Beyoncé’s latest album, which I love, has reignited the eternal conversation about music, the female body, and feminism. Here’s Mia McKenzie, on Beyoncé’s use of the work of feminist Chimananda Ngozi Adichie:
In Adiche’s words, a feminist is “a person who believes in the social, economic and political equality of the sexes.” This seems to be Beyoncé’s way of declaring herself a feminist. I like the quote, I think it’s important, and I’m really glad it’s there. I would add:
…and who is able to look at the world with a critical eye so as to be able to identify those times and places where that equality is not present.
In the spirit of identifying a lack of equality, I’m reminded of a time in the recent past when there was simply more variety in female performances, and an environment in which a range of girls–cool girls in track pants–were given the opportunity to thrive.
The 1990s are back, but what really needs a resurgence is the cool girl in pop, hip-hop and house music: the girl with mad rap skills, who was engaged with politics and didn’t give a f***. Remember these cool girls? (Dear readers, please remember that this is only a representative sample): Queen Latifah, “U.N.I.T.Y”; Da Brat, “So Funkdafied”; MC Lyte, “Ruffneck”; Michie Mee, “Jamaican Funk Canadian Style”; Salt N Pepa, “Push It”; and Yo Yo, “You Can’t Play With my Yo Yo”.
In the 1990s many female artists who rejected conventional notions of femininity opted for the tomboy look–baggy track pants or harem pants, hoodies, team caps and jerseys–which seemed to demand that audiences view these women as more than objects to be looked at: they were artists to be listened to. I interviewed Melissa “DJ Mel Boogie” Langley (pictured), a legend in the Canadian hip-hop arena and producer for the longest-running all-female hip-hop show, who suggests that cool girls dress that way “not to conceal their sexuality, but to make sure that it’s not the focal point… So it doesn’t overshadow what they are actually saying.” One of the repercussions of adopting such a look, not surprisingly, was the labelling of those women as lesbians to undercut their appeal to mainstream (and purportedly heterosexual) consumers, and, ultimately, their fiscal and political power.[1. The tomboy look was also prone to sexification (think Da Brat, TLC). And remember that moment when “Move this” was used in a Revlon commercial? Revlon capitalized on cred of the cool girl to sell makeup (Revlon also likely added to Technotronic’s sales).]
Whereas the ’90s seemed to have more of a range of artists in terms of both self-presentation and sound, Langley argues that today we have more homogeneity:
…The Queen Latifahs, Monie Loves and Nikki Ds…. there was a balance back in the “Golden Era” of hip hop that we don’t see anymore. And I think that [balance] is something that’s very necessary. I think that up-and-coming artists need to know that it’s okay to have that balance.
With more similarity than difference in today’s market, the artists who become recognized, or who seem to differ from the pack, are not actually all that radical:
There’s always a search for that female voice as far as hip-hop is concerned. And that’s why there’s an Azaelia Banks around. Those kinds of “bubblegum artists” who are not [really] that great. But people are so starved to hear that female voice that I think people just kind of latch on to it. But it’s not good. She’s okay in a club when you have a drink and you want to have fun and move your body. But to exercise my mind, she’s not the best representative. There’s no knock against her. She fills a certain void.
It’s the “bubblegum” that I find so problematic: that sweet, chewy, sexy, pink, non-threatening stuff that both precludes and makes dangerous artistic productions that are in any way critical, political or not-so-saccharine.[2. See also Tamara Winfrey Harris’s “Who is the Black Zooey Deschanel?” Harris points to the increasing (self) infantilization of female protagonists and celebrities, a privilege not afforded to black women in quite the same way.] One of the most common complaints about so-called feminist music is that it’s angry and chooses “man-hating” as its primary subject:
…I think that’s what people assume that the message would be or should be. If she’s not talking about sex then what is there to talk about? What about other passions? You know women have an opinion on the economy, on community, on how to be a good mother, on what it’s like to be a mother. They have an opinion on love and what that means to them. There is room for all of those messages. I think listeners have been conditioned to accept only that “one thing.”
And that’s what the cool girls were talking about. Latifah’s “Unity” was about challenging vernacular language in the black community, namely the categorization of women as “bitches and hos.” She also covers domestic abuse, workplace abuse and having to stand up for oneself in unjust situations. Yo Yo similarly points to gender inequality and men’s license to treat women as sexual objects. Salt ‘N Pepa infused their critques with humour and puns. While presenting themselves as sexually provocative, their lyrics were often biting critiques and a demand for sexual equality.
And yet, that “one thing” Langley points to is what sells records these days, what garners YouTube hits and what makes promoters and marketers shell out dollars and back certain kinds of artists over others. That one thing is characterized by overt sexuality and non-threatening lyrics. If she’s lucky, the artist may also get high production value and well-engineered beats. And don’t be fooled into thinking that that one thing is lacking in talent, either. There’s no question that people (including me) rock out to those catchy, highly produced jams as well. There is a need, and room, for both kinds of music. But lately the balance has been tipping in favour of the gummy stuff. Langley concurs that the apolitical and highly produced are what sell records right now: “[Nikki Minaj] is one of those types of artists who have the marketing dollars behind them. And Nikki–even though I might not agree with like ‘Starship’–she’s a talented emcee. She’s a really talented emcee! And I want to see her do more of that gritty stuff. But unfortunately the way the music industry is, or maybe what listeners want to hear, it’s the ‘Starship’ that’s actually paying the bills.”
