When we think about rock ‘n’ roll, the image that often comes to mind is that of a virtuoso guitarist, a charismatic vocalist, an energetic drummer… and, almost always, they’re men. But what about the women? Where were they in this whole story? Believe me, they were there. Right from the start. Wielding instruments, writing lyrics, breaking barriers, and, most importantly, composing the soundtrack to their revolutions.
The book “Mulheres do Rock,” translated as Women of Rock, is our guide on this journey, making this clear right away: women in rock history aren’t few, but few are remembered. It’s like a selective spotlight only illuminates a few names, while armies of talented female musicians remain in the shadows of the official narrative, largely written by men.
Think about Patti Smith, back in the ’70s, lamenting the lack of female role models to look up to. She wasn’t alone in this search. The very need to look for references said a lot about the scene at the time. But Patti didn’t wait for role models to appear; she became one. With her visceral poetry and punk attitude, she took the “scissors,” as she metaphorically said about cutting up Keith Richards’ photos to study his style, and carved her path “with an axe,” leaving the folk era behind to etch her name into the cornerstone of punk rock. Her track “Gloria (In Excelsis Deo),” blending her poem “Oath” with the Van Morrison classic, wasn’t just music; it was a “declaration of existence,” the cry of an artist reclaiming her right to create, to exist beyond gender or social category.
This need for self-affirmation, to prove they could not just sing, but create, compose, and define their art, is a common thread in the stories of many of these women.
From the 60s and 70s: Between Folk, Soul, and Psychedelia
The 60s and 70s were a cultural and musical melting pot. While folk opened spaces for female voices like Joan Baez – who saw herself more as a political and social activist than just a singer, using her music as a tool for protest (“We Shall Overcome”) – and Joni Mitchell – a complete artist, painter, and musician, who exposed her soul filter-free in “Blue,” fighting against the golden cage of success and easy classification – rock was still predominantly a boys’ club.
Joni Mitchell, by the way, felt firsthand the difficulty of being seen beyond the “confessional poetess.” The constant comparison to Bob Dylan, the need to justify her multifaceted art… She craved the freedom to experiment, to change, something that seemed natural for men but required a constant battle for her. “Freedom is for the sake of creation, and if I can’t create, I don’t feel alive,” she confessed.
Meanwhile, Janis Joplin, with her raw voice and visceral delivery, embodied soul and blues, but her image was often reduced to her turbulent personal life and free sexuality. She composed, yes, but the image of the “wild” woman often overshadowed the artist. Her ironic “Mercedes Benz,” recorded a cappella days before her death, is a bittersweet testament to her talent and indomitable spirit, but the narrative about her frequently stops at the iconic quote: “On stage, I make love to twenty-five thousand people; and then I go home alone.”
In the eye of the psychedelic storm, Grace Slick, fronting Jefferson Airplane, wrote generational anthems like “White Rabbit.” Inspired by Miles Davis and LSD, she composed a song that became the banner of a movement, but as a woman in the band, she faced internal resistance. The motherhood of her predecessor, Signe Anderson, had been seen as a “problem,” and the presence of another woman raised concerns. Grace, however, with her powerful voice and uninhibited attitude, proved them wrong, even if her free sexuality, like Janis’s, sometimes diverted attention from her talent.
And we can’t forget Yoko Ono. Her story is emblematic of the misogyny and racism that can surround a woman who dares to enter the “sacred space” of a male band. Hated by many fans and the press, blamed for breaking up the Beatles, she was a Fluxus artist, experimental, with her own career before Lennon. The struggle to have her name recognized as co-writer of “Imagine,” a wish expressed by John Lennon before his death, only came to fruition in 2017. A delay that symbolizes the historical difficulty in giving credit to female contributions. John admitted: “I was still selfish enough and macho enough to take her contribution without acknowledging it.”
The Punk and New Wave Explosion: Attitude and Autonomy
If the 60s and 70s started cracking the wall, the late 70s and 80s, with punk and new wave, came in with a sledgehammer. The “Do It Yourself” ethos was an open invitation for women to pick up guitars, form bands, and shout their truths, without asking permission.
Patti Smith had already prepared the ground, but now a new wave of women stormed the scene. Debbie Harry, with Blondie, was the personification of cool. Dyeing her hair blonde was a subversive act, and she, with her iconic look and sharp lyrics like in “One Way or Another” (a song about a stalker, which she turned into an anthem of overcoming), navigated punk, new wave, and disco, always in control of her image. “I was the singer in a band of men, I couldn’t be really frou-frou. I could be, but I had to be tough too,” she reflected on the imposed roles.
Chrissie Hynde, leader of the Pretenders, was the embodiment of resilience. Tough, outspoken, indifferent to fashion, and true to herself, she earned respect in a hostile environment. Her song “Brass in Pocket,” with the chorus “I’m special, so special,” sounded like well-deserved revenge. She didn’t mince words, not even about colleagues, and defended irreverence as the soul of rock.
In England, Siouxsie Sioux, with the Banshees, brought a gothic aesthetic and a challenging attitude. She didn’t fit the mold, and her magnetic, dark presence influenced generations. “I wanted something apocalyptic to happen,” she said about her early days, and her music indeed carried that intensity.
