Editor's Note: The following story includes genderqueer subjects who identify with and use third person plural pronouns.
It’s late June in Long Beach, California. Bass lines and drum counts echo through the halls of Temple Israel, where the teens inside learn to play rock music -- some for the first time. But this is not a Jewish day camp. It’s called Queer Rock Camp and the kids inside are along for a wild ride.
“The message is to be yourself,” said Robert, age 19, a camper who flew from Sacramento to attend the camp.
The original Queer Rock Camp started in Olympia, Washington in 2011. It soon spread to Seattle. It was the first camp of its kind: a place where queer youth could find community, support and learn to rock hard on instruments of their choosing. This summer, camps opened in Long Beach and Portland and others are in the planning stages in Minneapolis and Vancouver.
Queer Rock Camp took its inspiration from Girls Rock Camp, an international grassroots movement that encourages girls to have a voice and to make noise. Two summers ago, Jenny Caronna’s 12-year-old child Saturn attended Rock n' Roll Camp for Girls Orange County. But the following year, at 13, things had shifted drastically: Saturn no longer identified as a girl.
“Girls Rock Camp was still very welcoming but it didn’t feel like such a good fit anymore. Saturn had come out as gender fluid and all the talk of girl power at camp didn’t work,” Caronna told The Huffington Post in a phone interview. She explains that Saturn prefers to use the pronouns “they” and “them.”
Saturn comes from a musical family. Their mom Jenny plays in a band for fun and Saturn has played the guitar since they were 9 years old. When the Caronnas first heard about Queer Rock Camp, they considered sending Saturn to Olympia, but quickly realized that they could start their own camp.
Southern California would be the perfect home, a place not only historically rooted in rock music -- the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Sublime, Jane’s Addiction and so many more -- but California is also home to a LGBTQ population of over one million.
In 2014, Caronna brought the idea to her friend and bandmate, Annie Parkhurst, who identifies as genderqueer. They immediately started planning. Over the course of the next year and a half, they raised over $7,000 through an Indiegogo campaign and relied heavily on their tightknit community in Long Beach for help.
Around the same time, the Caronnas decided to pull Saturn out of school due to bullying and homeschooled them instead. Helping plan the camp in Southern California was one of Saturn's projects. “Girls Rock Camp was fun but it’s way better to go to Queer Rock Camp,” Saturn, now 14, said. “Because I don’t have to pretend to be a girl anymore.”
This past June marked Queer Rock Camp's Southern California debut. Over the course of five days, campers prepared for a showcase they put on in front of friends and family at the end of the week.
Before camp started, volunteers from the community nearly knocked down Caronna and Parkhurst’s doors as word got out. “You say rock camp for gay kids and every queer person I know is like ‘Oh my God, sign me up. Where was that when I was a kid?’” Parkhurst, who took on the role of camp director, said.
They only accepted 25 adult volunteers but double that amount sent in applications. “We tried to give priority to queer identified people so that they could serve as role models for the kids. That was hard for some people to understand but I think it was so necessary,” Caronna added.
Many queer kids don’t have queer adults in their lives. Max, age 16, came out as pansexual during their sophomore year of high school and then came out as non-binary a few months ago. “It was really cool to see adults who didn’t identify as a binary,” Max said of some volunteers at camp.
"Adults who don’t understand it will say things like, ‘your gender identity crisis is kid’s stuff.’ But it’s not just kid’s stuff. It happens to a lot of people. It’s good to see that you can not follow the binary and still be successful as an adult.”
Parkhurst, who has a career in digital marketing, has been in a band their whole life. “When you open your mouth or play a note, you’re hoping that people like what they hear,” they said. “When you allow yourself to be vulnerable, and your peers are too, it’s a great way to collaborate.”
The camp's success partially hinged on the bravery of its participants, Parkhurst added. "There were some campers who had a tough time facing the crowd or even their bandmates. But over the course of just five days, they got past that because of the support from their peers.”
The support campers received from the adults around them was just as important. Many went to Parkhurst to talk privately about their experiences. “It got very emotional very quickly. I think that happens when you have a bunch of people, volunteers and campers alike, who don’t have spaces like this very often,” Parkhurst said. “We all felt a big heavy sigh realizing that we could be ourselves and be real. As soon as everybody took that deep breath, a lot of layers started to be uncovered.”
For many of the 16 campers, this was the very first place where they were called by their chosen name and pronoun. “You can be yourself and express yourself. Nobody judges you. It’s really hard to be around people who don’t understand the queer community,” Saturn said.
The word queer is an umbrella, Parkhurst explained. Not all campers identified as gay. Many of the campers identified as transgender or non-binary. “This camp is for everyone who doesn't feel represented. There are lots of different types of queer identities. It kind of encompasses everything else. I think it means the fringes,” Parkhurst said.
In addition to music instruction and band practice, each day included a workshop like queer music history, songwriting, self-defense, gender and identity studies, silk screening and stage presence.
Raising money was the most challenging step in making Queer Rock Southern California come to life. This was in part because Caronna and Parkhurst wanted to feed every volunteer and camper breakfast and lunch every day, but it was also because they knew some families might not offer their support -- emotionally or financially.
“Parents like to say no to stuff, especially when it comes to something like this if they’re not okay with their kid being gay. And they are going to say no if it costs money. We knew that would be a big hurdle,” Parkhurst said. So they raised enough money to offer nearly every camper a full scholarship. Instruments came via a generous loan from Rock n' Roll Camp for Girls Orange County.
Sixty percent of campers at Queer Rock Camp had never played an instrument before. Over the course of the week, campers formed a band, wrote a song and designed a band logo and t-shirt.
“The instructors weren’t frustrated that we had never touched the instruments before. Part of the reason I want to play bass now is because of those instructors. It’s something I discovered that I love and I never would have known it,” Robert said.
The act of writing and performing music was deeply powerful for many of the campers. “Writing lyrics is a part of music. You can get so many emotions out on paper. Or play an instrument -- strumming so hard that your fingers bleed. Pounding on the drums. Feeling like I’m getting all of this bad energy out. It’s an amazing feeling to have that outlet. It’s so uplifting,” Robert said.
Max first heard about Queer Rock Camp from the LGBTQ center in Long Beach. They had always wanted to learn an instrument and for one very specific reason.
“I love classic rock. The bass lines are always really cool and make the sounds come together. The Who is one of my favorite bands and John Entwistle is my idol,” they said. “I thought if I can learn how to play bass, I am one step closer to becoming John Entwistle.”
When Max arrived at Queer Rock Camp, their dyed blue hair didn’t make them stand out -- it made them instantly fit in. Three other campers had blue hair, too, so they formed a band.
“We were all trans kids with blue hair who loved outer space. We named our band Blue Nova. I have a little tattoo of Saturn on my arm, and one of my bandmate’s name is Saturn. We all clicked,” Max said.
Max’s band wrote their song about how outer space can be a metaphor for explaining what it's like to be a trans person. “No one is really hearing you, especially if people aren’t accepting of your ‘trans-ness.’ You’re screaming your name and no one is listening. That correlates to how there’s no sound in space. You can’t really hear anything,” Max said.
“Before you come out as trans, you’re unhappy and then you come apart as a person and reassemble as a new person -- a better person -- because you are who you are. You have reached your full identity. Saying I’m becoming a blue nova is like saying I’m reassembling and I’m going to be something so beautiful.”
Queer Rock Camp SoCal is currently accepting Summer 2016 camper applications for LGBTQ+ and allied youth aged 12-21. No music experience necessary.
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