Guys were always peeling off their shirts at punk shows. Why couldn’t she?
It was June 27, 1991, and D.C. was sweltering. Just like Kentucky the night before. Just like Alabama the night before that.
Enough. Kathleen Hanna marched on stage wearing a black bra she’d found at a thrift store, bracing herself for another night of heckles, threats and projectiles. Instead, the singer of Bikini Kill felt the room turn upside down. Or maybe, finally, right-side-up.
“I remember halfway through the show being like, ‘People are really getting this,’ ” Hanna says. “It was like they had been waiting for us.”