The movement often went beyond the music itself in its advocacy for social change and usually tasked itself with interrogating how society treated young women. Zine culture played a vital part in the consolidation of Riot Grrrl. With women taking a central role in alternative guitar music for the first time, the movement rapidly gained a cultural presence in more than twenty countries worldwide. Lyrics varied from standard alternative love songs and drinking anthems to more overtly feminist numbers concerned with sex, racism, pressures from patriarchal society, and sexual assault. There wasn’t much of a uniform when it came to the actual music, and many different subgenres of punk came together in big scene bands like Bikini Kill, Emily’s Sassy Lime, Bratmobile, and Sleater-Kinney. Riot Grrrl was the consequent conjunction of two forces: a desire for citizenship in a musical movement shutting women out, and a desire to push back against a male-dominated gig scene that left many women-fronted alt outfits out in the cold. Women didn’t feature heavily in these lineups, or even their marketing, leading to large amounts of young fans feeling alienated from the music scenes they wanted to be a part of. The late ’80s and ’90s gave rise to dozens of punk and alternative bands fronted by the same three men: shirtless barbarian with sleeve tattoos, jock-boy-gone-sad, and the guy who really wasn’t ready to let go of Robert Smith’s The Lovecats. It was a punk movement born out of women’s disenfranchisement. Through this vision, Riot Grrrl was born. They imagined an alt band landscape populated by equal amounts of men and women, with women performers no longer sidelined by venues and record labels as lesser, more sentimental, and mainstream than their male counterparts. IN THE EARLY 1990s, A group of women in Olympia, Washington came together to discuss the sexism and double standards of the city’s punk scene. It was accepted as a fact that non-mainstream music was largely created by angry young men and, although lots of women considered themselves part of this subculture, nobody really knew what the scene needed to become a cultural space where women could act freely, take part, and be themselves.Īs it turns out, what it needed was a riot. Up until the early ’90s, nobody really paid attention to the gender imbalance in the alt scene. Unquestionably, however, this hasn’t always been the case. There’s still a way to go, but there has been some progress in terms of equality and alternative spaces aren’t quite as male-dominated as they once were. But, for decades now, punk clubs and gig venues have been slowly, begrudgingly addressing the issue and women performers are beginning to get the airtime they deserve. Women fans and performers have felt shut out of alternative music since before it was co-opted as a mainstream industry. The inevitable “Oh, so you’re a real fan? Name three of their albums,” is the least of your worries too, because gig culture is pretty well known for the prevalence of sexual assaults and sexually threatening atmospheres. Although you’d never admit it, you’re way too scared to go into certain venues, clubs or record shops because you’re a little bit afraid of who else is in there. CONSIDER THE SCENE: IN ONE of those great coincidences that only happen in hypothetical nostalgia, a band you love is playing somewhere next Saturday.īut, you’re not going.
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