"The Miseducation of Lauren Hill" is often cited as one of the most influential albums for many Hip Hop feminists in their teenage and early adult years. Courtesy of Lauren Hill.
Disclaimer: I am in no way a man-hater. I acknowledge that while patriarchy is a social system that is structured to benefit men, not all men benefit from it. I am simply discussing the effects of patriarchy within Hip Hop culture. Do not twist my words.
Hip Hop, much like any other significant social and cultural movement, has always been forefronted by men, with women’s voices being suppressed and overshadowed. In this next mini-series, I’m going to discuss the complexities of women’s presence in Hip Hop and rap music, going over our contributions and the ways we have shaped — and will continue to shape — the sound of the genre.
If the back-to-back Kendrick articles didn’t make it obvious, I am in love with Hip Hop. It was the culture that I was raised on and the one that I’ve come to identify with over the past few years, but my experiences within the culture often place me at a crossroads.
A lot of the criticism directed toward Hip Hop and rap deals with the misogyny and degradation of women considered adjacent to the culture. It is all too common for a rapper to drop the word “bitch” or “hoe” at least a million times — as if the terms are synonymous with “woman.” While I can usually turn my brain off in order to enjoy the music and have fun, I can’t ignore the much greater societal implications forever: Hip Hop has a patriarchy problem.
The term “intersectionality” was first adopted by Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989 and was originally used to explain the complexities of different sociological identities and how they shape a person’s experience in greater society. While it is most commonly associated with race and feminist theory, it is applicable to many different marginalized communities and is often used to discuss disparities within social movements.
While I had known about the concept of intersectionality for a while — and had always been aware of the dichotomy between feminism and mainstream rap — it wasn’t until I read Robin Boylorn’s “Killing Me Softly or on the Miseducation of (Love and) Hip Hop” that I was finally able to put a label on the community I had always been a part of, but never knew existed: Hip Hop feminists.
I would say that the label is self-explanatory. Hip Hop feminism addresses the perception of women throughout the culture of Hip Hop and rap music. It’s a much broader label than many people would expect. Hip Hop feminism encompasses everything from the “tough girl” act that women like Lady of Rage embodied in Hip Hop’s early stages to the overtly feminine image that was first made popular by the likes of Lil’ Kim and refined by Nicki Minaj.
Since the beginning, women have always been a central part of the culture, yet our contributions have always been overshadowed by the presence of overt masculine performances that have become heavily associated with the image of Hip Hop.
In short, the standard of masculinity that is advertised as the “right” way to be, has typically been reserved for white, non-queer men. Slavery — and by extension the dehumanization of Black people — resulted in Black men being emasculated and disregarded as “real men.” Oftentimes they were reduced to a hyper-masculine caricature that resembled animalistic characteristics, further supporting the claims at the time that Africans were closer related to apes than human beings.
This treatment resulted in Black men’s need to overcompensate for their masculinity. The images we as a society usually associate with Hip Hop perpetuate the stereotypical characteristics of hegemonic masculinity. These characteristics include displays of strength, power, control over women and “hostility towards gender nonconformance ” according to Marquis Bey, an assistant professor of African American Studies and English at Northwestern University.
To bring this back to Hip Hop feminism, the marketability of these masculine-centric performances made it nearly impossible for women to break into the mainstream in the same way that men were able to.
I think the best example of this is the classic “greatest of all time,” or “G.O.A.T.,” conversation. When the debate of who is the G.O.A.T. comes to fruition, many people throw out the names of male rappers.
However, that same reservation is often withheld from female rappers — with female rap usually being hailed as its own subgenre within the greater sphere of rap music. As such, the argument typically boils down to who the greatest female MC of all time is, rather than acknowledging that female rappers occupy the same spaces as male rappers.
Our presence within the Hip Hop community is always an afterthought, and I think this is in no small part due to the presence of overt masculinity present within the culture — Hip Hop’s patriarchy problem.
When discussing the patriarchal foundations of Hip Hop, I’d like to propose a theory that would help form the basis for many of my arguments going forward: Patriarchal societies hate femininity and nearly everything associated with it.
This is not me saying that all men are misogynistic — I’m sure plenty of you love y’all’s moms — but I do believe that this model prevents women from winning. It’s why our music is oftentimes swept under the rug, regardless of our public appearance and the subject matter of our lyrics.
More sexually promiscuous acts, such as Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion face no shortage of criticism for how open they are about their sexuality in their music. In an interview with Complex, Snoop Dogg sums up a lot of the critiques perfectly, with the rapper claiming that women should hold a certain air of respectability around their sexuality and their music.
Even for women who aren’t nearly as vocal about sex, a lot of their music is either dismissed or isn’t given nearly the attention it deserves. Noname is one of my favorite rappers currently and is most notable for her outspokenness on social issues and political activism. Despite being affiliated with numerous artists from the Dreamville label, and being one of the few rappers to go against J. Cole in a rap beef, her Spotify monthly listeners sit at just under 700,000 — a considerable amount less than Cole’s 40.4 million monthly listeners.
Even as women’s lyricism continues to venture in more fun, extravagant and unique directions, we always find ourselves five steps behind many of our male peers, causing us to aim for new heights in order to gain society's respect and recognition.
.jpg)
