Gender

The music of Todd Rundgren first became popular in the mid 1970s, the time when Glam Rock was first starting to gain popularity in the music industry.   Performers like David Bowie were challenging common conceptions of what a male rock and roll performer should look or sound like, often times wearing women’s clothing and singing in a soft, high pitched voice rather than a low growl.    It is often said that Glam Rock performers  were able to experiment with these aspects of their performance because they were secure enough with their masculinity so they did not mind appearing feminine in some ways.  While Todd Rundgren’s music and image certainly resemble these convention defying trends, he seems uncomfortable in the way that he performs what these sights and sounds represent.   It is unclear whether Todd was just “jumping on the bandwagon” or if he was genuinely trying to challenge ideas about gender and masculinity.

The sound of Todd’s music and his choice of dress in performance present a contradiction to attitudes he puts forth on stage and in the studio.    Many of the songs on his albums are recorded at a soft volume and favor tunefulness and smooth orchestrations over obvious displays of instrumental virtuosity and overpowering sounds.   This could be read as a sign that he is not concerned with the masculine desire to achieve “authenticity” in his music, but the way he presents these songs on the albums changes the way they are heard.   Todd Rundgren’s albums often include small bits of studio chatter and false starts that were left on the original tapes.  These small clips are placed between the actual songs and often have Todd horsing around or being lethargic.    The placement of these clips around the least “masculine sounding” songs on the album is most likely strategic, showing a general apathy towards the sentimental emotions presented by the song while at the same time giving off an image of off-the-cuffness.   This seems to be an attempt to make his performance seem more natural and authentic in the same way that is defined in the introduction to “Oh, Boy!”

Watching Todd Rundgren perform further complicates the issue.   This performance of “Real Man” from 1975 is a good example the conflict between how he views his masculinity and how we see it.

Todd made a bold choice for a male rock performer of the 1970s by performing to a prerecorded track.   Other musicians of the time would certainly have viewed this as unnatural or inauthentic, thus making this a less masculine performance.   However, Todd seems to be very conscious of this so he preemptively justifies his choices.   Before he begins singing, he makes it very clear that he wrote, performed, recorded, and edited all of the instrumental tracks himself, attempting to regain some of the authenticity lost by performing along with prerecorded material.   He also wants to make sure the audience knows for certain that he is singing live and not lip-syncing.   In addition to this, he tries to create the same feeling of off-the-cuffness that he achieved on his albums by treating the audience to some of his trademark sarcasm and lethargy.    All of these attempts to sustain his authenticity (and thus his masculinity) seem to run counter to his choice to dress in a more conventionally feminine way and to sing in a smooth, high pitched voice.

This performance of “Hello, It’s Me,” is further evidence of Todd’s discomfort in his role of Glam Rock performer.   While his smooth singing voice and flamboyant style of dress may appear to be signs of femininity in his performance, his attitude on stage puts him in the role of masculine “hero” as described in the Biddle and Jarman-Ivens article. (”hero” in this case is defined as someone who upholds a code of ethics but suspends or ignores morals) Todd has often stated in interviews that he doesn’t like performing what he calls his “mindless pop numbers,” but in this video we see him sticking to a code of music industry ethics by performing his most popular songs live, creating a positive experience for the audience and thus strengthening his fan base.   However, he suspends morals by giving a fairly unenthusiastic performance, condescending to the audience, and appearing just a little bit disgusted at the crowd’s appreciation.

Todd Rundgren was an atypical Glam Rock performer in that he did not really seem to be secure enough in his masculinity to be able to experiment with defying conventions of gender and masculinity.    He felt the need to justify his choices at every turn, making him appear uncomfortable to the listening and viewing public.

