A Jungle of Juggalos

On Saturday, I drove down to DC to see a protest by the fans of the Insane Clown Posse band. I have little interest in their music and had never even heard of them until I saw they would be marching in DC. I hoped to get some great photos of clowns, as this is how the fans, known as Juggalos, dress, in imitation of the 2 band members. I was stoked to find a parking spot very close to The Lincoln Memorial, and walked across the grass, my camera out ready.
The Juggalos were on The Mall today to protest against being labelled as gang members by the FBI in 2011, more here. There's also an interesting read here. Since then they have struggled to have this label removed. Today they had a program lasting the full day, from meeting at 1pm in front of The Lincoln Memorial, marching peacefully down the Mall, and finishing back at the start where the band ICP, along with other bands would entertain the crowds into the evening. I wasn't planning on staying the whole day, but out of curiosity made sure I was there at 12:30 to see who, and how many, would show up. The fans had been told not to apply any make-up until 1pm, a request which I had been positive would be ignored, but was actually strictly adhered to. Until 1pm, there were a few fans wearing red shirts and holding up signs, but no masks or clown faces of any kind. Then after the hour they started to appear, black and white paint smeared across countenances, in the horrorcore fashion which they follow.

I spoke with a cyclist who was standing and watching them, who told me that they were the misfits of society, who felt they weren't fully accepted in our world, so they stuck together, calling themselves family. As they approached one another, they would cry out, "Whoop, whoop!" or all yell the call as a group. I asked one of them if I'd heard the sound right. "Yes. it's how we greet each other," he said. "But where did it originate from?" I asked. He had no answer to that, so I just looked around at them all, wondering why they would choose a salutation that sounded like a troop of monkeys in a jungle.

They were all friendly enough, which was just as well because some of them did look a little intimidating. Chains, body piercings, heavy make up or the black and white clown faces. I had been hoping to see some artistic renditions, or at least some color on their faces, but that's not how their scene works apparently. Everyone I asked was more than happy to pose for a photo and I soon relaxed when it was apparent there would be no aggression. I'd seen quite a heavy police presence on Constitution Avenue and assumed there might be some trouble, but there were other protests at the other end of The Mall which seemed to have their attention more than what was happening here.

Their message was apparent on signs held high and t-shirts that were paraded up and down. A large number were wearing scarlet red shirts, looking like a large Nationals baseball crowd. Tall piles of free pizza were stacked on a wall and their trademark Faygo soft drink started to appear, it featured in a few Insane Clown Posse songs. Their Hatchetman symbol, the group emblem, was everywhere, on clothing flags, faces, worn as jewelry or being handed out as stickers.

This guy had no qualms about proudly holding his shirt open so I could see his tattoo...

...while this dude walked up and down in front of the Reflecting Pool muttering some rap lyrics into a microphone which was connected to a speaker he pulled along on a cart.

I have no words. Really. Well maybe a few. God help us...Actually, these guys were quite entertaining. A reporter was asking them questions while holding out a microphone while his partner videoed them. Every question he asked was answered in rap style by the guy in white, accompanied by some footwork and arm action, it was quite riveting, I wished I'd recorded it myself. He explained that there was no gang here, just a huge family, folks who would help out any member, even if they were a stranger. He stated that gangs have colors and initiations, and told us to look around and see, there were no colors. He had a point. Apart from the red shirts, everyone was in black and white, which technically aren't colors.

I finally left when I realized that I wouldn't be seeing any of the outrageous clown make up that I'd been hoping to see. The crowd had certainly increased in size yet the ambience was friendly and sociable. They had no issues with boring-looking ordinary folks like me gawking and asking questions. I didn't see one expression of annoyance or impatience; they were all just trying to put their message across, and the Juggalos present certainly didn't give me any reasons to be concerned. They do seem to have some members who have tainted their name, with drug traffickers, burglaries and murders having been committed by a few, but hey, this happens in regular society too. They also have groups involved with charity fund raising and community clean ups. I left hoping they'd win their cause. It did seem rather an overkill to label them as a gang, they were simply a fan base, nothing more. I guess Jimmy Buffet's Parrotheads had better watch out, they're a raucous bunch when they had a few margaritas...