WWTGD: What Would Tank Girl Do?

Why Tank Girl is the anti-hero we need in 2026.

Written by Nicole Wloszek-Therens

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to freak out, to break out, to mutate, in as many ways as possible – in all of the directions that the man would never expect, that the man could never conceive. Be inventive, be creative, improvise, reprise, disguise. Pull the envelope, push the envelope. Dig the tunnel, knock out the guards, get out under the fence. Disperse in hundreds, thousands, millions across the country, across the borders. Infiltrate, supplant, commandeer, spread the love. 

This is “Tank Girl’s” mission for those brave enough to embrace it. She rises from the ashes of post-apocalyptic Australia, now a fascism-ridden dystopia, sporting a crop-top hand stitched from a scavenged piece of tarp. Her partially-shaved head pokes out of the hatch of her beloved tank with a direct statement on the side: “This Machine Kills Fascists.”

Written by Alan Martin and illustrated by artist Jamie Hewlett, who later created the animated characters for the band Gorillaz, the comic “Tank Girl” defines what it means to fight the power. It was first published in Dateline Magazine in 1988, and reflects the era’s rise of punk-rock culture through both aesthetics and its anti-establishment storyline. 

“Tank Girl”, or Rebecca Buck, is an imperfect anti-hero. She’s flawed, but being silly doesn’t mean she’s stupid. Being chaotic doesn’t mean she isn’t clever. She demonstrates that there’s more than one way for a woman to exist, especially in a world that seems to be circling the drain. 

From her androgynous appearance to her nonconformist belief system, she’s almost inherently unfeminine from a Western perspective. Women are indoctrinated into a system that wants us to be docile, that femininity is defined by how far we exist from ever being defined by the word “bitchy.” Being considered too opinionated or too rough around the edges is the antithesis of what we’re taught it means to be a woman. 

“Tank Girl” is both opinionated and rough around the edges. She’s far from a damsel in distress – in fact, she’s often the one who’s doing the distressing. As a woman, she demonstrates the sense of female anger that many of us feel in a world that contorts and oppresses our very existence. 

Since “Tank Girl’s” inception in the late 80s, she’s been used as a symbol for protesting the ugliest parts of society – many of which still plague our world today. According to Da Spanzer, a German tank museum, she was featured in a popular protest image that was used across demonstrations against Margaret Thatcher’s “Clause 28,” which called for LGBTQ+ censorship in schools.

Despite a cult following, Rachel Talalay’s 1995 film “Tank Girl,” based on the comics, was largely regarded as a box-office flop. On a $25 million budget, it only grossed $6 million in profit. It’s possible some of the film’s themes were too raw to be considered by a larger audience – subjects that viewers might not have been ready to face – like the realities of an apocalyptic world caused by human destruction. 

Is it a technically “good” film? Some film critics, self proclaimed and otherwise, would say not. A few die-hard fans of the comics would likely also take this stance. An indiscernible amount of which may be men frothing at the mouth for the chance to tear down a woman unlike one they’ve ever seen before. 

But for anyone who’s ever felt like they’re screaming into this world’s void of chaos, “Tank Girl” is a beacon of hope. When “Tank Girl” flashes across the frame for the first time to DEVO’s “Girl U Want,” she’s more than a character. She’s a rejection of consumerism for the Western world where basic needs have a price tag. She embraces her sexuality in a time where bodily autonomy is constantly up for debate. She speaks loudly for the unabashed, unashamed and unafraid. 

Girls who are different – ones who’ve been told they’re too much, too angry, too loud, too strange, too queer, find in “Tank Girl" a place of feral solace. They can see that they’re allowed to stand up for themselves and what they believe in – to be unconventional, powerful and unapologetically themselves. They can see that much like “Tank Girl,” the world they grew up in simply might not exist anymore. Things are different. The rules we used to play by aren’t working. 

The film is set in 2033, where water and power have been monopolized by a corporate empire, effectively called Water & Power. They’ve created a fascist hellscape where troops roam the wasteland, eager to act with violence against their critics and debtors. 

They hoard the resources. “Tank Girl” steals and redistributes them. She’s basically a post-apocalyptic Robin Hood – if Robin Hood were bisexual, several beers deep and armed with a tank.

The landscape is simultaneously different and identical to the one we live in: a system where the few hoard while the many struggle to survive, where militarization has flooded into the streets of our neighborhoods and where certain groups of people are treated as problems to be handled rather than humans to be protected. 

“Tank Girl’s” rebellion against the system mirrors acts of justified defiance that are unfolding across the country. It serves as a demonstration that resistance doesn’t have to be neat or polite. Resistance can look like survival. It can look messy, like telephone poles plastered with layers of flyers for community organizing. It can look like bodies shaking and voices breaking but still speaking, because their voice matters even without composure.

In a world that seems to be getting scarier by the day, “Tank Girl” shows that we don’t have to be frightened. Strap on your boots, and face the hard things. Be resilient and unruly. 

“I can’t let things be this way. We can be wonderful. We can be magnificent,” “Tank Girl” said. “We can turn this shit around.” 

This message will self-destruct in 10 seconds.

More images of Tank Girl: