Repost from Alice Bag

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Some people think that my aggressive tendencies surfaced when I became involved in the punk scene, but they’re wrong. I was still an adolescent when I discovered that aggression, or the threat of violence, could be a powerful defense mechanism. The reason I was labeled as aggressive in the punk scene had to do with my being accustomed to violence and being used to defending myself physically.My childhood was steeped in domestic violence and I was surrounded with gang violence at school. I started to believe that the world was divided into victims and aggressors. I decided that I was never going to be a victim. It seemed like the less painful option. I was still in junior high when a girl in my class was relentlessly taunting me. One day, she pushed me hard as I was walking up the stairs. Fed up, I quickly turned around and shoved my open palm towards her to push her back. As fate would have it, she had a Bic ballpoint pen in her mouth at the time and I shoved it through the back of her throat. From that point on, the school bullies stopped calling me names and throwing things at me. By the time I graduated from jr. high school I had developed a tough exterior.

In 1976, after graduating from Sacred Heart of Mary High School, my parents gave me a choice of a new (used) car or a trip to Europe as a graduation gift. I decide to continue borrowing the old Ford Falcon and see the world. While in Austria, I nearly provoked an international incident when a drunk in a pub grabbed and locked in on my ass like a pit bull. I promptly smacked him across the face and pretty soon all the Americans at my table were yelling at the pub’s regular Austrian customers. We were all thrown out, thanks to me.

Back home, I got a part time job at a flower shop in Montebello. One day, I was packing up a lady’s flower order and as I bent over to get a box, my manager walked behind me and succumbed to an irresistible urge to slap my butt. I, in turn, succumbed to an irresistible urge to slap his face. That sent him scurrying to the back of the store. The customer, an older lady who witnessed the whole scene, told me she was proud of me and that I’d done the right thing. I rang up her order and walked to the back, ready to punch the clock and be sent home. Instead, I got an apology. I figured that maybe violence was not always a bad thing. I wasn’t the type to turn the other cheek, that’s for sure.

The first show the Bags played at the Masque in 1977 was all a blur to me. It was like I blacked out during the set. The reviewer in Slash said that I was yelling at the audience to “MOVE, MOTHERFUCKERS! MOVE!” and it’s true that I couldn’t stand complacent audiences. I needed energy to feed off and so I exhorted the audience to keep up with me. Rather than aggressive, I would describe myself as confrontational and trying to engage the audience, but I suppose it’s all in how you choose to label it. I suspect that if I were a man, I would have been called “intense” or “energetic” but since I am a woman, my attitude seemed to catch some people off guard.

The Bags were the first punk band to headline the Troubadour in 1978, which ended with the place being trashed and our being 86’d from that club. We were subsequently 86’d from Madame Wong’s for a similar reason. The same thing happened with Club 88 when they started having punk shows. The Bags played a few shows there before being 86’d for being “too aggressive.” Although I couldn’t play there, I didn’t hold it against them and I continued to go and spread my love and support to the bands that played there. One night, The Dils were playing. I was dancing in the audience when somebody grabbed my crotch. I looked down and there was a hand clutching me. I grabbed the wrist attached to the offending hand and without missing a pogo beat I turned, jumped into the air, and slammed a hard fist into the pervert’s face. It was a really nice punch too because my whole body went into it. The guy was wearing sunglasses which broke apart, slicing a nasty gash into the flesh around his eye.

After the show, the guy’s buddies were gunning for me. Kickboy (Claude Bessy) stepped in to talk to them and asked me to explain to them what had happened. I gave it to them straight and it seemed they were satisfied with my account as I was allowed to leave the club. Later, we heard that the guy required 22 stitches to close the gash around his eye.

A few days later, I was back at another club I’d been 86’d from: Madame Wong’s. I went to the bathroom and as I was walking out of the stall, a tall Latina put her arm up and blocked my exit. She identified herself as the girlfriend of the man I had injured and told me she was going to kick my ass. She looked like she could do it, too. I washed my hands and asked her to step outside with me. On our way out and as we were walking down the stairs, I told her I would fight her, but I asked her if it was worth fighting to defend a man who went around grabbing women’s crotches. We started talking and after a while we decided to go to the liquor store. By the end of the night, when Scarface showed up to see if his woman had avenged his honor, he found us both sitting outside – drunk, laughing at him. I honestly couldn’t see myself fighting that girl. I felt bad that she had such a creep for a boyfriend. I hope she dumped him.

In conclusion, I’d say that I deserved my reputation for being aggressive and The Bags were just the perfect vehicle for expressing that aggression and anger onstage. I would have directed it elsewhere and expressed it in another way had it not been for the Bags. It was the best form of therapy I could have hoped for.

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