‘I am your worst nightmare come to life, I’m the girl who you can’t shut up, there is not a guy big enough to handle this mouth, I’m going to tell everyone what you did to me.’
Eighteen-year-old Hanna performs at a spoken word in a coffee shop in 1991 and talks incest, rape and the lack of belief in female truth. Even as early as this it’s easy to see how her immediately arresting voice captured the hearts of girls worldwide. Throughout the 1990s and 2000s (and most recently in the 2010s with The Julie Ruin) Hanna has fronted the ‘riot grrrl’ feminist movement, been the front woman of three bands and now stars in the brave and heart-breaking documentary film, The Punk Singer.
The film begins with her days in Olympia, tracing her journey as the Bikini Kill bottle rocket that shook off the macho punk scene to carve out a radically new environment that didn’t exclude girls from shows (‘girls to the front!’ was a common klaxon call from the stage). The film then follows her into her solo effort Julie Ruin and electro-pop outfit Le Tigre. The use of original footage, particularly of her Bikini Kill days, effectively paints her as an energetic, fun-loving leader and performer that didn’t take any shit from anyone that was going to fuck up her message of equality for everyone, everywhere.
Suddenly stuttering to a halt at the present day, the bomb drops that Hanna has finally, after years of misdiagnosis, been told she has developed late stage Lyme disease. It’s an illness as debilitating as it is depressing for Hanna, who has kept the extent of her sickness from the media and even her closest friends for years. Filming herself as the meds kick in, Hanna slurs her words and struggles to control her hands. It’s unashamedly emotional. Hanna is getting used to using her vulnerability (something she was always scared to reveal in her riot grrrl days when she was very much seen as the bulletproof leader) as a way of communicating that if she can be strong through this, it means that you can do anything. You are allowed to be vulnerable. You are allowed to talk about what hurts, what frightens you and what might seem huge and unspeakable. Hanna says, that role that society has cut out for you? You don’t have to be that. You can scream against it.
Did Kathleen Hanna stop when Courtney Love, unprovoked, smacked her in the face? Did she stop when papers wrongly reported she was raped by her father? Did she stop when endless torrents of hate that threatened violence against her piled up from misogynists the world over? The overwhelming feeling here is of hope. Hanna’s life has been so full, so important, touched so many people, that even if she stopped now she could be pretty much sainted: but you know she won’t. Her voice is still so relevant. When stuff like this is still going on, when this has been trending on Twitter for a straight week now- there’s still so much to be done.
Kathleen Hanna shows that you can fight against hate and inequality even if you come from nothing and you feel like a no one. She empowers girls to give themselves agency and to live out their own stories: if she can do it, you can do it too. The film is an incredible watch, and is fully recommended not just girls, but to anyone with a pulse. It’s massive and magnificent, and yet grounding and humbling. Ideas like ‘girls to the front’ and girls-only artistic groups are still very much needed in 2014, and this film will start conversations that can only lead to change in the right direction. In the meantime, let’s all send Hanna good, strong vibes and hope she’s feeling better soon. If anyone can battle, fight, push: it’s her.
Sammy Jones 