In Defense of the Juggalo

"I like pretty much anything, with the exception of rap and country."  That's what I always used to tell people when they asked what my music preference was.  Sure, I enjoy the odd country song or artist, but, for the most part, it's a style of music that really doesn't do anything for me.  Rap was always a bit of a different issue, though.  The sound and feel of it intrigued me, but the most readily available songs of this sort around were often about all the singer's wealth, sex, and whores—the last two often intertwined, though sometimes left baseless.  The contrived, manufactured lyrics with little substance just put me off on the whole, but, like a guilty pleasure, I wanted to enjoy this music without the desire to retch.

This all in mind, I'll outright and upfront admit to being a fairly new Juggalette.  When a friend of mine, whom I admire and respect immensely—as a person as well as for his taste in music—gave me a list of songs to listen to, I went and listened to them right away.  Immediately, I fell in love with Twiztid and the Juggalo Fam.  I haven't looked back since.  While I do listen to some of other Psychopathic groups, Twiztid is my primary choice, so a lot of my examples will be based upon that duo.  I only mention these facts because, from the onset, I don't want anyone to gather a false impression that I've been running with a hatchet for years—not that I believe it makes a difference when it comes to being in the Fam.  I just don't want to lead anyone on to thinking that I'm some all-knowing individual and mental warehouse for all the right answers.  What follows is just my take on things, my viewpoint, with MUCH LOVE.

For those unaccustomed to the term, a Juggalo—or Juggalette for the females—is a name bestowed upon a Psychopathic Records fan, to put it in the simplest of definitions.  There's plenty more to it, but that should, ideally, become a mite clearer as this continues.  You know the people with the hatchets and occasional wicked clown makeup?  That's us.  Most people see us as violent, insane, dangerous individuals.  Truth is, we're only as much so as the next person.

Upon being asked by someone to defend the Juggalo, I was a bit thrown.  People have different tastes in things, from lifestyle to food to hobbies, and music is no different.  On occasions, individuals may get flack from friends for liking a sugary pop song or bad 80's band, but it's only in the way that one would jovially tease another over an old elementary school crush.  When people ask why someone likes the gory or heavy hip-hop/rap style deemed "horrorcore," it often becomes an actual interrogation, frequently seeped with disbelief or disdain.  For some reason beyond my comprehension, there are those who cannot accept the fact that people can enjoy things that they find no particular personal pleasure in.  One person may hear a veritable orchestra where another would merely perceive the same music as unintelligible screeching, but perspective resides within the individual.  Simple dislike for a genre such as horrorcore is one thing, but it's an entirely different and ravenous beast when people go out of their way to go on internet sites, finding songs they don't enjoy by groups that they have no love for and start berating and belittling members of fanbases that they don't understand.  Quite frankly, I find it positively confounding.  I'm not about to try explaining why someone should like this music, because if it doesn't gel with you, then no amount of words will make a difference—and that's okay, because everyone has their own preference.  I'm just trying to spread a bit more knowledge and hope to plant at least a few tiny seeds of understanding.

Since the songs get a lot of guff, let's talk a bit about the music, shall we?  There is a wide array of messages in the songs, spanning from telling stories to conveying a deeper meaning to showing Family pride, the first grouping of which seems to generate scores of ill-feelings with the dark lyrics and violent imagery used.  For some reason, many seem unable to recognize these ditties for what they are:  stories.  They're simply tales—rhymes woven to recant a chilling tale rather than condoning violent acts towards others.  For a solid example, take Twiztid's "Zombie," or "Hom-Sha-Bom" into account.  These tunes aren't intended to tell the people to beware of a zombie apocalypse or demonic possessions, but to conjure a story in the listener's mind.  Really, the only differences between such songs and scary movies would be the duration of time it takes to tell the tale, one being entirely set to music, and horrorcore requiring the use of one's mind to form the pictures.

A lot of Psychopathic songs have deeper meanings behind them than just simple entertainment value.  Insane Clown Posse's Joker's Card albums are positively chock-full of larger-scale messages.  The songs talk about their rendition of a limbo between Heaven and Hell:  the Dark Carnival.  Such songs of ICP's, along with ones like Twiztid's "Karma," are different from the ones that are more for entertainment—they press for Juggalos to aim for Heaven and for God.  Getting behind the Lord is not quite what most people assume when they think of this sort of music, but it is there if one takes the time to open up and listen.

