No "Gentleman" Is Psy

Written by Rachel Redfern

K-pop is the standard term for the most substantial part of South Korea’s massively prolific popular culture. Within K-pop there are an elite group of top ten bands that release a new single every few months, a song which then proceeds to dominate every single radio station, YouTube advertisement, and TV show for a week. Even elderly Koreans have the songs as their ringtone just as much as any young person does. For years Korea has been trying to bring that K-pop into the west, but its bubble-gum nature and pre-packaged commercialism has not fared well; Psy suddenly, explosively, changed all of that.

Psy’s surprising viral rise to the top of every musical chart in the world marks a huge moment for Korean culture; in a country often overshadowed by the magnitude of China and the familiarity of Japan (and even its crazy northern neighbor, North Korea), Psy has become the first truly international Korean symbol, an ironic fact considering that his music is not a standard representation of K-pop (click here and here if you would like to see what K-pop normally looks like).

Still from Psy’s latest music video, “Gentleman”
As an American expat currently living in South Korea I see Psy every day. He’s on the side of buses, and buildings, he dances across commercials, and is on every talk show. The next person (either in South Korea or anywhere else in the world) to ask me if I know who Psy is might just lose a limb. For a while he was hailed as a clever entertainer and songwriter, one who’s last song, “Gangnam Style,” satirizes the materialistic culture of one of Seoul’s wealthiest neighborhoods.

However, perhaps Psy’s overwhelming success might need to be tempered a bit, especially in our enthusiasm for his newest video, “Gentleman.”

Korea is, for the most part, a very conservative culture, one where, despite some very short shorts, most female pop stars remain much more covered in comparison with their American contemporaries. Therefore, I was a bit shocked when halfway through the video, K-pop star and lead female in the video, Ga In from “Brown-Eyed Girls,” sucks on a hot dog with cream bubbling out over the edges in one of the most blatant visual representations of oral sex I’ve seen in a while. Oddly enough, KBS, the national broadcasting network in Korea, even banned the video, though not for this scene; rather, the video was banned because he destroys public property. 

Psy’s music video “Gentleman” and K-pop star, Ga In
There has been some controversy about how the video treats women, some calling it simple “irony,” others saying, “irony gone too far.” Perhaps the first situation is the case; perhaps it’s only meant to be a funny, silly video about how people treat each other. On the most basic level the video seems problematic and sets a bad example; Psy acts like a jerk and intentionally treats women badly. Of course, the lead female thinks it’s funny and returns the favor, and the two end up together, finally having found their soulmate. Going one layer of analysis under this surface level suggests that he is actually mocking that behavior; perhaps the video was meant as a satire for the way “gentlemen” still treat women? Or perhaps he was trying to comment on the problematic nature of gender politics in the modern world?

And then I read an English translation of the lyrics: Nope, he’s not making that commentary. 

 
I don’t know if you know why it needs to be hot
I don’t know if you know why it needs to be clean
I don’t know if you know, it’ll be a problem if you’re confused
I don’t know if you know but we like, we we we like to party

Hey there
If I’m going to introduce myself
I’m a cool guy with courage, spirit and craziness
What you wanna hear, what you wanna do is me
Damn! Girl! You so freakin sexy!

[lengthy chorus where the following line repeats]

I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman

I don’t know if you know why it needs to be smooth
I don’t know if you know why it needs to be sexy
I don’t know if you know darling, hurry and come be crazy
I don’t know if you know, it’s crazy, crazy, hurry up

Hey there
Your head, waist, legs, calves
Good! Feeling feeling? Good! It’s soft
I’ll make you gasp and I’ll make you scream
Damn! Girl! I’m a party mafia!
 

[Chorus again]

Gonna make you sweat.
Gonna make you wet
You know who I am Wet PSY
Gonna make you sweat.

