Do Rappers Care More About White Girls Than Their Black Female Fans?
By the time I was 11 years old my next-door neighbor, who was a few years older than me, had given me Nas’ 1996 It Was Written album. Knowing that the explicit content would send my mom in a fury if she found it, I insisted she keep it, but she refused to take it back. Frightened, I sneaked it into our two bedroom apartment to add to the rest of my mostly R&B music collection. When I eventually popped it in to my CD player, I was in awe. It was that moment I fell in love with Nas’ music — and more in love with hip-hop. That was 16 years ago.
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.
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.
Kanye West, whose music I happen to love dearly, has had a longtime obsession with the white aesthetic. His music tells the story better than I could. Visually, it has played out in his videos for songs like “Runaway” and “Monster.” Why did all the ballerinas in “Runaway” have to be white? In “Monster” we see the decapitated heads of white women hanging from ropes and rocking gold teeth. Most telling of his white girl fantasies was his cover art to MBDTF. But Kanye is far from alone in this line of thinking.
“My new young chick look exactly like Rihanna/A** like Nicki, but she yellow like Madonna.” – Meek Mill
“You know we keep that white girl/Christina Aguilera.” – Young Jeezy
“But I’ve been practicing with some actresses as bad as sh*t/And a few white girls, asses flat a sh*t/But the head so good, damn a n**ga glad he hit.” – Kanye West
“White girl, that Ricky Lake/That boy can’t feel his face.” – Rick Ross
“And now you b**ches that be hatin can catch a bouquet, oww/yeah, you a star in my eyes, you and all them white girls party of five.” – Drake
“I got that white girl, that Lindsay Lohan/And all you gotta do is ask Lindsay Lohan.” – Lil Wayne
“So just get you a white girl, don’t f**k with no black b**ch.” – 50 Cent
Granted, most of the verses aren’t as provocative as 50 Cent’s, and in a few of them, “white girl” is code for cocaine; but it’s interesting that the “white girl” nods are rarely paired with the same “b**ch,” “ho,” “gold-digger” and other slurs hurled at black women on the very same records. The adoration of one vs. the despising of the other is cause for concern. Yet as disturbing as it is, it’s not all the rappers’ fault. After hundreds of years of dehumanizing and conditioning, it makes sense that the BIC in the psyche of blacks would seep into rap music, which ironically, young whites are the largest consumers of.
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. In the same way we defend it to our last breath, write rebuttals about it not being the cause of society’s ills, I want the music to reciprocate that love. And at the very least, if it can’t do that it should not tear us down while putting the “white girls” on a pedestal.
Follow Bené Viera on twitter at @writtenbybene
(feel free to shake your head in shame as you scroll through the gallery. lol)
