Women is Losers: Janis Joplin’s Impact on Women’s Liberation

Her performance at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967 is “among the great performances in rock history,” (Hall of Fame) and “one of the very, very heavy moment in rock and roll.” Janis Joplin is considered not only not be among the greatest women rock artists, but a strong contender as one of the greatest rock artists in history, regardless of her gender. She is remembered as “the sixties’ most liberated chick” (Echols 258). Time refers to her as “the most powerful singer to emerge from the white rock movement,” Rolling Stone calls her “one of the biggest female rock stars of her time,” and Vogue dubs her “the most staggering leading woman in rock.” Joplin’s dominance in the music scene did not go unnoticed; she appeared as a musical guest on The Dick Cavett Show, This is Tom Jones, and The Ed Sullivan Show, and was inducted into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame in 1995 (Biography). An article on biography.com credits Joplin for “breaking new ground for women in rock music,” but what exactly does that mean? Behind her tough exterior, she was self-conscious, lonely, vulnerable and addicted to almost every drug she tried - how could she be a feminine icon? Janis Joplin existed as two different people: her true self, and her legend. To her closest friends, she was a troubled addict who was plagued by her younger years that were full of harsh tormenting about her appearance. But to her audience, she was a passionate, sexual, white woman singing black blues, and she was holding her own in a male-dominated profession. The importance of examining Joplin’s contribution to women’s state in music lies in distinguishing herself from her legend, and focusing on the latter over the former. Joplin’s legend superseded her true identity; music journalist Ellen Willis asserted that Janis Joplin “mattered as much for [herself] as for [her] music...she was second only to Bob Dylan in importance as a creator-recorder-embodiment of her generation’s mythology” (Hall of Fame). The music scene is notoriously about sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll, and Joplin had no trouble owning that lifestyle as much as her male counterparts did. She greatly effected that music scene, which in turn influenced her audience. Janis Joplin holds her place as a revolutionary of women’s role in popular music by establishing herself as an equal to, or even superior to her male peers, both in her musical performance, and in her liberated sexuality; her influence extended through her music into the suburbs of America to challenge preconceived notions of womanhood.

Janis Joplin was a woman in a “male dominated, sexist culture,” who, in an industry where women relied heavily on male producers, developed herself as an artist. Although the youth were proclaiming sexual freedom, and forming a counterculture against their middle class parents, rock music was still written and performed “almost entirely” by men, with lyrics that “almost universally” label women as objects (Rodnitzky). There was the “inference that ‘chick singers’ were interchangeable,” who were “amorphous, sexual substance that, by definition, needed molding by men” (Dalton 46). Only a few years prior to Joplin’s infamous Monterey Pop Festival performance, Phil Spector was producing girl groups, whose music he had heavy influence on, and tight control over. Janis Joplin created her own musical identity, and was only signed to Colombia, a major, non-independent record label, after her Monterey performance. By that time she had already been performing for almost a decade, and had created a style independent of the meddling work of a producer (Dalton 46). Popular songs had told women that they were sexual objects, but Joplin delved deeper than that in her lyrics. “Joplin told us about the pain of being a woman and how to live with the pain and compensate for it” (Rodnitzky). Vogue magazine points out that “Janis is far closer in spirit to the black heroines of blues than she is to an age when proper young ladies warbled ‘It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to,” digging at Lesley Gore, whose hit song was produced by a man, Quincy Jones, and written by three other men. Joplin’s independent formation of her identity as a musician is a different path than female musicians were accustomed to, and that identity as a blues musician pushes her even farther away from the female norm.

Joplin not only created herself independently from heavy male influence, but she also took a role that had never been successfully played: the white female blues singer. A Critic in 1994, Karen Schoemer, claimed that Janis was “the woman who made it possible for white girls to sound something other than pretty” (Echols 308). Joplin’s voice was raw, edgy and, at a first listen, a little unpleasant when compared to the gentle cooing of the girl groups. However, Joplin’s vocal performance was about much more than her unique voice. The Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall of Fame credits Joplin with having “one of the most passionate voices in rock history.” Even with her unrestrained, dramatic voice, identifying herself as a blues artist was not easy for a white woman. Steve Katz, a blues guitarist, pegged her as only a “good primitive blues singer,” but, as a white superstar, she was the complete opposite of the poor, black blues artist (Rodnitzky). “Purists” believed that no white person could sing the blues because they could never know “the pain of body and soul from which true blues rise” (“Blues for Janis”). But Janis held her own in this arena, as well. Her road manager, John Cooke, explains that she felt the suffering of the blues: “Janis had the loneliness, the longing for things you couldn’t have” (20/20). Joplin was a “social outcast” for the bulk of her life preceding her fame, and found comfort in the music of blues artists like Bessie Smith and Odetta Holmes (Hall of Fame). Joplin may or may not have felt and sang the blues as well as her influences, but she “certainly came as close to authentic blues as any white singer ever has” (“Blues for Janis”). Janis Joplin had invented herself as a singer of the blues, completely breaking from her girl band predecessors, and blazing a new trail for women in music.

