pro femina

Let me get something out of the way: I am not a feminist.

Whenever I tell someone this I always feel vaguely guilty, which I hate, and which is precisely why I've rejected personally endorsing the notion of "feminism." It's really the label itself that I reject, mostly because (without trying to spew broad or untrue generalizations), as a movement, it's become so laden with specific and threatening beliefs that seem so hypocritically static and hostile.

For one thing, I don't hate men, nor do I believe that doing so is the right way to gain equality and respect. I also don't believe in feeling guilty about wanting, or expecting, a respectful amount of male attention and chivalry; nor do I believe in the impossibility of being powerful and intelligent and a proud advocate for the female race whilst wearing something that makes your boobs look really good. Basically, I don't consider myself a feminist because I don't believe in the militancy of adhering to such a harsh classification, and I don't believe that doing so qualifies anyone to undermine those who do not. Which, really, is true of any fiercely upheld scene or movement.

BUT, politics on the matter aside, I should also say that I fucking love being a girl and I'm proud to be one -- I'm just not gonna stuff it down your throats.

AND, you can probably deduce that I never really latched on to the riot grrrl movement - a super-feminist punk movement that began in the early '90s as a kind of girls-only offshoot of the very masculine Pacific Northwest grunge scene. Really, though, I never got into it because I couldn't get into the music more than the fact that I don't necessarily adhere to their politics.

HOWEVER, upon recently discovering the band Bratmobile, my opinions on riot grrrl music may be changing. Funnily enough, they're perhaps one of the most brashly feminist bands to come out of the riot grrrl movement; and funnily enough, I, who have so blithely removed myself from any political agendas pertaining to womanhood, feel seriously empowered by their lyrics which are so undeniably fierce as to bring out the inner Emmeline Pankhurst in any self-respecting lady.

Bratmobile was created in my personal favorite kind of punk spirit - namely, the spirit of not knowing how to play any given instrument yet proceeding to form a band and play music anyway, which is precisely how Allison Wolfe and Molly Neuman formed the band in '91. The results of such an experiment are oftentimes disastrous, but sometimes disaster results in the best, brattiest, messiest punk music ever.

Wanna hear it?

"Cherry Bomb"

A cover of a pro-female classic, redone in a purposefully overwrought, cartoonish facsimile of adolescent coquettishness.

"Brat Girl"

Some of the baddest, dirtiest, angriest lyrics I've heard from either a male or female band. Not for the weak of heart.

"Do You Like Me Like That?"

"You're talking politics on your pedestal/And your half-baked ideas of 'what it means to be a girl'/But you can't feel how we suffer or we bleed/You can't give us what we want, much less what we need"

"Gimme Brains"

Man-eating in the most literal sense of the word, backed by a catchy beat and energetic hand-claps. One may be tempted to call it sugary, but then you listen to the lyrics -- not so sweet.