Articles for Critical Investigation

Hip-hop and pornography are going into business together. Over the past few months the Playboy channel has been developing new programming targeting urban audiences. In early October, allhiphop.com reported that rapper Nelly will be turning his infamous �Tip Drill� video into a full�length adult movie.

Several rappers are now employed part time by adult entertainment companies producing and starring in adult films all while having CDs on the Billboard charts.

Late night television and pay per view have helped these entertainers to create two personas: one that is somewhat kid-friendly and another that is strictly for the grown-ups. These two seemingly conflicting images don�t just coexist they can work together, broadening a performer�s fan base.

Sexual themes are not at all new to hip hop music or videos, but what was once considered obscene is now the norm. While 2 Live Crew�s overtly sexual lyrics were met with great protest and attempted censorship in the early 1990s, Black Entertainment Television�s late night program �Uncut,� which features very adult music videos and often racier versions of popular rap videos played during the day, has managed to thrive with very little attention or protest in mainstream media.

As sexual overtones in hip-hop music, culture and music videos become more widely accepted, it becomes more and more important for us to pay attention to the affects it has on women�s sexuality and body image.

Most often when the sexual nature of popular hip-hop is discussed rappers are criticized for objectifying women. Rap lyrics are often sexist and degrading. But, in a society with a history of judging women by a very European standard of beauty, hip-hop may actually have a very positive impact on the way women who do not meet these standards feel about their bodies.

An interesting trend in America that may be partly attributed to hip-hop culture is a change in the mainstream standard of beauty or more accurately, booty. According to the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery, in 2002, 614 butt implants were performed in the United States. In 2003 that number jumped to 3,885, an increase of 533%. Big butts have traditionally not just been accepted but celebrated in communities of color, and Sir Mix-A-Lot made that clear over a decade ago with his hit song �Baby Got Back.� Popular culture was a little slower to catch on.

As it becomes more and more common for hip-hop artists to dabble in fashion, the design of clothing has also adapted to fit more curvaceous figures. Both Nelly�s Apple Bottom line and Jennifer Lopez�s JLo, cater toward women who are rich in certain assets that can�t squeeze into a pair of Calvins. Women whose bodies look more like Beyonce or Queen Latifah than Kate Moss can now flip through fashion magazines and find images that reflect them.

Hip-hop music can not only have an affect on the way a woman views her body but it may also reinforce a sense of sexual empowerment. Female rap stars like Trina, Lil Kim and Foxy Brown have never shied away from sexual themes in their music. While their revealing clothes and explicit lyrics have been the subject of some criticism, they have all defended their images.

In fact, their lyrics would have you believe that learning how to use sex to render men helpless can make a woman very powerful. Many female MCs talk about sex just as openly and explicitly as their male counterparts and approach the subject with the same cavalier attitude. In an attempt to position themselves as equals to their male counterparts, these artists are, in a way, fashioning their own version of a feminist movement.

Hip-hop music, like all forms of popular entertainment, has good, bad and ugly elements. It is important to remember that the videos that make it to MTV�s �Total Request Live� or even BET�s �Uncut,� are just slices of the whole pie and do not represent all hip-hop. With the genre of hip-hop being so multidimensional, no analysis of it can be cut and dry. As the culture of hip-hop continues to influence the broader culture, the long-term affects it will have on sex and sexuality in our society are yet to be known.

» E-mail Sabrina Ford @ sabrinaford@gmail.com

A couple of weeks back I had the pleasure of attending a Rap Sessions panel that discussed the question of women and their role in Hip Hop. One particular response by Dr. Raquel Rivera really stuck with me: “we are too fast to demonize the raunch. Don’t demonize the Raunch!” Joan Morgan (yes, THE Joan Morgan) followed up with an astute observation that American society does not have a discourse available for the erotic. My first response? “Ha! I love that!” The second response? “Yeah, that makes sense.”

What is our fascination with sexuality? Particularly, what is our fascination with the erotic and its impact on our understanding of blackness? (Hyper)sexuality often frames our understanding of men and women of color since our implementation into western culture. It is a gendered and oppressive space, often maintaining rigid boundaries and unilateral interpretation.