Gonna make you wet.
You know who I am
Wet PSY! Wet PSY! Wet PSY! Wet PSY! PSY! PSY! PSY!
Ah I’m a mother father gentleman

I’m a, ah I’m a
I’m a mother father gentleman
I’m a, ah I’m a, I’m a mother father gentleman
Mother father gentleman
Mother father gentleman

*translation from Huffington Post

Consider one of the main lines, “It’ll be a problem if you’re confused,” followed by, “What you wanna do is me” and “I’m going to make you sweat/I’m going to make you wet.”

These lyrics and the rampant arrogance that comes with the video does present a problem for me. While the actions of pulling out a chair and just being an asshole to women are annoying, to me they are less problematic than the hyper-sexualization and the obvious objectification shown to all the women in the video, most notably in the close-up on Ga In and the hot dog.

Still from Psy’s latest video, “Gentleman”
This scene and the lyrics put Psy in place as the sexual instigator and idolizes his own arrogance and behavior; according to the lyrics, he’s a dirty asshole who will “make you wet,” with the women only being playthings–sex objects and static recipients of his desires. For me, the mocking and disrespect compounds until “women as funny toys” just gets tied into “women as funny sex toys.”

There are problematic performers and songs running around on the Internet every single day, and I usually try not to support those entertainers. After this video, I don’t think I want to support Psy anymore either, cause Psy, you’re just not all that.

What do you think? Is “Gentleman” funny and forward-thinking satire? Or irony taken too far?

Also, I’m not linking to the music video in this article because I just can’t stand to hear the song one more time.

———-

Rachel Redfern has an MA in English literature, where she conducted research on modern American literature and film and its intersection, however she spends most of her time watching HBO shows, traveling, and blogging and reading about feminism.

Shut Up and Sing: The Dixie Chicks Controversy Ten Years Later

Movie poster for Shut Up and Sing

This is a guest post by Kerri French.

This month marks ten years since Natalie Maines made her infamous statement during a packed Dixie Chicks gig at Shepherd’s Bush in London, acknowledging the recent events pointing to the United States’ imminent invasion of Iraq by saying “Just so you know, we’re on the good side with y’all. We do not want this war, this violence. And we’re ashamed that the President of the United States is from Texas.” Two days later, the latter part of her statement was quoted in the British newspaper The Guardian and soon picked up by the Associated Press, grabbing headlines across the US. While the Dixie Chicks initially tried to downplay Maines’ comment in the hopes that the controversy would blow over, it quickly became evident that there was no turning back from the stand they had taken.

Targeted by the right-wing group Free Republic, their number one single quickly fell down the charts, album sales dropped, and radio stations refused to play their music. Faced with boycotts throughout their summer tour and the possibility of losing corporate sponsorships, Maines and sisters Martie Maguire and Emily Robison quickly realized that the issue could not be easily swept away and chose instead to embrace the controversy, framing it as a free speech issue that they would not back down from. They found themselves further faced with harassment, vandalism, and threats of violence, serving as an example to the rest of the country as to what can happen when you choose to express an unpopular opinion.

The Dixie Chicks messing around on stage

Throughout this time and for the three years following, filmmakers Barbara Kopple and Cecilia Peck documented the band’s reaction and response to the treatment they faced following their 2003 statement. Alternating between footage filmed immediately after the 2003 controversy and two years later as the Dixie Chicks were writing and recording Taking the Long Way, their 2006 album that served as a response to the backlash they experienced throughout their Top of the World tour, Shut Up and Sing highlights the ways in which the band was forced to reconsider not only how they presented themselves as artists but what kind of music they now wanted to create. Maines, Maguire, and Robison take on the task of writing an entire album of songs for the first time, using many of the songs as a way to reflect on and respond to the hostility, threats, and pressure that surrounded them several years prior. As Kopple and Peck show the band preparing to promote the new album, it becomes evident that the 2003 controversy has become a part of the band’s identity, even three years later when Maines’ actual words have been forgotten by most. Refusing to apologize for what they believe in became deeply embedded into who they were, unable to be separated from the discussions of how best to introduce the music industry and fans to the band’s move away from a more straightforward country sound that now incorporated rock and pop influences. Maines in particular seemed hesitant to introduce their new sound and songs too quickly, wanting to be more cautious than Maguire and Robison out of fear of the backlash the band could experience all over again. The documentary offers a very real glimpse into not only how three musicians balance their career with their beliefs, but also how they deal with the emotional aftermath of all that they are up against.

