Redefining a Movement: The Riot Grrrl Collection at Fales Library



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redefining a movement  /  115

You’re getting old, that’s what they’ll say, but  

Don’t give a damn I’m listening anyway

80

The song mentions a myriad of other artists, writers, perform-



ers, and scholars, including modernist icon Gertrude Stein, 

contemporary poet and experimental prose writer Eileen Myles, 

and celebrated late twentieth-century artist David Wojnarow-

icz. Notably absent from the list of venerated influences is Kathy 

Acker; however, Hanna’s connection to Acker is particularly 

illustrative.

Among the articles and newspaper clippings Hanna chose to 

keep and include in her donation to the Riot Grrrl Collection 

are dozens of articles by and about Acker, but the Hanna-Acker 

connection is also an exception. In contrast to other connections 

between established innovative writers and artists and the Riot 

Grrrl movement, this connection has already been recognized as 

part of Riot Grrrl history. In a 2002 article in the Village Voice, 

in which Acker is described as “a riot grrrl ahead of her time,”

81

 

Hanna discusses a fated weekend workshop with Acker in Seattle 



in 1990. As the legend goes, Acker told Hanna, “If you want to be 

heard, why are you doing spoken word? You should be in a band.”

82

 

As we all know, Hanna went home and started a band, and Acker 



was right—bands get more airplay than poetry. Whether Acker 

would have embraced the idea that she was a “riot grrrl ahead of 

her time” is unclear. After all, Acker was very much an individual

not a movement. Nevertheless, as a tough, sexually complicated, 

outspoken, punk writer and performer who had found a way to 

play with the boys and espouse feminist politics without being 

coopted by either camp, Acker was an ideal role model for Hanna 

and her peers. She exemplified what it meant to be both punk and 

feminist, political and theoretically engaged, a public figure but by 

no means an object of media manipulation.

While the Acker influence on Hanna was the result of a 

direct encounter, for other Riot Grrrls, the influence of Acker 

and other avant-garde women writers and performers, such 

as Eileen Myles and Karen Findley, may have been neither as 




116  /  redefining a movement

direct nor as widely acknowledged, but it is apparent in the 

work nevertheless. In Girls to the Front, Marcus makes a point 

of foregrounding these connections, and to her credit she care-

fully avoids implying that they were merely about young women 

searching for feisty feminist role models in the late years of the 

second wave feminist movement. As Marcus emphasizes, con-

nections, such as the one between Hanna and Acker, were first 

and foremost intellectual and aesthetic:

Acker’s insolent, demanding fictions tackled female sex-

uality head-on and took an ax to literary form. In 

Blood 


and Guts in High School, the 1978 novel that got Kath-

leen hooked, a young girl begs her father for sex, joins a 

gang, has two abortions, and goes to a Contortions con-

cert—all in the first forty-three pages. The story is told in 

a fragmented, deadpan way, through shifting points of 

view and collage: fairy tales, scripts, poems, line drawings 

of men’s and women’s genitals, pages from a Persian-lan-

guage workbook. 

Blood and Guts suggested that the reali-

ties of women’s lives, especially with regard to sexuality 

and abuse, were too complicated to be told through typical 

narrative. Only contradictions, ruptures and refusals stood 

a chance of conveying the truth.

83

Directly or indirectly, with few exceptions, early Riot Grrrl writ-



ing, such as the writing found in many of the zines published 

between 1990 and 1994, reflects this recognition that women’s 

lives, especially women’s experiences of sexuality and abuse, 

are too complicated to be expressed in linear narrative prose. 

As an example, consider the following passage that appears in 

the middle of an abuse narrative published in a Riot Grrrl zine 

from this era:

84

 “Is my real life pain and abuse good enough to 



be an article in a fucking fanzine for you to read WHO ARE 

YOU? stop reading this. I said STOP RITE NOW. you’re still 

reading. its okay you know I really want you to.”

