Miss World Must Die

Vol. 1 July 2013

Opening Note

I’ve wanted to create a zine since I was fifteen years

old, just starting high school and quickly realizing

that I was more of an outcast than I could have ever

imagined. I’d gotten into punk rock and feminism and

started to change my worldview drastically. However, it

wasn’t until recently that I actually managed to

scrounge up enough ideas to make something that I felt

was worthwhile. While this zine does have some feminist

topics it will not educate you on the basics of

feminism (there are plenty of other zines that do that

and I will happily recommend them to you if you ask).

On that note, I hope you enjoy this zine at least half

as much as I enjoyed making it!

Courtney Love: 20 Years in the Patriarchal Spotlight

The year is 1994, teenage girls across the country

are bleaching their hair, scrounging around in their

closets for the Sunday school shoes their mothers

bought for them when they were younger, and scoring

thrift stores for torn baby doll dresses that purr

“don’t I look cute?” while the girls donning them

growl, “touch me and I’ll rip your balls off, pal.”

The year is 1994 and Courtney Love is screaming her

heart out on stages all around the world, voice whisky

and cigarettes thick, as Hole’s award-winning album,

‘Live Through This’, blasts in bedrooms reeking of teen

angst, basements housing drum kits and newly purchased

guitars, and the Walkman your mom won’t stop bringing

up whenever you take out your iPod.

Grunge has taken over and with it comes a new breed

of Queen. Long gone are the days of silent and

submissive, prim and proper women who fear men. Women

have been on the sidelines for far too long, and with

the official rise of third wave feminism comes our turn

to rule. Who better for the job than outspoken,

ambitious Courtney Love? Courtney Love, the woman who

literally wears the media’s criticisms as some sort of

scarlet letter, clever nicknames like “junkie slut”

staining her skin. Before thousands of scantily-clad

women took to the street for Slut Walks there were

women like Courtney Love who were written off as “slut

rocker bitches” as one man in an early Bikini Kill song

said, whose only support system was herself.

In the 90s when a feminist can write an anti-rape

song and have it become the anthem for idiotic rapists

everywhere and a woman can write a song titled ‘Asking

for It’ that receives no recognition for challenging

what almost every rape case comes down to: “well, was

she asking for it?” how could anyone survive – let

alone thrive - in a world like that? How is it that

Courtney receives no acknowledgement for the progress

she’s made for not just women in Rock but women in

general?

Courtney’s been fighting rape culture for years

with her band’s music, lyrics bringing rape, revenge,

motherhood, and being burned at the stake to the

forefront of our minds. But, the fuel for the fire had

to come from somewhere, right? Courtney supported

herself by stripping in Oregon where she was almost

raped by a customer and forced to run out onto the

street, screaming for someone to help. It was when

nobody came to her aid that Courtney Love’s true,

carnal rage was born and with it came the song ‘Retard

Girl’. And again in 1995 while touring for ‘Live

Through This’ Courtney dove into the audience, having

her dress ripped off her body as hundreds and thousands

of “fans” poked and prodded at her, violating her

shamelessly before a security guard could haul her back

on stage.

What makes people attack Courtney when she has such

an obvious dislike of what she refers to as “victim

energy” and refuses to cower in the corner when you

tell her to? Is it because she simultaneously plays

into a femme archetype that our society perceives as

weak while systematically destroying everything the

patriarchy has come to know and count on from it? Is it

because she’s wearing lipstick for herself and not for

every male who glances her way? Is it because she

doesn’t care whether or not the opposite gender is

comfortable with how she acts as a woman? She’s a

chain-smoking bottle blonde that hasn’t stopped kicking

and screaming since she picked up a guitar all those

years ago and chances are if anyone tries to take that

from her she’ll deck them.

Now, in 2013, I finally understand why men are so

utterly terrified and threatened by Courtney Love: she

keeps coming back. No matter what has been done to this

woman in the past she will not let anyone forget just

who the fuck she is. She’ll be around until you get

what’s yours, and chances are she’ll be the one to give

it to you. She’s a fucking force of nature and the day

she stops screaming is the day she dies.

Ew, you

don’t shave

your legs?

That’s

disgusting!

What the fuck did you just say to me, Scumbag?

