Pussy Riot + margø @ Club Soda▪

I have often wondered what makes a rebel. Are we born fighters? Is it nature or nurture? How can people who grew up in the same circumstances live so differently? Two sisters can grow up in the same house—one can be silent and obedient, while the other is loud and defiant.

Fourteen years ago, a group of women decided that the injustice of their government was so unbearable that they risked their freedom and their lives to fight. They used their voices and their creativity to stage protests. They were beaten, tortured, and imprisoned, yet they persisted. Living in exile, under constant threat and now touring Canada and the U.S., some of the members have changed over the years, but the message has not.

On Thursday, April 3, I went to Club Soda with no idea of what to expect. I didn’t know who would be performing, or even the type of music. I just knew the name Pussy Riot and what it stood for. And that was enough.

I have been following their journey for a while—their political beliefs, their imprisonment, and their courage to risk their lives for human rights. Calling out Putin and the Orthodox Church with their feminist/punk protests, Pussy Riot sparked a fire that spread across the world.

“We were inspired by the Riot Grrrl movement. We called ourselves Pussy Riot because the first word invokes a sexist attitude towards women: soft, passive creatures. And Riot is a response to that attitude. We rose up against gender inequality. We wanted to create the image of an anti-fascist superhero so we needed to wear masks.” —Katya Samutsevich

The vibe at Club Soda was warm but a little intense. margø started us off with a fun set. Her energy was high and she got the crowd to sing along. My favourite was “r.i.p.”

The lights went on and then Pussy Riot was introduced by producer/director (GreenWave Arts), Alexander Cheparukhin. He gave a brief history of the movement and each artist that would be appearing, humbly asking for our understanding as the show was a work in progress.

The club became dark and three women emerged onto the bare stage. Alina Petrova, composer/multi-instrumentalist, dressed in fishnets and a cropped tank top with the word HOT written on it, adjusted the background music on her laptop.

Maria Alyokhina, playwright/performer (who spent two years in a Russian prison for the anti-Putin “punk prayer”), stood in the centre, firmly holding the mic. A simple, short black dress and a gold cross around her neck. And on the right was Taso Pletner, singer/flautist, in a bulletproof vest adorned with cartoon patches and a white shirt. Her piercing blue eyes were framed by bright red makeup.

A screen in the background with stark and brutal graphics displayed the harsh reality and historical events that brought us all together—feminists, human rights activists, members of the LGBTQ community, and everyone in between.

Did you know that homosexuality was considered a mental illness in Russia up until 1999? Pro-LGBTQ advocacy groups are declared extremist organizations and are prohibited from operating within Russian territory.

Alina began playing her illuminated electric violin, and the women began telling their stories.

They only spoke Russian, but it didn’t matter. For the entire time they were on stage, we were all captivated by their commitment to sharing their truths.

With English subtitles, newsreels, and videos on the screen, the women recounted the events based on Masha’s (Maria’s) book Riot Days.

I stood at the foot of the stage, mesmerized by the entire performance. When they put on their balaclavas, the crowd went wild. It’s such a powerful visual statement. It’s the most punk rock thing I’ve seen in a long time.

At one point, they began to throw bottles of water at us and scream. I honestly didn’t know what was going on, but their anger and ferocity was intoxicating.

Towards the end, Masha put on a Ukraine T-shirt and everyone cheered. When the show was over, they raised their hands up in victory and the entire room cheered as loud as they could. I was overcome by emotion. I looked around to see if anyone else felt like crying. What was wrong with me? Am I getting soft in my old age? I used to be a punk rocker.

It was Masha. She got to me. I felt her energy. She was still fighting. She didn’t have to be here. She could be off the radar living a quiet life. Yet she chose to continue to use her voice.

Maybe we’re not born fighters, but are given the insight to choose our calling. To be a messenger, with all of the risks and pain that it brings.

I stood in a long line at the merch table after the show. The profits were going to a Ukrainian children’s hospital. I bought the book Riot Days and had Masha sign it. She seems so different now, so serene and sweet. And then before I had a chance to edit myself, I went full mom mode.

“I have to tell you. I want you to know that you are so brave, and I really admire what you do. Your voice is so important.”

She smiled, somewhat shocked. And I didn’t know what else to say. I noticed the large gold cross hanging from her neck and thought—if there really is a God, I hope she protects her. I clutched the book to my chest and mumbled, “God bless you,” as I awkwardly walked away. I couldn’t wait to get home and start reading.