Riot Grrrl: A Critique of 90s Punk Feminism

In many ways, Riot Grrrl paved the way for women to be taken more seriously in traditionally non-feminine genres of music such as punk and grunge. It gave women an opportunity to talk about the life-long oppression they have experienced as a result of their gender. It challenged the idea that femininity has to be soft and delicate and emphasised that women have a right to be angry, heard and expressive. The movement was revolutionary for its time, but it is important to note that feminism has evolved since then. As aspiring allies, we modern Riot Grrrls must be able to look at the first wave of the movement with a critical lens and be careful not to idolise it as if it was without fault; this would be a disservice to those who were left out of focus in the original movement. Let’s discuss Courtney Love.

Courtney Love, 1992. Photo by Alan Levenson/Corbis

Courtney Love was the frontwoman for Hole, a grunge band from the 90s that would often be associated with the Riot Grrrl movement and other Riot Grrrl bands. Up until recently, I, like many others who are fans of Hole, thought Courtney Love was a badass. She dressed how she wanted to, wrote the coolest music and was completely unapologetic about who she was as a person. It was easy to look up to her, especially as a musician, due to Hole’s uniquely brilliant discography. This illusion of the badass, unapologetic, feminist front-woman, however, was swiftly shattered upon finding a Youtube video of her at a Hole concert instructing the crowd to scream the n-word, hard r. So much for a feminist icon. 

This shocking display of racism led me down a rabbit hole of all the disgusting and oppressive behaviour Love has participated in. She asked a Black man who was wearing a do-rag, “What is the problem with African-Americans? What is wrong with your own hair?” and on another occasion, asked a Black woman who was attending a Hole concert, “Do you really like rock music? Because you’re African-American, that would be like me being into Lil Wayne.” 

Love also blamed a girl for being raped by asking her, “What did you think they would do? You knew this was coming right?” She previously alleged that she herself could not be raped because she doesn’t have “victim energy.” How was it possible that such a woman could ever be considered a strong, progressive feminist? Bikini Kill singer Kathleen Hannah attempted to call Courtney out on being a “fake feminist” and Love punched Hannah in the face. She even went on to brag about this altercation.

Joan Jett and Kathleen Hanna, 1997

It would not be accurate to say that Courtney Love was the only exception to an otherwise perfect movement, but she is the most blatant, undeniable example of how easily oppression slipped through the cracks of her fake feminst persona. It is unacceptable that she was so emboldened in her racism that she freely used the n-word and made numerous derogatory comments to Black people she interacted with, yet has since faced no major public backlash for these things. Sure, a lot of people don’t like her, but it’s not for the right reasons at all. Many are still very much unaware of her discriminatory, oppressive behaviour. In some ways, Riot Grrrl seemed to nurture this problematic idea that if a woman is strong and opinionated then she is, by default, the poster girl of feminism, regardless of whether her “feminism” ignores racism, transphobia, ableism, classism and so on. 

Here is an uncomfortable truth that modern Riot Grrrls need to be aware of; there has been no documentation of (openly) trans women musicians in the movement. Plus, there have been multiple accounts from women of colour who discussed being left out of the movement and feel as though it was just for white women. Tamar-kali Brown, a singer and composer who sparked the genesis of Afro-Punk, has spoken about her thoughts on Riot Grrrl as a Black woman: “I got what Riot Grrrl was about,” she explains. “I didn’t think it was exclusive, but it didn’t feel inclusive to me. I didn’t see myself or my story, and so that’s why Sista Grrrl came about later on–out of other women of colour that I knew who were punk rock and navigated that scene and had similar feelings about it. Sista Grrrl was my response to Riot Grrrl because it just felt super white.” This experience demonstrates that a feminist movement cannot be entirely inclusive if it is almost entirely led by white, suburban, cis, straight women. So, where do we go from here?

Tamar Kali, 1995. Photo by Honeychild Coleman

In order for the movement to be truly feminist, it must evolve. There has been a recent rise in 21st century Riot Grrrls who understand the problematic nature of the original movement and know that we can do so much better with the knowledge and information that is available to us in the good year of 2021. Garage Grrrl Riot is perhaps the best example of an underground movement modernising Riot Grrrl and putting a genuine focus on inclusivity. Instagram account @garagegrrrlriot is at the heart of this predominantly online movement. Grrrls all over the world are free to be a part of it. The three grrrls running the account are eager to put a spotlight on intersectional activism, grrrls playing instruments / grrrl artists, DIY’s, documentaries, zines (+ their creators) and so much more. 

This is a wonderful step in the right direction and a great example of how movements evolve. We should not aim to replicate the Riot Grrrl movement in the exact way that it was in the 90s and continue to ignore what has been ignored for so long. We can learn from the music, we can learn from the activists but unfortunately we cannot learn of genuine inclusivity and intersectionality from the movement as it was never its focal point. It’s time for Riot Grrrl to modernise, and I am optimistic that the process has already begun. 

Garage Grrrl Riot art, from @garagegrrrlriot on IG