Janis Joplin once said of two of her favorite artists, “Billie Holiday and Arethra Franklin - they could milk you with two notes. They wouldn’t go farther than from an A to a B and they could make you feel like they told you the whole universe” (20/20). Just like Holiday and Franklin, Joplin characterized her performances, not just by hollowly reciting the lyrics someone else had written for her, but by delving deep into her emotions and experiencing those pieces, even if she had not written them. Again, this separated her from the other female artists of the 50‘s and early 60‘s, but it also made her stand out from most of the male artists of that time. She told an interviewer, “If I were a musician, it might be a lot harder to get all that feeling out. But I’m really fortunate because my gig is just feeling things” (“Alone”). But this passionate style was not as easy for her as she would have liked that previous quote to imply. It was emotionally taxing for Joplin to experience those emotions again and again as she performed. “‘Ball and Chain’ is the hardest thing to do,” Joplin said of the most legendary song of her performance at the Monterey Pop Festival. “I really have to get in my head every time I sing it. Because it’s about feeling things. That means I can never sing it without really trying...and it really tires me out!” But as exhausting as it was for Joplin to perform, it was rewarding for her audience to hear something with so much passion. “But it’s so groovy when you know the audience really wants you,” she continued, “I mean, whatever you give them, they’ll believe in. And they’ll yell back at you, call your name and shit like that” (Fornatale 144). Her pain and energy were palpable to live audience members. People describe her performances as a“burning lava flow of energy,” (“Alone”) a “force of nature” (Fornatale 144), and a “maelstrom of feeling that words could barely suggest” (Hall of Fame). Popular female celebrities marveled at her performances: Mama Cass Elliot disbelievingly mouthing “wow” at the end of Joplin’s Monterey performance was captured on film (Fornatale 144), and actress Geraldine Page told Joplin, “most performers give just a fraction of themselves. I can’t remember the last time I saw one ho gave everything they have” (“Alone”). And Joplin’s passionate wailing would inspire future female artists, as well: Stevie Nicks, after seeing Joplin perform, said Joplin “had a connection with the audience that I had not seen before, and when she left the stage - I knew that a little bit of my destiny had changed. I would search to find that connection that I had seen between Janis and her audience. In a blink of an eye, she changed my life” (“Reflections”). Joplin also inspired Joan Jett, who said that during “Combination of Two” “I couldn’t help but go to the mirror and pretend I was a wild woman like Janis, in a rock band” (“Reflections”). Joplin’s passionate performances moved her audiences and inspired future female rock stars because they were like nothing anyone had seen before. In addition to creating her own musical identity, and forming that persona to be something absolutely unique, Joplin gave artistic performances that would move and inspire a new generation of artists.

Joplin’s live events were not reveled for her emotional performances, but also for her fierce sexuality. While female artists were used to being treated as sexual objects, Janis was not just a pretty woman to be looked at. She was the one who demanded the attention, rather than the audience demanding it from her. Her stage became “an arena for her sexuality, a place to advertise her sexual availability and desire” (Echols 140). But Janis “wasn’t conventionally pretty and didn’t put on the usual kind of sexy show.” Instead, the sexuality of her performance came from that raw presence that showed her passion and ferocity. Her emotional exposure “seemed almost obscene compared with the dolled-up, painted femininity of her time” (Echols 148). Joplin performed without restraint; she “sang like a...psychopath. She threw the microphone...she straddled it and threatened to eat it whole; she tossed her head and stamped her foot and punched her thigh and shook her fist at the audience and shivered all over. She wasn’t pretty, she was just plain shake-that-thing erotic” (Thomas). So much for the sweet smiles and stiffly choreographed dances of the girl groups. And so much for the soft strength of Billie Holiday and Bessie Smtih. On her performance at the Monterey Pop Festival, reporter Richard Goldstein from The Village Voice proclaimed that “to hear Janis sing ‘Ball and Chain’ just once is to have been laid, lovingly and well,” (Echols 307) and Joplin’s friend, Edward Knoll, told her that ‘Ball and Chain’ was going to get her “a lot of lovers” (Echols168). The sexual charge that characterized Joplin’s performances reflected the sexually liberal artist herself. Her ability to confidently expose herself emotionally, and consequently display her aggressive sexuality puts her at the forefront of the sexual revolution, giving women who were seeking sexual liberation a heroine.

