Hip Hop and sex have always gone hand in hand. However, the
carnal endeavors our culture has attached itself to have definitely become more
and more salacious over the years. Like anything else, the more
you see it, more commonplace it becomes. With this in mind, could the image
of the Hip-Hop female as an insatiable, lolli-pop-licking, half-naked, open-legged hot pocket be affecting the careers of, or even the need
for femcees? Ask yourself does anyone paying
attention to what she’s saying when she’s bent at the waist showing
you her assets? Seriously.
I started thinking about this after I had the unfortunate
experience of Miss Brooke(Rick’s baby momma #2) and her homemade sex tape. It was a bit unremarkable
and lime green panties don’t look good on anyone, but I digress While playing
voyeur, I found myself wincing in pain a few times. Not at all the super-duper, hot XXX action going on, but at thinking how incredibly painful
taking a tat on the t## would have to be. In other words, I was
totally numb to the presentation in general. I checked some comments here and
there on sites that hosted the pleather pleasure minute and I found echoes of
my own disinterest.
Now, I’m not going to joke ole girl because I don’t know
where that video came from. If she comes with that stolen, dusty shoe box-in the-closet story as most do, I feel bad for her. This isn’t
really about adding insult to injury. But what I noticed is that we have become
so desensitized to the sexual presentation of women that even the act of
sex itself is no longer sexy enough. With sex being the premier
presentation of women in Hip-Hop, it is feasible to think that listening to a
woman rhyme as opposed to watching her strip is going to resurface as the
valuable commodity in the business of music? I can’t say I’m
hopeful.
Women got caught up in the spirit of sexual independence and
empowerment, but knew not what road to travel to find that Nirvana. In
our haste to be accepted on our own terms and be our own women and set our own rules,
we have exploited ourselves to the Nth degree. We didn’t walk that road
without help. The folks in charge understand the power of a woman’s
sexuality probably more than the average woman does. If it were her voice that
made the money, women would be heard, rather than seen. But
it’s not. It is the span of her hips and the curl of her lips.
And in this construct, it’s not all that phenomenal. Word to Maya
Angelou.
There are thousands of these young women who believe
their ticket to a life of fame and fortune or at least their ticket to a life
without the burden of the financial aid office is tramp-stamped firmly on their a####. The competition is stiff and the number of competitors has never been
as large. What do you do to make yourself stand out? More than the
girl next to you will. Hence, the vixen mores in time will bottom out.
That’s the reason those Candy Girls will pull more views and book more
gigs than Rece Steel and company did. Folks will be tuning in religiously to see
if the downward spiral will take place on their watch. I’ll give you odds on that one.
So what’s a rapping woman to do? How can she be heard? I
really don’t know. The noise emanating from all that T&A is
deafening and that depthless, blow up doll character is the one being allowed
to speak for us right now. So if you are not willing to take 10 for the
top and 20 for the bottom, you probably won’t be seeing too much success.
But stick to your guns. Sometimes the good fight comes with great sacrifice.
Besides ole girl wearing the butt floss and pasties has a short
shelf-life. Once that first dimple pops up on her thigh, she’s on
her way out. Your voice however, is timeless.