There are so many questions and problems that I’ve struggled with as a female rock musician, I don’t even know where to begin.  I started playing the guitar at a very young age and switched to bass in my early teens because I found it easier (bar chords have always eluded me—I guess I have small fingers) and more fun.  Lately I’ve been playing the ukulele.  I also used to be a serious classical musician and planned on attending a conservatory for clarinet.  Several things about classical music made me disillusioned and I always felt out of place, but at least I managed to pick up some saxophone skills by playing in jazz bands and pit orchestras.  However, my parents raised me on the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, the Grateful Dead, and the Who, and my first love has always been rock and roll.
Even as a little kid, I always wondered why Joni Mitchell was so soft and gentle and pretty, and the Who and the Rolling Stones were generally loud and raucous.  I never felt pigeonholed into playing a certain way myself, but now I go to open mic nights and see girls my age strumming gently on guitars and singing pretty songs while boys play blues and rock music and it makes me feel really angry.  I wonder why I feel such a backlash to girls playing music in styles like the Indigo Girls.  Am I privileging male music over female music?  Do I think that typically male music is more authentic than typically female?  After taking classes in feminist thought where I read texts that claimed that women do have a certain mindset and style of doing things that is different—not better or worse—than men’s mindsets which have traditionally been dominant, I feared that I was being anti-feminist by dismissing Ani Difranco’s later work, when she stopped being so radical and angry.  The important part is that women have a choice to get up on stage and express themselves, right?  This is an issue that I’m still struggling with.  I don’t want to claim that loud and angry music is what girls should be making because we need to assert ourselves in a certain way, and that it’s the only right way to express ourselves without buying into the patriarchal system by being traditionally demure and quiet.  However, I feel like when we claim spaces for ourselves, like the Riot Grrl movement did with punk spaces by having all-girl mosh pits in the early 90’s, we don’t need to totally reject traditionally male-centered music.
I fear that I have become what I hate.  I have started a band with my boyfriend.  It mostly started out of necessity, as most of our friends have graduated or left Oberlin, and we have very similar music taste.  I play the ukulele and he plays guitar and we both sing.  We used to have a fiddle player but he dropped out of Oberlin last semester.  Normally, I am very dismissive of people in bands with their partners, like Donna Jean Godchaux of the Grateful Dead.  She sang with them when her husband, Keith Godchaux, played keyboards.  I believe that Keith’s joining the band was contingent on Donna being in the band as well.  Donna Jean Godchaux was basically useless.  She wailed in the background and twirled off to the side when she wasn’t caterwauling, and the songs that she wrote were terrible.  It seems like when someone is in a band with their boyfriend, they become an accessory and lose agency.  I am afraid of people judging me when we play and thinking that he could play with more skilled people if he wasn’t held back by me.  I think my wild ukulele strumming has a certain rustic charm that is perfect for our folk-punk group, the Up Against The Wall String Band.    We seem like a perfect heteronormative couple, even though we are both identify as queer, and that bothers me as well, even though I feel like it shouldn’t matter to my identity what other people think.
Being female will always make you stand out in a rock band, especially if you’re the bassist.  Men tend to fetishize the small girl playing a loud, deep instrument.  I’ve played shows with other groups I’ve been in where people automatically assume that I’m the guitarists’ girlfriend and not in the band.  The only thing you can really do is ignore them and do your best (and have fun!).  I have found bands that have friendly mosh pits and even crowdsurfed at shows where I’m sure I won’t get groped.  However, sometimes I question myself—would I be more feminist if I was going to a women-centered concert?  Is it better to seek out women’s-only spaces or to try and integrate spaces so that men and women feel comfortable in a crowd?  I know I will continue to struggle with questions like these as I continue to play music and attend concerts, and I welcome that struggle because of the importance music has in my life.

The recent discussion on gender identity, while insightful, has left me confused and with a lot of questions. It has been constructive in that I no longer know what is ‘masculine’ or ‘feminine’ because of a growing awareness of the constructedness of these forms. I have chosen to further explore these questions and the issue of gender as a construction and a performance through Annie Lennox, an artist I grew up listening to. I have a dynamic relationship with her and her music. My memory of her in her early career and in my youth is filled with images of her in a suit, red-lip stick and heavy eye-makeup. Because she was so admired by my mother and older sister, I chose not to entertain questions about her curious dress. My mom is a clothing designer who finds a lot of influence in mens-wear. Her admiration of Lennox (along with my inability as a youth to grasp the message of her music, vocal style, and dress) made her simply stylish and cool in my mind. Now of course I can admire her for much more. But I value having grown up admiring  a female musician who wasn’t a sex symbol and who was constantly changing her identity. In her early work as a one of two members of the Eurhythmics as the lead singer and focal point in performace with a male backup performer is the less talked about but still blatant subversion of stereotypical gender roles in pop music.

