Camille A. Collins’s story “Glow” is one of the many highlights of the Black Punk Now anthology.
Kirkus wrote of the book:
“With graphics, short stories, poems, lyrics, conversations, commentary, and notes on how capitalism naturally tries to co-opt cultural scenes and how Black punks naturally resist it, the anthology is a cornucopia of righteous resistance, both fun to read and energetically provocative . . . Great reading for punks of every persuasion, who, one hopes, will take it and change the world.”
BABY I’M A STAR by Prince
‘GLOW,’ my fiction story from the BLACK PUNK NOW anthology is, on the surface, about a Black teen who’s into punk—but it’s really about identity, coming-of-age, and learning some ugly truths about “the American experiment.” The story references Prince more than once. Prince was androgynous; he toyed with the presentation of his ethnicity, though he was enshrined in every aspect in Blackness. Even the fact that Prince was his actual, “government name,” and not a stage name, was yet another facet of his identity that sometimes challenged and perplexed. He’s the perfect conduit for a reflection on how we present to the world, and for the assumptions that are made about us. Typically, it takes time to grow into our identities, and in a society suffering from manifold “ims,” to learn to minimize the pain in navigating the bankrupt, devaluing uglinesses projected onto far too many of us. On the journey, we all deserve to be respected for our humanity; to be granted time and space to discover our gifts. Baby, everybody is a star.
OH BONDAGE! UP YOURS! by X-Ray Spex
It wasn’t until recently, when I had the good fortune to interview Celeste Bell about her documentary, ‘I Am Cliché,’ about her mother, prodigy and punk virtuoso, Poly Styrene, that I fully appreciated Styrene’s brilliance. Sure, I’d always been a fan—but Poly was no joke. It wasshe who put up the flyers to recruit boys to play in her band. It was she who worked as a buyer as a teen for a British department store, expressing her futuristic and unapologetically quirky and idiosyncratic style. She was amazing. The fact that she could articulate the concept of bondage—to gender norms; class; ethnic identity; hell, the five day work week—so ferociously at such a tender age, is remarkable. The protagonist in my story feels constricted by inexplicable societal rules and injustices she’s only beginning to understand. Few have expressed frustration at the weight of the status quo with such eloquent rage. “Oh bondage! Up yours!” Indeed.
LIAR by Rollins Band
Black Flag is mentioned in the story, so this is a close second to including a song by the band. (Incidentally, I saw Henry Rollins about a month ago, performing his own unique brand of “stand-up comedy.” Life is short, yet it’s also long enough for full circle moments like seeing a performer you’ve long admired still out there doing their thing, even if the “thing” has changed considerably with time). In ‘Glow,’ Essie experiences a weighty betrayal. The very notion of punk, of bucking the system and being non-conformist, lends itself to an anthem, as does the operatic nature of coming-of-age. This song is a perfect “anthem,” whether you interpret it to be about the ego or a menacing presence, cos, they’re really one and the same right? Flattery of the ego permits us to embrace the menace. Treachery enjoys smirking up at you like a dead fish on a plate. It’s a good little punk bible verse to tuck into your pocket, a reminder of the beasts we conjure, to help keep you safe.
BYE BYE BABY by Ronnie Spector and Joey Ramone
Yesterday, and much more so the distant past, are gone, never to be resurrected. Yet, it’s strange how music can evoke the emotion, the scent and aura of a past place or moment—snapping you back, instantly, in time. Ronnie Spector and Joey Ramone are two icons, forever framed for me as heroes of my youth, inside a heart shaped frame. Stunning, romantic, and impossible—impossible to me, that even in my wildest, shattered little brûléed dreams, they’d actually unite to record a duet in the first place. A tender and melancholy one no less. Each of them reminiscent of the misty sadness of many a drive-in deity. Innocence and inexperience shift within the story, so that at the end Essie is changed, and no longer as naïve or tender hearted, as before. This song gifts us the opportunity to hold memory, love, hope, and indulgent heartbreak—for just a beat—inside the very palm of our hands.
BALL AND CHAIN by Big Mama Thornton
In the first instance, it’s a brilliant song, written by Big Mama Thornton herself, which I don’t think is as widely recognized as it should be. Although it’s a classic blues dirge, Big Mama infuses the ashes of her sorrow with beauty, delivering that wistfulness in which romantics love to wallow. Passages of my story in Black Punk Now, hearken back to moments in history that conjure unpleasantness, like an abrupt and too loud FaceTime connection, examining the age-old threats that still chase us, as humans of too many vulnerable iterations to name. The weight of those existential fears—of not having our humanity recognized and respected—is a certain ball and chain. The good days are those where we can forget, for minutes or hours, in the laugher and beauty that persists despite life’s tricky machinations, its weighty placement at our necks.
Camille A. Collins (she/her) has an MFA in creative writing from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. She’s a proud contributor to the new anthology, BLACK PUNK NOW, out from Soft Skull Press on 10/31/23. She has been the recipient of the Short Fiction Prize from the South Carolina Arts Commission, and her writing has appeared in The Twisted Vine, a literary journal of Western New Mexico University. Her debut novel, The Exene Chronicles, was published by Brain Mill Press in 2018. She likes writing about music and has contributed features and reviews to Afropunk, BUST, and other publications. Instagram: @camillecollinsauthor | Twitter: @camilleacollins