Janis Joplin lived outside of the sexual boundaries in which most of her gender was confined, but also provided a stable theme of the quest for romantic love in her lyrics with which her audience could identify. She was openly promiscuous, and believed in a sexuality that transcended gender and labels. “Like the rock ‘n’ roll guys, she bragged about one night stands with groupies and rock stars like Jim Morrison and Jimi Hendrix” (20/20). The more socially acceptable definition of the sexy woman was one who is pursued by the man, but who never initiates a pursuit herself (Rodnitzky). Janis Joplin conducted herself as both the hunter and the hunted, and boasted a record of “thousands of men” (Echols 255). Joplin was, in modern terms, a bisexual, but resented the media’s efforts to label her sexuality. “What’s the big deal about defining yourself as this or that?” she asks, “just be it.” Joplin’s sexual ambiguity, her refusal to participate in the comfortable labeling system, is the “epitome of sexual liberation” (Echols 256). Joplin was not only liberated from the rules for women by presenting herself as comfortable with free love as her male counterparts, but she is liberated from the rules for society by refusing to conform to a socially mandated system of categories. Sexual liberation did not come easily for Joplin; she struggled with the relationship between her free sexuality and her desire for romantic love. She confessed to her former lover, Kris Kristofferson, “Onstage I make love to twenty-five thousand people, then I go home lone” (Rodnitzky). Her lyrics mourn over her loneliness an desperation with lyrics like “And when she gets lonely, she's thinking 'bout her man, / She knows he's taking her for granted” (“A Woman Left Lonely”), Why, I need a man to love / I gotta find him, I gotta have him like the air I breath” (“I Need a Man to Love”), “If you don't think that, honey, you'll be lonesome, / You know I'll drown, drown, oh lord, in my own tears” (Drown in My Own Tears) and so many others. Janis Joplin’s sexuality and sexualized performances epitomized a sexual liberation, but her lyrics were about meaningful relationships and heartache. In this way, she served as both a figure for the sexual revolution, but also satisfied an audience’s desire for music with purpose with which they were able to relate.

Janis Joplin’s impact in the world of music trickled down into the American suburbs where, completely unbeknownst to Joplin, feminists were reacting to her identity and young women were redefining womanhood. Many feminists at the time believed Joplin was actually hurting their cause. In fact, women were much more hesitant to accept Joplin’s presence than men were (Echols 307). In a time when Helen Body was singing “I am woman, hear me roar,” and Chaka Khan stating “I am every woman,” Joplin’s palpable suffering, emotionality and vulnerability in her lyrics and performances felt like a step in the wrong direction for women trying to prove their power (Echols 309-10). Although she also challenged notions of femininity, her lyrics affirmed the female identity of “emotional, vulnerable and caring,” which, although it “valorizes the feminine,” it also risks “confirming patriarchal notions of what femininity is” (Reynolds 233). The very qualities that made her famous, and paved a new road for many female artists to come, were also concerning to some feminists; her eroticism on stage suggested that other female artists also had to become sexual icons for men, and her lack of restraint and vulnerability “seemed too dangerous,” (Echols 308-9). With the advantage of a retrospective analysis, many modern feminist writers now rush to claim Joplin as a feminist icon. Joplin was not as direct in her assertion of female strength as Helen Body or Chaka Khan, but she absolutely assisted in the development of the notion of a woman as strong. Rather than imitating the strength and sexuality of men, Joplin “imagined a female strength that’s different but equivalent” (Reynolds 233). Simon Reynolds, author of The Sex Revolt, even says that Janis’s work “testifies to a female rebellion that...counts as a tremendous breakthrough and a triumph.” Joplin was someone with whom many young women could relate; she was “all woman, yet equal with men,” and “free, yet a slave to real love” (Hall of Fame), something many women would desire in the era of the women’s liberation movement. Women were urged by society to put their families before themselves, and constantly delay their own personal pleasures. “Young girls were told to save themselves for their husbands. Wives were supposed to sacrifice immediate pleasures for their children. Even grandmothers had responsibilities to daughters and grandchildren” (Rodnitzky). Joplin’s free, hedonistic lifestyle, along with lyrics like, “And if anybody comes along, / he gonna give you love and affection / I’d say get it while you can, yeah! / Honey, grab it when you’re gonna need it!” (“Get it While You Can”) gave hope of relief to women who sought it. Joplin may not have been a feminist icon during her time, but many modern feminists agree that in hindsight, Joplin embodied a strength and freedom that would influence women throughout the country.

