Over the decades, perhaps no feminist has gotten as much heat for being an antagonistic “trainwreck” (the go-to term people like to use to discredit a woman) than Courtney Harrison, who became Courtney Love when she took on the last name to conceal her true identity while stripping underage in Portland at the age of sixteen. Of course, her many-bifurcated roads over the decades would always seem to lead back to that once not so ironic hub of the Pacific Northwest. Not to mention back to stripping. Perhaps the ultimate underrated act of feminism (as FKA Twigs recently evidenced) despite the expected presence of lecherous and groping men. It was, in fact, stripping that helped bankroll the musical equipment when she finally decided to form a band in L.A. after an itinerant existence that led to studying theology at Trinity College in Dublin (where she hoped to make contact with her biological father) and an acting career, among other detours before rock n’ roll glory. Which, despite her “tragic” background, was pretty much built into her destiny considering her godfather was Grateful Dead bassist Phil Lesh (other notable family members include Paula and Elsie Fox).
In any case, throughout the long and winding path to stardom, Love was never what one would call obsequious in her manner. The raw edges of her persona were at times linked to autism and the associated social awkwardness that comes with it (she has stated that everything she learned about how to socialize came from gay men and drag queens, which would explain some things). But she was never, as certain types of feminists would like to spin it, strictly “pro-male” in terms of knowing who to turn to for jumpstarting her career (particularly when some would shade her for her dalliances in dancing for cash). Case in point, asking Kim Gordon to produce Hole’s debut, Pretty On The Inside. What could be more in solidarity with the essence of female collaboration than that? Incidentally, while choosing to name the band Hole surely stemmed from its overall suggestiveness, Love would claim it was inspired by a line in Euripides’ Medea, specifically, “There is a hole that pierces right through me.” Telling in so many ways, for Medea as talisman of a character would seem to ultimately represent her relationship with Kurt, the Jason of the scenario. For those unversed in the story, it basically goes (and there are many variations, but the core remains the same): Jason ultimately found Medea too unpleasant to be with (in spite of being the catalyst for making her do those unpleasant things). And while Kurt might not have left Courtney for another as Jason did, he, after a fashion, ended up doing so in leaving her for another realm. Ergo, a sense of the tragedian was something Courtney always seemed to be aware of in the back of her mind.
To that end, there aren’t many women in Greek tragedy who are exactly “supportive” of one another. They’re just trying to connive their way into a man’s heart and birth some heirs in between. Then again, all of these works were written by men, so go figure. The point is, Courtney’s iconoclastic nature was very Medea-esque (minus the killing, contrary to popular conspiracy theory). Especially at one of the peaks of her fame in the summer of ‘95 at Lollapalooza, at which time she threw a lit cigarette at Bikini Kill frontwoman Kathleen Hanna and then punched her in the face. Though the rage she expressed toward her, she claimed, came from her accusing Hanna of saying something negative about Frances Bean, the truth was, her vitriol had already been addressed on 1994’s “Rock Star” from Live Through This. Speaking to the resentment that arose when Pretty On The Inside was first released, when the critics were praising it but also aligning it with the riot grrrl movement, much to the dismay of Love, “Rock Star” aimed to assert that she did not believe her band’s work to be in the same spirit all.
Thus, “Rock Star” was begat, and with it, such damning lyrics about the sameness of riot grrrl bands as, “Well I went to school in Olympia/And everyone’s the same/What do you do with a revolution?/When I went to school in Olympia/And everyone’s the same/We look the same/We talk the same…/We even fuck the same,” mimicking the persona of the average riot grrrl who went to Evergreen State in Olympia pretending to be anti-establishment. Building up to her most raucous vocals of the track, Love screams, “Make me real, fuck you/Make me sick, fuck you/Make me real, fuck you.” Overtly unapologetic in the sect of women declaring themselves as “the right kind” of feminists she was taking aim at, Love would only end up helping the media to further vilify her as some sort of heartless monster in the wake of Kurt’s suicide. Failing to see the courageousness in an act that rather defines feminism when one thinks about it: treating others equally. Hence, not treating the riot grrrls like goddesses as most grunge worshippers of the era simply because they were women and she “should.” Defying convention and flouting the lashing tongues of all around her.
It is said that there is a special place in hell for women who don’t help other women. By the likes of Katie Couric and Taylor Swift. But who else really says that this has to be a hard and fast rule just because one shares the same genitalia with another human (obviously no one, based on Hillary Clinton not winning the 2016 election)? And sure, women like Ann Coulter and Sarah Palin come to mind when thinking about the ilk that aren’t exactly pro-female. But then there are those of us who simply don’t want to cater to some other bitch just because she’s, well, a bitch. Granted, some might say that statement applies to other women’s treatment of Courtney Love over the years more than anything. In any event, non-corporate feminism is just one of Love’s many less traveled roads.