Though Lennox is often described as simply ‘androgynous’, I would argue that it is more the assumption of characters, both male and female, that are central to her performance. In other words, she is more effective in her challenge to the construction of gender by constantly changing her identity, via performances, music videos, album covers, and award show appearances,  rather than employing a gender-neutral look. In entering the pop world as a member of the Eurhythmics, Lennox was concious of and uncomfortable with being  pigeon-holed into a sexualised female. Early on in her career she presented a number of characters that were based on gender stereotypes. Always present is the tension between sexual freedom and repression.

In the video for ‘Love is a Stranger’ which comments on obsession with love and loss of self-control, she transforms from a woman to a man. She starts out as call-girl, forms in  and a dominatrix (each transition ending with a de-wigging), into the man who buys their services, and finally into a puppet being controlled by Stewart. She gives life to each character, while the transformation reveals the absurdity of their constructedness, while simultaneously under-mining them.

In the video for “Sweet Dreams”, Lennox and band-mate Dave Stewart donned matching suits, and Lennox revealed her short orange hair. In the 1980’s it was fairly common for men to dress in a drag convincingly. Her red lip stick and eye make up make you question whether she is a man in female drag or a female in male drag. Her movements are what would be read as masculine. While the suit hides any indication of a female body, I read this for so long as heightening her femeninity based on residual sentiments about her as a fashionista in my youth. I think you could still argue that while she is blurring gender lines, she may or may not be seen as taking on a different sort of sexuality in her performance.

Lennox employs vocal and musical styles that  do not fall into neat female pop star slots. In “Sweet Dreams”  her voice is recognizable as a female, but the majority of the sung lyrics are in a lower, chestier voice with a narrow range and backed by an even, steady and heavy synthesized beat. This is juxtaposed by more sweeping, higher pitches in the background that are still quite powerful sounding but more ‘female’ in their higher range and melodic meandering. The broadening of her vocal range is further testimony to her identity range.

In her later career she moved away from overt masculinity (after generating several male character such as Earl, an Elvis look-alike), as she could no longer rely on the shock that she was not what she appeared to be. She continues to avoid becoming a sex-symbol by employing camp, performing and parodying stereotyped identities humourously and with exaggeration, yet seriously and artfully. She has performed a number of female stereotypes without sticking with one for too long, from butch women and drag-queens to Minnie Mouse, refuting the possibility of a fixed identity and displaying the constructedness and performance of gender.

Lastly,  I think it’s important to point out that Lennox’s female characters are equally as costumed as her male characters-making neither one “natural”. She is powerful nonetheless, without adhering that quality to men or women exclusively. She remains in my mind stylish and cool, all the more so, having grown to appreciate the importance of the elements that made her appear that way to me.

 This week we have discussed the place of women and men in music, music making, cultural music practices, production of music, etc.  One thing we have learned from a majority of the readings is that music generally at the hands of men.  That while there are female musicians who produce very legitimate and impressive music, the music women make is considered to be practical, planned, and not creative where the music that men make is more from the soul, as though male musicians have a more inborn musical ability and women simply follow their lead.  We also discussed assumptions about gender, and challenged what we believe gender to be.  We discussed the separation between sex and gender, the gender binary and gender spectrum, and performativity (Butler) as central to gender creation.  We also explored musical examples of artists challenging gender roles, either through their lyrics, the way they play their instrument, or other ways.
I began playing drum kit in my first year of Oberlin when I saw a rock band with a queer female drummer.  I took lessons with her for the next two years and she expressed to me the confidence that a woman needs to have to play this kind of instrument.  As a member of an all-male rock band, she expressed no fear or low confidence in her ability to own her instrument, which I found is more difficult than a viewer could imagine.  This is still the most difficult aspect of the drum kit that I have yet to master, but its with role models that women can find solidarity and empowerment that is being discouraged from other musicians and society. Female drummer – live
In addition to emphasizing those that challenge the gendered expectations of men and women in music, I would also like to highlight female artists that may “follow” what is expected of female-created music but really show the possibility of this kind of music.  An example that immediately comes to mind is Sweet Honey in the Rock.  This group of women use their voices (a very gendered female instrument) so powerfully to overwhelm the audience with harmony, politics, and feelings of female empowerment and unity.  I would argue that this group is dismantling the gendered nature of music from within, by performing what is expected of them as proud women but by doing it with so much soul, creativity, and strength.  While the drummer of the rock band is forcing her way into a generally male-centered style of music and challenging notions of what men and women are allowed to do, Sweet Honey is working on legitimizing women artists in their gendered musical roles, showing that while women may be forced into specific musical roles, those roles are completely legitimate and just as awe-provoking. Sweet Honey in the Rock – I remember, I believe
This week we also discussed feminism.  I would argue that both of these examples are feminist in their own way.  The rock drummer is bending gender expectations, showing that women can perform any and all roles that men traditionally play.  In this way, she is demanding equality with men and breaking down differentiations between genders.  Sweet Honey can be compared to the ‘feminist housewife’ who demands respect and recognition in her traditionally gendered position, and does not necessarily challenge roles of men and women in society but does challenge the appreciation of one gender’s roles over another.  (I have attached a queer, comedic presentation of the ‘feminist housewife’).  Both of these examples are revolutionary in their ways, and show the strength and abilities of women in music. Never too much Bitch and Animal

