She posits that one of the things that has become more prevalent in hip-hop is the adoration of white women, juxtaposed with its seeming hatred of black women in rap lyrics.
For so many in my generation, hip-hop has served as the backdrop to our childhoods. Its appeal was not only the heart-pounding thump of the beats, or the coolness of the women and men rapping. Finally it seemed like someone was telling our story. Rap music spoke our language in a way nothing else did. It was the true essence of giving the voiceless a voice.
Since then, feminism has changed my relationship with my beloved hip-hop. As much as I love it, I hate how it treats women. Hip-hop and black women have an abusive relationship in a sense. Its lyrics advocate violence and sexual assault against women; and it often reduces us to gold-digging “hoes” unworthy of respect.
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As I plow through Tom Burrell’s book, Brainwashed: Challenging the Myth of Black Inferiority, I think about how the black inferiority complex (BIC) plays out in pop culture and music, particularly rap.
One of the things that has become more prevalent in hip-hop is the adoration of white women, juxtaposed with its seeming hatred of black women in rap lyrics. Historically, white women had been off-limits for centuries — black men were literally lynched; killed for allegedly whistling at white women. Therefore, snagging a white woman was the ultimate slap in the oppressors’ face — a “look, I’ve made it and I have one of your women!” statement of sorts. Now, instead of rappers, en masse, toting white women on their arms, they parade them on wax.
Without romanticizing the “good ol’ days” of “real” hip-hop, I do miss the days when listening to commercial rap didn’t remind me of what society perpetuates: the degradation of black women. It’s not that I even have a problem with white girls or rappers wanting to be with them. I just want hip-hop to love its women — black women — the way we love it.
Read the full essay at theGrio.