Photo Essay: My Punk Rock Youth 1987-1992

Looking through their eyes / it was hard for me to walk / walk / as I judged my walk / as stiff and “white” / and hated myself. / I saw myself / through their eyes / on the / Football field / Basketball court / Baseball diamond / Hell of high-school gym class / stumbling around / in ignorance of the rules / and fear of the hurtling spheres / and I judged myself / a useless faggot.

Words and Photography by Albert M Frank III

(Lubbock, Texas 1986)

I saw myself through their eyes

talking to white kids

and it appeared both

that I hated being black

and that I was better

than those black faces

watching me.

(Hanging with the outsiders. Lubbock 1987)

I saw myself in my

outdated boot-cut jeans

and leather jacket

as a nerd and

a freak.

Something beyond

explanation.

(The only other black south side punk I knew, Chicago 1988)

I saw my delicate face

and thin limbs

and heard my “proper” talk

and saw myself as

a victim waiting to happen.

(He wound up stealing all my girls)

I saw my thin frame

trying to remain invisible

as I walked the halls

between classes

only to wind up hunched

over a spiral binder

drawing comics, while

the teacher talked on about

Algebra.

(My parents tried to make me them)

Through their eyes

I saw myself walking

stiffly to the stage

in my graduation gown

to the deafening sound

of no applause.

(I tried to make friends with everyone in my dorm. Some were too different.)

And later, through other eyes I saw

my nappy hair and

full lips

set against

the sea of punk rockers

all white.

I saw myself trying to be

punker than them

to camouflage the blackness.

(Winter love, Chicago 1988)

Through their eyes

I saw a strange dreadlocked

black man in an elevator

maybe a rapist

or robber

probably ignorant.

For 40 years I missed

everything that was

right in front of me.

half my life sacrificed

to the beast with a million eyes.

(Proto Emo. Texas Tech 1986)

Tags: Black, Chicago, Essay, Photo, Punk, Rock, Texas, Youth

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Comment by AkaMyel on December 26, 2011 at 12:55pm: Good pics & poetry... Luv it

Comment by Albert Frankenstein on December 23, 2011 at 6:25pm: There was another one named Marty the Smarty. He wound up in prison in the early-90's. I saw he had an ad in MRR for correspondence. I wrote a couple of times, but what do you say to a guy in prison?

Comment by Violetcherry on December 23, 2011 at 12:44pm: Ha! I'm not surprised. Sonny and Corky ran into me way too often - but yeah, pit bulls.

Comment by Albert Frankenstein on December 22, 2011 at 4:00pm: I never ran into those pit-bull skins much. Except for Quinton, who actually lived South near Morgan Park. He's a police Seargent in Houston now.

Comment by Violetcherry on December 22, 2011 at 3:42pm: Ah, I stand corrected - I guess I did have to wonder where the pock marks were. Either way, great stuff. :)

Comment by Albert Frankenstein on December 22, 2011 at 3:32pm: Cherry, Sonny lived on the north side. The guy I'm talking about is named Mel. Funny thing is that Mel looked a lot like Sonny who looked a lot like a young Sam Jackson. That's Mel in the pictures 3rd and fourth down.

Comment by Violetcherry on December 22, 2011 at 3:22pm: "The only other black South Side punk I knew...he ended up stealing all my girls."

That was Sonny! Notorious Chicago punk that pretty much anyone who was a Chicago punk in the '80s knew. There were actually lots of Black/Latino/a punks back then, but it was much harder, as you've mentioned on this thread.

I have several Sonny stories and these are excellent pics of Sonny - they really capture his sneaky spirit. I was surprised to see him here, but then again it doesn't surprise me that his reputation extended beyond Chi-Town. Cool beans.

Comment by Albert Frankenstein on September 1, 2011 at 3:49pm: Never met him. We had a cool-ass dude named Anthony Poe that used to rent out all kinds of empty storefronts, warehouses,and the Willow-Hill Diner, and spin his huge record collection. He lives here in austin now.

Comment by Jaime Quinn on September 1, 2011 at 10:41am: Friends of mine tell me stories about a guy named Anthony. He was around during the mid to late 80s and 90s. Hung out with a group of guys that call themselves the Buzzards. He probably would be somewhere around the age 35 if he was alive today.

Comment by Albert Frankenstein on August 26, 2011 at 4:01pm: Jamie, I agree. Lubbock was never a "terrible" place, just a place that I was very isolated. I loved Lubbock sunsets, and dust-storms and the old-west buildings that used to be there. Keep in mind that it was a lot tougher to be a black punk there 25 years ago. Back in the 80's it was all outlaw bikers, corrupt cops, rich students, miami vice style and me. There was another Afro-punk named Ian that came later on in the early 90's, but I never really knew him.