Throughout most of history, women have not been able to express themselves as fully or live with the freedom and equality of men, no matter what the circumstances may be. Depending on whether it is social status (women not having the right to vote) or in music by not being allowed to play certain instruments or sing certain songs women have been dominated by men. Women were only allowed to participate certain in events and perform specific activities that reflected their gender roles.

In an article that I recently read by Joaquina Labajo “Body and Voice: The Construction of Gender in Flamenco” a couple of particular points stuck out to me, primarily the relationship between a singer and his or her accompanist. In Flamenco dancing there is a strong dialogue between the guitarist and the male singer/dancer. During this dialogue between the guitarist and male singer/dancer many musical statements are played that help to bring forth the emotion of the performance. However, when the singer is female the guitar takes a step back and just accompanies without there being as much dialogue between the two. This could be considered an example of gender bias, but I also believe that in general the interaction between a man and a woman is going to be different then the interaction between two men or two women. So, I would say that there is a definable difference between being treated differently and being treated fairly (as in having the freedom to thoroughly express oneself emotionally, musically or otherwise). I do not think there is any contradiction in interacting with different people in different ways, as long as someone’s intentions are good. Again to refer to the Labajo article and let us use Carmen Amaya (a Gypsy dancer of the 1930’s) as an example. Amaya caused radical change in her actions towards this music by dressing in masculine clothing. I can see how people could confuse her theatrical choice as a feminist or sexual statement. A true artist’s motivation comes from their love and desire to produce legitimate work. So, in my opinion the basis of her actions could have been a purely musical one. By not wearing a dress Amaya could now show off her rhythmic skills with her feet. These kinds of assumptions can easily lead to much confusion. I believe that miscommunication can be one of the most dangerous things around. It (miscommunication) can lead to the creation of stereotypes and when stereotypes are created that adds a completely new layer for a particular individual or culture to overcome. It is probably more difficult for women to overcome certain stereotypes then it is for men. In general women have had a tendency to be labeled and objectified as sex figures.

Gender in relatively present day pop music has a tendency to be “over the top”. Each side being pushed to the extreme of expressing whatever their particular gender motivation might be. What I notice most when I watch pop music is that either most viewpoints are trying really hard to be for one side of a specific gender or the complete opposite. The opposite trying extremely hard to do away with gender identification altogether. Is that even possible? That is something I feel I truly cannot answer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the discussion of gendered practices of music, specifically gendered instruments, as a female trumpeter I was especially drawn to the idea of female brass players, and how their gender as a “marked” subject differentiates them from their male counterparts. While I personally have been situations where I have been both highly aware and very unaware of my gender as a female brass player, I wanted to explore this idea of the “performitivity” of gender that Judith Butler suggests occurs not only in musical performance situations, but in life as a whole.

The person I chose to look at more closely is Allison Balsom, a famous trumpeter not only for her sound and ability to play the trumpet quite well, but her role as–arguably–one of the most famous female trumpeters of our time. If you look at videos of her work,

as well as her website, what is immediately noticeable–perhaps even before her technical skill–is the visual aspect of her performance. She consistently wears clothing that shows off her body, and in her videos is often seen in positions that are not conducive to playing the trumpet well (such as lounging, sitting, etc.)

