Blog Archives

Sticks, Stones & Microphones

I can still hear a whisper (song). Arms oval. Neck curled. Hips sway to the familiar southern bass from a black (male) speaker rapping to me the dance floor.  Before I could face the voice coaxing me to move, he drops his hook—a line about a violent sexual fantasy, a common come-on echoed in hip hop club culture.  Still.  Arms raised, I am arrested by his lyrics likening sex to a beating. He wants to “blow my back out.” His lines are in step with other rap courters recounting sexual conquests by the penetrative acts of cutting, bussing, stabbing, screwing, …Read more »

Nicki’s World

As BET gets set to air its documentary about women and hip hop Monday, I am finding my 30-plus, old school feminist-self working hard to gear up to get down with the over-the-top, lyrically layered, brand savvy rapper that is Nicki Minaj. The self-described Barbie is inescapable. She works every rap and R&B hook, and changes her looks to fashion what could be categorized as camp, cultural appropriation or classic sexual objectification.  Until Minaj, I’ve managed to safely maneuver around mainstream new millennium starlets because they offered no more than a cookie-cutter replica of the unique hip hop dynamism I …Read more »

On Slim Thug

From news media pundits, comedians-turned-relationship experts, to a soulful singer speaking about his self-proclaimed white supremacist penis in Playboy, it would seem that everybody has something to say about the un/desirability of Black women. When I read the Vibe interview excerpt by Slim Thug and the response gone viral by Marc Lamont Hill, I opened my laptop to see my cursor just jumping on the electronic page amped for me to slam Slim and the keys, to throw my two cents into the blogosphere to make sense out of his deplorable depictions about Black womanhood. And, then I heard the …Read more »

She Just Wants to Dance, but She Can’t Fight the Rhythm

(A Performance Excerpt by Caitlin O’Connor) She just wants to dance. He just wants to groove In his fly dancin’ shoes. Seconds lapse between his favorite steps, Doin’ tha Ass tap, dip back, hip thrust, she like that. She dances because she can’t fight the rhythm. He grinds, he grins at the lyrics that he’s hearin’. He thinks he’s got his certified ho and she’s deafly dancing so she don’t even know. She just wants to dance. He just wants to groove. But the lyrics, they spit bullets Into the faces of dancing girls Who hope to exist meaningfully in …Read more »

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