How can you sum up a person in just a few sentences with a few lines of text on a page? Raneem Salem is too infinite to be condensed into a few paragraphs, especially when his life is about creating space; space for freedom, for creative self-expression. He creates spaces like Girls Rock Cincinnati, a music and arts camp for girls and gender-variant youth, where he serves as executive director. Raneem co-founded the Cincinnati branch of Girls Rock in 2018; it’s a space he wishes he had as a child to explore his own gender and power. Raneem identifies as transmasculine but chose to interview based on his historical proximity to womanhood.

And during our interview, I found myself stumbling over my words and thoughts as he spoke on the profound existence of music and community. He speaks in paragraphs and sonnets. To Raneem Salem, making space is a moral obligation, while creating joy in a diverse and welcoming community is revolutionary.

Interview by Olivia Taylor. Photography by Stacy Wegley.

Can you tell us a bit about yourself?

I was born and raised in Cincinnati to Jordanian immigrants. I'm a part of a big Arab American community here. I went to Miami University for professional writing and cultural anthropology.

And for the last five years, I have worked in youth arts administration and community building through the arts. I am currently the artistic programs coordinator at Price Hill Will, which is affiliated with MYCincinnati, a free daily youth orchestra program. I also work with the Creative Community Festival, a yearly two-day arts and neighborhood festival in Price Hill. I am the creative director and V.P. of operations at Figure Eight Productions, which is a local community tech accessibility production company. We do a lot around tech – tech education, tech accessibility, and hands-on audio-visual work that it takes to put on community events. And I’m the founder and executive director of Girls Rock Cincinnati.

That’s a lot of local projects you’re involved in – why is being involved in your community so important to you?

It’s a little dramatic and existential, but there's no reason other than I don't need a reason – it's an obligation. I don't see a point in being alive in a community without participating in it to the fullest of my capacity. Oftentimes, that extends my physical and emotional capacity, but ultimately, it doesn't feel like a choice. It feels like a demand that I am happy to oblige.

I love that. It goes back to the whole, “No man’s an island,” and if you have power or resources or privilege, you have the responsibility to use it to bring others together rather than keeping people apart.

Right, if you have power, privilege, skills, and resources, there is a pull and a demand to redistribute that within your community. I have a lot of ugly feelings about our very clinical, individualistic capitalist society that has divorced us from what it means to be a community – community care models rule my life. I can't imagine living and not participating in these extensions of community.

On that note, can you tell us about Girls Rock Cincinnati?

Girls Rock is actually an international phenomenon. It started in Portland, Oregon in 2001. The next camp to pop up was Willie Mae Rock Camp for Girls in New York. Girls Rock Cincinnati was founded in November 2018 as a result of my volunteering at the Grrrls Rock Columbus for a few years. They got their start from the Athens Rock Camp for Girls, who got their start from Girls Rock Philly, and so on. It's very much a community effort.

I have always been a musician and a music educator. I just witnessed the absolute pure, unadulterated beauty and joy of this organization and wanted to start it in my hometown, because we didn't have anything like it. I recruited two of my friends, who I actually didn't know very well prior to this. I went to college with one of them, Holly Meyer. We hadn't talked since our freshman year but, four years later, Holly popped up as a volunteer at Girls Rock Columbus after hearing about it through me, since I had talked about it on social media. I asked Holly and Anissa Pulcheon, who is a local musician and an all-around amazing person, and the three of us worked together to found this camp.

Being trans and living in a joyful existence is a form of revolution.

The elevator pitch is: Girls Rock is a music and arts camp for girls and gender-variant youth ages 12 to 18 in Greater Cincinnati. We teach leadership skills, music education, social-emotional skills, and the fundamentals of being a good community member. Our mission is to fuel joy through arts and music for girls and gender variant youth. Our vision is a new creative landscape with equitable opportunities without barriers. Girls Rock Cincinnati was born out of a true need for a space in the music community and in Cincinnati for youth and specifically, for gender-oppressed youth, to thrive and have space where they can take agency. There is nothing like it here that I've seen, I grew up in the music scene here and started playing shows when I was maybe 15. The entire time, it was conflict after conflict of not having space – not having a space that felt safe, that was all ages, that was sober, or that featured youth. The predominant demographic of the music scene here is 20-30-something white guys with a lot of money, experience, and pull.