while playing. I think it is quite clear that, according to Butler’s theory, she is performing her gender, yet I wonder what work this does for Balsom–does she feel more confident as a player? Does using her body as a visual performance gain her “gender power,” or could it be interpreted as negating her power as a performer, as she appears to rely so much on her visual affluence? Again, this relates to Nicola Dibben’s ideas of gender identity and performitivity, and the ideas that we discussed in class of whether or not it makes you “cooler” to engage in male activities. Is Balsom projecting her “feminine” aspects–low cut dresses, use of her body, her blonde hair–that have historically not been associated with the “masculine” activity of playing the trumpet, as a way of challenging the assumption that such strong feminitity cannot be associated with strong masculinity? Or is she showcasing her feminitity as a musician as a whole, regardless of the “masculine” instrument that she plays? As a third option, is she attempting to disregard altogether the “masculine gender identity” of the trumpet, and in so “disregarding” it, thereby afford her more space in the trumpeting world? I think all of these questions would also be negated if she were not able to “back up” her feminine aesthetic with solid trumpet playing–i.e., if she wasn’t a great player, than it could be considered offensive that she was “running on pure looks” to create a career.

I think an important consideration here is Balsom’s sexualized nature, and the fact that she is playing in a field dominated by men. I wonder if she uses her sexuality in order to heighten her performance, a way of saying, “I’m super beautiful, and I play better than you do”. One thing is for certain; she is playing into typical

associations of women on stage as highly sexualized objects, and aligns herself with the image aesthetic of a pop or opera star, taking that stance rather than a “I’m a hard-core tomboy” slant that many other female brass players or females who have crossed the “gender ID” for a specific instrument have been known to take. And, as a final thought, I wonder if this is an image that she herself has come up with and continued, or if her recording company has chosen to portray her in such a way, and her favorable performance career has encouraged her to continue. One last anecdote–when I saw her perform live in middle school, my female trumpet teacher (in her mid-40s) was so unimpressed with the way that she even simply flipped her blonde hair up and down while bowing, that she said “She’s using it to call attention to herself.” Perhaps. Is that worse than other physical aspects that male performers show off on stage that we are completely unaware of as they are considered “unmarked?” I wonder if she’s analyzed her gender role this critically.

In most of my experiences, which have drastically increased since coming to Oberlin, listening to jazz the performers have been predominantly male. Even at Oberlin there seems to be a very male dominated atmosphere of male jazz musicians. I find this particularly interesting because even though I’m not sure of the exact numbers, it seems like there are more women at Oberlin than men.

Throughout history there have been quite a few notable female jazz musicians who are recognized today for standing out. Lil Hardin Armstrong, Mary Lou Williams, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Marian McPartland, Carmen McRae, Dinah Washington, Sarah Vaughn, and Dorothy Donegan are just a few of these women. However, the number is far outweighed by notable male performers throughout American jazz history.

(Billie Holiday – The Blues are Brewin’)

An interesting article I came across called “Gender and Participation in High School and College Instrumental Jazz Ensembles,” by Kathleen McKeage, discusses some reasons and explainations as to why jazz, starting in education and ending in the professional field, is predominantly a male endevour. She points out that historically most of the training for jazz musicians happen in nightclubs and other venues that were predominantly visited by men. There are also the factors of the masculine stereotype for jazz that play into the absence of women from the jazz scene. Among such factors is the need for high self-confidence, virtuosity and aggressiveness, all characteristics generally associated with men.

As we’ve seen with other case studies, for instance the article about Flamenco dancers, instrumentation plays a big role in who is involved in a type of music. Many of the instruments generally used in jazz repertoire are drums, guitar, saxophone, trumpet, trombone, and piano. Although there are many exceptions to this today, even within Oberlin small jazz ensembles you typically find these kinds of instrumentation. The brass instruments are stereotypically played by males, as well and drums and guitar. I remember when I decided to play the cello, the first response from my mother was, “Who is going to be carrying that big instrument, you or me??” I have told this story to many of my other female cellist friends and they often have similar stories.
Another interesting element of this study is that McKeage found through her research that women have less positive feelings than men about improvising solos. Throughout my musical career I have often come across this distinction between male and female cellists. Most of the male cellists I knew in high school would spend a significant amount of their practice time playing around with the music they were working on, a kind of improvisation. Most of the female cellists, and other string players that I knew were more focused with their energies while practice and remained focused directly on the written out music in front of them. For me, this was always something that I was complemented on by teachers, my ability to remain focused on the score. However, at a certain point I started to regret this ability, and wish I had spent more time with new ideas of my own and improvising on the cello.
Why is there this distinction between genders? I’ve always thought of it largely as a confidence issue. My cello teacher at Oberlin once told me, while trying to get me to do something meaningful with the score, that her husband has observed this lack of interpretation more often occurs in women than men. Naturally, this comment was enough to get me trying harder to do something meaningful! I think it is built into ourfemale generation’s bones that if someone tells you men are better at something, it is an ultimatum to prove them wrong.

