The Punk Movement that Let Me Scream

A scan of an old flyer for the band Bikini Kill that condemned “cool” men who harassed women at concerts.

The opinions reflected in this OpEd are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of staff, faculty and students of The King's College.

I was a college freshman when I attended a concert. I saw the alternative rock group Vundabar perform with Indigo DeSouza and Sidney Gish. While others moshed and laughed, I spent most of the night blocking a man who groped me from behind. The memory stayed with me for months. When I scroll through my camera roll and see photos from that night, I can still feel the heat of his body. 

Later, while browsing Pinterest, I noticed a pink graphic littered with scribbles. The image was a scan of an old flyer for the band Bikini Kill. The flyer condemned “cool” men who harassed women at concerts. It read: “IT IS NOT SUBVERSIVE TO ACT LIKE YR [sic] UNCLE.” Sentiments like these dominated Riot grrrl, a music subculture built upon unapologetic womanhood. 

In The Riot Grrrl Collection, anthologist Lisa Darms writes, “...emerging from the punk scenes in Olympia, Washington, and Washington, D.C. during the early ‘90s, riot grrrl [sic] called for the liberation of young women by taking control of the means of subcultural production.” Riot grrrl subverted expectations, jolting listeners. Bands like Bikini Kill, Bratmobile and Sleater-Kinney incorporated distorted guitar and piercing vocals into their music. Lyrics were filled with satire. Bikini Kill’s “White Boy” featured audio of an unidentified man blaming victims of sexual harassment. Metaphors of oral sex and genitalia commented on sexism. Bratmobile’s “Cool Schmool'' discussed limitations on women in the ‘90s punk scene. Lead singer Allison Wolfe mocked stereotypes forced on female musicians: “I just want to be one of the boys / I just want to be your little fashion toy.” Often coupled with shouting, political lyrics like Bratmobile’s tore at the dress of gender inequality.  

What I loved most about Riot grrrl was its rage. According to Darms, the movement began as “a direct response to the dominance of straight white men in the punk scene.” At the crux of activism and music, Riot grrrl thrilled me. As a woman of color living in President Trump’s America, I resonated with Riot grrrl’s progressivism. For all of my education, I attended Christian schools. Though I was spiritual, I found myself disappointed again and again by these religious institutions. My high school inundated students with discussions about sexual purity and modesty, but no one ever talked about consent or abuse. The school dismissed those who tried to hold them accountable. To many people, gender inequality no longer existed. 

Gender norms pervaded the church. Hypocrisy was a book of the Bible. 

In Riot grrrl, I saw examples of women challenging misogyny amid hostility. Riot grrrl zines espoused beliefs my community sought to repress. A flyer in The Riot Grrrl Collection responds to critics of Riot grrrl: “No we are not paranoid. No we are not manhaters. No we are not worrying too much. No we are not worrying too much. No we are not taking it too seriously [sic].” Kathleen Hanna, lead singer of  Bikini Kill, rejected displays of toxic masculinity. In response to harassment at her shows, she cried, “Girls to the front!”

Riot grrrl also fueled my art. In the ‘90s, zines helped disperse Riot grrrl culture. Messages were promoted at shows featuring female-led bands. In expression, Riot grrrl relied on impulse. Darms explains, “There was an urgency to get the message out that superseded perfection. This urgency exemplifies both the aesthetics and politics of riot grrrl.” 

As a teenager, I liked to sing and act. Slowly, I began to view performance as a means of validation. Whenever I performed badly, I berated myself. But through Riot Grrrl literature, I began to tackle my desire to please others. This process allowed for a reimagining of self-expression. 

The Riot grrrl movement helped me process injustice through music. Alongside their activism, Riot grrrls produced innovative art. Their work drew from the punk movement to voice a countercultural message. The filmmaker Agnes Varda once said “I tried to be a joyful feminist, but I was very angry.” Riot grrrls, too, strove to express themselves freely despite external pressure. The movement’s influence led to shifting narratives about women and politics within the music industry. Riot grrrl further displayed the power of loud, brazen women to change society. Now, with Riot grrrl lyrics in mind, I take more confident steps.