Girls Rock Cincinnati is important for many reasons, and it’s the most beautiful thing I've ever done.

Can you talk about the community around Girls Rock?

Our community is vast. As soon as we opened the doors, saying we’re here and we’re doing this, hundreds of people flooded in, with hundreds of amazing, wildly talented, different skill sets, all focused on the same mission: to provide these safe creative spaces for girls and gender-expansive young people. We have had over 100 volunteers during the last few years that we've done the camp. We've engaged 30 different families from Mason to Northern Kentucky through our programming.

Our community is wildly colorful, and we’re wildly colorful, wildly skilled and we all come in under the same mission – and it's a really wonderful thing to witness.

What do the campers do at Girls Rock? What does an average day as a Girls Rock camper look like?

I can tell you pre-Covid-19 and during Covid-19. Pre-Covid-19, we followed a structure of having instrument instruction. We taught bass guitar, drums, keyboard, and vocals, followed by workshops. We've had workshops on patch making, screen printing, comedy, movements, leadership skills, and social-emotional skills.

At the beginning of the week, campers are sorted into a band and assigned to band directors. For the lunchtime periods, we bring in local performers for campers to enjoy a concert. After the six days, the camp culminates into this final performance and celebration, where each camper band performs the songs that they wrote together throughout the week.

During Covid-19 and 2020, we shifted to being fully virtual on a project-based model where campers were able to enroll in one of two groups: activism through art and activism through music. We brought on local artists, makers, musicians, to be our project coordinators. In the art section, the campers learned about the history and politics of zine-making, and then made their own. They learned the A.B.Cs of women of color in music and created their own riot song. We’re currently in the planning stages for the 2021 camp; we are thinking that we’re going to maintain the project-based model with this focus on activism and social justice to allow campers to use their creativity to be citizen artists and active members of their communities.

Music is obviously a huge component of Girls Rock – what's your background in music? What kind of genre and bands have you participated in?

I've always been a singer. I grew up in this tiny Arab Orthodox Church in Loveland and have been singing in the choir there since I was eight years old. I studied Byzantine chant through the Orthodox Church growing up. I took voice lessons and studied classical voice all throughout school. I took gym class during the summer so I could take three choir classes in school. I went into undergrad initially for vocal performance and music education. But I realized that what I wanted to do with music education was much broader than in the classroom, so I dropped out of that program.

Being able to create that space for young people to be supported in their gender identity, it's unmatched.

In my adult years – I'm not an expert instrumentalist at anything that I play – but I play guitar, bass synthesizer, ukulele, mandolin, oud – which is a Middle Eastern lute – a little bit of percussion. My primary instruments are voice, guitar, and synthesizer. I used to sing opera, and I've played in punk bands, dream pop bands, noise bands, improv collaborations, you name it. I was the Girls Rock volunteer for a country-pop cover band for our Halloween benefit in 2019. I'm working on digital production, analog synthesizers, and voice looping.

What I love about music is that it is so dynamic – it can be used for both individual creative expression and activating communities through a common connection. Can you talk a little about the importance and power of music?

Music historically has been a unifying vehicle for change. Music is a form of expression as you look back to the history of storytelling and oral history. The first revolutions and social movements, music has always remained a vehicle of communication, and a vehicle of change. Music has the power to invoke beauty, as well as action and response. It's a call and response. It can be both witnessed and invoke the listener to do something.

Songs are truly artifacts of social, emotional, and political times and movements. And it's extremely powerful to use the voice for creative expression and to cement something in time – it’s both timeless and intangible. I think you could get really into the metaphysical aspects of sonic healing and the power of sonic instruments. It also makes me think of sonic weapons and how music is in direct opposition to those weapons that are used against protesters and people that are uprising. That's how music ties into the political.

The other importance of music – one of my guiding motivations in life – is that the revolution is full of joy. Art for the sake of art, music for the sake of music. I think there's no mystery to that; underserved communities are often artistically underserved too, while simultaneously artistically rich. When we think of social justice, when we think of social movements, we think of the visuals, the feet on the ground protesting. I really believe that the revolution is found in little moments of joy and community. I think that making space for joy and creative expression for the sake of creative expression is radical in and of itself under oppressive environments.

