There is perhaps no group of people more hated than Juggalos. Whether it’s an overheard “woop woop!” or an empty Faygo two liter on the ground, the slightest evidence of a Dark Carnival enthusiast is enough to ruin the mood of many. For the unfamiliar, a ‘Juggalo’ is the nom du clown of Insane Clown Posse fans. While the idea of hating a group of people based on their musical tastes may seem far-fetched, juvenile, petty and unnecessarily cruel, it’s worth mentioning that Juggalos are not only often represented by the members of the human race most societies find undesirable, they have a sense of pride that boisterously returns any hate they receive tenfold. This recycled energy also takes the form of an intense love that bonds the Juggalos together. They’re as inclusive as the world outside them is elitist, often referring to each other as family, and their patriarchs Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope couldn’t be happier. This is the plight of the American Juggalo, the subject of Brooklyn photographer Jason Shaltz’s new exhibit ‘The Juggalo.’
While I’m no Juggalo myself, I’ve always been fascinated by their culture. Being from the midwest, I’ve grown up around Juggalos all my life and have always had a level of respect and almost admiration for people so passionate about music that they express their love for it through every aspect of their lives. There’s been plenty of times I’ve been mocked for my love of certain music, not to mention my love of bargain-bin discount soda, so I do feel something of a kinship with them. With the duo’s imprint Psychopathic Records facing a five-borough-wide ban from performing anywhere in New York City, this exhibit’s opening night party seemed to be the closest I would ever get to being down with the clown in the Big Apple.
I went with someone who currently works in the publishing division of a major record label and was only familiar with ICP though “Miracles,” the Gathering informercial, and their other viral antics of the past year. We predicted that since the Mishka Gallery was in the heart of Brooklyn, the turnout was going to be a largely Hipster affair. We couldn’t have been more wrong. We arrived to a packed house of wall-to-wall Hatchet Gear and facepaint as a special mix of Horrorcore music boomed through the speakers. Instead of being greeted as out-of-place foreigners, imagine our surprise as the Juggalo community invited us in with smiling faces singing along gleefully to songs about murdering people. While consuming several different Faygo-centric mixed drinks, we looked at Shaltz’s work and were genuinely impressed. He had captured people from all different walks of life who were all, no matter what, made happy by something as simple as listening to music as a community.
It was at that point the person I was with pointed out that these Juggalos were quite possibly the happiest people in the world. In an era where the business-side of the music business is more in the public eye than ever with little to celebrate, this tight-knit community who’ve embraced everyone they’ve encountered were just thankful enough that the music they love exists. There’s no elitism, no regional bias, and as a rap fan in New York City I can’t tell you how great it was to finally hear the Geto Boys song “Assassins” from a giant soundsystem, even if it was by-way-of an ICP cover. Shaltz’s photos captured the same camaraderie I witnessed that evening. A group of people who not only love the same thing, but love to share it with as many likeminded people as possible. This may be why they’ve become such a hated sect. Their hearts beat such a genuine passion that it is, by definition, impossible to be an ironic Juggalo. Further, when you have a community that embraces everyone, it’s that much easier for those that don’t to look down on you. Many will not “get” Shaltz’s show or the fun I had at the opening, nor would their care to, but for those with “much clown love,” that’s never been a factor. All magnets aside, it’s a matter of live and let clown.
