Skip to main content
Editor's note: This week's Lady Things also appears in the music section of the print paper! Women: moving off the internet and into the world!
Childbirth has a new song it's been working on. It's called "Sorry About Your Penis."
"Basically it's just, 'I'm so sorry about your penis,' over and over again," says singer-guitarist Julia Shapiro. (At least I think it's her. Over the phone, the three members of Childbirth sound remarkably similar and talk almost in unison, so I'm going to be mostly guessing here.) "And then the chorus is, 'Your dick is limp/ Your dick is limp/Life is so hard when you have a dick.'"
"Sorry About Your Penis" sounds like it could be a big hit for the Seattle band—frequently referred to as a "supergroup," though that only makes sense if you are involved in the Seattle punk scene—currently best known for the undeniably catchy "I Only Fucked You as a Joke," which goes, "I only fucked you as a joke/I hope I'm not pregnant." It's the kind of song that turns a group of friends playing jokey songs together in their off time into an Internet sensation, inspiring think pieces and feminist manifestos.
But talking to the band—which consists of Shapiro, who's also in Chastity Belt, Bree McKenna of Tacocat and Stacy Peck of Pony Time—it becomes clear they would prefer to be seen as more than just women writing songs for women about women.
"I don't think all our songs are about women's issues or whatever," says Bree (maybe?). "Anyone can fuck someone as a joke."
It seems that, while the women of Childbirth enjoy being in Childbirth, it isn't their main priority. "We are loyal to our main bands," says Stacy. "People wish that this band would do more than it is possible to do," says Julia. "It makes us feel kind of torn—like a Natalie Imbruglia song."
Basically, they started Childbirth together as a joke band, to let off some steam, and the things they are singing about—the experience of being women—resonate at a time when feminism's most obvious expression is comedy. See: Amy Schumer, Broad City, the women of Saturday Night Live, Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. Childbirth is part of the Zeitgeist, touring around with another funny female musician, Lisa Prank, the "wild punk, too-many-feelings alter ego" of Robin Edwards. They are good at what they do, and they've happened upon the solid gold of the moment.
Still, one can understand why they might be sick of being asked what it's like to be female punk musicians. For now, feminism is acknowledging women doing awesome things. The next step, hopefully, is acknowledging people doing awesome things.
But I just had to ask.
"What's it like to be in a band that's all women?" I say. "How's it different than being in a band with dudes?"
"Stacy can answer that one," says Bree. "Her band Pony Time only has one dude in it."
"This band has a lot less pedals," says Stacy. "Dudes really like pedals."
I try another tactic, a surefire way to get the band, whose latest album is called Women's Rights and has many obvious female-based songs about topics such as lesbian sex and fertility, to connect over the shared experience of being a woman.
"Do you guys get a lot of Internet hate?" I ask, hoping we can bond over misogyny like some women bond over white wine and Thelma and Louise. "As a woman, writing on the Internet, I get a lot of random hate."
"We got some pretty awful comments on Brooklyn Vegan," Bree says. "One of them was a rape threat."
"I don't read the comments anymore," says Stacy. "But the Brooklyn Vegan batch, a lot of people ended up screenshotting them and texting them to us. There was one that was threatening, and the rest of them were really kind of graphically sexual."
Finally, we've found common ground, with the most Lady Thing of all Lady Things: men hating what we do.
Before we get off the phone, I ask them if they have anything mean they want to say about Portland. Answer: "Portland isn't a real city."
Childbirth: So punk rock that they hate Portland. So punk rock, you wouldn't even know they were ladies.
SEE IT: Childbirth plays Bunk Bar, 1028 SE Water Ave., with Lisa Prank and Mini Blinds, on Sunday, Jan. 24. $8. 9:30 pm. 21+.
Willamette Week