Chick Fill-Aye: The Ass or The Class?

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 tit 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 asses. 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.

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