For centuries, the black body existed primarily within the confinements of sexual expression. And, unfortunately, that space has not completely evolved. The Americanized erotic is transfixed within the slave discourse and white privilege that dominated the antebellum United States.

Although I do not deny that women have been objectified via the infamous “male gaze,” a “one-up” that white women have over black women is the fact that at least their “honor” and “purity” granted them access to the coveted cult of true womanhood. Their bodies and sexuality are considered worthy of preserving and being respected. Black women, however, have inherited membership in the cult of the freaknasty. Breeders, freak (a leek)s, Jezebels, and, as Abbey Lincoln suggests, “sexual outhouses of white men,” African American women have not been able to remove themselves from the perspective of a sexual lens.


This referential point has sustained itself in both white and black  communities. Because black sexuality is such a taboo topic, the push to avoid it sensationalizes this discourse and the imagery that accompanies it. One possible reason for the lack of erotic discourse available is the desire of black America to remove the stigma of sexuality from its identity. This silence bears an excruciating consequence: the continuation of a vicious cycle of misrepresentative sexual stereotypes and outside influence on the inner African American community’s understanding of identity.

Returning back to the idea of slave discourse and sexuality, there often extremities associated with categorization of the black body. For black men, the buck, brute, or Uncle Tom archetype covers the range of hypersexual to asexual. In similar fashion, African American women were categorized by the Jezebel, Sapphire, or Mammy. These representations have far from disappeared from American public culture. In fact, these proto-erotic images have transcended to reflect and evolve with (popular) black culture. Because we are now part of the Hip Hop Era, there is a Hip Hop Erotic, a gendered and emotionally charged space that all of its affiliated parties are forced to navigate.

 "Don't Demonize the Raunch!:" The Hip Hop Erotic

Hip Hop Culture has an intriguing way of presenting and reaffirming notions of black sexuality. The video vixen takes after the Jezebel while the thug is the hybrid descendant of the brute and buck. Even more fascinating is how the erotic is constructed: women’s sexuality is often encompassed in a bitter and angry space while men, also angry, present their sexual identity via a dominant and hyperviolent space (i.e. rape discourse).

 There are frequencies or reserved spaces that allow levels of visible blackness. These frequencies are especially noticeable for women in Hip Hop. It is obvious that the video vixen reflects the highest frequency of womanhood within Hip Hop culture. Their presentation reaffirms the suspected correlation between black women and hypersexuality.

 For female emcees, it is hypersexuality or obscenity. The Little Kims, Foxy Browns, Trinas, and Nicki Minajes fight to get more (radio) play. The Jean Graes and Mysteriouses (from Making the Bad Season Two) fight to be taken seriously without using their sexuality to validate their lyricism and authenticity. This lack of fluidity forces women to navigate through stringent spaces of extreme identity.

Because those lines don’t blur, it is problematic for our understanding and placement of women who try and straddle the fence (no pun intended). For example, how would we place Missy Elliot, a “femcee” who started off not being able to stand the rain in a big ass trash bag talking about YoYos ( I caught the double meaning)? She evolved into a femme fatal emcee, warning listeners about her distaste for minute men and tricks she could do with magic sticks and cho chas.

 In a way, Missy was a Hip Hop Mammy, often looking out for other artists (like Aaliyah, Da Brat, and the “mama” of 550 Music Group) and suppressing any trace of sexual identity. Missy, while multitalented, often had her sexuality and authenticity questioned after the transformation of her lyrical content because she aligned her music with the sexy. While not asexual, Da Brat followed similar suit (“So Funkdafied” to “Ladies Night” and “What Do You Like”). In order to maintain relevance and visibility, these talented emcees were forced to submit and learn to function within a recognizable space of hypersexuality.