When “pretty, proper and prim was the key to popularity” among young women, Janice Joplin was none of the above (20/20). She was not conventionally pretty, her aggressive sexuality made her anything but proper, and her long, unkempt hair suggested the opposite of prim. Joplin’s physicality - the way she looked and the way she dressed - provided an alternative to middle-class American youth. Her hair was always down, and mostly wild and natural, or, in the cases of some of her live performances, stuck to her face with sweat. This is a far cry from the sleek and shiny hair of the Shangri-Las or the Ronettes. Janis’s natural look inspired some women to abandon the “brush, wash, set, color and spray syndrome.” Others had the courage to grow their hair longer, when previously they thought they had “bad hair.” Now, Janis did not create the natural look, which she absorbed from living in San Francisco, but she did advertise it to a mainstream audience. Instead of girdles and dresses, Joplin wore lose clothing in a variety of color combinations, went without the red lipstick, and usually went braless. Many young women followed her examples. Janis Joplin’s influence was present not only in the music scene, but also at home in american suburbia, where her fans returned from watching her performances to listen to her records.

Janis Joplin is accused of being “oblivious” to the feminist movement with which she was unconsciously interacting (Rodnitzky). But the lyrics to the song “Women is Losers” suggest that she knew of the struggles that American women faced during the 1960’s, whether or not she knew of the movement to remedy those problems. “Women is losers / women is losers, Lord Lord Lord Lord! / So I know you must have heard it, Lord / Everywhere / Men always seem to end up on top, oh!” Janis struggled to form an identity of her own in a time when many female artists were under the smothering control of male producers, but developed the unique voice of a white woman singing black blues. She faced criticisms for not suffering enough. Her performances, both passionate and sexual, ignited popularity and opened doors for women to sing emotionally rather than beautifully, and to sing without restraint. But again she was criticized, this time for showing too much suffering. Joplin’s liberal sexuality not only challenged the double-standard of sexuality for women, but also presented a woman who was able to be sexy while also aggressively hunting down men for her conquests. Her attachment and vocal desire helped her to maintain some traditional femininity to allow for a slightly less liberated audience to relate to her. Joplin’s self-serving, hedonistic lifestyle would hit chords close to American suburbia, where many women were confined to a life of selflessness. And even Joplin’s fashion and physicality would influence her audience. Although Joplin was not intentionally acting on behalf of feminism or the women’s liberation movement, she fought criticism almost every step of the way to bravely blaze a trail for women through a male-dominated world.

Works Cited

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Dalton, David. Piece of My Heart: A Portrait of Janis Joplin. New York: De Capo, 1985. Print.

Echols, Alice. Scars of Sweet Paradise: The Life and Times of Janis Joplin. New York: Holt, 1999. Print.

Goldstein, Richard. “Ladies Day, Janis Joplin.” Vogue. 1 May 1968. Janisjoplin.net. Web. 31 Jan. 2011.

“Janis Joplin.” Biography.com. Biography Network Website, 2011. Web. 30 Jan. 2011.

“Janis Joplin.” Rolling Stone Online. Rolling Stone Magazine, 2001. Web. 29 Jan. 2011.

“Janis Joplin on 20/20.” YouTube. YouTube, 2006. Web. 1 Feb. 2011.

“Janis Joplin Biography.” Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Museum, 1995. Web. 30 Jan. 2011.

Reynolds, Simon and Joy Press. The Sex Revolt: Gender, Rebellion and Rock ‘n’ Roll. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1995. Print.

Rodnitzky, Jerome L. “The Southwest Unbound: Janis Joplin and the New Feminism.” The Feminist Art Journal. 1 Jan. 1977. Janisjoplin.net. Web. 31 Jan. 2011.

Thomas, Michael. “Janis Joplin: Voodoo Lady of Rock.” Ramparts Magazine. 1 Aug. 1968. Janisjoplin.net. Web. 1 Feb. 2011.