Girls To The Front: An Interview With The Founders Of Discwoman

by Sofia Luu

Dance music was once the music of outsiders. Before electronic music’s influence seeped into mainstream Top 40 pop songs, it was created by and for members of the LGBTQA community. Dance parties are one of the few events where I can go solo and not have to worry about the anxiety that I often experience while being in a room full of strangers.

But I know dance music is neither a utopia nor an entirely safe haven; for one, there’s the lack of female-identified DJs who receive the same kind of equal representation that their male-identified counterparts receive. The numbers prove it. Female:Pressure, a group dedicated to bringing attention to female artists working in electronic music and the digital arts, released a report in 2013 that came to the conclusion that the average female representation at major music festivals was a dismal — but not shocking — 8.4 per cent.

Enter Discwoman, a New York City-based collective dedicated to providing a platform for highlighting female-identified electronic dance DJs and artists. Emma Olson (also known as Umfang), Christine Tran, and Frankie Decaiza Hutchinson organized the first Discwoman music festival last September in Brooklyn and are quickly expanding, organizing a tour that brought their parties to cities like San Juan and Puerto Rico. Rather than wait for the big guys to increase the number of female-identified electronic artists play, they took matters into their own hands and provided a platform for female talent.

I spoke to Discwoman shortly after they held their Technofeminism event in New York, impressed and inspired by the success of their events. We discussed our own personal journey with dance music, how they would define the successes of Discwoman and female-identified DJs, and the seemingly gender-fluid nature of techno. Discwoman is one of the only group of individuals who are not just flirting with the idea of providing a platform for better female representation in dance music, they’re making things happen.

I started going to dance parties a few years ago; before then, I was extremely conscious of myself on the dance floor. It would take a lot for me to actually let myself go and start dancing. It wasn’t until I saw Veronica Vasicka of Minimal Wave play in Helsinki that I was like, “No one cares about what I’m doing, it is just about the music.” Did you have a defining moment where your relationship with electronic music clicked?

Emma: I’ve never done drugs; dancing has always been my way of letting go. My first experiences with the real power techno was hearing a loud sound system in a warehouse in Kansas City and wanting to dance the moment I walked in the room. Techno is the music I had always been looking for.

Frankie: I was definitely high when I went to my first proper rave, which was in my hometown, London. It was a party called Raindance at this club SE1 — which is now closed down — a legal space in an old abandoned train station. The relationship between drugs and electronic music is undeniable.

BUT it really stuck with me: the scene, the people, and of course the music. There are rare opportunities where you can let go and be able to say, “who cares, its all about the music.” After that though I really progressed into liking hard techno, super fast, seemingly simple music that takes you on a journey.

Christine: Music has been an incredibly social aspect in my life. When I moved to NYC and didn’t know anyone. I would go to parties or events because my favorite DJ was playing and I loved the music they played. It’s a powerful medium that connects people.

Can you tell me a little bit more about the origins of Discwoman?

E: Frankie and I met at Bossa Nova Civic Club and our first long conversation was about DJs and how cool it would be to do a festival featuring all women. We both knew so many great, talented women we wanted to showcase, and after a few planning meetings Frankie introduced the idea to Christine. Christine was the missing piece who really leveled up our idea.

Were you met with any criticisms about the ‘all-women’ aspect of your events?

F: There has been some criticism. At the beginning a few dudes told me that our name wasn’t good, which pissed me off, because they just didn’t get it. We weren’t just putting “disc” next to “woman” we were transforming a piece of familiar technology that had literally been gendered male: DISCMAN.

C: It’s not about gendering the movement. It’s about the conversation.

How does the dance floor act as a space for expression, and why is the dance floor an important space for women?

C: It’s about creating safe spaces. Girls to the front.

E: Ideally, a dance floor is a safe space for self-expression. I want women to feel they can learn how to participate in every aspect of dance music without needing a man to handle the ‘tech stuff.’