And then there were The Slits. Four women who, on the cover of their album “Cut” (1979), appeared topless and covered in mud, like tribal warriors. They mixed punk, reggae, and world music with infectious insolence. Their song “Typical Girls” directly questioned female stereotypes: “Who invented the typical girl?” As Viv Albertine, the band’s guitarist, said: “All the boys around me were forming bands and had their heroes to emulate, whereas I had no one. […] I could just pick up a guitar and play, simple as that.” That was the essence of the punk revolution for women: permission to simply be and do.
Joan Jett personified this transition dramatically. Coming from the Runaways, a manufactured band exploited by manager Kim Fowley, she emerged as a solo artist with “Bad Reputation,” an anthem of self-affirmation. She formed her own band, founded her own label (Blackheart Records), and proved that “a girl can do what she wants to do.” Joan became an icon and an inspiration, showing it was possible to survive exploitation and take control of one’s own career.
Pop, Provocation, and Power in the 80s and 90s
While punk and new wave shook the underground, the pop mainstream also saw women redefining the rules. Madonna emerged as a force of nature. A master of manipulating her own image, she used music and video to explore themes of sex, religion, and female power in an unprecedented way. “Express Yourself” (1989) was a call for female independence, a counterpoint to “Material Girl” from years before. Madonna didn’t ask for permission; she took control and paved the way for other women to be the bosses of their own careers and narratives. Her speech at the Billboard Women in Music event in 2016 was a powerful testimony to the difficulties faced: “There are no rules if you’re a boy. There are rules if you’re a girl. You’re allowed to be pretty and cute and sexy. But don’t act too smart… And do not, I repeat, do not share your own sexual fantasies with the world.”
Cyndi Lauper, with her eccentric look and unmistakable voice, transformed “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” from a song about male luck into a universal feminist anthem. She celebrated diversity and the joy of being a woman, without apology. And she even dared to talk about female masturbation in “She Bop,” challenging censorship and showing that women also had the right to pleasure and self-exploration.
Tina Turner, after years of abuse and control at the hands of Ike Turner, re-emerged in the 80s like a hurricane. “What’s Love Got to Do with It” was the rhetorical question of a woman who survived hell and found the strength to start over, becoming a symbol of resilience and liberation for women everywhere. At 45, she broke the age taboo, proving it’s never too late to reclaim your power.
Janet Jackson, the youngest of the Jackson clan, also had her journey of emancipation. With the album “Control” (1986), she broke free from paternal and artistic control, taking the reins of her career. In songs like “Nasty” and later on the album “Rhythm Nation 1814,” she addressed social issues and self-acceptance, becoming an influential force in pop and R&B. Her trajectory, however, also showed the harshness with which society (especially puritanical America) judges the female body, as seen in the infamous 2004 Super Bowl incident, which nearly ended her career while Justin Timberlake walked away unscathed.
The Alternative Fury and Riot Grrrl Consciousness
The 90s brought a new wave of women who weren’t afraid to be angry, complex, and politicized. The riot grrrl movement, centered in the US Pacific Northwest, put feminism at the forefront of punk rock.
Kathleen Hanna, with Bikini Kill, was the personification of this movement. Her cries of “All the girls to the front!” at shows were a literal and metaphorical call for women to take up space. “Rebel Girl” became the anthem of a generation that refused to be silenced. Hanna and her contemporaries gave voice to frustration, inadequacy (“Feels Blind”), and the urgent need for revolution. “There’s always this suspicion around a woman’s truth: that you’re exaggerating,” Kathleen confessed, exposing the constant invalidation women face.
Courtney Love, with Hole, was (and still is) a polarizing figure. Her chaotic image, confessional and brutal lyrics (“Doll Parts”), and turbulent relationship with Kurt Cobain put her at the center of controversy. But her music was a visceral scream about pain, loss, anger, and the complexity of the female experience, challenging the idea that women should only be “good” or “bad.”
Kim Gordon, bassist and vocalist for Sonic Youth, brought an artistic sensibility and a hypnotic stage presence to alternative rock. In songs like “Flower,” with the lines “Support the power of women / Use the word: Fuck / The word is love,” she subverted expectations. Her autobiography, “Girl in a Band,” revealed the power dynamics and sexism even within a band considered “democratic” and exposed the pain of personal and professional betrayal. “The journalists were cowards because they were terrified of the women,” she stated, regarding the music criticism of the time.
PJ Harvey emerged as a singular force, with her raw music, intense lyrics, and refusal to repeat herself artistically. From “50Ft Queenie,” where she declared herself the “queen” in control, to conceptual and politicized albums, Polly Jean Harvey always defied classification, maintaining fierce artistic integrity.
Björk, hailing from Iceland, brought experimentalism and a unique artistic vision. From her punk days with Kukl (“witchcraft” in Icelandic) to her innovative solo career, she blended electronic music, pop, avant-garde, and a strong feminist and ecological consciousness. In “Tabula Rasa,” she calls out: “Break the chain of the fuckups of the fathers / It is time / For us women to rise…”
Sinéad O’Connor, with her angelic voice and defiant attitude, shocked the world by tearing up a picture of the Pope on live television. Though often reduced to that act, her music explored pain, spirituality, and protest with disconcerting honesty. The misunderstanding and hostility she faced highlighted the world’s difficulty in dealing with women who refuse to be silent.
