Killing Us Softly: A Hip-Hop Feminist’s Quest for Love and Respect within Hip-Hop Culture

She had this sparkle about her, like the way broken glass scintillates off the pavement. Was she beautiful? No. Her eyes sagged into her face like two potholes from all the ugly events she had witnessed in the world. Her hair, unkempt and scruffy, loomed over her gaunt-looking face, and her tattered t-shirt and ‘80s faded jeans dangled off her petite frame. Was she beautiful? No. But when she spoke, her voice caused bright red roses to bloom through the dirty cracks in the sidewalks of city streets. Did she need beauty? No. She had a voice, and boy did she know how to use it. What was her name? Hip-hop. And I have been in love with her for as long as I can remember. Hip-hop has wiped the tears off my cheek during my greatest moments of despair and has held my hand through my deepest fears. The love I have for her is unconditional and she has made a huge contribution to the woman I am today. But over the past few years we have come to a crossroads in our relationship. She called it “artistic liberty,” but there is something about hearing the word “bitches” and “hoes,” and other negative female epithets multiple times that just does not seem so creative or artistic.

“I like a long-haired, thick redbone,” rapper Dwayne “Lil’ Wayne” Carter croons over the sensual beat of “Every Girl in the World” by the Young Money crew. As groups of young people bop their heads to the hypnotic beat, or clusters of females gyrate their hips to the smooth baritone  voices of the Young Money crew and countless other rappers, the degrading and dehumanizing lyrics of today’s rap artists towards women often brush against the ear without a second thought. Now what exactly is a redbone, you’re probably wondering? The term refers to a “light skinned female/male mixed with black and another race.” Seems harmless enough right? But when this “redbone” beauty ideal of straight hair and fair/racially ambiguous skin tones, also depicted as the “tragic mulatta” figure in T. Denean Sharpley-Whiting’s book Pimp’s Up Ho’s Down, is perpetuated as the preferred type of beauty within hip-hop culture, it creates tension for the darker-hued, non-European looking female members of hip-hop. While chatting with a friend of mine about my qualms with the language and content of hip-hop favorites like Kanye West or Jay-Z, she simply replied that “sometimes you have to tune out what they’re saying and just enjoy the song for what it is.”

Now hear me out, I know that all rap songs do not need to be about “enlightenment”; some rappers are just concerned about making a party hit. I know that the language of hip-hop is not “pretty,” and that’s cool because hip-hop developed from a very grim and oppressed part of America. But lately there has been no variation. Rappers have gotten lazy. It has become all about the money and less about the artistry and lyrical value nowadays and we’ve all heard the timeless adage “sex sells.” But why does the woman always have to be “a bitch” or “a ho”? There are real bitches and hoes in the world, but if those are the women that these songs are supposedly targeting then why hasn’t anyone taken the time to consider how that woman got to where she is?

In the Black Entertainment Television (BET) airtime special “Hip-hop vs America,” a debate which collected all the voices and figures in hip-hop for a weigh-in on its current conditions, rapper Cornelius “Nelly” Hayes, who has received a lot of backlash recently for his controversial video “Tip Drill,” proclaimed that hip-hop is helping these women by providing them with jobs and opportunities. Yet I don’t think having a credit card swiped down one’s behind is a resume worthy skill. If Nelly really wanted to give these women an opportunity at success in their lives he would put them behind a desk instead of behind a camera. In the song “Miss Me” by rapper Aubrey “Drake” Graham, he does not judge strippers but claims “I could never love her /’Cause to her I’m just a rapper /and she’ll soon have met another.” Here Drake depicts rappers as being victims to loose women who are only after their money and status even though in the previous lines he praises strippers for being able to “work something[g] [and] twirk something.”  Yet many women of hip-hop are constantly being cornered into this dichotomy: to be a part of a culture that prizes women’s ability to shake their hips in front of a camera but then calls them unworthy and unlovable.

“The first step in getting out of an abusive relationship is to realize that you have the right to be treated with respect,” describes Kidshealth.org. Hip-hop has never hit me and yet I still carry these bruises and cuts festering on my self-worth. As a young girl, I used to watch hip-hop videos and aspire to be like the women in the videos. They had it all: beauty, men, money…or so it seemed. But my hair didn’t bounce the way theirs did, so I got a perm. Then I noticed my skin didn’t glitter the way theirs did, so I tried to stay out of the sun to avoid getting darker. Hip-hop wanted a “redbone,” but no matter how hard I tried to alter my appearance, I was never going to be that. But if hip-hop really loved me, she would write a song that accepts me and all the other beautiful, black, curly-haired women everywhere. I love hip-hop and I always will. But I love me more. We need to show rappers how much we love ourselves and urge them to be more creative with their lyrics and to accept us for who we are. Rappers however are not the only ones to blame. It takes two people to sell a record and part of the reason why rappers are getting away with these lyrics is because we let them. Don’t let them. Listen up and speak up because it won’t be long until hip-hop sweeps away our sparkle on the dark and bleak city streets.