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The Dis Factor
Question posed to Queen Latifah: “What would the world be like without men?” Answer: “A bunch of fat happy women, and no crime.”
They say it’s in the music I love. I suppose it’s easy to find if you merely look at the lyrics of some of the art form’s best and brightest artists. We should be evolving, they say. After all, Queen Latifah said sisters weren’t to be called a bitch or a ‘ho years ago. But still, the lyrics blare through speakers all across the land, giving too many sisters the impression that rap music still sees them as bitches and hoes. As a rap music advocate, it hurts, but sadly, the accusations are largely true. The accusations are true about the music, but the problem is that too many sisters think that the music is indicative of brothers in reality. How many? Two is too many. Too many brothers fail to show their softer side to the sisters who try to love them, and in the pain and anguish bestowed upon us by a world where everyone hates us (including ourselves), we simply shove that pain onto the closest ones to us. The women who love us. I could talk about the legacy of pain and self-devaluation passed on to us by centuries of psychological abuse, or the deterioration of the Black community fabric, or the lack of mentoring or poor parenting skills. But there’s no justification. And yet, there’s another side. There’s the confusion that brothers have to deal with from our sisters who want to look the part and play the part of sex kittens, and even hoochies, but are insulted when brothers want them to live the part. I use an equivocation of the Black experience in America. I find it hard to attack “the white man” for all of our ills, when we have too many Black faces demeaning our images willingly for pay. Before we can attack the nation effectively, we must take a long look at ourselves. It isn’t fair, but it’s a hard, cold reality. The same is true for sisters. They should find it difficult to attack “the Black man” for their negative encounters, when there are too many sisters demeaning their images willingly for pay. I’ll take the front of the line when sisters march against video hoes, and I’ll teach the first class at the charm school we create for the young teenage hotties who think that just because the body is young and nubile, it must be shown to the world. And it’s hard to focus on a sister’s mind when more than half of her breasts are exposed over dinner. Does the entertaining of thoughts like these make me a bad person? I hope not, I’m just human. It hurts me when I hear sisters talk about how there aren’t any good men out there. They sit in groups and talk about how bad we treat them and how we take extreme measures to avoid a commitment. Even pretty young R&B girls like Destiny’s Child make songs about how we’re “trifling, good for nothing type of brothers.” They made two albums full of songs like that, but at the edge of adulthood they shouldn’t have enough experiences to be that jaded. But they are. Sisters are experiencing more at an earlier age, and with the help of modern media, particularly the music, they are becoming jaded earlier. Those images in the media—of gold-digging, sexually detached women portrayed as “independent”--have created a warped concept of relationships that causes a great deal of confusion and contradiction. I find it funny that the same man a sister initially describes as the “best thing since panty liners with wings,” suddenly becomes a sexist dog who only wanted to hit it and run when the relationship ends. The same woman who was “better than a triple-double” suddenly becomes a gold-digging ‘ho who should be disrespected. I know all women are not gold diggers, or whores, and I also know that not all men are dogs and we don’t all want to dog sisters. As Black consumers, we embraced the negativity with open arms, but there’s a sad reality that most of our sisters overlook when it comes to rap music. The music belonged to us and was made by us for us until the turn of the decade. I’d like to underscore the fact that the most hardcore of rap’s lyrics only began to sell millions of copies once it was discovered by young white teens, looking for the next rebellion to use against their parents. Those young white teens don’t care if the music disrespects Black women, or women in general. They only care if it’s loud, perceived as cool amongst their new Black friends, and repulsive to their parents. The young brothers who make the negative music largely have no real concern for anything except making large amounts of cash, displaying the intrinsic attributes of a sellout. They purposely pander to the sensationalist appetites of the music industry. Another fact overlooked is that some of the most hardcore male advocates of the art form are also moved in pain by the misogynistic content. This writer, for example. I have sisters who I hold dear to me, and it hurts me deeply to hear lyrics like Notorious BIG’s “Ceas know all the ho’s come to my door/then go to his floor to f--k some more.” I wouldn’t want any of the women I love to be treated that way or to offer themselves up in such a manner. But it’s not just the brothers. It hurts me to hear artists like Foxxy Brown or Lil’ Kim rhyme about obtaining cash and gifts for sexual favors and tricking men the way they have seen men trick women. It hurts me deeply because I know too many females live that line out in real life, believing it makes them free and independent. However, as much as I detest the negative content in the music I love, I know that the rappers have a right to make it. I defend the misogynistic content the same way I defend any other offensive content target: The real life action will not disappear if the music does, rather the music’s content will dissipate when the real-life actions decrease. The same way I cringe when I hear young African Americans call each other “nigger” in front of whites, is the same way I cringe when I hear sisters call each other “bitch” in front of men. I’d like to see more parents, big brothers and sisters dig in and work with little boys to teach them how to honor and respect our women. I’d like to see the same parents, aunts, uncles dig in and work with little girls to teach them how to honor and respect themselves, so that no one would feel comfortable mistreating them. Then perhaps they would look for the love in us. Colored girls who believe that the rainbow has long been enough, and have learned to honor and respect themselves would find encouragement in the words and actions of sisters like Lauryn Hill. Those brown skinned givers of life would look and find love in between the rhymes and beats. They would find it in songs like “Black Woman,” by KRS-One, “Black Coffee,” by Heavy D., “Silent Treatment,” by The Roots, and “All I Need,” by Method Man. They would witness Common Sense rhyme about how he used to love h.e.r., because he found it difficult once the fake-gangsta emcees took over. They would find love in hip hop spirituals like “Retrospect for Life,” in which Common lets sisters know that brothers suffer too, when an unborn child is sacrificed for the “freedom” of the unmarried parents. They would find it in the raw emotions he gives up in songs like “The Light.” They would look at the mission Will Smith is on to find one woman and commit to her. He loved his ex-wife and married her at a young age, moving beyond that relationship to another commitment to his new wife, Jada Pinkett, and the offspring they are creating. And even if these shining examples were not enough in a world seemingly filled with hatred for brown girls, they could realize that the brothers who rhyme about bitches and hoes simply are not speaking about them anyway, and feel sorry for the sisters who really are depicted in the songs, and the brothers who know no better. This is the best answer I can come with. Is it the right answer? I wish I knew. What I do know is that the focus should be on finding good people, no matter what their station in life is. Everyone can’t be a star. If the one who is good to you is not yet a star, but a rising star, add baking powder and ride. I love Black women. I love Rap music. I wish they wouldn’t dis each other.