When it comes to songs that can be seen as conveying Juggalo pride or Family unity, some people become easily offended upon hearing lyrics because they do not bother to take a moment and think about it beyond the basic words and into the terms of metaphorical.  The line from Twiztid's "Raw Deal" stating, "I'm a Juggalo and you can eat a dick if you're not," has been brought up as offensive or potentially going against the accepting nature of the group.  I find it understandable if the person does not step back and analyze it.  Rather than the, "you're not like me, so gorge yourself on massive quantities of penis," ideology, I see it a more metaphorical way.  I think of it more along the lines of, "Feel free to consume dick if you are just going to be the sort of individuals who shun us for our differences."  Let me put it this way:  if someone's going to be doing something of that manner, it is something that I would, quite frankly, prefer not to be privy to.  If you're going to do it, I really don't want to know.  That's the way I take that line—if you are going to be feeling such negetivity towards Juggalos, please keep it to yourself rather than making a point to bash us and attempt putting us down.

Likewise, the subculture as a whole seems to be a misunderstood one that people assume is violent, ruthless, and hateful.  Such notions as that are misconstrued.  From my experience, the Juggalos whom I have had the pleasure of meeting are open and welcoming.  One of the most interesting things about being a Juggalo is that, as long as you hone an enjoyment for the music and are a tolerant individual, then you're fully accepted.  Some people seem to be in the mindset that it's just uneducated, "ghetto gang bangers," who lived in the streets that comprise Juggalos.  This is utterly untrue.  It is a fanbase accepting of each other completely, regardless of sexuality, gender, age demographic, ethnicity, income, or intellect.  If you accept, then you're accepted; if you respect, you're respected.  It's open, welcoming, and—in a world so focused on judgmentality—refreshing.  We call ourselves a "Family" because that's what we are, blood relation or not.  Even with no prior history, when we meet, there's an immediate kinsmanship.

Many people tend to jump on the assumption bandwagon that, "If you're a Juggalo, you're a druggie," or, "You're a Juggalo, so you must get stoned a lot."  That's as accurate of a statement as saying that every person born in America wants to grow up to be baseball player.  When Juggalos get together, it isn't an obscure notion that they would want to let loose and have fun in the manner friends would.  As the Boondox song, "Toast to the Fam," says, "It don't matter if you smoke or if you drink."  Everyone unwinds and celebrates in their own manner, and that's what this song is getting at—enjoying the chance to be together and be ourselves without fear of rejection for who we are.  Smoking and drinking…well, those are ways a fair few seem to relax, but that doesn't make it true of all.  You can find people in all sorts of groups and demographics that participate in this manner of activity, from college sorority girls to professional, Olympic athletes, but since they generally try to keep it hidden, it isn't assumed of them.  I, for one, am a straight-edge Juggalette; I don't like drinking, I've never smoked—cigarettes or otherwise…heck, I don't even like to swear unless it's used in quoting or as part of song lyrics.  If an individual decides to do or refrain from doing something, that is their own choice, and that does not make them any better or worse than the next person.  People enjoy and conduct themselves in various manners, and Juggalos are no different.  There are stereotyped assumptions, to be certain, but that does not mean everyone falls into it.  That's part of the beauty of being such a sweeping, open-minded Family.

Another thing that seems to leave people taken aback is that we openly acknowledge to being "damaged goods," in a sense.  The truth is, everyone is messed up in one way, shape, or form.  For some people, there are massive issues, for others, less glaring matters.  All a person needs do is take a good look at me and they can see that something happened somewhere leaving me outside of the socially conceived norm.  That may, in fact, be one of the things that some people find repellant about the Juggalo subculture; while most individuals try to keep their skeletons locked away in the farthest corners of their closets, we pull ours out to party right alongside us.  Some see our openness with this as whining or complaining, while admitting our issues is more a mark of pride—whatever has ailed or continues to plague us, we've survived.

I'm not here trying to tell you why you should like this sort of music or this Family, but rather why some of us do.  As I type this, what sort of evil am I doing?  Waiting for some potatoes to boil before mashing them, wanting to make my husband a nice dinner on my rare day off before I go back to the grind at work tomorrow.  That is not exactly the bloody den of sin some paint us to wallow in.  Preconceived notions and placing people into neat and tidy little boxes has never done anyone a lick of good.  While simple dismissal is quick and easy, it is understanding that can make the strongest of differences.