November 19, 2002
Critical mass and my relationship to my past
Forgive me, this one's a rambler.
Yesterday, I read two essays from a book on Critical Mass published by AK Press. Credit goes to my professor for including anything published by AK in the course syllabus. However, there is a maxim that states we are most critical of what we hold dearest, and this proved to be the case: after twelve weeks of being assigned rigorously researched and grammatically sound academic articles, I found myself disappointed by the two texts. I feel that Critical Mass, as a phenomenon, should be examined intellectually in conjunction with the largely anecdotal and instinctive essays collected in this book. Is this just a symptom of me not thinking something is legitimate until it has been academically analyzed? That could be part of it, and, if so, the disappointment I felt could be a problem with my expectations. However, I'd like to think that I'm still a bit more open-minded than that, however much time and energy I spend with things related to the academy and academic writing.
Would an academic analysis drain the movement - as represented to a wider public - of its sense of spontaneity? Worse for me, would it remove the fun I have in monthly participation? I'd be afraid of fixing the levity referred to by both authors in the structured nature of an analysis, of missing 'the point' in an attempt to research the point. However, there is a whole network of relationships (to other social and activist movements, to other critiques) that I feel should be explicated so that proper context can be given to the movement for those who might approach it in this way.
Anyway, while I wrestle with the idea of undertaking this project - if I'm even able to complete it - I am reminded of numerous other issues I have thought about lately. The short version is that I feel a conflict within me concerning what I will overly simplify as a "punk rock" past and a "bourgeois-leaning academic/salaried employee" present. Twenty-three years of age is not particularly old, but the past year has brought about a wholesale change in my life. I'm no longer in school. I'm no longer a "dependent." The cycles of my everyday life in New York are quite different from everyday life in either Boston or Chicago.
In a way, this spring, I suffered a little identity crisis. This manifested itself in a "punk rock summer" filled with hardcore shows, hanging out with friends that I hadn't seen in four or five years, a road trip, getting tattooed, attending protests, etc. I wanted to reassure myself that, despite the fact that I draw a salary and have a "career path," I hadn't lost touch with the elements of my life that sustained me over the past few years. To what extent does participation in a specific subculture condition the later reactions to/against it? Do hip-hop kids or goth kids later grow up to face similar dilemmas? I'm sure I'm not the only one to feel this way, but I'm curious as to when and how it comes to the foreground of other people's lives.
By the end of the summer, I felt that I had reconciled the two. Now, as the cold weather settles upon the city, I feel the pendulum swinging back in the other direction, and these thoughts come to mind again.