Lauryn Hill, with “The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill,” created a masterpiece of neo-soul and hip-hop, taking complete control of production and songwriting. The album is a lesson in love, motherhood, spirituality, racism, and industry pressure, all from a powerful and vulnerable Black female perspective. “Who can tell my story better than I can?” she questioned, dismissing external producers.
Diverse Voices, Lasting Legacies, and the Road Ahead
The turn of the millennium and the following years saw the diversity of female voices expand even further, although the old struggles continued.
Tori Amos, with her piano and confessional lyrics, explored themes like religion, sexuality, and trauma with unique intensity (“Leather”). Fiona Apple, since her explosive debut with “Criminal,” has maintained a career marked by a refusal to play the industry game, with long hiatuses and uncompromising art. Her vulnerability and anger have always been palpable.
St. Vincent (Annie Clark) emerged as an innovative guitarist and conceptual artist, challenging gender norms not only in her music but even in the design of her own guitar, tailored for the female body. “If you’re not at the table, you’re on the menu,” she declared, on the importance of female representation in positions of power.
M.I.A. (Mathangi Arulpragasam) brought her experiences as a refugee and her political vision to the center of global pop, mixing hip-hop, electronica, and South Asian rhythms. She used her platform to talk about immigration, war, and identity, facing criticism for “not just sticking to music.”
Beth Ditto, with Gossip, celebrated the fat body and queer identity with punk energy and soul (“Heavy Cross”). She became an icon of fashion and self-acceptance, challenging the “fascism of the body” and showing that beauty and talent come in all shapes and sizes.
In Brazil, this story also has its heroines. Rita Lee, since her Os Mutantes days, faced sexism to become the undisputed queen of Brazilian rock. Kicked out of the band by her ex-husband for allegedly not having the “caliber of an instrumentalist,” she proved otherwise with a brilliant solo career full of irony, irreverence, and anthems like “Ovelha Negra” (Black Sheep) and “Agora Só Falta Você” (Now Only You Are Missing – a clear message of independence). More recently, Pitty emerged as a force in national rock, with lyrics addressing feminism, social criticism, and the search for identity, as in “Desconstruindo Amélia” (Deconstructing Amelia). “Feminism is good for men too, for society, because it’s about equality, not supremacy,” states Pitty, showing the importance of the ongoing fight.
Tracey Thorn (Everything but the Girl), with her melancholic voice and intelligent lyrics, has always reflected on the female experience, from youth (“Air”) to menopause (“Hormones”), with honesty and without taboos. Her column in the New Statesman and her books offer valuable reflections on music, feminism, and aging.
Cat Power (Chan Marshall) brought raw vulnerability and haunted beauty to indie rock. Her journey was marked by struggles with insecurity and industry pressure, but her music has always offered solace and strength, as in “Woman,” a duet with Lana Del Rey celebrating sorority.
Betty Davis, the original “Nasty Gal,” was a pioneer of funk-rock, with a sexually explicit attitude and artistic control that scared the industry in the 70s. Forgotten for decades, her music was rediscovered and is now celebrated as foundational, influencing everyone from Prince to Madonna.
Laurie Anderson, the quintessential multimedia artist, used technology and storytelling to explore politics, language, and the human condition. Her song “Beautiful Red Dress” denounced the pay gap decades before the issue hit the mainstream spotlight.
Wanda Jackson, the “Queen of Rockabilly,” was encouraged by Elvis Presley to blend country and rock ‘n’ roll in the 50s, paving the way for women in a male-dominated genre. With her powerful voice and defiant attitude, she proved that women could indeed rock.
Tracy Chapman, with her unmistakable voice and socially conscious lyrics (“Fast Car,” “Talkin’ ’bout a Revolution”), brought protest folk to a new generation, speaking about poverty, racism, and the fight for dignity, always siding with the underdog.
And even in hip-hop, largely a male domain, Missy Elliott emerged as a visionary songwriter, producer, and rapper, breaking barriers with her innovative videos and futuristic sound (“Get Ur Freak On”), becoming one of the most influential artists of her generation.
The Sound of the Future is Female (and Always Has Been)
The journey of women in rock composition and its sibling genres is a saga of talent, resilience, anger, joy, struggle, and, above all, creation. From Aretha Franklin transforming “Respect” into a feminist anthem to St. Vincent designing her own guitar, through the punk fury of The Slits and the political introspection of M.I.A., these women didn’t just make music: they changed the world, or at least the way we hear it.
There are still battles to be fought – for equal pay, for representation at festivals and in industry power positions, against sexism, racism, homophobia, transphobia, ageism, and aesthetic pressure. But, as the legacy of these “Women of Rock” teaches us, music is a powerful weapon. They raised their voices, told their stories, created their own languages, and in doing so, not only conquered their space but built a new sound world – richer, more diverse, and truer. The story continues to be written, and the volume is only getting louder.