F: I go out a lot, which I’ve come to find is an essential part of sustaining any business in the nightlife community. People want to see you being an active part of what you represent. I get approached by a lot of women who want to be a part of what we’re doing, so “discourse on the dance floor” is definitely happening. “Discourse on the Dance Floor” is a great name for a first book, isn’t it?

The idea of a female musician being perceived as more of a spectacle is prevalent across all genres (electronic, pop, hip hop, etc). What comes to mind is the Nina Kraviz Bathgate controversy, when she received a lot of criticism for conducting and interview while naked in a bathtub. Do you ever feel like you have to control how you present yourself when you’re DJing?

E: It is important to me to get recognition for my technical skill and not for my appearance. I’ve obsessively underdressed for DJ gigs and played down any sort of traditionally feminine aspects of my appearance. As I’ve gained more confidence in my skills I have relaxed more. I realize that the most empowering thing is to dress however the fuck you want.

C: Learning and understanding the technical aspects of DJing and equipment has been an important part of that “control”.

The Fader published an article exploring feminine appropriation as the defining electronic music trend of 2014: after I read this article, it kind of reconfirmed how limited of a space there is for women in electronic music. If we are involved, we’re pushed into the same few roles and tropes over and over again. How do you go about challenging stereotypes surrounding the idea of being a “female DJ”?

E: I’ve recently been thinking about how the coolest, most inspirational, most innovative people in my eyes are people that shatter stereotypes. We have to remember that all women are individuals with an independent viewpoint to offer. As we see more women entering the scene it becomes more difficult to say only “That’s the woman DJ.”

In an interview with No Tofu, Frankie mentioned that one of her favourite techno DJs was Patricia, a male techno DJ who performs under a name that’s traditionally feminine. While the gender of the artist or their moniker doesn’t and shouldn’t matter, is there a line to be drawn when it comes to male DJs co-opting feminine attributes with their music?

E: Patricia isn’t claiming to be a woman or applying for grants intended for female musicians. It shouldn’t matter. A friend of mine, Sasha Desree, asked if he could perform at a Discwoman event because he feels channeling the feminine is an important aspect of his work. As long as there is a respect for the movement and all women involved, I see no issue with this. We made sure to use the verbiage ‘female identified’ in our mission statement; I think that needs to remain a broad term.

When I listen to techno I can’t help but think how neutral it sounds. It’s all beat. In what ways does a seemingly genderless genre become gendered?

E: I don’t see music as genderless…more as fluidly gendered. The nuances of sound can be perceived as feminine, masculine, or both to different listeners. The sounds you create can lie within your own definitions of gender. I think techno is often thought of as masculine and aggressive, and a crowd can be surprised by the gender play of a female-identified woman playing industrial hard techno, assuming her selections might be softer or more ‘feminine.’ I’m interested in seeing the range of women’s selections and how they may break away or conform to our expectations.

F: That’s definitely a reason why I love electronic music scenes over other music scenes: the music does feel pretty genderless to me, despite the reality of who is controlling it.

What’s next for Discwoman? What would you like to achieve in the upcoming months?

E: We’ve been asked to curate a lot of events.That’s power. Any time we can get money and recognition to women for their talent, we’re achieving something great. Encouraging women that they can be the person to book the festival and be the sound engineer is more important than anything.

There are women booking festivals and there are women writing end of the year lists. We just want more of them.

F: We’re actually holding two parties at Movement Festival this year with the Detroit collective Girls Gone Vinyl. There will be an outdoor party during the day and indoor party at night. So this is a potential of up 10–15 women we will be booking — drawing talent from the festival, local Detroit, nationally and worldwide. We think this will be an effective ground-up approach to transforming the current state of booking.

C: Representation, booking, and management is definitely on our agenda. It’s about women in decision-making positions.

This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.

Images by Nieto Dickens.

Sofia Luu is a writer and snacks enthusiast living in Toronto, who’s currently spending way too much time playing Neko Atsume because she’s actually allergic to cats ¯_(ツ)_/¯. Follow her @snaxsz.