Girl Bands for a Rebel Soul

Babes in Toyland was made up

of Kat Bjelland

(vocals/guitar), Maureen

Herman (bass), and Lori

Barbero (drums). I fell in

love with them after I heard

‘Bruise Violet’ and Kat

became my favorite guitar

player. Check out the album

‘Fontanelle’ for lines like,

“You’re dead meat

motherfucker, you don’t try

to rape a goddess!”.

Betty Blowtorch was a

Southern California band made

up of Bianca Butthole

(bass/vocals), Sharon Needles

(guitar), Blare N Bitch

(guitar, and Judy Molish

(drums). ‘Are You Man

Enough?’ is their only album;

the band broke up after their

singer died in a car

accident. ‘I Wish You’d Die’

has calmed me down more times

than I can count.

The Lunachicks were one of

the first Riot Grrrl bands

I’d ever gotten into. Made up

of Theo Kogan (vocals), Gina

Volpe (guitar), Squid (bass),

and Becky Wreck (drums) they

were at the forefront of the

90s girl band explosion.

‘Luxury Problem’ is an album

drowning in loud guitar and

Theo’s incredibly voice. I

think the song title ‘Less

Teeth, More Tits’ speaks for

itself.

Sourpuss, Brody Dalle’s first

band, drew inspiration from

both Nirvana and Hole.

Brody at thirteen still had

rough voice of a woman and

fronted this Australian band

before forming The

Distillers. ‘Oh no, I’m not

happy ‘til you go to hell’.

Don’t Fucking Touch Me

Last month I was lucky enough to score tickets to the

Courtney Love show in Jersey and be graced by the

Queen’s presence. Unluckily, when it was time for me to

enter the venue I (along with everyone else in line)

was informed that instead of playing at seven, Courtney

wouldn’t be performing until eleven… and there was no

re-entry. Waiting in line I noticed one guy who was

either drunk or high or just a little off that kept

pestering everyone else; my mom and I both hoped that

he wouldn’t come over and try talking to us. When the

doors finally opened I lost sight of him (thankfully)

and enjoyed the first band (The Obvious), but that

wasn’t the last time I saw him. I was in the middle of

speaking to a girl who had asked me about Courtney when

he came out of nowhere and decided to join the

conversation.

This 39 year old man with his rotting teeth and graying

hair tried hitting on me even after I told him I was

17. His response? “Who cares about the law, it’s just a

piece of paper.” So not only does he stick around after

I tell him I’d hoped he wouldn’t try talking to me and

that I didn’t want him touching me and that he should

go away he sticks around and starts asking my name and

cracking jokes. When I told him to go away for the

fifth time he finally got fed up with my rejection and

brings up his son. “I’ve got a son your age, but I

don’t think you’re ready for him. You need to mature

more; you’ve got too much attitude.”

I really don’t think I need to mention why it’s even

more disturbing that he’s got a son my age and has

decided that I’m not mature enough for him, but was

mature enough for him a few seconds ago.

So after this guy finally walks away after ranting

about my attitude I thought about how many other girls

my age were in attendance and how many of them would be

too afraid or too shy or too shocked even to speak up

and decided to report him to one of the security

guards. When I told her that he touched me she

immediately freaked out and assured me that she’d take

care of it before rushing off. I figured she’d talk to

him and tell him to stay away from me and that would be

it, but about fifteen minutes later she came back and

told me that the police were outside waiting to take my

statement.

At the end of it all he’d gotten thrown out and was

forbidden to step back on the property for the rest of

the night. When I told the cop about the guy’s opinion

on the law he looked so fucking pissed off. It felt

fucking great to see the guy being escorted away from

the building, too.

When someone bothers you, when someone puts their hands

on you, you fucking tell them off and then tell someone

else about what they did. I don’t care if it’s a friend

or a stranger or your mom or a police officer, just get

it out there. Talking about harassment is the only way

to end it.

About the Author

My name is Dominique and I’m a 17 year old grunge punk

trying to start an all girl Rock band in New Jersey. I

spend a lot of time screaming along to ‘Live Through

This’, playing guitar, buying new stockings, and

ranting about the patriarchy.

I have huge crushes on Heroin Bob, Ginger Fitzgerald,

and pansy boys. I wear too short dresses and am a self-

proclaimed eyebrow queen. My tumblr is nursingpunx I

beg of you to relieve me of my boredom.