‘Are there grrrls in the majority world?’ I wondered. The answer is yes, and they rock. In fact I’ve made a Majority World Riot Grrrl playlist which can be found for your delectation. Big shout out to Riot Grrrl Berlin and their fantastic compilations, on which lots of these bands feature.
Nepal
The first band I found was an anarchafeminist outfit from Nepal called Tank Girl. Nepal has a deeply traditional patriarchal society; marital rape was outlawed only in 2006 and still carries just a six month sentence. Rape survivors are often ostracised, having ‘brought shame’ to their family and wider community. Dalit (or ‘low-caste’) women face additional discrimination and extremely high levels of violence.
One of Tank Girl’s members, Sareena Rai, is involved in two other feminist DIY punk bands, Rai Ko Ris and Naya Faya, and works to help Dalit women to protect themselves from gender-based violence, delivering self-defence training in her house. Which is pretty awesome.
Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia
I found a few more Asia-Pacific riot grrrl bands, including the adorable Fatal Posporos from the Philippines and Pretty Riot from Indonesia. As well as bands Hellsister and Dance On Your Grave, the scene in Malaysia was (and hopefully still is) large enough to support a zine distro called Grrrl:Rebel. “Through zines, people in the scene are much more exposed to stuffs that were somewhat limited to them and the public before” founder Carol told GrrrlZines.net in 2001. “In countries like Malaysia and Singapore, you would get arrested if you write any articles that can be considered as threats to the government.”
It’s comments like that which I find so remarkable, dropped into interviews about the role of girls in the punk scene and the best local bands which could kind of be about anywhere.
Africa and the Middle East
While I couldn’t find any trace of a riot grrrl scene in Africa, I did happen upon a 2011 documentary called Punk In Africa which sounds good. And in the Middle East, grrrls are thin on the ground, but judging from the cracking MidEastTunes website there are plenty of women active in dark metal and goth, including Bahrain’s first all-girl metal band Scarlet Tear.
Mexico, Venezuela and Brazil
South America does seem to have a sizeable riot grrrl base – my cursory search turned up bands in Mexico, Venezuela, Chile, Colombia and Argentina. Le Butcherettes from Mexico are definitely worth a listen, and I’d like to find more by a Venezuelan skapunk outfit called 7 Potencias who have a song called ‘Feminista de Bolsillo’, which I’m led to believe translates as ‘Pocket Feminist’.
The biggest scene seems to be in Brazil, which boasts a huge list of bands and artists, including Dominatrix, Siete Armas and Bertha Lutz, with her irresistibly-titled track ‘Feminism? Yes Please!’.
Bit of context: while Brazil is the world’s sixth largest economy, there is still vast inequality. And although it currently has a female President for the first time in Dilma Rouseff, women make up just 8.6% of the seats in Parliament. Abortion is legal only to save a woman’s life or in cases of rape, and in 2010, it was reported that 200,000 women a year are hospitalized for complications of illegal abortion.
The reasons behind riot grrrl’s popularity in Brazil are even the subject of an academic paper by Calla Hummel, who recognises the political significance and adaptability of this particular bit of shouty youth culture:
Brazilian riot grrrl is one of the sites where Western cultural hegemony is being called into question… As it moves across borders, riot grrrl becomes a form of transnational feminism – and grrrls must address how ideas and material originating in a given locale may resonate, change, or delegitimize ideas and work in another.
Gender inequality is a global problem which varies in its expression across different cultural contexts. It’s not an ‘over there’ issue, but in some places it’s more severe than in others. Similarly, riot grrrl anywhere is awesome, but the courage and kickassness of the grrrls in these bands is pretty inspiring.
As a band member called Isabella quoted by Hummel says:
As long as we keep getting letters from the middle of the jungle, from a tiny, three person town in the Amazon, from some girl saying, ‘Feminism saved my life, thank you,’ we will keep doing it.
- This article originally appeared in a zine put together for Sara and James‘ club night Grrrls Just Wanna Have Fun.
- Tiny Note From The Ed: Happy International Women’s Day from everybody at BadRep Towers! Please consider donating to WomanKind Worldwide today.
Pre-Revolutionary Mexico was not a good place to be female. The Mexican Civil Code of 1884 strongly curtailed the rights of women at home and in the workplace, placing almost unbelievable restrictions on them compared to men. Between this and the heavy influence of the Catholic Church, President Porfirio Diaz’s regime was not one that fostered female freedom of expression. It’s perhaps not surprising, then, that young Mexican women were so keen to become involved in the revolutionary activities of the early 20th century. Women like Hermila Galindo.
Born in the small town of Lerdo in 1896, Galindo was still young when Mexico began its long period of revolution in 1910. This didn’t stop her from quickly becoming a political writer and advocate for Venustiano Carranza – she was a gifted writer and public speaker, producing many political tracts. Following the removal of Victoriano Huerta, Galdino gained Carranza’s attention whilst giving a speech to welcome him into the city. Recognising her eloquence, and the importance of having women support his cause, Carranza made her a part of his new government.
As a part of Carranza’s government, Galindo pushed heavily for improvements to women’s rights. She argued for the provision of sex education and increased rights with regards to divorce, both topics that caused friction with the influential Catholic church. Indeed, Galindo repeatedly prompted controversy by openly opposing the social influence of the church and describing Catholicism as one of the main barriers to female progress in Mexico. Although unsuccesful, she also campaigned for female suffrage in Mexico.
