It’s a Thursday night. I have a job interview the next morning because, holy fuck, I need another job, being a college student and simultaneously a broke musician is beyond exhausting. Despite this, I find myself at a multi-purpose space in Tucker (fuck Gwinnett btw) and sneaking spurts of resting my eyes when I run off to the bathroom for a sobriety reset. I wasn’t planning to go out, but I’ve appointed myself as the president of the Ferg Berserk fan club, so when the homie demonstrates admirable vulnerability by asking his friends to come watch him do a set they've seen a couple times before, I make room in my schedule for the homie.

Besides, I love Atlanta’s underground circuit. Few things bring me as much joy as being cramped into some dark venue, holding a $7 drink that wasn’t worth the money, and whooping for my friends as they practice being rockstars. Across every major city, there is a grassroots effort to curate DIY spaces where local musicians can perform, collaborate, and experiment. In Atlanta, these venues operate outside the mainstream hiphop scene and emphasize inclusivity, affordability (often adopting a “no one turned away for lack of funds” policy), and community building. Supporting local music scenes is not just about supporting your friends or seeking self-expression; it is a form of grassroots political activism that fosters community, empowers marginalized voices, and challenges mainstream narratives, curating a vital third space for collective action and cultural resistance.

Local music scenes have long been a breeding ground for political activism. From the Riot Grrrl movement in the early 1990s to today’s underground scenes, grassroots music has been a platform for the systemically oppressed to express their political discontent. At a time when mainstream culture was dominated by men, Riot Grrrl's DIY ethos was a direct call to action, organizing women and introducing young girls to feminist politics. While women and girls have long held influence over mass culture consumption, the Riot Grrrl movement was a deliberate shift inwards. Instead of seeking external validation, these women used their creative power to cultivate underground communities that supported each other. The movement’s zines, concerts, and communal efforts were a direct rejection of the mainstream, showing that grassroots music isn’t just about rebellion but about redefining community and power dynamics in culture. 

One of the most powerful aspects of local music scenes is the space they offer to an intersectionality of oppressed voices. Particularly in Atlanta, I want to amplify the roles of black femmes who carry the Riot Grrrl thesis into the present day, but with a distinct focus on Black liberation, queerness, and femme empowerment. In a world that legislates Black bodies, everything from the food we eat to the clothes we wear is a response to systemic oppression. When Black femmes take the stage and express themselves without apology, it is a radical act of defiance and empowerment. Punk Black, for instance, is an Atlanta-based collective that elevates Black and Brown voices in punk and rock music, genres that have historically been dominated by white men. The collective creates spaces where Black punk bands, many of them fronted by somebody who looks like me(!) can thrive and where fans can experience their reclamation of their culture via a genre that is often disconnected from our mainstream representation.