Why Representation Matters in the Alternative Scene
Hi! For those who don’t know me, I’m Naomi, co-founder of Behind The Lens. I’ve been part of the alternative scene for years, first as a fan and now working in it behind the camera. This piece is mostly drawn from my personal experience navigating this space as a Black woman. I’m not speaking for everyone, but I hope sharing my story helps others feel a little more seen, a little more understood.
Amy Lee from Nova Twins - Credit: Naomi Paulmin
After years of being part of the alternative music scene as a fan, a creative, and an active member, I’ve come to see it through many lenses. But behind all those roles, one truth remains: I experience it all as a Black woman. I’ve spent years observing the lack of representation for marginalised groups in the scene. Despite the origins of genres like punk and metal, which are genres historically tied to rebellion, challenging societal norms, and rooted in Black musical traditions, we can’t help but notice the absence of diversity on stage, in the crowds, and behind the scenes. Punk and metal have long embraced countercultural ideals, yet this lack of inclusivity highlights the realities of today’s scene.
This lack of representation isn’t just an abstract issue; it is something I’ve felt deeply. Growing up, I had to Google the bands I listened to, hoping to find someone who looked like me. Most of the time, I came out of it with nothing. Even now, as a photographer in the scene, it’s rare to see other Black women in the photo pit. On the rare occasions when there’s a fully female photo pit, it’s a bittersweet experience. It is exciting to witness progress but also a sharp reminder that I’m still often the only person of colour there. These moments are significant because they highlight how much further we have to go to improve inclusivity and diversity. While it’s always exciting to see women in creative roles on tour with male-dominated crews, the absence of POC remains striking.
One of the first photographers I saw in the alternative scene who looked like me was Isha Shah when she was on tour with Enter Shikari. It felt like a relief. For the first time, I saw someone in a position I’d dreamed about, and it made me believe that it could be possible for me too.
But for so many women and POC, the lack of representation can be discouraging. It can make you feel like this space isn’t for you. And while I’ve worked my way into the scene by observing and being cautious, I am very familiar with this isolation that can keep others from even trying. This needs to change.
When we see diversity, it opens doors for more people to enter. That wave of new perspectives only strengthens the scene. It inspires others to feel welcome and breaks the stereotypes of what the alternative industry looks like. Because here’s the thing: we’re already here. We’ve always been here. We’re just not as visible.
A Personal Journey Through the Scene
Paramore - Credit: Zachary Gray
I got into the alternative scene when I was about 11 or 12, thanks to Paramore. It felt like the classic teenage rebellion move of falling in love with something my parents didn’t really understand or approve of. And while I loved the sound and the spirit, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t belong, that I was an outsider. I wasn’t seeing anyone who looked like me: not in forums, not in music videos, not in the crowd at shows. It made me question if I belonged.
That feeling followed me into my teenage years. Over time, I started to convince myself that the alternative scene wasn’t meant for me. Eventually, I walked away from it and found comfort in electronic music communities, where I felt more welcomed. Looking back, that early sense of alienation shaped how I moved through the scene later, especially as a creative and as a Black woman.
It wasn’t until a few years ago that I reconnected with the metal scene through Jinjer. By then, I was older and less concerned about others’ opinions. I’d also started meeting other POC who shared my love for this music. Social media trends, like Black people celebrating their love for Paramore on TikTok, showed me I wasn’t alone. We’d all felt isolated at one point, but it turned out we weren’t as rare as we’d thought.
Now, I approach the scene differently. Meeting other POC who shared my love for alternative music and seeing social media trends celebrating our presence gave me a renewed confidence. It was a powerful reminder that I wasn’t alone in feeling isolated and that there was a community waiting to be embraced. I do my research to make sure the bands I support align with my values, but I don’t let fear of judgment stop me anymore. I’m glad I stuck with it, because I’ve met some of the best people in this scene. Combining my love for shows with my passion for photography has been one of the most fulfilling things I’ve ever done.
Why Representation Truly Matters
Even with all of that, I can’t forget those years of feeling isolated. That’s why representation is so important. It can break the cycle and show others that they belong here too. When there’s more diversity in the industry, it trickles down to every level: the crowds, the stages, the backstage crews.
Representation isn’t just there to tick some boxes. It actively shapes the alternative scene in ways that benefit everyone.
It validates belonging. Seeing other women and POC behind the camera, on stage, or working the tour crew sends a clear message: you belong here too. That sense of belonging is what is keeping people from walking away before they even get a chance to thrive.
It creates opportunities. The more diverse the industry becomes, the more doors open for new creatives and musicians to build careers and keep the cycle going by opening doors for others.
It fuels creativity. Diverse voices bring new ideas and challenge the scene as we know it. After all, the alternative scene was built on rebellion and breaking norms, so welcoming new perspectives is exactly what it should be about.
It fights stereotypes and gatekeeping. Representation debunks the myth that there is a “right” way to look or to be punk or metal. It opens the scene up to everyone who loves it.
It honours the scene’s roots. Punk, metal, and hardcore all trace their origins back to influences from marginalised communities. Creating space for those voices now isn’t just progress, it’s respecting where this music came from.
With Behind The Lens, we’re trying to play our part by elevating underrepresented voices and showing the world that we’re here. As creatives, especially as photographers and videographers, we have the power to shape narratives. We choose who to highlight in our work, and that choice can make a huge difference. By giving opportunities to women, POC, and non-binary people, we can help change the face of this industry.
I dream of an alternative scene that’s more inclusive and less judged by outsiders. A scene where representation is prioritised by elevating diverse voices, fostering inclusivity at every level, and holding people accountable for creating equitable opportunities. A scene where everyone has equal opportunities, regardless of who they are. A scene that stops giving free passes to those who actively try to divide us. Most of all, I dream of a scene where marginalised groups aren’t just present: they’re celebrated.
Let’s make that dream a reality.