Ultimately Galindo grew disillusioned with politics as it became apparent that Carranza would not bring about the changes she had hoped for, and as the corruption of the new regime grew more evident. Although she ceased to be politically active after 1919, her tactics, and the arguments she put forth in her journal, Mujer Moderna, would continue to be used by Mexican feminists of the ’20s and ’30s.
Hermila Galindo did not suffer imprisonment for expressing her ideas. However, she did have to face a great deal of hostility, scorn and ridicule from both men and women for expressing unpopular views and for speaking up on subjects which still remain taboo in Mexico. Her willingness to face strong opposition gave heart to the more advanced feminists of her own, and to the succeeding generation
– Anna Macias, Women and the Mexican Revolution
Soldaderas
As well as the political contributions of women like Galindo, the Mexican revolution saw many women taking part in the armed conflict itself, known as the soldaderas (‘soldier women’). From their ranks emerged the figure of Adelita, almost certainly a composite of the deeds of many different female soldiers. (Indeed, many of her reported feats are mutually exclusive. Josefina Niggli‘s play about the soldaderas shows Adelita sacrificing herself to protect vital supplies from the Federales early in the revolution, for example.)
Adelita functions as something of a folk hero, an example of bravery in combat and the extraordinary will to fight for one’s cause. The term became something of a label of courage in post-revolutionary Mexico: The young Marisol Valles Garcia, for example, was nicknamed ‘Adelita’ after becoming the police chief of one of Mexico’s most dangerous regions in late 2010, a job no one else dared take.
Modern depictions of the Adelita figure vary, ranging from the cold and efficient soldier, no different to her male counterparts, through to a hypersexualised figure reminiscent of the pin-up girls painted on American planes. This contrasting representation is due in part to the unfortunate lack of records regarding a lot of the actual soldaderas, making it hard to know the true scope of their activities and easy for later writers and artists to impose their own spin on the tales of Adelita.
Jose Posada's depiction of a soldadera as a calavera.
For more on both Galindo and the Soldaderas take a look at Anna Macias’s Against All Odds and Shirlene Soto’s Emergence of the Modern Mexican Woman.
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Juana in 1666, aged 15, looking super knowledgable
Juana demonstrated her latent awesome from an early age. Sneaking away from family gatherings to read her grandfather’s books, she’d picked up Greek, Latin and Nahuatl by her teens, composing poetry and teaching younger children. If you want to keep some a scorecard of achievements here, that’d be four languages self-taught to the level of writing poetry in them and teaching them to others by early adolescence.
Wanting something a little more formal than teaching herself from borrowed books, Juana asked her family for permission to disguise herself as a man in order to gain access to the university in Mexico City. Her family were not keen and permission was denied, so instead she found private tutoring from the Vicereine Leonor Carreto.
The Viceroy was intrigued by this apparent prodigy studying under his wife, and seemed to doubt that a 17-year-old woman could have the intellectual prowess she claimed. He set her a test (because apparently that’s what you do when someone is awesome; you make them jump through hoops to prove it): many of the country’s leading minds were invited to put difficult questions to her in fields of law, literature, theology and philosophy, and to have her explain difficult concepts without preparation. You can probably guess what happened. If you can’t guess, here’s what happened: she kicked intellectual ass.
Over the next few years the now really rather popular Juana would reject several marriage proposals from assorted influential types before, in 1669, entering a Hieronymite convent.
Sor Juana made for a rather unusual Sister. Set against the social pressures of the time, prevailing attitudes in the church, and the continued influence of the Spanish Inquisition, she wrote works that bordered on the heretical in their focus on freedom, science and the education of women. One surviving, translated example of her work, Redondillas, deals with the madonna/whore complex, and the issue of whether someone who pays for sin is any better than someone who is paid for it.
“The greater evil who is in-
When both in wayward paths are straying?
The poor sinner for the pain
Or he who pays for the sin?”– Sor Juana, Redondillas
In 1690 the pressure against Sor Juana began to mount. A letter was published attacking her intellectual pursuits, and several high-ranking church officials spoke out against her. On her side she had the Viceregal court and the Jesuits, who remained impressed by her intellect and works. She also had a lot of popular appeal, being considered at the time to be one of the first great writers to emerge in the country.
The support bought her the time to write an open letter to her critics, in which she defended the right of women to proper education. Even with powerful friends, it takes some distinct bravery to stand up to not only the Inquisition, but to the very church institution that you’re a part of via your convent, and tell them just why they’re wrong.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Details get a bit fuzzy here, and it’s possible that some of the letters involved were not in fact by Sor Jauna but merely had her name stuck at the bottom. What is clear is that around about 1693 the official censure became too much and Sor Jauna stopped writing (or at least, stopped making public things that she had written.) Her personal library of books and scientific instruments, which by that point consisted of some 4,000 or so volumes, was sold off.
A year later Sor Juana died when a plague hit the convent. She had done what she could to tend to the other sisters who were afflicted, but succumbed after a few weeks. She left behind a legacy as one of the most important poetic writers in recent South American history.
Part of what makes Sor Juana’s story fascinating is the difference 100 years made between her reception and that of Maria Agnesi. Both were fiercely intelligent, both spoke and wrote in multiple languages across an array of subjects, and both ended up in a convent. But where Agnesi was offered a professorship by the Pope, Sor Juana was censured and driven to abandon her lifestyle. It’d be interesting to see what Sor Juana might have managed, had she born a little later.
- Unsung Heroes: spotlighting fascinating people we never learned about at school. Rob Mulligan also blogs at Stuttering Demagogue. Stay tuned for future Heroes, or send your own in to [email protected]!