The Dixie Chicks on Entertainment Weekly
What is most impressive, however, is the way Kopple and Peck use the documentary to capture the bond and friendship among three women facing enormous pressure in an industry that refuses to reward women for being true to themselves. Despite countless questioning from the press over how Maguire and Robison feel regarding Maines’ statement, the band continues to think of themselves as a “we” and Maguire and Robison’s support of Maines is unwavering. Indeed, the band doesn’t back away from the controversy that the statement created, refusing to cater to a fan base and industry that showed them so much hostility. The film highlights the band’s anger in conversations filmed backstage during their 2003 tour, with each member arguing with longtime manager Simon Renshaw over what constitutes a radio ban, insisting that they have done nothing wrong and have no reason to show remorse or ask for a second chance. The connection between these three women appears to only grow stronger the more they embrace their newfound political roles as advocates for free speech. In one poignant moment, the documentary shows Maguire tearfully stating that Maines still blames herself for what happened, despite Maguire’s insistence that it was the best thing that could have happened to their careers. She continues, stating that she would give up her career if that is what Maines needs. Their 2006 studio album has, in fact, proven to be their last; despite brief reunions to play a handful of concerts together, the band has headed in different directions, with Robison and Maguire forming the duo Court Yard Hounds while Maines is set to release a solo album with a decidedly more rock focus in May.

The Dixie Chicks singing the National Anthem

Watching the documentary so many years later, it is hard not to wonder why these three women’s actions in particular so enraged the country. The Dixie Chicks were certainly not the most outspoken celebrities to speak out against the war, yet theirs is the controversy that will ultimately be remembered from that time. Was it more shocking that three country musicians could be politically and socially liberal? Admittedly, it probably came as no shock that Sean Penn and Tim Robbins were against the war, but even liberal Americans must have been surprised that it was the Dixie Chicks of all artists who managed to stir up such strong feelings about patriotism and the war.

Still, the question arises whether these three women were punished so harshly because they were country artists whose opinions went against the grain of a large percentage of their fan base or because they were women who dared to have an opinion. Would a male country artist expressing antiwar sentiment have been met with radio bans and death threats? The behavior of male country artists, after all, is often excused or even glorified with their “rebel” persona; it’s all well and good for male musicians to be loud and outspoken but when a woman dares express an opinion outside of what middle America believes, she not only puts her career at risk but exposes herself to harassment and discrimination from fellow musicians, the country music industry, and all of its fans.

Fans unite in support of The Dixie Chicks
And harassment and discrimination is the only way to fairly describe what happened to the Dixie Chicks in the wake of their 2003 statement against the President. Not only did Clear Channel Communications strike the group from country radio station playlists, the uproar from fans wanting all of their CDs bulldozed was nothing short of a modern day witch-hunt. Metal detectors were installed at their shows throughout the summer and a police escort was needed that July when the FBI revealed knowledge of a death threat against Maines in Dallas. Fellow country artist Toby Keith, branding Maines a “big mouth,” began using a doctored photo of Maines with Saddam Hussein as a backdrop at his concerts while singing “You’ll be sorry that you messed with the U. S. of A. / We’ll put a boot in your ass / It’s the American way”—an act that he was never reprimanded for, despite the use of Maines’ image serving as nothing but pure incitement of hatred and violence against a woman who dares hold her own political opinions. The irony, of course, is that it was the Dixie Chicks, not Toby Keith, who had to worry about their tour sponsorship deal falling through when Lipton sent in a PR consultant to discuss whether the company felt they could go forward with the relationship after the band’s “brand” had been tarnished.