I think there are two sides to the coin: number one, music can be and is a vehicle for social movements and change. And number two, music can just be music, allowing space for creative expression for the sake of creative expression is powerful.

You’ve used the term “revolution” a lot – can you talk about what you mean by that?

The basic definition of revolution is dismantling systems of oppression, and I think revolution is not only that but also surviving a joyful existence in spite of those systems.

Operating and community care models when it is incentivized to not do so is revolution. Sharing your stimulus checks with people who maybe didn't get it is a form of revolution. Being trans and living in a joyful existence is a form of revolution – all that you do that defies and dismays. What we are incentivized to do based on power and privilege is a form of revolution with the ultimate goal of liberation of our communities. There's an amazing quote by Lilla Watson [a Murri artist, academic, and activist] that says, “If you have come here to help me, you are wasting your time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.” All of these little acts of navigating our systems as they exist and thriving under them with the ultimate goal of liberation and dismantling systems of oppression – that's what revolution means to me.

A huge, and important, part of Girls Rock is providing a space to campers who are gender-expansive or questioning their gender – can you talk about the significance of that?

Anytime anybody asks me about Girls Rock, the first thing that comes to mind is how different would my life be if I had access to this space when I was younger. That is one thread that ties every single person that I've encountered who has been part of our organization, we all say something like, “I needed this when I was younger. Where was this when I was younger? I can't imagine how different my life would be if I had this space.”

This is the first place where they have felt supported not only in their known gender identity but in their exploration of it. There is no understating the importance of that trans education. It’s not included in the public or private school curriculum, especially not private school curriculum. Parents literally don't have the tools to understand their trans kids and support them – at least not tools that are widely accessible.

It's a human right that people are affirmed in their gender identity in every moment of every day in every social situation they're in.

Oftentimes, young people are branded with this messaging that their existence is somehow in opposition to their culture. But trans people have always existed and will continue to exist. And what is the culture if not a summation of all the parts of it? So when we talk about representation and inclusion, I know those are really popular words to throw around, but what does it really mean? If I had seen a trans person in a position of power when I was a young person, my God, the amount of pain that would have been alleviated from my life is outstanding.

I grew up in a strict Arab immigrant family. I'm 26-years-old, and recently came out to my family as trans and they completely cut me off. When you are given the opportunity to be shown that there are supportive people, that there are people who will love them and will uplift them, that there are legitimate spaces in the world for them, there's just no comparison. It's something that is naturally built into the Girls Rock experience. It’s taught in opposition to the trans experience, that there's space for you to be accepted, that you will be supported, that you'll be loved, that you will be celebrated.

I've witnessed many of our campers come in through the doors, especially in 2019, and be asked, “What are your pronouns? What name do you want to go by? How can we respect your gender identity and make the space feel inclusive to you?” So many of them were shocked. One of the camper bands in our first year called their band, “Them” because throughout the week all of them said, “I think I'm nonbinary,” and started using they/them pronouns. They united on that, and the lyrics to their song were, “Just be yourself, it's gonna be okay.”

Being able to create that space for young people to be supported in their gender identity, it's unmatched. It's a human right. It's a human right that people are affirmed in their gender identity in every moment of every day in every social situation they're in. It shouldn't be anything special that we're affirming the trans experience, it should be mandatory, a facet of existence. I could go on about it for days, so I'll stop it there.

What do you want Girls Rock campers to take with them as they go out into the world?

So many things; the absolute assurance that they are powerful, and they are their own best advocate. I want to equip them with the tools to believe that knowledge is a rumor until it lives in the body. By not only teaching leadership skills, creative expression, the fundamentals of actual music education, giving them the opportunity to enact those things in a supportive environment allows their bodies to be on muscle memory when they get to take those skills out into their own worlds.

I want campers to leave feeling empowered, supported, powerful, and operating under the assumption that they know what they're doing, and they know how they feel and they know what their needs are, and giving them the skills to advocate for those things. I want them to know how to find spaces that are supportive, to have that muscle memory of, “This is what a supportive environment looks and feels like. How do I recreate this elsewhere?” We are not necessarily teaching them anything. Instead, we're learning alongside them and providing an example of what a supportive and challenging environment looks like, for them to explore their own worlds, and find those spaces, or create them if they don't see them.

