 a penny” and had to come out with creative names or gimmicks to stand out. I started to stand out just because I was of the opposite gender. I also noticed that coming across other females who weren’t afflicted by this internalised sexism that blighted some of us was actually really helpful. On my second round at DJ school I met DJ Elmo, who is one of the people involved in “Soul Buggin” It’s only taken a couple of us to get together to form a supportive and progressive network where opportunities are shared. I am happy to say things are looking up in the UK. As a comparison, as I was getting more gigs here, through a University connection I was invited to DJ in India at “Aura Bar” in Delhi, this was back in 2006. This was an eye-opener for sure. The status of women in certain pockets of society there is precarious. I knew my contact was from the educated and more open realms of Indian society and that they were also very well connected. Things looked good from this side of the pond, but upon getting there very little seemed to materialise. It was like a mega-amplified version of dealing with the woman who only wanted to do business with my roadie. I really felt infantilized. Even the people acting on your behalf didn’t seem to disclose much. In the physical sense I was looked after, however, I often felt like I was sat in the corner and fed whilst others spoke business. I had very little say, and when I did speak I didn’t really feel listened to. I didn’t know what was going on half the time. No one wanted to pay because fathers and husbands pay for girls. A woman taking a job in SOME peoples’ eyes was a phase (or that was the impression I got from the people I spoke to, others were shocked that I was out driving around so late on my own back in the UK).
For further context, in South India there is a midnight curfew, when clubs shut. As you must be home before midnight you start clubbing as early as 6pm. On the way home you try not to run into the police. Anyway I digress; I did get to play towards the end of my trip at Aura bar in New Delhi. I was back-to-back with another DJ. Finally, I felt so relieved that I got to play. I noticed as well that the club scene was very different. Poorer echelons of society had no chance of getting into a club whatsoever, as it was a very glamourous state of affairs. Clubs and bars were adjunct to hotels and a lot more cash seemed to flow. It was interesting, but I preferred my home scene more, even the muckier parts of it. On the other hand, despite feeling left out at times I was well looked after, but I also realise my skin tone associated me with money, so even if I looked like crap I could pretty much get in anywhere. I am not sure how the scene there is now, it’s been at least six years since I’ve visited, but I can say for sure that back home it’s nice seeing more females playing out, more female door staff and generally more respect overall. We still have a way to go but we are going the right way.
I never wanted to be a big name DJ and am more than happy with my position as a hobbyist; darting between my two prominent musical stomping grounds of Nottingham and Manchester, playing records that I like, to people who frequent my favourite venues. I feel lucky that I’ve found a supportive group of people and have played in some nice places. In Nottingham, I’ve been fortunate enough to play at some of the city’s landmark venues, including The Maze, Rough Trade, Broadway and The Bodega as well as in bars in popular parts of town such as Hockley, Mansfield Road and Beeston. I’ve got my favourite festival slots including Oxjam, Alchemy, The Castle and Kozfest. I’ve had radio appearances since moving to the city, the most recent one being for Local Motive Radio.
I would like to acknowledge all the people that helped me along my way. Particular people include fellow lady DJs Elmo, Sonia Hawkes of the Stiff Kittens, Lotta Lox and other inspirational ladies I’ve met along the way. You picked me up when I was low and pushed me forwards when I wasn’t feeling confident. You also passed forward opportunities, for which I am always grateful. I’d even like to thank the people that gave me a hard time, because you too also helped me, by making me stronger. You helped me learn how to re-enforce my boundaries, get out of sticky situations and pushed me out of my comfort zone. All the weird situations I was put into still serve as amazing anecdotes today and every experience I’ve had has been a privilege. Thanks all.
I would describe myself as a DJ hobbyist. I'm still DJing with vinyl, although I may have to make the transition to digital at some point, but for as long as I can get away with it I'll keep on with the records for now. I’ve held various residencies, and play a variety of genres depending on the venue and crowd.