Some recounting of history is necessary to situate the rise and disappearance of the tomboy girl. In discussions of hip hop, many will reference the “Golden Era,” the period between the mid-80s and early 90s, when groups like Public Enemy and N.W.A. were most active. Alan Cross, music historian and producer of the long-running radio series The Ongoing History of New Music regularly contextualizes music production in terms of politics, history, time and place. Cross argues that angry, political, alternative music proliferates during Republican reigns, whereas dance, pop and more bubblegum music are prevalent during Democratic ones. While Cross was making an argument about genre, tracing the history of political alternative rock acts, his argument can in fact be applied to the early production of hip hop as well. The cool girls enjoyed success alongside Public Enemy and N.W.A, and were all active during the Reagan and Bush eras, a suggestion that political rap and hip-hop may also proliferate during Republican periods.
During the Clinton administration and into the second Bush era, however, a new kind of hip-hop emerged, what Wes Jackson, founder of the Brooklyn Bodega, calls “1% rap.” That 1% rap, epitomized by the likes of Sean “Puff Daddy/P-Diddy” Combs, was highly produced and unconcerned with politics. In fact, perhaps as a celebration of its newly-minted authority alongside more critically acclaimed rock, alternative rock and pop, 1% rap focused on its material success. Videos were slick and filmed in exotic locales, artists were decked out in expensive clothing and jewelry and were seen driving exclusive cars both in videos and in real life. While there was still some grittiness to be found among male artists (many of whom cut their teeth during the Golden Era, like Dr. Dre), especially through a culture of mentorship, that edge was harder to find in female hip hop production. Foxy Brown and Lil Kim were among the few female artists enjoying some success. Yet, much of their notoriety was owed not to their formidable talents as rappers, but to their self-presentation and participation in raunch culture. Outside of North America there are and were some cool girls to be found: Ms. Dynamite, Lady Sovereign, M.I.A. and Ana Tijoux. And in American music, there’s Lauryn Hill, Erykah Badu, Jean Grae and, of course, Missy Elliott, champion cool girl, who has been working tirelessly to nurture a culture of mentorship for women, first as an artist, and now as a producer and collaborator.[4. Langley points to earlier female artists who looked to mentor emerging artists, namely, Spinderella, Yo Yo and the Hip Hop Sisters, founded by MC Lyte. Also, MC Lyte has a new single!]
But, in fact, most of the successful female pop and hip-hop acts under the Clinton administration could be classified under bubblegum or dance, with artists like Britney Spears dominating the charts. Reasons for the proliferation of bubblegum are diverse. Cross infers that Democratic reigns yield happier citizens who want to celebrate their lives, while Republican ones bring about unhappy citizens who seek change. To take Cross’s argument further, it could be argued that marginalized groups engage more in social critique during Republican periods, which could account for more politicized hip hop and rap. There is also more to the abundance of bubblegum, more than what might be mistaken for celebration (of sexuality, of happiness, of material wealth): fear. Women fear being radical, being “feminist,” looking ugly, aggressive, “man haters,” “negative nellies” or too powerful. This is an old argument but it bears repeating: women are taught to value themselves and to earn value based first and foremost on how they look. Men are taught that value comes from what they say and do. Also, women adopt these standards and enforce them on other women.[5. Cross’s argument would also seem to suggest that there should have been more radical voices coming out during the George W. Bush era. I can think of gritty alternative female acts (and many activist male artists), but not as many hip-hop or pop female artists.]
And let’s not forget systemic injustice/male privilege, which reinforces whatever seems to be selling as appropriate femininity. According to Langley, as tough as it is to make it in the music industry, it remains still more challenging for women. Despite her many years working as a DJ she cites numerous examples of sapling men trying to give her advice on her selections:
I would literally have guys standing beside the DJ booth watching to see what I’d play, watching my selection list, waiting for me to mess up. If I do a certain mix, they all of a sudden want to expand their knowledge on me and share what they would have done. And it’s like I’m at work right now. I don’t come to your place of business and sit beside your desk, and criticize you, you know? Some guys really think that they have the right to do that. They’re also taught to do that.
Current trends in media and social media, too, participate in creating this culture of self-presentation. Women in entertainment have become victim to an alarming level of self-consciousness and self-policing, promulgating endless “selfies,” and desperately needing to be “liked” and validated. The manufacture of such rampant voyeurism has contributed not only to more identical standards of beauty and purported desirability, but also to more homogenous standards of music production. And that’s just boring and sad.
Bring back balance. Bring back brains and humour. Bring back lyrical sophistication and slick production. Bring back the cool girl. Missy Elliot, formidable boss that she is, can’t hold down the fort forever.