Why is the erotic so enticing and prevalent? It is a sensationalized space that is often molded and shaped to fit the experiences and expectations of its beholder. The erotic space is a struggle between conservative thought (traditionalism?) and open sexual reflection (liberalism?). Sexuality is a fluid form of expression that is only a facet of the black  experience. Once this is accepted as a normative state of gender discourse perhaps we can transcend from viewing sexuality as a stigma of the black body to utilizing it as a tool for conversing about and complicating our understanding of blackness.

The mainstream debut of Lil Wayne's protegee Nicki Minaj brings the perennial question to the forefront of hip-hop consciousness once again: what is the role of women in the rap game? While Minaj is tearing up the airwaves, appearing on everything from Mariah Carey's Up Out My Face to Ludacris's My Chick Bad, the self-described "Harajuku Barbie" has captured the imagination of a generation that hasn't seen a dominant, prolific female rapper since the heyday of Lil Kim and Foxy Brown.

Minaj may be hyped as the latest leading lady of rap but, as hip hop has become more mainstream, the shift in expectations of women has led to a new reality: a successful female artist must not only be talented, but also able to titillate the gaze of an assumed male viewer. Earlier MCs such as MC Lyte, Queen Latifah, Monie Love, Queen Pen, Da Brat, and Roxane Shante had far more options for onscreen representation, often appearing in the types of clothes their male contemporaries were wearing.

At that time, it was not unusual to see women attired in Cross Colours, sneakers, and baggy jeans. If a woman chose a different look, it was just one of many. Even more mainstream groups such as Salt-N-Pepa and TLC were able to lace their lyrics with stories of female sexual autonomy, not just bedroom prowess. However, when Lil Kim erupted on the scene with her debut album Hardcore and Foxy Brown tore up airwaves with Ill Na Na, their popularity heralded a sea change in the way female rappers are perceived.

The video for rapper Yo Gotti's 2009 hit 5-Star Chick exemplifies the requirement that female MCs occupy both the role of rapper and that of eye candy. He spends half the video with one main girl who he holds up as representative of five-star status, focusing on her body and clothes, while six other women dance seductively in the background. The 5-Star Chick remix video features southern rapper Trina and Nicki Minaj, spitting lyrics about their independence while the video holds them up as sexual objects. The opening shot of Minaj's face quickly cuts to her bouncing chest, while the camera pans slowly over Trina's exposed thighs as she struts around the set, proclaiming their five-star status. 

In order to enjoy mainstream success, the requirement is for women in rap to be as physically attractive as they are lyrically proficient. This can also be seen in Minaj's new video for Massive Attack, where her penchant for over-the-top costuming has to be balanced with gratuitous shots of her exposed behind.
Menda Francois, graduate of Bryn Mawr College and member of feminist hip-hop collective 3 X A Lady Crew, created an entire senior thesis around the contradictory demands of women who rock mics. Her paper, Step Your Pussy Up: Nicki Minaj and the Signifyin(g) Tropes of Hardcore Female Rap, explains:

"The female body is rarely a site of empowerment except when it is being objectified to define female strength through heterosexist sexiness, which, displayed for male satisfaction, creates little real power for women. Because female rappers' value lies in their ability to perform masculinity as well as be sexually objectified, when a femcee is not performing the role of the sexually available coquette nor the female thug, her power and agency are nonexistent."

This dynamic is seen even in the ranks of independent hip-hop. Emerging MC Psalm One, who is currently signed to Rhymesayers Entertainment, spits interesting and complex lyrics about everything from domestic violence to "bio-chemical bursts". However, her image and positioning mark her out as different to her male counterparts. On the Rhymesayer's artist page, Psalm One is surrounded by male artists in thoughtful, pensive, or playful poses. She is pictured in a shoulder-baring tube top, with one hand clasped across her throat – an image that positions her as feminine, vulnerable, and coquettish. While this persona should not be construed negatively (after all, reclaiming space for women in rap will take on many forms), within the current context of women in hip hop, Psalm One's positioning echoes the requirements of the mainstream. 

While the same tropes still hold, one can only hope that eventually the increasing female representation in rap will lead to women challenging the norms of the male-dominated space, not just performing in it.