Where does this leave us with jazz and gender? I think the changes are happening slowly, and we are seeing more and more women  becoming involved in jazz performance. But I think that it is important, even among our own circles, to question why this gender binary is the way that it is.

McKeage, Kathleen M. “Gender and Participation in High School and College Instrumental Jazz Ensembles,” Journal of Research in Music Education Vol. 52, No. 4, 2004: 343-356.

It is interesting to think about the gendering of certain musical instruments. In this society, instruments and musical genres usually have some association to gender depending on who is usually seen playing them. For instance, the flute and harp are generally associated with women while the tuba and drums are usually seen as more masculine instruments. It is also interesting to see what kinds of social implications result when a man or a woman chooses to play an instrument that is typically seen as having a gender identity different from that of the player. While women are often seen as having to “prove themselves” on a “male” instrument, if the woman is a skilled player she is often regarded highly, seen as being “sexy” or a “badass” for breaking gender norms. Conversely, when a man plays a typically “female” instrument, he may be seen as less masculine.

This topic interests me because I am a female who plays an instrument that is typically seen as a “male” instrument: the upright bass. I started playing when I was thirteen. It wasn’t a conscious choice to pick an instrument that is typically played by men; in fact, I don’t think I had made that connection yet. It was kind of a spontaneous choice when the eighth grade orchestra needed a bass player. It wasn’t until I started playing the instrument that I began to notice that other people who played bass were generally male. This realization was empowering for me as a teenager. Since I was kind of a tomboy at the time, I appreciated how being a bass player made me “one of the guys” (though now I just get frustrated about why I envisioned being associated with men as socially superior to being associated with women). For most of high school I was the only female bass players in the school and would get a lot of attention when I played in ensembles like jazz band, which were predominantly male to begin with. When I started getting more advanced and began participating in ensembles outside of my school, I began to notice that it wasn’t just a phenomenon within my school that bass players tended to be guys. While there were some other girls playing bass in groups I played with, they were relatively rare. Coming to Oberlin was interesting because of the number of female bass players who are at this school. I’d say about a quarter of the bass players at Oberlin are women, a percentage that is much higher than I’ve ever experienced before.

Since I play bass, I am able to cross over between numerous genres because almost all music can benefit from the harmonic and rhythmic foundation that can be provided by this instrument. Growing up I was exposed to a lot of folk music, so when I began getting more comfortable on the bass, I began jamming with other folk musicians. At home in New Jersey I’d often be one of the only females in a jam circle (and usually one of the youngest), and would often get the most attention because of the combination of my age, gender, and instrument choice. Even here at Oberlin when jamming with other people, I often find that I’m the only woman participating, or in a small minority of women participants. While at first jamming with mostly men was empowering, now I often just become frustrated with the attention. I usually find myself wishing that gender wasn’t such a big deal in music and that people would focus more on what I’m actually playing than the fact that I’m a girl playing the bass. It also gets frustrating when people assume that I’m trying to “prove” something by playing the bass, as I’ve never considered my main goal of playing this instrument to be defying social conventions and constructions.

There are very few prominent women bass players in professional musical groups today. Even just forty years ago women bass players were being denied jobs in professional orchestras because of their gender (in fact, the former ensemble librarian here at Oberlin played bass and has many stories of her struggles trying to be taken seriously as a female bass player). Since the prevalence of younger female bass players is growing, I think that is helping to break down perceptions of the bass being an entirely “male” instrument. While I do not wish for the bass to become a “female” instrument, I just hope that one day it is regarded as being gender neutral.

Hip Hop and especially rap, have long been seen as a very male dominated genre. Though the music started as a politically and socially conscious way to speak out against oppression and discrimination, today’s commercial hip hop and rap are mostly self-glorifying songs of toughness and domination, talking about violence, drugs, and “bitches and hoes” (Pasley 1). Many very popular rap songs have very explicitly derogatory lyrics towards women. For example, the chorus of one Ludacris song, entitled “Move Bitch,” consists entirely of the lyrics “Move bitch, get out the way, get out the way bitch, get out the way.” Most popular rapper’s music videos include of scantily clad women dancing behind the rapper, reinforcing their sexual objectification. A classic “booty shaking” video is Bubba Sparxxx featuring the Ying Yang Twins’ “Ms. New Booty.”