The Dixie Chicks sweep the 2007 Grammy Awards
Ten years on, the very conservative demographic who demonized Maines for expressing her disapproval of President Bush and the war are now the ones saying far worse about President Obama. Maines’ statement seems absolutely uneventful in comparison, so much so that the country’s response to her words is near comical when viewed now. Still, the documentary serves as a reminder that the way these three women were treated was anything but comical; it is clear that under the right political circumstances, political groups and corporations can exert enormous pressure on those who choose to express an unpopular opinion. It is especially fitting, then, when the Dixie Chicks return to Shepherd’s Bush in London at the end of the documentary to promote their new album and Maines jokes that she would like to say something the audience hasn’t already heard before and then goes on to say, “Just so you know, we’re ashamed the President of the United States is from Texas.” This time around, the comment wasn’t met with protests and boycotts; the band was instead rewarded in early 2007 when they swept the Grammy Awards by winning all five categories for which they were nominated. In the end, the Dixie Chicks committed themselves to remaining true to who they were no matter the professional, financial, or personal cost—something an audience has rarely heard before, indeed.

 The Dixie Chicks perform “Not Ready to Make Nice” at the 2007 Grammy Awards Ceremony

Kerri French is a poet whose writing has been featured on Sirius Satellite Radio and published in Barrow Street, Mid-American Review, DIAGRAM, Sou’wester, Waccamaw, Barrelhouse, Best New Poets 2008, and The Southern Poetry Anthology, among others. A North Carolina native, she currently lives in Cambridge, England. 



Ashley Judd Speaks Out About Rape Culture: The Roundup

Last week, all hell broke loose when an excerpt from Ashley Judd’s new memoir, All That Is Bitter & Sweet, hit the internet. This is the offending passage: 

YouthAIDS created hip public service announcements for TV and radio using popular local and international celebrities and athletes and was participating in the MTV World AIDS Day ‘Staying Alive’ concerts. Along with other performers, YouthAIDS was supported by rap and hip-hop artists like Snoop Dogg and P. Diddy to spread the message … um, who? Those names were a red flag. As far as I’m concerned, most rap and hip-hop music—with its rape culture and insanely abusive lyrics and depictions of girls and women as ‘ho’s’—is the contemporary soundtrack of misogyny.

After a serious backlash in which prominent members of the Rap and Hip Hop community (including Questlove of The Roots and rapper Talib Kweli) criticized Judd’s comments, Judd reached out to her friend Russell Simmons and clarified her stance on Global Grind

As a thoughtful friend put it, “fans stand behind their artists,” and rightfully so. Hip-hop and rap — which are distinct from one another, although kin — stand for a lot more than a beat and vibe. They represent more than I, an outsider, has the right to articulate. This tweet capture’s the essence of what you have taught me: “Rap is something you do….Hip-Hop is a CULTURE you live! Don’t let a few bad apples’ lyrical message speak for a whole culture!” My equivalent genres, as an Appalachian, an oppressed and ridiculed people, would be mountain music and bluegrass. Those genres tell the history, struggles, grief, soul, faith, and culture of my people. In imagining how I would feel if someone made negative generalizations about that music, I am deeply remorseful that anything I may have said in “All That Is Bitter & Sweet” would hurt adherents of genres that represent their culture. This book is an act of love and service. Insulting people of goodwill is the antithesis of its raison d’etre.

I have looked closely at the feedback I have received about those two paragraphs, and absolutely see your points, and I fully capitulate to your rightness, and again humbly offer my heartfelt amends for not having been able to see the fault in my writing, and not having anticipated it would be painful for so many. Crucial words are missing that could have made a giant difference. It should have read: “Some hip-hop, and some rap, is abusive. Some of it is part of the contemporary soundtrack misogyny (which, of course, is multi-sonic). Some of it promotes the rape culture so pervasive in our world…..” Also, I, ideally, would have anticipated that some folks would see only representations of those two paragraphs, and not be familiar with the whole book, my work, and my message. I should have been clear in them that I include hip-hop and rap as part of a much larger problem. (You can read her full statement here.)