85

 The use of 



such interruptions in a narrative that otherwise may be read as a 

typical confessional piece of writing on sexual abuse was by no 




redefining a movement  /  117

means uncommon in Riot Grrrl writing at the time. In fact, a 

distinctive marker of early Riot Grrrl writing was its disjunctive 

narrative style, which frequently included insertions intended 

to make the reader aware of their complicity in the production 

of the text and at times their potential voyeurism. By extension, 

early Riot Grrrl writing had a tendency to destabilize the speak-

ing subject, often rendering the writer’s intentions ambiguous 

and even inaccessible. As demonstrated above, the writing was 

also marked by notable typographical innovations and gram-

matical irregularities, making it difficult for readers to ignore 

the extent to which language is a scene of power, regulation, 

and constraint that must be interrogated. Thus, while one could 

read such writing as a form of life writing or autobiography, the 

repeated use of these conventions suggests that early Riot Grrrl 

writers were by no means working on the assumption that lan-

guage is a mere vehicle for representation. In this respect, their 

writing arguably shared much more in common with the dis-

turbing, clever, and disjunctive narrative presented in Acker’s 

Blood and Guts in High School than with texts typically theo-

rized as life writing or autobiography. My point here, however, is 

not that the unidentified writer of the above passage was neces-

sarily directly influenced by Acker (as we know Hanna was) but 

rather that there is a substantial basis upon which to read such 

texts as more rhetorically and aesthetically sophisticated than 

they have typically been read. After all, many early Riot Grrrl 

writers (note, I am choosing to refer to them as writers rather 

than  zinesters here) were, like Acker and her contemporaries 

in the avant-garde writing scenes in New York and San Fran-

cisco, committed to creating a textual space where competing 

tendencies, narratives, truths, styles, and aesthetics could coex-

ist; this, however, is something that has been largely ignored by 

researchers of Riot Grrrl. The question remains: why have critics 

generally assumed that Riot Grrrls were doing what they were 

doing (on the page and the stage) more or less naively, without 

a sense of the innovative literary and art movements that pre-

ceded them? 



118  /  redefining a movement

One could easily conclude that the relative neglect of Riot 

Grrrl cultural production as literature and art reflects the gen-

eral status of women writers and artists, especially those affili-

ated with so-called avant-garde movements. After all, even when 

women have been present from the onset, such movements often 

have been primarily or exclusively attributed to one or more male 

“geniuses” (hence, the hero worship of the Tzaras, Duchamps, 

and Debords). Following these lines, one might assume that 

the problem is nothing less than the “girl” in Riot Grrrl, but the 

relative absence of controversy surrounding the development of 

the Riot Grrrl Collection at Fales Library suggests that, in many 

respects, Riot Grrrl has already been recognized as a historically 

significant cultural phenomenon. The problem is not necessarily 

one of recognition but of the mode of that recognition, and as 

such gender alone cannot account for the oversight in question.

Returning to the question of Riot Grrrl writing, it is important 

to recognize that, with few exceptions, researchers have tended 

to ignore the specificity of Riot Grrrl writing by classifying this 

writing within the broader category of girl zine writing. Viewed 

through this lens, most apparent are the common issues Riot 

Grrrl and other girl zines address (for example, abuse, eating 

disorders, sexuality, and so on) rather than the mode of address 

or the procedures at work in the texts. In other words, content 

is invariably privileged over form, pushing aesthetic questions 

to the margins. This is evident in Alison Piepmeier’s Girl Zines: 

Making Media, Doing Feminism. Notably absent from Piep-

meier’s study is any extended discussion of zine writing in rela-

tion to pastiche, détournement, appropriation, or questions of 

authorship. Rather than take up this writing as literature, Piep-

meier understands both Riot Grrrl writing and other girl zine 

writing primarily in relation to its social and political content. 

When aesthetics are taken up more explicitly, it is in relation to 

concepts such as “bricolage,” an anthropological term and one 

with considerable currency in subcultural studies.

86

 Although 



this is by no means a reason to overlook Piepmeier’s important 

study on girl zines, it reminds us—as Darms evidently hopes 




redefining a movement  /  119

to foreground through the development of the Riot Grrrl Col-

lection—that context matters and that context more specifically 

holds the potential to produce the critical perspectives that 

amass around a given cultural product to determine its status as 

a symbolic object in the field of cultural production.

Recasting the Field of Cultural Production  

through the Archive

To be clear, the objective of this chapter was not to rewrite 

Riot Grrrl as an avant-garde movement. After all, such a history 

merits an entire book, and it is a book that should be written. 