In the last decade or so, many women’s groups have protested the violent and derogatory lyrics that are prevalent in rap music. Though there are obviously problems with the fact that so many rap lyrics are promoting a very sexist and discriminatory image of women as nothing more than sex objects, there are also problems with the condemnation of all rap because of this. Often, “gangsta rap,” the subgenre that is most derogatory towards women, is equated with all hip hop. Also, though there has been a lot of attention and protests recently to rap as sexist, more traditionally “white” genres of rock and country whose lyrics are often just as discriminatory, aren’t as often condemned. Thirdly, there are many hip hop and rap artists who protest this misogynistic image, including women rappers.

As described on About.com, gangsta rap is “a term coined by the mainstream media to describe a certain genre of hip hop that reflects the violent lifestyles of some inner-city youth” (Adaso, 1). Many very commercially popular rap artists, including Snoop Dog, 50 Cent, and Ice Cube, are gangsta rappers. Their popularity has led many people to associate all hip hop with this subgenre, ignoring other subgenres including battle rap, and conscious rap and political hip hop which still focus on social and political awareness and change through their music.  Much conscious rap directly opposes the popular image of rap as sexist and violent.  The song, “I Used to Love H.E.R.” by rapper Common, is a “clever allegory about rap’s descent into commercially exploitative sex-and-violence subject matter” (Huey, 1).  

As Cynthia Fuchs says, “The public seems far more disturbed by misogynistic lyrics in the music of rap and hip hop artists who are largely black than similar lyrics in rock music, perceived by most as a white genre,” (Williams 1). One of the Rolling Stones’ hit songs is titled “Under My Thumb,” and is all about dominating your woman. Van Halen has many misogynistic lyrics in his songs including “Who you’re gonna call when you need that special little something… All you bad bad boys – call her up on the spank line,” from his song “Spanked.” Despite the prevalence of these themes in rock and country, they get nowhere near the attention that is paid to sexism in hip-hop and rap.

During the late 1980’s and early 1990’s, there was a flourishing of women rappers including Queen Latifah, Roxanne Shanté, Antoinette, Monie Love, Shazzy, and many others (Jost 1). Many of these artists wrote strongly feminist lyrics calling extolling female power and independence from men. In Roxanne Shanté’s song “Independent Women,” she sings “Ladies listen up, I really hope you’re ready… So lend me your ears, dry up your tears and lets hear the cheers for the years of the independent woman.” They also turn the male dominated genre on its head, such as in Shazzy’s song “Gigahoe,” subjecting men to the derogatory treatment that woman are usually afforded in hip hop.

Other songs, like Queen Latifah’s U.N.I.T.Y., directly respond to sexism with lyrics like, “Everytime I hear a brother call a girl a bitch or a ho, Trying to make a sister feel low, You know all of that gots to go.”

Gender roles and relationships in rap and hip hop are very complex and diverse. Often this is simplified and people only look at the sexist and derogatory gangsta rap of violence and sexually objectifying women. However, this is ignoring a whole other sphere of the genre that is very politically and socially aware and speaks to these issues in hip hop. It also often ignores the role and voice of women rappers.

Bibliography

Adaso, Henry. “Gangsta Rap.” About.com: Hip Hop and Rap. 2008.

Huey, Steve. “Common Biography.” All Music Guide. LyricsReg.com. 2009.

Jost, Matt. “Shazzy:: Attitude: A Hip Hop Rhapsody:: Elektra Entertainment.” Rap Reviews “Back to the Lab” Series. RapReviews.com. 2007.

Kubrin, Charis, and Weitzer, Ronald. “Misogyny in Rap Music: Objectification, Exploitation, and Violence Against Women.” All Academic Inc. 2008.

Pasley, Laura. “Bitches and Hoes: An Examination of the Image of Women in Rap Music.” Senior Thesis. Shimer College. 2001.

Williams, Dana. “Beyond Rap: Musical Misogyny.” Teaching Tolerance. Tolerance.org. Aug. 12, 2003.