I love music. I love what it does to our brains, to our hearts, and to our bodies. I’ve been a dancer since my age was in the single digits, so I’ve always had an emotional and physical reaction to music that moves me. I listen to pretty much everything, but Heavy Metal has a very special place in my black heart.

When I was a teen, I was the “loser” of the popular group. Those of you lucky enough to not peak in high school will understand what I mean. As the runt of that group, I always felt that I was just on the outside looking in on the cool, popular girls; hanging on by my fingernails. And as such, I had to dress like, act like, and listen to the music that they listened to.

But I had been living a double life. There was music that I listened to on the down low. Guilty pleasure music, if you will. Black Sabbath, Metallica, Motley Crüe, Skid Row, Def Leppard, Whitesnake, Scorpions, Poison, Guns and Roses, even Ratt—just to name a few. I would pretend I hated it… but it hit me in the three magic places; heart, gut, and just a bit south of there. I never shared it with anyone. The portrayal of the ‘headbanger’ kids during that time was pretty unflattering. I didn’t want to be lumped in with them. I judged them, just like everyone else did. And so, I put that music, and all of the feelings I had about it, away.

Fast forward to 2011. I was probably at my lowest point. I was going through a divorce that although wasn’t the most acrimonious in the world, was still incredibly shitty. People hurt each other in ways I don’t even think they are aware of because they are so hurt themselves. I was facing the spectre of being on my own for the first time in 15 years, sharing custody of my sons, and navigating a new world of experiences that I never thought I’d be part of.

The emotions were overwhelming.

And like it had been waiting for me all along, Metal was back in my life again. Some familiar faces, and some that I had missed during my time as a wife and mother. Pantera, Black Label Society, Megadeth, Lamb of God, Anthrax, Judas Priest, Testament, Children of Bodom, Arch Enemy. This time, it stuck.

I started listening to it while I was training at the gym. It drove me. Motivated me to beat my PR’s. Soon, I was listening in the car, while I was cleaning the house. It flooded my brain with endorphins. This was exactly what I needed during this time.

It was heavy. It was aggressive. And it was cathartic as fuck.

I remember the day so clearly. I was driving home from the lawyer’s office. I had been working so hard over the months of our separation to remain respectful, compassionate, and calm. And he was not. I was going to get every emotion he experienced in real time, right between the eyes. There were accusations. Name calling. Ridiculous assertions that I had never loved him and had planned this all along. And I had had enough. I was angry.

I held back my rage cry as I got into my car. I gripped the steering wheel and took three giant breaths. I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. I have always loved manual transmissions, and just might have laid down some rubber on the way. My bad. My blood was boiling, my mind racing, trying to understand how I got to this place. And then, I knew exactly what I needed. Pantera’s ‘Five Minutes Alone’.

You’ve waged a war of nerves.

But you can’t crush the kingdom.

It was transformative.

My heart rate slowed, my breathing slowed, the muscles in my body started to relax. I could feel the curl of a smile on my face. It was clear at that moment. Just like listening to sad music when you’re sad makes you not sad anymore, listening to angry music when you’re angry is going to make you not angry anymore.

Metal is going to get me through this.

But it turned out it did way more than just ‘get me through’.

I began to attend live shows. My first one was a Black Label Society show at, of all places, a country line dancing bar. I was little anxious… I didn’t know what to expect. The diversity of the crowd stunned me. 16 year old kids all the way to 60 year old kids were all occupying the same space. And thrilled about it. I didn’t open a door for myself, I’ve never seen manners like this in a crowd in my life. This was a community who didn’t give a shit who you were, what you had, or how old you were. It was just about the music. And I loved it.

I would take my young sons to shows as well. They were 12 and 9 at the time. At one particular show, there was a group of metalhead dads who formed a human perimeter around me and my kids so that they wouldn’t get bumped or trampled by anyone coming in or out of the mosh. An imposing dude who was about 6’5” with a multicoloured mohawk and a skeleton hand giving the finger tattooed onto the side of his shaved head lifted my little one onto his shoulders so that he could see the band play his favourite song. Who does that??

Metalheads. That’s who. This community that has been much maligned over the decades includes some of the best humans I’ve ever met. They have respect for the music, the ones who make it, the places they see it, and the other people who appreciate it along with them. It taught me to treat people with an open mind and heart. Not to judge by how they look, as we so often guilty of.

Another time, I took my older son to a Metal festival in Toronto in July. It was the middle of a heatwave, and it was 41 degrees Celsius in the shade. We had been there all day and seen so many awesome bands. The headliner that night was Megadeth. We had been waiting for this moment. As the first chords emanated from the stage, the lights all shone purple, and it began to rain. Such a relief after the oppressive heat of the day. We turned to each other and smiled. It was amazing. The music, the lights, the rain. To this day it is one of my favourite moments with that kid.

Dave Mustaine of Megadeth at Heavy T.O., July 2011

This music is not just noise. It carries incredibly important political and social commentary; and is seemingly timeless. 1986’s ‘Peace Sells (but who’s buying)’ by Megadeth is just as relevant now as ever. This music urges young people to think for themselves and not bend to social pressure to conform to a system that just doesn’t seem to have anything to do with them. I know a lot of entrepreneurs and successful creative people who are proud metalheads. We are used to being on the fringes. Liking things that are not necessarily popular. Only dead fish unquestioningly go with the flow.

Metalheads stand up for what they believe in. James Fell (The Sweary Historian) wrote a gleeful account of Dee Snider testifying before Congress in 1985. He articulately and passionately spoke out against censorship and defended his music and that of others. All while sporting giant blonde curls, ripped jeans, and a white undershirt. Gorgeous.

Metalheads support each other. When Lamb of God’s lead singer Randy Blythe was arrested in 2010 in the Czech Republic on a manslaughter charge stemming from a stage rushing incident that led to the death of a 19 year old man, the response was swift. His bandmates simultaneously rallied around him and expressed genuine regret and sorrow for the family of the 19 year old. Not bitching about all the money they weren’t making from all the shows that were cancelled. They arranged an online auction to raise funds for Blythe’s legal bills, and fans responded to the call. I highly recommend you watch their documentary, As The Palaces Burn to understand the humanity of these guys. It’s truly moving.

It’s been almost 10 years since my divorce. My sons are adults now, and I love my life with them. Metal is still in my heart, but the feeling is different. Now I listen to it and look at what it’s given me. The courage to be on my own, to trust myself, and to try new things. It shows me how far I’ve come, and the amazing things I’ve yet to learn and experience. I will always be a Metal chick at my core. Horns up.

Beatrice