T
he stage was a loud, hot minefield. It was loud because freshman Katy Lyle (pictured far left) was standing right in front of the amps. It was hot
because the lights were shining directly on her. It was a minefield because she couldn’t move around without stepping on cords. Tis past summer, Lyle attended Girls Rock Camp ATL – a camp
where girls ages 10 to 16 learn an instrument, form a band, write music and perform a gig – all in one week. “[Playing in a gig] was thrilling,” Lyle said. “I know that’s probably been said a lot – but you’re standing up there and a lot of people are looking at you and you’re like ‘Hah, you finally have to look at me for once.’” Te Rock and Roll Camp for Girls originated in Portland, Oregon.
Te camp has conceptually grown into several like-minded organi- zations in Texas, Chicago, Washington, North Carolina, New York, Sweden and Georgia. “We try to convey a message of collaboration, [self respect] and
empowerment,” Executive Director and Co-Founder of Girls Rock Camp ATL Stacey Singer said. “Even though a kid might not that think that she can do something, whether it’s fixing a car or playing the drums, we’d like to provide an opportunity [where] she can.” Singer attended elementary school shortly after Title IX – a federal law stating that nobody can be excluded from educational programs on the basis of sex – was enacted. “Tat was in the ‘70s,” Singer said. “A few years before I went to grade school, there [weren’t] girls sports in schools. “In the classroom, girls still get called on less than boys … Even
with instruments, guys play drums, saxophone, guitar, and girls are funneled towards the violin, the piano and the flute. Tat’s still happening,” Singer said. “I’m 40 years old, so I’ve had 35 years of experience [with] being separated from the boys in that way. We just want the girls to come out of our experience [knowing] that there are no boundaries on what they want out of life or what they want out of creative expression.” Lyle and her bandmates all took away different messages from
gave me more of a direction of what I wanted to do with music. It gave me more self-confidence.” “[Te camp is] good for younger girls who don’t know their limits
yet,” Lyle said. “A lot of people have potential, but they don’t get out there and do something. Tis camp is the boot up your [butt] to go do it.” Te girls used some of the lessons they learned to prepare for the
gig. However, the day of their performance, Lyle was nowhere to be found. Tat morning, Lyle had bumped her hip on the corner of a desk. It
hurt a little at first, but after a while, the pain increased tremendously. “I usually have a pretty high pain tolerance,” Lyle said, “but I was on the ground, [saying] ‘get me some medicine!’” Lyle’s dad drove her to the hospital where nurses gave her pain
killers and ran blood tests. “It turns out that I had some internal bleeding thing,” Lyle said. “Apparently, internal bleeding hurts a lot because it’s irritating to your organs.” Lyle’s pain stopped while they were running tests, and she left the
hospital at 6:30 p.m. – four hours after she was supposed to be at her gig. She skipped dinner, changed clothes in the car and put on makeup in the bathroom. “I got [to the show], and there was this dull ache left over,” Lyle
said. “I was just really hungry and really angry they had kept me in there for so long, and I missed sound check and so the mike levels were down.” Once Lyle got to the show, all of her band mates tackled her – they thought she wasn’t going to show up. “Te show always must go on,” Singer said. “It’s total rock and roll
if you’ve got internal bleeding.” Kharis Ellison, the Bad Vibrations band coach, introduced Lyle by
“The show always must go on. It’s total rock ”
and roll if you’ve got internal bleeding. – Stacey Singer, Girls Rock Camp ATL
the camp experience. Te bassist, Claire Smith (pictured bottom right), realized she didn’t need to try to be like all the other girls at her school. Te drummer, Athieno Npowe, realized how relaxing an all-girl environment can be. Te lead guitarist, Emma “Spike” Wagner, applied lessons from the camp to the rest of her life. “I think it’s awesome that they have this because it gives us an outlet even though it’s only one week out of the year,” Wagner said. “I’ve always been the outcast, never sure what to do with myself – so being able to do this and see that there are so many other people like myself
joking around – “On lead vocals, she almost died but she put it off to come here and serve up some awesome rock to you guys.” “Don’t worry, I didn’t al- most die, I just yelled like I was gonna,” Lyle said. Npowe counted off, and
they started playing. “I know you love me, but it’s gotten boring,” Lyle sang, “and the only way out is death.” Her band’s guitarist, Caroline Barber, wrote the lyrics. “As you can see, it was a little overdone,” Barber said. Lyle let out a scream during her song, and the performers’ younger sisters in the front row jumped back, startled. “It almost didn’t matter that there were so many people there,”
Lyle said. “I knew they were there … but they were there to listen, and if they didn’t like it, that was their problem. It was me and my band, having fun … just with people listening.” n
OCTOBER 2011 • CARPE DIEM
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