I’ve had a difficult time figuring out how to write about this. I understand that people, especially people of color, will rightfully get pissed when they perceive a privileged white woman to have insulted Black culture. And as a privileged white woman, I don’t always feel comfortable engaging in race-related issues like this because, frankly, I’m afraid I’ll either make ignorant assumptions (because of my privilege) or not contextualize my points appropriately (because of my privilege). Ashley Judd has been criticized for doing both those things. In the aftermath, she’s gotten some seriously misogynistic vitriol thrown at her (just spend a few moments on Twitter, if you’re curious) and has even received death threats because of it. 
But the truth is, when I first read Judd’s comments, I read them as a factual indictment. Rap and hip hop often contribute to rape culture because all of culture contributes to rape culture because we live in a fucking rape culture. Since that’s the only way I know how to articulate my feelings on this, which is arguably unintelligible and at the very least lacking any kind of analysis of rape culture (I did that here), I’m rounding up some articles that do a much better job than I can of examining race and gender as intersecting oppressions, and how Judd’s recent remarks fit into that discussion. [Major trigger warnings for discussions of rape, sexual assault, misogyny, and violence against women.] 
  
Sound-Off: Ashley Judd Was Right about Hip Hop by Sophia A. Nelson, from Essence:

My people, my people, when will we face the music and save ourselves from ourselves?

Here we go again, yet another well-meaning White person who makes a common sense, very reasonable, factually based statement about something (in this case rap music) that we all know is TRUE and what do we do? We jump all over her and demand that she apologize for “offending us.” Really? 

Seriously, what will it take for us to stop the madness? Who among us in his or her right mind can actually defend openly mysoginistic, hateful and demeaning lyrics geared toward Black women and Black culture? I am no C. Delores Tucker, but I find myself asking some hard questions lately relative to where we are as Black people when it comes to how we value our most precious commodity: Black women.

Ashley Judd and Hip-Hop Culture by Kevin Powell, from ThyBlackMan.com:

I am a hip-hop head for life, since my days dancing on streets and at clubs and writing graffiti on walls; to my days as a writer for Vibe magazine and curating the first exhibit on hip-hop history at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame; to my current task of writing a biography, the next several years, on the life of Tupac Shakur. So I know there is a difference between hip-hop culture, which I represent, and the hip-hop industry, which is what Ashley Judd is referencing in her book.

And we’d be lying to ourselves, hip-hop heads or not, if we actually could say, with straight faces, that hip-hop culture has not been severely undermined, turned inside out, and made into an industry that promotes some of the most horrific images of women and men, that encourages oversexualization and materialism, that pushes anti-intellectualism and a brand of manhood that seems only to exist if one is engaging in the most destructive forms of violence and degrading of one’s self, and of others. That is not hip-hop. That is called a minstrel show, circa the 21st century. And if you really love something the way I love that some thing called hip-hop, then we would be honest about it and not go on ego trips attacking an Ashley Judd for having the courage to say what we should be saying ourselves.

That enough is enough of this madness, that it is no longer acceptable to say our culture is just reflecting what is going on in our communities. Art is not just to reflect what is happening. Art, at its best, is also about dialoguing about and correcting the ugliness in our communities. That will not happen if art is just as ugly as real life, if we are at a point where we cannot tell real life from the staged life.

For sure, Ms. Judd mentions this in her book when she talks about 50 Cent offstage, how professional and polite he was, then the moment he took the stage out came the hyper-masculinity, the bravado, the posturing, the manufactured character. Rather than curse out or disparage Ashley Judd, I think we should instead ask ourselves who we are, truly, in these times, and why so many of us continue to have our identities programmed and directed by record labels and radio and video channels under the illusion of keeping it 100 percent real? Real for whom, and at what cost to our communities?