Women of Cincy’s mission is wrapped in empathy – can you talk about what empathy means to you?

Empathy to me means being a good neighbor, and a good best friend to yourself and to others. What you would do for your best friend, extend that to both yourself and to a stranger. If someone needs a ride and you're able to give them a ride, do so. If someone needs a dollar and you have it, give them a dollar. It's about removing yourself from your own experience. Step outside of it, take a moment to feel small, and witness that you are a cog in somebody else's existence and that not everyone's actions are personal to you. Not everything that happens to you is a personal action on somebody else's part. Sometimes you are a participant in their journey who happens to get affected, and so on.

On the other side of that coin, acknowledging that your actions do have an impact on others, and you have the power to redirect someone else's life. At any moment, a stranger can change your life. Are you going to choose to be that stranger? The little acts of community care and kindness in our day-to-day lives – sharing a cup of coffee, for example – the beauty of the human experience is witnessing each other's experience. Even if that means opening your ears and your heart, bearing witness to someone else's joy or pain, that's a critical human connection – and it's all based on empathy.

It's based on our ability to both live inside and outside of ourselves. Not something that someone is doing to me, or something that I am doing to someone else, but how this is a natural progression of human existence.

How can people support Girls Rock?

Get the word out. If you hear about our organization, and you think to yourself, “Oh, so and so should know about this,” make sure they know about it. Donate financially – we got 501(c)(3) status not too long ago. Up until this point, we have survived solely on individual donations. You can visit our website for ways to donate, whether that be your time or your old music gear.

Take our mission to heart and see where you can employ it in your daily life. You don't have to be a musician or care about music to resonate with our values of wanting to create safer spaces for the youth in our world. Treat young people with respect for the agency that they have in their own lives, create spaces for young people to be heard, honor when they do choose to share with you. Also, recognize that the revolution is full of joy and every opportunity that we’re presented to cultivate joy in our communities, we should absolutely take.

Tell us about some influential women or gender-expansive people in your life.

There are so many; I have the immense honor to be deeply enamored with all of the people I surround myself with. Someone who comes to mind is my grandmother. She grew up dirt poor, and in a little hillside town in Jordan, under extremely abusive and traumatic situations. She was a grammar teacher and had to figure out ways to find joy. To this day, as much as her heart has been broken, she still leaves it open to all of the people that need her love and insight. She is the most loving person I've ever met and I’ve learned a lot from her.

I'm deeply, deeply inspired by my co-conspirators – I love our new team, but I've had the immense privilege of working with Anissa Pulcheon, Holly Meyer, Jennifer Diaz, and Katie Allen over the last two years, and they all inspire the hell out of me. I was not expecting anybody to jump on board to do a bunch of free work for something that I was excited about, but they took it in stride and our organization would not be where it is without them.

When I think back to trans women pioneers of music, I think about Wendy Carlos, my synthesizer icon. In 2021, I feel unsafe as a trans person making music and she was making music dozens of years ago, just for the hell of it, and has really left an impact on many communities. I think about adrienne maree brown, Grace Lee Boggs, and Arundhati Roy, some of the great writer activists, community member influencers that I know about.

I have to give a big shoutout to my mentor and friend, Eddy Kwon. I was 19 or 20 when I met them and they were the first person who gave me the space for me to express my hopes and dreams and fears for the world. They were the first person to make me believe it was possible – and the first person to co-conspire with me to make it possible. I owe so much to Eddy. They're a deep love and influence of mine. I don't know where I would be today without them, but I do know that it would not be as special as it is now.

Is there anything else you’d like to add before we wrap this up?

I just want to add a caveat that while I don't identify as a woman, I was socialized and operated socially as a woman for 25 years. And I think there's a lot of power that goes in with being tangential to womanhood, or participating in womanhood that is really special, which is why I still feel called to speak to the feminine experience and to a woman's experience. I appreciate having space made for me to share that intertwined experience that I have.

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Raneem Salem: Creating Community Through Music and the Revolutionary Power of Joy