NEWSLETTER

I used to feel so lucky whenever I would spot a hair extension lying haphazardly on the sidewalk. It was better than a penny or a four-leaf clover. In my former ignorance, I didn’t know that a cheap weave sometimes slips out of its own accord. I thought girl hair lying on the ground could only mean one thing: catfight. Two girls going buck wild on each other at the bus stop. An intercepted love letter to someone else’s boyfriend ending in ripped clothes and an acrylic nail to the eyeball.

I’m just a lousy voyeur, though. I like a good women-in-prison movie, but if I were cast in that movie, I’d be the quiet old-timer in the library rather than the feisty ho shanking fools in the yard. I don’t have the stomach for girl-on-girl violence.

When I first encountered Riot Grrrl in 1990, all the pie baking and cat-eye glasses didn’t mesh with my other interests, such as smashing 40s outside the police station. However, petty differences aside, I wholeheartedly embrace the Riot Grrrl principle of girl unity. I believe in a world where girls don’t internalize sexism and where we encourage one another instead of competing. Seeing all the new girl bands and fanzines that have cropped up in the past couple years is amazing, and I believe that Riot Grrrl is a crucial step in the evolution of feminism as well as in the evolution of underground music. At least in theory.



Last year, in ’93, I got the chance to roadie for one of my all-time favorite Riot Grrrl bands. I was stoked! In the weeks leading up to the tour, their tape took up permanent residence in my Walkman. I walked around town with my ears full of girl love, feeling 50 feet tall and ready to rampage until, finally, it was time to get in the van.

On our way down to Los Angeles from the East Bay, we stopped at a favorite Riot Grrrl eatery, Taco Bell. As we sat down at a table with our trays full of 59-cent slop, the singer, let’s call her Erica, got up to go to the bathroom. The second she was out of earshot, the other girls turned to one another and enthusiastically began talking shit about her. Specifically, about her big butt!

“At least she’s not wearing the yellow pants!”

“Does anyone have a spoon? Erica is wearing shorts. Cottage cheese for everyone!”

I was shocked. Could it be that these pioneers of Riot Grrrl were merely... perpetrators? I felt as though the girl-love rug had been yanked out from under me. Beneath those baby barrettes and those sassy bobs dwelled heads full of secret girl evil. They were no better than the other assholes of the world. No, they were worse. Because they had thought about the way women treat one another and claimed to be an alternative, and they made my dumb ass believe it! If they were a lie, what else wasn’t real? Were Huggy Bear record sales being covertly funneled into Domino’s Pizza? Were there roofies in those pies they’re always baking? Was getting girls to write “slut” on their stomachs just part of an elaborate mean prank?

Now that some months have passed, I’ve gotten over the initial shock of Riot-Buttgate. I find the idea of catty feminists sometimes funny, sometimes mortifying. I know that, at times, it feels nearly impossible to resist a funny burn at someone else’s expense. But it makes us all look bad when we profess to stand up for girls while simultaneously tearing them down. Will Riot Grrrl ever succeed in creating a world free of total bitches? Only time will tell.

by janelle hessig

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Comments

	yoyoeggbo, on Nov 12, 2009 wrote: man, riot grrrl is the stupidest sounding name for just about anything ever
Anonymous, on Nov 11, 2009 wrote: bitches aint shit
Anonymous, on Nov 10, 2009 wrote: Ah, but Allison’s ass is a thing of wonder the greatest ass in punk I’d say, you could write your entire manifesto on that thing.
Anonymous, on Nov 10, 2009 wrote: i would say this is definitely about bratmobile.
Anonymous, on Nov 10, 2009 wrote: you know, these same girls are mostly total bitches now. full feminine circle.
Anonymous, on Nov 10, 2009 wrote: i’m all for chicks doing their thing but can we all agree that we’re glad the riot grrrl shit is extinct?
	Kirby Puckett, on Nov 10, 2009 wrote: Oh I remember that. They ate Pinto n’ Cheese and Cinnamon Twists.
Anonymous, on Nov 10, 2009 wrote: Girls are catty bitches. Even riotgrrrlsz??zz. We love them anyway.
Anonymous, on Oct 28, 2009 wrote: Fuck, I really want a sandwich now.
Anonymous, on Oct 28, 2009 wrote: why did she have cottage cheese in her pants?
Anonymous, on Oct 28, 2009 wrote: "shut up and make me a sandwich bitch." *makes one and throws it in your face*
Anonymous, on Oct 28, 2009 wrote: Post riot grrl porn chicks (under 23) are Vices’ types, yes ?
Anonymous, on Oct 28, 2009 wrote: Next you’re going to tell me Father Christmas isn’t real either
Anonymous, on Oct 28, 2009 wrote: What band was that
Anonymous, on Oct 18, 2009 wrote: Janelle’s zines rock. I haven’t read anything of hers since the 90’s. What ever happened to Tales of Blarg?
Anonymous, on Oct 18, 2009 wrote: Gate to Women’s Country. Read it, sandwich-ass.
Anonymous, on Oct 16, 2009 wrote: shut up and make me a sandwich bitch.
Anonymous, on Oct 15, 2009 wrote: Ah, remember the days when discovering hypocrisy in feminism was shocking and something worth writing about? Good times.
Anonymous, on Oct 14, 2009 wrote: its just a bunch of lesbians anyway
Anonymous, on Oct 14, 2009 wrote: i love this shit. girls rock!
Anonymous, on Oct 13, 2009 wrote: wow....really? that really happened? I just find it so hard to believe...
Anonymous, on Oct 12, 2009 wrote: ah, yes. the pie baking and cat-eye glasses. I remember it so well
Anonymous, on Oct 9, 2009 wrote: How very Real of you to tear down other women in print Janelle.
Anonymous, on Oct 9, 2009 wrote: apparently my image of a riot grrrl was way off. fishnets is not what i had in mind.
	Fuck Russia, on Oct 9, 2009 wrote: Why rid the world of bitches? Bitches rock. The only ones that suck are the ones that don’t own their bitchiness.
Anonymous, on Oct 9, 2009 wrote: i have fond memories of my yellow sports walkmen that was "water resistant" in case i was listening to beck’s "mellow gold" poolside and someone’s jackknife splash was too large.