Back in the 1990s, when I was writing for Vibe, I did an interview with the late C. Delores Tucker, an older Black woman who led a crusade against what she thought were indecent rap lyrics. I was so much younger emotionally and in terms of basic common sense, and did everything I could to make Ms. Tucker look like a buffoon in the printed interview. I really regret that because these women, the real leaders on our planet, are right. Why should it be acceptable to tolerate any culture, be it hip-hop, rock, jazz, reality television, video games, or certain kinds of Hollywood films, that create a space that says it is okay, normal, to denigrate women and girls with words and images? 

Way to Teach Ashley Judd a Lesson! Now, How Are We Better for It? by Christelyn Karazin, from Madame Noire

What we really need to do is examine why rappers are so invested in silencing someone who could have been an advocate for causes and interests of black women. Perhaps the answer lies in what one commenter said on a popular feminist website: “Black male celebrities almost ONLY get pissed about racism in public discourse if it threatens black *masculine* culture and are either totally silent or indifferent about the ways in which black women are effected by racism, sexism in general and sexism from the men within their own racial group. (re: Spike Lee and others who have come out in support of Chris Brown).” She has a point. When was the last time black men, en masse, mobilized because someone offended a black woman? And before you start Googling, let’s stick to this decade, please.

I’m fuming right now because with all of the attacks on Ms. Judd, we, black women, have lost an ally. And it’s not like we have so many to spare. Never mind that Judd has worked tirelessly for the betterment of all women around the world, and she expresses a genuine concern, I guess she’ll learn her lesson next time to dare defend black women, and this incident will teach anyone else who comes along that does not align with The Guardians of All Things Dark & Lovely in the future.

Why, oh why are we so quick to defend the very men who abuse and debase us? Why does Chris Brown have a stable of black women cheerleaders behind him after he pounded Rihanna’s face in? Why did Jay-Z, a drug dealer who shot his own brother at only 12-years-old, make his millions off the backs of black women and become a pinnacle of success? Why do we have spokespeople in the New Black Panthers rallying behind more than a dozen black boys who raped an 11-year-old child and join the pile-on in blaming her?
With That Said … by Ta-Nehisi Coates, from The Atlantic:

[in response to Questlove’s assertion via Twitter that “EVERY genre of music has elements of violence.”] I mean yeah it does. But as a hip-hop fan, and as a music fan, it’s really hard for me to believe that all musical forms are equally misogynistic. If we’re being honest, I think it’s worth noting that Kanye West’s “Gold Digger” isn’t just a song, it’s actually is an entry into a rather prolific sub-genre that that spans from “That Girl’s A Slut” to “I Ain’t The One” to the original “Gold-digger” to “Sophisticated Bitch” to “Black Vagina Finda” to “Treat Her Like A Prostitute” to “Davy Crockett” to “The Bitches” to “Dead Wrong” to “Wildflower” to “Hoe Happy Jackie” to “Truly Yours” to “Beautiful Skin” to “The Nappy Dugout” to “I’m Only Out For One Thing,” to “Let A Ho Be A Ho” to “Bitches Ain’t Shit” and so on…

Ashley Judd was right about hip hop … Kinda. by Rob Fields, from BoldAsLove.us:

Let’s get some things out of the way early. We know that this statement doesn’t apply to all hip hop. There are thoughtful, creative artists whose music is not based on denigrating women. Mos Def, Talib Kweli, J-Live, The Roots, Toki Wright, Shad, Pigeon John, P.O.S., and Blitz The Ambassador, are some that come immediately to mind. And there are plenty of women who represent hip hop, as both MCs and spoken word artists. Think Invincible, Jean Grae, Jessica Care Moore, Toni Blackman, Bless Roxwell, to name a few here.

So, what I think Ashley is guilty of is over-generalization. But the fact is that too much of hip hop does, in fact, denigrate women, be it through lyrics or videos. Recent examples such as Kanye’s Monster video or most of the work of recently celebrated teenagers Odd Future fall in this bucket. And Girl Talk samples what I think are some of the most vile examples of hip hop for his mashup albums.

