The Revolution Will Be Harmonized: Punk, Poets and Piano Chords
Let’s be honest: when it comes to feminism in music, subtlety is the first casualty. From punk-rock basements to viral TikToks, the message is clear—if you’re not rocking the boat, you’re probably just playing background music at the patriarchy’s dinner party. Enter the genre-defying world of feminist songs, where melody meets movement, and lyrics are weapons of mass deconstruction (of gender stereotypes, that is). We’re about to embark on a musical journey—so buckle up your combat boots, grab your metaphorical safety pins, and prepare to have your consciousness raised faster than Madonna’s eyebrow during a media scandal.
First up, the riotous new BBC series, “Riot Women.” Five women—fed up with being the supporting cast in their own lives—form a punk-rock band that’s less about polished harmonies and more about hilariously unfiltered solidarity. The show is a celebration of resilience, humor, and the liberating chaos of sisterhood, featuring original songs by band ARXX that dabble in themes of friendship, feminism, and aging disgracefully (the only way to age, some might argue). Forget the old adage of aging gracefully—these women show you how to do it with a guitar solo and a snarky chorus.
The magic of “Riot Women” lies not just in its uproarious depictions of tiny-town talent shows and midlife reinventions, but in its soundtrack. The songs don’t just address feminism—they thumb their nose at it, invite it out for karaoke, and then hand it a microphone. It’s feminism with a sense of humor, which, let’s face it, is sorely needed. Who knew female empowerment could sound so much like screaming into a pillow and then immediately realizing it could be used as a drum?
From Punk to Folk: The Persistent Power of Protest
But the feminist playlist doesn’t stop at riotous punk. Paris Paloma, the indie folk visionary, is redefining sonic activism with her haunting ballads and razor-sharp lyrics. Her song “Labour” took TikTok—and the actual world—by storm, becoming the unofficial anthem for anyone who’s ever felt overworked, under-appreciated, and emotionally short-changed (so: pretty much everyone except Elon Musk). In her latest single “Good Boy,” Paloma swaps sentimental sighs for poetic rage, tackling the red-pill brigade and modern misogyny with theatrical finesse and a dash of Emma Thompson’s exasperated wisdom.
If “Labour” was the exorcism of patriarchy’s microaggressions, “Good Boy” is the reckoning—a gothic, cinematic tour-de-force that transforms rage into rallying cries. Paloma’s artistry is proof that feminism in music is not a slow chant but a thunderous shout, equal parts velvet and battle cry. Her work resonates with literary and mythic influences—Greek tragedies, romantic poetry, and the wrenching prose of womanhood under patriarchy. If you’re looking for neat redemption arcs, think again. This is protest disguised as poetry, where every lyric is a mirror for the ache and beauty of being alive (and female) in a world that seems determined to make you pay by the emotional pound.
Legends in Leather and Lipstick: Madonna, Hole, and the Raw Edge of Feminism
Of course, no discussion of feminist anthems would be complete without Madonna—the pop queen who thrives on controversy and demolishes not only charts but also societal taboos. Her 1990 hit “Justify My Love” was banned by MTV, but Madonna, never one to let a little censorship get in the way of her artistic freedom (or sales numbers), released the video as a VHS single. The result? It was soon hailed as a feminist touchstone, an unashamed celebration of female sexual agency and autonomy. Trust Madonna to turn media policing into a cash cow and, incidentally, a global moment for sex-positive feminism.
Madonna’s catalogue is a history lesson in feminist pop: “Papa Don’t Preach” tackled autonomy and reproductive choice, “Like a Prayer” mixed religious iconography with erotic freedom (to the horror of Pepsi and certain clergy), and “Justify My Love” proved that desire could be both artful and unapologetically female. For Madonna, the message is clear: if you want to be the fullest version of yourself, don’t wait for permission—just turn up the volume.
And then there’s grunge—possibly the only genre more emotionally volatile than managing four group chats at once. Hole’s “Live Through This,” fronted by the indomitable Courtney Love, is a masterclass in feminist songwriting that doesn’t just flirt with darkness but invites it to move in and redecorate. The tracks on this iconic album—tackling everything from violence against women, motherhood, postpartum depression, beauty standards, and self-doubt—are not just songs, but raw expressions of survival. The cover itself is a prom queen mid-meltdown: mascara smudged, smile strained, clutching a bouquet like it might explode. It’s feminism stripped of all pretension—messy, honest, and unafraid to cry at its own party before smashing the punch bowl for dramatic effect.
Courtney Love and crew did for feminism what punk did for chord progressions: took it apart, put it back together crooked, and made it sing. Hole’s grunge classics are more than anthems; they’re permission slips for every listener to own their messiness and demand more than the scraps society hands them.
Patti Smith: Poet Laureate of Punk and Feminist Freedom
No tribute to songs about feminism should skip Patti Smith’s legendary “Horses.” Released nearly 50 years ago, it remains the proto-feminist album—a collision of poetry, punk energy, and unapologetic androgyny that redefined what it meant to be a woman in rock. Smith’s fusion of vulnerability, defiant swagger, and lyrical depth laid the groundwork for generations of artists determined to carve out space in a male-dominated industry.
Take “Gloria”, Smith’s famous opening track: “Jesus died for somebody’s sins but not mine,” she declares, with a bravado that roasts centuries of guilt and invites everyone else to do the same. Her work dives into themes of family, grief, sexuality, and existential searching—never shying away from the realities of being female. Smith’s honesty, coupled with her refusal to conform to gendered archetypes, became the lifeblood of subsequent waves of feminist music. For many, “Horses” wasn’t just an album—it was survival instructions embroidered on a denim jacket.
Why the World Still Needs Feminist Songs (And Laughter)
What’s the through-line in all these feminist anthems? Defiance, certainly, but also a refusal to be defined by suffering alone. Songs about feminism are rarely “just songs”—they’re confessions, rallying cries, sometimes open letters to a culture obsessed with telling women to be reasonable, quiet, well-behaved. But here’s the twist: feminism in music is at its most powerful when it’s imperfect, messy, and even a little bit funny.
Whether you’re screaming along to punk classics, crying over folk ballads, stalking the corridors of MTV’s forbidden zone with Madonna, or having your soul rearranged by poets with electric guitars, one thing is clear: the sound of feminism is loud, unapologetic, rebellious—and occasionally punctuated by righteous giggling. So next time you need to feel seen, heard, or just laugh at the absurdity of it all, cue up these anthems and let them remind you: “If you’re going to smash the system, you might as well give it a killer soundtrack.”
Stay tuned, because as long as there are women with stories (and strong opinions about chord progressions), new anthems will keep coming. And rest assured, they’ll keep finding ways to rhyme “inequality” with “party”—and make it sound good.
