Hanna’s raw and unflinching memoir lays bare the fortitude needed to survive as both a woman and a punk.
TW for sexual violence and domestic violence.
Bikini Kill’s iconic frontwoman Kathleen Hanna has held an exalted position in the hearts and minds of generations of women and girls. Mostly for her uncompromising feminist activism and consciousness raising, and the powerful voice she has given to a myriad of aggressions and experiences that 99% of women can relate to. Through her work with various ground-breaking bands- riot grrrl DIY punks Bikini Kill; funky electro pop rock outfit Le Tigre as well as genre straddling project The Julie Ruin- Hanna has documented her personal challenges and triumphs in a way that has served as a musical older sister for so many fans. But as well as scores of devotees and allies, Hanna has had her fair share (more than her fair share in fact) of detractors, critics, dismissers and downright haters.
And it is this oscillating reception and polarised fortune that lies at the heart of Hanna’s long-awaited autobiography: her life’s successes and incredible achievements are indelibly linked with the losses, sacrifices and burdens that have run alongside them.
Hanna is known for her activism in the sphere of women’s rights and particularly, when it comes to violence against women which she has written numerous songs about (‘Sugar’, ‘Carnival’ ‘White Boy’ amongst many others) as well as female empowerment and fostering positive relationships between women via tight friendships and sisterly solidarity- solidarity she was not always on the receiving end of. ‘Rebel Girl’ does a great job of exploring the use of art as a radical release, talking us through Hanna’s turns as artist in a feminist collective in Washington, a photographer, a zine-ster, and a kind of ‘direct action’ Situationist-esque performance artist, handing out flyers on street harassment outside a high school. There’s a sense of urgency to all of Hanna’s art, coming as it does from her own observations and direct life experiences, injustices, world hypocrisies and aggressions being catalogued and exposed.
And I guess that leads to the other inescapable tenet of the book- Hanna has been through a lot of trauma and the vast majority of it, at the hands of abusive and predatory men. Hanna talks about the myriad of abuse and misogyny that peppered not just her life but the lives of pretty much every woman she came into contact with. Encounters that seem fresh in the mind but also all start to blur into one- a sound engineer in some anonymous gig venue making claims about shocking her through the mic if he pleases; faceless audience members who are remembered now only for the vitriolic heckling at shows; the emails and letters written by angry men and women who need to vent to the person they feel responsible for either being too feminist and anti-man or perhaps not the right type of feminist at all. Not demure and inclusive enough, not educated enough, not conformist enough. Or too much- too political, too honest, too polarising, too powerful. It is a phenomenon that most women in our society are familiar with- we’re either too much or not enough. We’re never quite right.
Pic by Moises Gonzalez via Unsplash. Location: Berlin.
Hanna’s awareness of the risk that has to be negotiated and traversed in a patriarchal world started early- an alcoholic and abusive father who once threatened her, her mother and sister with a gun, the siblings instructed to soft talk their father down with flattery and acquiescence to save their lives. A lesson that the singer took with her throughout her life- we do what we need to survive and often have to pick our battles. She examines the frequent examples of male violence she encountered and the cumulative impact they had on her sense of self worth, safety, autonomy and freedom and how they shaped her relationships beyond just that of boyfriends or family members. As someone who has spent my career in the Violence Against Women and Girls (VAWG) sector, Hanna’s honesty and reflection on the nature of power dynamics and the confusion, frustration and impotent rage that comes with being betrayed or victimised is moving.
Beyond the role men have played in forming her politics, Hanna also explores the richness of the friendships and creative alliances she has enjoyed across her career. From close childhood friends, to fellow artist provocateurs, to bandmates, to writers and creatives- Hanna has had a rich history of collaboration and support, both giving and receiving. She talks about getting a bit of a dressing-down from writer Kathy Acker, working with idol Joan Jett, finding a kindred spirit in Ian Mackaye and a deep friendship with Kurt Cobain (yes the book also talks about THAT feud with Courtney Love but I’m not going to go into that). I don’t want to give the impression that this book is all focused on negative experiences as it certainly isn’t. Like any good punk memoir there’s an impressive array of DIY resourcefulness, determination, ingenuity and adventure as Hanna and various bands duct tape exhaust pipes onto rickety old vans and plough their way through blizzards to play shows to 10 people. Or in one case, literally no one except a janitor mopping the floor.
And of course, there are some impossibly cute passages about Hanna falling in love with Beastie Boy Adam Horovitz whilst on tour in Australia and a particularly funny passage about receiving a note from an ‘Adam’ in the band and not knowing which one- the one she fancied or the other one? It should be illegal for men to be friends with someone with the same name as it makes getting a flirt on littered with potential misunderstandings.
There is always a hazard when talking about Kathleen Hanna that the focus becomes about her role in the riot grrrl scene and not about her as a musician, which is just as integral a part of her identity than the former. ‘Rebel Girl’ gives Hanna the space to set out the mechanics of her musical journey, providing an inspiration for those starting at the beginning. She speaks of the empowering joy of learning your craft- being a sponge on how to use recording and mixing equipment, learning to play instruments, getting together and giving things a go. There’s some ‘musician-speak’ that many aficionados will hoover up, wanting to know the equipment she has used, how to make do with not affording the most high tech accessories, the very act of spending hours in your room experimenting with different sounds and chords giving a big fuck you to all the naysayers and doubters.
But we can’t ignore the fact that Hanna is widely credited for being the figurehead behind the revolutionary and enduring riot grrrl punk movement, an accolade that Hanna still seems to be wrestling with. Riot grrrl has always faced allegations of white middle-class exclusivity and Hanna addresses the perceived failings of the movement with grace and I think, a bit too much responsibility. Perhaps keen to preserve the integrity of the movement, Hanna acknowledges the lack of diversity within the scene and seems to take that failing on the chin- her chin specifically. This is where I think the weight of other people’s pointing fingers, snarkiness and gleeful purity testing has keenly had an effect on Hanna as she tries to reconcile her role in what some people have found a harmful or hypocritical movement. In my opinion, holding a young woman solely responsible for the actions of everyone within a whole international movement is an exercise in smug scapegoating and the vitriol that Hanna has been on the receiving end of for this reason, is mean and nonsensical. Yes there were a lot of issues with the original riot grrrl movement but lets not forget, this was a scene largely driven by young women who were still learning and growing themselves. It feels as if Hanna was expected to be an endless repository for other people’s personal disclosures, their traumas, their expectations, their needs and their demands. As she candidly exposes, these burdens exacted a price from her.
‘Rebel Girl’ is not looking to glamorise, sanitise or push that tired narrative of ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’. Yes it painfully lists the every day aggressions that women experience that will radicalise them way more than any song or artwork ever could but it also speaks of survival, love, friendship, creation, joy, fun and empowerment. This is definitely a vital punk rock memoir as well as a story of a woman overcoming hardship to find a path to happiness that doesn’t erase or undermine the enormity of her experiences and achievements.