I wish to highlight here that the Riot Grrrl Collection at Fales 

Library and Special Collections holds the potential to facili-

tate precisely such a rewriting of Riot Grrrl. On this basis, we 

can conclude that the collection’s development demonstrates 

how archives are implicated in, what Bourdieu describes as, 

“position-takings.” In other words, the collection reveals how 

archives are part and parcel of the process of endowing works 

of art and literature as well as individual artists and writers with 

varying degrees of cultural capital and prestige. If the archive is 

integral to such “position-takings,” however, it is to the extent 

that it is or holds the possibility to be engaged in the production 

of critics and their writings. As demonstrated throughout this 

chapter, the Riot Grrrl Collection not only draws attention to 

the role of the archive in the field of cultural production but also 

challenges Bourdieu’s understanding of how avant-gardes are 

established within the field by revealing how an avant-garde may 

be established through a strategic alliance with the past rather 

than through a “pushing back” of one’s predecessors. Finally, in 

addition to offering an occasion to challenge Bourdieu’s theoriz-

ing (for example, his oversight of the archive’s position in the 

field of cultural production and assumptions about the condi-

tions under which avant-gardes are formed), the development 

of the Riot Grrrl Collection offers an occasion to challenge both 

feminist critiques of Bourdieu and perspectives on the feminist 

subfield.




120  /  redefining a movement

As a response to Bourdieu’s theorizing on the field of cultural 

production, in her 2002 article, “Feminist Periodicals and the 

Production of Cultural Value,” Barbara Godard contends, “Gen-

der . . . is not a category that Bourdieu introduces into his model 

of complex social stratification. For him, distinctions oper-

ate primarily within differentials of class.”

87

 Women, Godard 



observes, are only taken into account by Bourdieu as a target 

market of cultural products rather than as producers. Bourdieu’s 

oversight is especially relevant to understanding the status of 

“high art,” under which the so-called avant-garde, innovative, 

and experimental are typically grouped:

Because of its relative difficulty or rarity, the “high-art” 

produced by the field of “restricted production” is consid-

ered “pure” and functions as an element of social prestige. 

Such anti-economic behaviour paradoxically constitutes 

“symbolic capital”: disinterest in “‘economic’ profits” works 

dialectically to consolidate “a capital of consecration” by 

“making a name for oneself.” . . . Through the prestige of 

a signature or trademark, those agents can “consecrate 

objects” and so create cultural value across fields. 

88

To illustrate, we might consider the success of some cultural 



movements/industries that emerged simultaneous to Riot Grrrl 

in the early to mid 1990s, which include “indie” film and music 

and open source programming. By initially rejecting profit as a 

primary motivation for their acts of creation, these largely male-

dominated movements/industries gained a caché that was in 

turn soon converted into cultural prestige and economic capital 

(hence, the sudden trend of established Hollywood directors 

choosing to direct and produce “indie” films for prestige and 

profit or the for-profit redeployment of forms of digital creativ-

ity that were anti-economic at their point of origin). By com-

parison, Riot Grrrl, which opted out of established publishing 

and recording venues to embrace a DIY approach marked by 

a parallel anti-economic mandate, did not necessarily benefit 

financially or in terms of cultural prestige from its decisions. 




redefining a movement  /  121

Godard maintains that such differentials reflect the conditions 

of the “feminist sub-field” in the larger field of cultural produc-

tion: “In a feminist sub-field . . . [the] same disinterestedness or 

anti-economic behaviour is unable to transpose its disavowal of 

short-term profit in the marketplace into long-term prestige in 

other fields.”

89

Godard’s analysis provides a plausible explanation 



for why Riot Grrrl has, unlike other “indie” creative movements 

that emerged in the early to mid 1990s, remained both unprofit-

able and largely unrecognized as an artistic and literary move-

ment. What Godard’s analysis fails to fully account for, however, 

is that the “feminist sub-field” is also a space of possibilities.

Far from preserving the history of Riot Grrrl as it has been 

preserved to date, the Riot Grrrl Collection represents a pos-

sible interruption in both the field of cultural production and its 

feminist subfield. Although the possibilities are, thus far, mostly 

unexplored, as researchers use the collection its possibilities will 

become increasingly apparent. As emphasized throughout this 

chapter, without necessarily pushing Riot Grrrl’s status as a sub-

culture or submovement of punk entirely into the background

the collection’s location at Fales Library and Special Collections 

relocates Riot Grrrl in relation to some of the “rarefied” and 

“consecrated” cultural products of earlier and concurrent avant-

garde literary, art, and performance movements, hence drawing 

attention to the fact that the “grrrls” were engaged in forms of 

cultural and knowledge production that can and should be taken 

seriously as art, literature, and theory and not simply youthful 

rebellion. The collection’s development, which is the result of the 

longstanding relationship between the collection’s archivist and 

donors, reveals the extent to which these cultural producers rec-

ognized the archive as the space and apparatus most capable of 



executing such a radical position-taking in the present.


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