For Isla Fae Cato, the raw drumbeats, intense guitar riffs, and chaotic frenzy of the mosh pit at a hardcore show are exhilarating. "It's an incredibly joyous occasion... in a way, it's like a community, a group of grown-up people who want to express themselves and have a good time," says Isla, 26, adding to the sense of belonging and shared experience.
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03-03, 2025Isla was exposed to hardcore bands from a young age, thanks to her brother, Morgan, who used to be the drummer for the band "Justice for the Damned." "For someone who, when they were younger, found it difficult to express emotions anywhere, especially in a healthy way, having a healthy space to express that is crucial," she says, highlighting the importance of such outlets.
However, Isla is a transgender woman, and it took her years to start regularly joining the energetic, frenzied crowd, mainly because she felt it was a daunting and undiverse space. "For me, the first time was a completely spur-of-the-moment decision," she says, explaining the initial hesitation and eventual leap into the scene.
Hardcore music originated in underground punk scenes in cities like Los Angeles and New York. It blends the aggression of heavy metal with the speed of punk rock and has amassed a following around the world, including in Australia. Participating in mosh pits has become a form of "therapy" for Isla, but she says it's not a place you can enter "willy-nilly," acknowledging the intensity and potential risks involved.
She has been injured while participating in mosh pits, including having an ear piercing ripped out, a kicked nose, and two fractured ribs. But that hasn't stopped her from joining in again. "I like the camaraderie; it's a loving space, which is very different from what it looks like from the outside," she says, emphasizing the supportive atmosphere within the seemingly violent activity.
Michael Fitzsimons, co-founder of Life Lair Regret Records, says this movement and participation make mosh pits unique. "From the outside, it's easy to think, 'Oh my god, this looks so violent, what are these people doing?' But to understand that it's a controlled aggression, it's just an outlet for people to connect with each other in a positive way," he explains, clarifying the purpose behind the physical expression.
Michael has attended hardcore shows all over the world, and he has noticed that, no matter where he is, the audience participates with the same dance and movement styles as at Australian shows. "No matter what country you go to in the world, everyone acts the same," he observes, pointing to the globally shared culture within the hardcore scene.
Michael and his brother Robert created their record label to contribute to the hardcore community and made a diverse lineup their primary focus. "Obviously, we're not kingmakers who can make huge changes. But we can start the conversation and say, 'Hey, for us, it's really important that women are treated equally to men in this space,'" he states, highlighting their commitment to promoting inclusivity.
The DIY spirit of this community means anyone has the opportunity to participate, whether in the audience, selling merchandise, or on stage. "That's the great thing about hardcore, you have the opportunity to create what you want to see," he says, emphasizing the empowering and participatory nature of the scene.
Neev Martin, the lead singer of the hardcore band Cherish, has been attending hardcore shows in Sydney since they were a teenager and has spent a lot of time in mosh pits. "It can be a hostile place, but it can also be a very friendly place, which is beautiful, and that's how I experience the world," they say, acknowledging the duality and complexities of the environment.
Neev says that before COVID-19, mosh pits were predominantly male and not always welcoming to women and gender-diverse people. Cherish formed their own band to help create a space that focuses on gender diversity, queer people, and people of color. "When you can see yourself represented in the bands, you feel empowered to take up space in the audience," they say, emphasizing the importance of representation and visibility.
Dr. Paige Clements, a hardcore expert at RMIT University, says that despite efforts to make it inclusive, hardcore can often be an "exclusionary space." "Hardcore is very male-dominated, the music is coded as masculine, and it's not always a welcoming space," Dr. Clements says, acknowledging the challenges that still exist.
Dr. Clements says physical risk isn't the only reason female fans are hesitant to participate in mosh pits. "The whole point of moshing is to take up space, to swing your arms and legs around wildly, and as women, we're socialized from a young age not to do that. You're taught to take up less space, to be quiet. So sometimes moshing can be a way of challenging gender norms," she explains, highlighting the societal pressures that can impact women's participation.
After moving overseas, Isla took a break from hardcore and completed her gender transition at age 21. She missed the thrill of the mosh pit but wasn't sure how her peers would perceive her new gender identity upon her return. "I was so scared that someone was going to come up and be like, 'Get this f***ing tranny out of here,'" she says, expressing her anxieties about potential rejection.
"It was the complete opposite. I was embraced and loved by everyone around me... I found my place." Isla's enthusiasm has inspired other women to join the crowd. "They congratulated me; they said, 'You're so brave... thank you for getting in there and showing those boys what's up and being a girl who's killing it in there,'" she recounts, highlighting the positive reception and impact of her presence.
She says the crowd is now more diverse than ever, with many women, gender-diverse people, and queer people dancing in the center of the crowd. Neev says to any "outsiders" wanting to join a mosh pit, take up that space because they deserve to be there. "You will be seen, and another queer person, another trans person, or another person of color will say, 'I got you,' because that's what we do. We look after each other," they conclude, emphasizing the supportive and inclusive nature of the evolving hardcore community.
