In October 2024, classmates-turned-bandmates Devon Mullins and Mac Burgoyne attended a local open mic. Armed with a Sharpie-drawn “Femme Drummer Wanted” poster, they were in search of the perfect drummer.
“We make music about killing rapists,” Burgoyne told Annie Guske. The then shagged-cut drummer was sold immediately.
The three performed for the first time as Mac N’ Toss in February 2025, with a band name memorializing Mullins’ deep love of the Macintosh apple. This show proved that the band wouldn’t work without all three of them, and together they felt ready to be Washington, D.C.'s Riotgrrrls.
“It took some self-discovery to decide that we were gonna identify and market ourselves as Riotgrrrl, but once we got there, we got there, and it felt right. We’re not gonna go back,” said Burgoyne.
The Riotgrrrl movement holds a complicated history. Though it aimed to counter sexism in the music industry with its “girls to the front” mantra, the Riotgrrrl ideals didn't always translate on or off the stage. In a scene dominated by mostly white frontwomen, the movement lacked the intersectionality it needed. Mac N’ Toss took these criticisms seriously, deciding to clarify their values before mindlessly attaching a label.
“If we can practice intersectionality within our own concerts, within our own set lists, within our own lineups, and push for change in every way, which I think is what Riotgrrrl is about and should be about, then we can do it. And we did, and we do,” said Mullins.
The girl band often finds itself combating the “lukewarm feminist takes” that linger in the Riotgrrrl scene. A song about catcalling must be about more than just the action itself. It runs deeper; violence and power systems aren't always visible or audible. Who is being catcalled the most?
“It's teenage girls. It's young black girls. It is racialized. It is based around your body type. It is based around your age,” said Mullins. “It doesn't just have to be, fuck you, you can't catcall me. It's like, I can't believe you feel entitled to this; do you know whom you're talking to? This is a 14-year-old girl.”
Mac N’ Toss not only unabashedly explores tough-to-talk-about topics in their music, but also challenges what punk is even “supposed” to sound like. For them, music doesn’t need to sound a certain way to be powerful—it just needs to be vulnerable. It needs to make you feel something, something they understood early on in their careers.
“My first song I wrote on guitar…I don't play guitar,” remembers Guske, who now rocks a mohawk. “It was called ‘War.’ I was in 4th grade, and there were no words. It was just on guitar, just plucking the open strings on it. It made me feel so angsty.”
This July, Mac N’ Toss released What She Buried, where the only standards they had for their work were what they call the four pillars of their music: anger, spite, healing, and safety.
On “Rabid,” the group confronts an animalistic, male listener, threatening “You may be a man/But you'll die like an animal,” over grungy guitars and crashing drums. On “Concealer,” a guttural track about retaliation, Burgoyne and Mullins call and respond (more so, yell and respond) with lyrics like “Concealed by the state, line 'em up/Fascists, rapists, same thing right?/We'll take you out, one by one/Arm the women, grrrls fight!/We call that gun reform, say goodnight.”
Like their lyrics, their sound holds nuance too. In an unexpected shift at the end of the album, Mac N’ Toss feature two acoustic versions of their tracks. These songs feel intimate and haunting. “Feminine Reverie (Acoustic)” is a particularly striking aesthetic shift. The track, featuring dissonant vocals over a guitar, documents trauma and dissociation in a softer package, showing the quiet power in vulnerability, something they all had to take time to learn.
“We had to believe ourselves; we had to believe that these were our experiences, and that doesn't take away from our worth, from our ability to make this music, and that it is actually a strength,” said Burgoyne.
Mac N’ Toss finds it important that their principles go beyond just their songs. They ensure their messages radiate beyond streaming platforms in two signature ways: safe spaces and inclusive bills.
If a fan sees their abuser at a show, Mac N’ Toss has no problem kicking them out right then and there, not needing anyone to do it for them.
“This scene is supposed to be safe. It's supposed to be uplifting, and we practice zero tolerance,” said Burgoyne. “I think that's the way it should be. If you tell us that someone is unsafe, that's it. That's all I need to hear. I believe you, and we're gonna handle it.”
Creating a safe space doesn’t just mean removing unsafe people, however. It also means building an environment in which people of all backgrounds feel comfortable. This comes in the form of representation, something Mac N’ Toss values heavily.
“In a majority minority city, if your punk lineup is entirely white people, there’s something wrong,” emphasizes Mullins.
Inclusivity, at their shows, doesn’t just mean not having an all-white bill. It also means filling gaps in age, city, sexual orientation, and experience to shape a modern movement with unique experiences.
Earlier this year, Mac N’ Toss combined action items at Riot!DC, a punk music festival “for survivors by survivors.” The festival was not just a moment to be angry about sexual violence, but an opportunity for survivors to come together, be proud of who they have become, and normalize healing through open conversation and music.
“We had played probably a dozen shows at this point when we were thinking up Riot!DC, and at least half of them, someone had come up to us and said, I've never heard someone talk about violence in this way or assault in this way, or rape in this way,” remembered Mullins.
The group planned for the “survivor-led” benefit show to feature 17 femme artists and bands who would play music to raise money for the Sexual Violence Prevention Association (SVPA). And they weren’t going to do it half-assed.
They felt it was important to pay the performers. Otherwise, it would be hypocritical.
“What do you mean you're doing a festival or an event for trans people, you're going to have an all trans lineup, you're going to donate all that money to that organization, and then you're not going to pay those trans people on that stage,” said Burgoyne. “That is a direct impact as well to pay your artists.”
There is no excuse. Even after paying the artists who played at the event, Mac N’ Toss donated over $4,500 to SVPA through ticket sales and donations, with tickets set at $10 each.
When the band stood up on the stage that night, tearfully delivering their speeches, they realized that the event wasn’t just meaningful to just the artists or the attendees, but to them as well.
“For me personally, it was just a very healing event. To be in this band, honestly. I can't even imagine just all the healing that was happening that day,” said Guske.
For the audience, this day was enough for them to not only leave the dusty landscape of The Garage with Riot!DC tramp stamps marking their bodies with the memory of the event for the rest of their lives, but to find the scene again.
“We got off stage, and someone came up to us and was crying and was saying, ‘Hi, I love punk music. I love what you have done. I have not been to The Garage in 3 years because my rapist is a frequent guest here, and this is the first time I have felt safe or comfortable coming out,’” remembers Mullins. “That was just what it was like all day, people just saying stuff like that. It was incredible.”
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