What you end up with is work that creates an environment that devalues women. And it’s true: Rappers talk about women in the third person, as sexual objects or body parts, or women are seen gyrating half-naked in videos as a symbol of some dude’s material success. Call women bitches and hoes enough times over dope enough beats and an attitude gets normalized.

Hip hop is a global pop cultural phenomenon. It not only defines how a generation sees itself, but it also has become the shorthand for what’s cool around the world.

Rap’s Rape Culture: Ashley Judd Had a Point by James Braxton Peterson, from The Root

When Jay-Z signed Jay Electronica to Roc Nation label, it seemed like a triumph of underground hip-hop culture — the talented Jay Electronica, along with Jay-Z’s formidable business and promotional acumen, could change the game for the better. Instead, the rapper has elected to use some troubling language in his live performances, polling his audiences to inquire if women “like being choked during sexual intercourse.” Many feminist bloggers and activists challenged Jay Electronica directly.

For the survivors of violent sexual assault and for those of us who understand that sexual assault against women is a critical problem for all of us, this sort of thing is simply unacceptable. Maybe I am sensitized to this because my daughter just turned 10. But I’m also aware that even though individuals must be responsible for their own acts, too many are susceptible to subtle (and unsubtle) cues — from pop culture and the public sphere — that subject women to male dominance, and reaffirm the sexism and misogyny that lead to sexual violence against women.

That we, myself included, are always ready to defend hip-hop is a good thing — I think. Hip-hop cannot be the scapegoat for every talking head who is looking for an easy way to dismiss and degrade youth culture or black music. But rap and the industry that has developed through its popularity must be held accountable for its contributions to the world — and that includes any role that the industry might play in the construction and cultivation of rape culture in society. If you don’t want to hear it from Ashley Judd, then maybe you can hear it from me.

From Liquor&Spice:

Can I, a Black woman, talk about rape culture from my point of view, please? YES there’s a shit ton of rap and hip hop and r&b that is violent and degrading to me. It’s usually the shit that WHITE PEOPLE BUY THE MOST AND PUT ON THE RADIO AND SING ALONG TO IN THE CLUB! You know how many white girls yell at the top of their lungs to, “and when he get on, he leave your ass for a white girl!” It usually occurs after they violate my space and my body telling me to “shake that ass” and petting my hair like I’m a goddam dog. Can I talk about THAT part of rape culture please?!?!? The rape culture fueled by white chicks thinking they can take my identity to fuel their jungle bunny fantasies? Who think it’s awesome to smack my ass or comment on my body out loud to their friends?

And those songs suck! It sucks that they’re popular! It sucks that it validates how white people WERE ALREADY TREATING ME LIKE PROPERTY. LIKE THEY BEEN DOING FOR CENTURIES BEFORE RAP WAS INVENTED.

And it’s SO AWESOME how nice, white ladies find the time to tell me most of rap and hip hop are violent and rapey while not giving a fuck when I tell them SO ARE YOU! So are your white people books and movies and news and college curriculums and professors MEN AND WOMEN. All of them degrade my Black womanhood EVERY GODDAM DAY!

On Ashley Judd and the Politics of Citation by moyazb, from The Crunk Feminist Collective

Black women have been talking about (and back to) misogyny in hip-hop since it’s inception. Y’all remember Roxanne Shanté right?

It’s frustrating when all the work that black women have done to speak back to music that has particular, real world consequences in our lives is ommitted and unacknowledged. We’ve also done this talking back with an analysis of the systemic forces that make black men/rap music the scape goats for societal oppression of women. I know it’s a personal narrative, but can some hip-hop feminist foremothers get a shout out?

If we can all turn to the Ten Crunk Commandments for Re-Invigorating Hip Hop Feminist Studies, we’ll see that the first commandment reminds us to “know and cite” authors who have shaped the field of hip-hop feminism. This commandment doesn’t just apply to Judd but also to some of her defenders. If you are going to defend her position, can you cite the black women who have actually done work on the issue in scholarship, film, and action? The “she has a point” camp feels dismissive of decades of resistance and carefully crafted projects by hip-hop feminists and activists.

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