These '90s singer-songwriters kicked down the door for shameless feminism and vulnerability

The '90s are having a moment — one where we're styling ourselves in baggy Levi's and neon windbreakers and calling it innovative fashion. But the '90s, to me, are nostalgic for other reasons, ones filled with memories and associations to the music that came from the period. No music is more so important or representative of who I would become than the female Canadian pop artists, singers and songwriters of that time.

An important distinction of some '90s Canadian female performers was how they orbited feminism and female empowerment. I'm talking about the iconic works of women such as Alanis Morissette and Deborah Cox. The lively nuances of their feminist thoughts, personal politics and their very important need to stand up for themselves was interpreted and woven into their music, lyrics and performances. Their careers often served as a stark and vital reminder of why female voices need to be included. (While that's commonplace now, it was still something remarkable then.)

Each of these different artists emerged during a cultural shift when feminism was moving toward its third wave. Third-wave feminism, though getting less and less definable, has many forms. It took shape because of and after Riot Grrl, focusing on intersectionality, diversity and individual experiences of intimacy and sex, along with honesty and openness about emotions, as important to feminist thought and work.

The confessionals that Canadian female performers of the era incorporated into their music had the biggest impact on me as both an artist and woman. They gave us — me — something revolutionary in a scene drowning in men. These women wrote and brought to mainstream listeners angsty admissions about their personal, complicated histories within themselves or about their families or lovers; songs about their own places in the world. They pulled from their deepest wells, using their lives of happiness and pain as as sources of inspiration to draw from while showing honesty and authenticity. They also made incredible, catchy, mainstream pop music.

Their music would become foundational to my own connection with feminism and myself. That confessional approach to writing is something I frequently use and — is a direct result of listening to the women below sing about their lives without filtering out any of the realness.

Alanis Morissette

Jagged Little Pill is a classic 90s record that shouts its feminism from the rooftops. Alanis Morissette combines a soft sort of whimsy and hopefulness with a grittier, honest take on relationships that often have gone wrong. There's a refreshing cynicism on Jagged Little Pill that comes through with songs "Ironic" and "You Oughta Know." She kicks the door down and takes up permanent residency in your head and heart on this record. Morissette's feminism here isn't a polished one — which is the point. Being a woman, being human, is rough and messy. All of that is mixed up with intimacy and sex in Morissette's candid lyrics. My favourite track on this album is "Hand in My Pocket" with its hopeful refrains and contradictory statements. As a trans girl who's had several gender-related surgeries, I'm always drawn to the optimism I find in the line "I'm sick but I'm pretty, baby."

Jann Arden

Jann Arden's hit single "Insensitive," from her 1995 album Living Under June, remains a timeless classic about how men suck. One of the more compellingly parts of the track is how it highlights the ways we often lie to ourselves about red flags that appear with new partners. When Arden sings, "Oh, I really should have known / By the time you drove me home / By the vagueness in your eyes, your casual goodbyes / By the chill in your embrace," women, too, relate and hear the echoes of their own bad, unbothered loves. It's a powerful song that is still relevant today.

Sarah Harmer

Coming at the tail end of the '90s (okay, 2000!), Sarah Harmer's You Were Here is an extraordinary album. Harmer talks about breakups and moving on but feeling stuck in bad habits. The lead single, "Basement Apartment," is about being locked into a cycle of watching bad TV, staying up late, swearing you're different from all your friends, but never really being able to move on with your life. It draws on themes of loneliness, alienation and the struggle to transition into adulthood. Harmer's music connected with me because of its rich lyrical intimacy, exploring the bittersweet realities of trying to make sense of your life and loves. Other standout tracks include "Coffee Stain" for its stunning portrayal of a relationship breaking down in the lyrics, "There's a coffee stain around your eyes / And lines that I don't recognize / Everything changed from being OK / The night that you came home so late."

Deborah Cox

Deborah Cox's 1998 single "Nobody's Supposed To Be Here" is a powerhouse ballad about love, hope, and healing after heartbreak. Aside from the song's use as a drag queen standard, it's a lively and empowering take on finding love against all odds. Nobody's supposed to fall in love, but we do — and Cox celebrates that love in all its varied forms. Cox faced many barriers in her musical career, earning many rejection letters in the 90s from labels who claimed their "quotas" were already full, but her empowering and rich music still resonates.

Susan Aglukark

Susan Aglukark made history with "O, Siem" from her second album, This Child, as the first Inuk artist to have a top 40 hit in Canada. While not the first Indigenous female artist to break boundaries, Aglukark's presence on the charts in the '90s was a significant achievement — helping the ongoing conversation of making and creating more space in the music industry for Indigenous artists. Other standout songs include "Breakin Down" and "Hina Na Ho (Celebration)."

Nelly Furtado

Nelly Furtado's debut album Whoa Nelly! (also technically released in 2000) is directly connected to the groundbreaking work of the other women on this list. "I'm Like a Bird" had a profound influence on me — it's an anthem about freedom. The song is an important reflection about not wanting to be possessed by anyone and relying on oneself. Meanwhile, "Turn Off the Light" treks through the harder roads of vulnerability and intimacy, yet the song shows us the strength gained from going through these emotional processes. Furtado's work often bridges the everyday with the political in a classic and often-repeated '90s feminist call to action ("the personal is political") by drawing from her experiences of growing up Portuguese in British Columbia and extending that care and empathy outward by embracing other communities.

Amanda Marshall

Amanda Marshall remains a favourite for me. Her smoky voice and raw lyrics, displaying strength in the vulnerable, deeply connected with me as a teenager. Her self-titled album has great songs like "Dark Horse," which brim with honesty about her experiences, as well as confessions about her childhood, family experiences and racism in Canadian society. (On her later album Tuesday's Child, Marshall further explores mixed race identity and interracial marriage on the track "Shades of Grey.")

Sarah McLachlan

I couldn't make a list of Canadian feminist musicians without highlighting the immense and important work done by Sarah McLachlan. An icon and legend in her own right, McLachlan is crucial to the sound that would emerge from the '90s. From her work with Lilith Fair — a feminist-centric music festival — to her albums Fumbling Towards Ecstasy and Surfacing, McLachlan's impact both on pop music and on other female-identifying artists is important because she helped to make women, and what they felt, visible. She was one of the most successful openly feminist and political artists of her generation — and she's still fighting the good fight today.

The confessionals that Canadian female performers of the era incorporated into their music had the biggest impact on me as both an artist and woman. They gave us — me — something revolutionary in a scene drowning in men.- Gwen Benaway

For many Canadian girls growing up in the '90s, we watched the music videos and listened to the songs by these women on repeat. There is a deep connection between the images and words I saw and heard that made me feel that I, too, could explore such deep recesses of emotional angst and have it be not only supported, but encouraged. I can't help but smile whenever I hear the tracks and think about where I was then and where I am now — and how good that growth feels.