SHARPS

The SHARPS, Skinheads Against Racial Prejudice.

SHARPS were more than just skinheads trying to stick to the original values and tradition, they were ready to take on the racist skinheads who’d co-opted the movement.

I liked that SHARPS stood up to Nazi skins when nobody else would. I liked that they would use the Nazi skins’ own tactics to let them know they were not welcome in our scene. In the end I don’t know what worked, what drove the Nazis out, but I knew that trying to work with them, convert them, or ignore them failed miserably. The SHARPS at the very least evened up the score a bit.

At the same time, being honest, I usually wasn’t very happy when SHARPS were present at a show. They were mostly super masculine guys who liked to fight, and if some misunderstanding happened you could end up at the receiving end of their boots. I always thought that they should make it a policy to only fight one-on-one if fighting anyone who wasn’t a white supremacist, lest they become the cats that rid us of the rat problem, only to reward us with a cat problem. Of course, I never suggested this to them.

I had several friends who were SHARPS. One guy in particular, I’ll call him Josh, told me he was trying to get the SHARPS to do positive things in the community, offering their services to remove graffiti from synagogues, or provide security at cultural events that Nazi skins might target. He was frustrated that he got no response from the other SHARPS. Years later he now has long dreadlocks and is a reggae DJ.

I remember going out to coffee with my roommate Chris. Chris is a black man, and he dressed like a goth. He was almost never without his leather jacket, “Christian Death” painted across the back. He had straightened hair and was thin and androgynously handsome. We reached the coffee shop. A group of SHARPS was hanging out. There were a few people of color who hung out with the SHARPS, but they were mostly white guys. Seeing a black dude their age come into the coffee shop, they all sat up. As Chris and I waited for our coffee, they came over one at a time to shake his hand and say hello, ask him how he was, and otherwise make a big show of being cool with him. I found it incredibly awkward.

As we headed back home, our caffeine needs satiated, I asked Chris about it. “Doesn’t that bug the shit out of you?”

In his quiet voice Chris explained, “When it comes to skinheads, I much prefer them kissing my ass to kicking it.”

I reminded Chris about the incident recently. He told me, “It was an awkward exchange. I remember that I thought it was disingenuous. But that was twenty-year-old me. Forty-six-year-old me just thinks we were kids trying to break barriers.”

My little brother, James, had a less enjoyable run-in with one of these would-be superheroes. While attending a party at the apartment of a loudly and proudly gay friend of his, he heard a ruckus and saw one of the local SHARPS stomping out of the party onto the porch where James was hanging out with his friend Mel. The SHARP was calling people fags and poofs, and daring anyone to oppose him. Having come from a Southern California scene where people were much quicker to fight, James was amazed and disappointed that nobody seemed willing to stand up and take care of this guy, then he noticed his friend Mel reaching into his pocket for his gun. He pushed Mel’s hand away from the pocket and told him, “I got this.”

The skinhead continued taunting the invited guests at the party. When he stepped toward James, my brother took off his jacket and prepared to fight. The skin started walking quickly away, in the direction of The Weatherstone coffee shop, where more SHARPS would be hanging out. Worried that he was about to be faced with a whole group of SHARPS, James grabbed the guy, turned him around, and delivered a Swedish Kiss to his face. The Swedish Kiss, hitting someone in the face with the top of your head, was a favorite of my kid brother’s since high school, despite me trying to talk him out of employing it. He followed up with three right hooks and put the guy on the ground.

One thing I’ve noted about all three of my brothers is their frightening ability to stay calm in a fight. James was on top of this skinhead, who was now crying and asking James to let him go. James told him, “Think next time before fucking with people,” before getting off of him. The guy immediately ran off toward the coffee shop and James realized he might be in trouble. He went to Mel’s house and called me.

I was at The Crest movie theater, emceeing the animation festival, when I was told there was a call for me in the office. I heard what happened and quickly started calling everyone and anyone I knew who had any association with the SHARPS. My roommate at the time, Todd, played trumpet for the ska band Filibuster, a favorite of the SHARPS. He helped me reach another member of the band, who I knew the SHARPS had great respect for.

“Hey man, James got into it with one of the SHARPS. Guy was drunk and making problems at a party. Can you help me make sure this is just between the two of them?” I was assured it wouldn’t be a problem.

By the time I caught up with James he had blood dripping down his face. “I thought he didn’t hit you?”

“He didn’t.”

“Why are you bleeding?”

His right hand went right to the source of the bleeding. He looked at his red fingers. “Goddammit. That’s where my head connected with his teeth.”

“Man, you gotta get that move out of your itinerary. You’re gonna kill someone. For now you should get a tetanus shot.”

A couple weeks later James walked into a bar and saw the guy hanging out with some other SHARPS. Dude’s friends hopped off their bar stools and started at James, but dude put his hands on their chests and got them to sit down. He walked up to my brother and apologized. “I was being an asshole for far too long. I deserved it.”

We heard he quit running with the SHARPS shortly thereafter.

I didn’t like a lot of the SHARPS, and I loved several of them. I think of them like the jocks in high school, just a level of masculinity I have never related to, but the worst jocks in high school beat up geeky kids, and effeminate kids, and other easy targets. At least the SHARPS focused their violent tendencies on guys who were neither easy targets nor undeserving of a beating. Whatever other issues I may have had with them, I will always admire them for their Nazi punching. Well done, crew, well done.