Save The Pinhook

Please, save The Pinhook.

This is not simply a decree or cry for help. It is a demand. A beacon of inclusivity, of safety, is being threatened in our community.  

Since 2008, The Pinhook has had its doors open for everyone. And, no, not just the stereotypical jaded punk who doesn’t fit in with his peers. Not just for the people who want a place to drink on the weekend. 

The Pinhook has its doors open for the excluded and oppressed. The Pinhook is open for trans people, non-cisgendered people, people with disabilities, people of every race and ethnicity and people who are victims of abuse and The Pinhook keeps us all safe.

Going to shows at The Pinhook for me was not outside of my comfort zone. As a mentally ill trans person, going to shows is hard. Engaging in “the scene” is hard. Being in public with strangers who cannot grasp certain facets of your identity is traumatizing. Cat-calling, nonconsensual moshing and general anxiety of your surroundings can always threaten a person’s safety.

There are so few safe spaces in this community, from my experience, and I’d even venture to say in most local music communities. The Pinhook is one of few places in the Triangle in which I feel comfortable using the bathroom due to its gender-neutral facilities. 

It’s hard to come by a show space with a list of intolerable behaviors painted in big letters on the wall. It’s as if the words are screaming out for the oppressed and overlooked and saying “please, please respect us.” It’s not every day that a public space demands safety. It’s not every day underprivileged people can feel at home in public.

Because of an amassment of financial burdens, The Pinhook’s doors are threatened to be closed. To me, and to so many others in the Triangle, The Pinhook represents something bigger than a place to see your favorite band. The Pinhook is solace, and it is fiercely demanding for respect to be given to every person in attendance, every night, every week and every year. 

So, please, save The Pinhook.