"You Got an Eye Problem?": Media Representation of "Urban Chicks," Women & Hip-Hop Culture

If you've been out-and-about in the city in the last week or so, chances are you've been snagged to the edge of a sidewalk or street corner, walked into something/someone, or have almost been hit by a bus when the jaw-droppingly buxom and scandalous image gracing the May 30th - June 5th cover of the Village Voice caught your eye. And if you are alive or at least have a faint pulse, it did no doubt catch your eye. Featuring BlackMen's fashion editor, Marcus Blassingame, with coyly positioned, pouty-lipped, and smokey-eyed model Angel Melaku submissively kneeling on a bar stool, as Blassingame defiantly grills the camera. Conjuring the classic pin-up vibe flipped with "urban interest," the Ethiopian-born beauty almost completely spills-out of her vintage lingerie-inspired bustier, clad in nothing else but thigh-high black fishnet garter-stockings, a black g-string thong, and six-inch stiletto heels. Titled "End Run," the cover story aims to bolster editors and publishers of urban versions of popular "lad rags," such as King, SSX, Smooth, Sweets, (to a lesser degree) Vibe (Vixen), XXL, and Source targeted largely at Black and Latino men. Instead of featuring the stereotypical euro-centric, amazonian supermodel-types in their salacious spreads as magazines such as Maxim, Stuff, and the U.K.'s F.H.M. have traditionally done, editors like Blassingame are opting to showcase full-figured, voluptuous women of color on their pages.
Blassingame boasts that he wanted a much more "street element" in his models, so he literally did just that; instead of hiring models, he scouted, discovered, and featured real women off the street who largely had no prior experience at all. Lamenting the difficulties of siring a "breakthrough in the genre," editors of urban men's interest magazines are finding it harder and harder to sell advertising and win distribution space in mainstream arenas, which they vocally attribute to racist misrepresentations in the media. What's more, the editorial staff and models themselves are also taking jabs at the misogyny of mainstream media, especially when it comes to images and representations of women of color. Models like Angel Melaku and the Buffie "the Body" Carruth (hailed as the "Black Pam Anderson") feel that their work is so often suppressed because mainstream media views their voluptuous rumps and curvaceous bodies as offensive and profane.

Buffie "the Body," has been featured in G-Unit, Tony Yayo, and 50 Cent videos among other mags' spreads.

While mainstream media is undeniably and flagrantly racist, sexist, misogynistic, and xenophobic in nature, especially in the (mis)representation and often times violent fetishization of women of color (for example, see: Asian women in porn, women of color in snuff films, etc.), and the unfair and unrealistic physical expectations placed on all women, women of color are asking themselves, "is this the best solution?" Is it really an issue of fighting back and re-appropriating a beauty standard and body image as Sandy Vasceannie, editor of Smooth professes, or is it just another front for the degradation of Black and Brown women with harmful and tasteless "big booty freaks & ho's" stereotyping? Without any subtly or nuanced motives at all, magazines like King feature their pictorial back page closer with titles like "Backshot," or Smooth's "Rear View" page, outwardly admitting their publications are all about "fat asses and pretty faces."
For one, I am not a hater when it comes to the embrace of thick, womanly curves. Standing at an extremely low-to-the-ground 5'0" with my fair share of mixed-Boriqua hips & booty, frankly I was elated to read that Antoine Clark, editor of Sweets magazine wanted "page after page of short, stocky urban chicks with fat butts and big hips," of the graphic layout. But more and more "urban chicks" are finding these images offensive, and some say they actually make their day-to-day lives that much more difficult.
Sonovia, a 26 year-old local East Village bartender resents these images and says that as a Black woman, they do indeed make her life noticeably harder. Born and raised in Bed Stuy, Brooklyn, Sonovia is a statuesque and striking Trinidadian-Puerto Rican mixed beauty, but is unmistakably spunky and hard as nails, and not one to fuck with. "When I saw that cover [of the Village Voice]," Sonovia says to me over a quickly disappearing rum and coke on a Saturday night around St. Marks, "I was so upset, before my shift began I took every one of those issues off of the street and threw them in the garbage." I agreed that the cover shot had been a bit much and pretty offensive, but was a really good publicity move. I often times don't know exactly how to express myself with these issues, as I am extremely white and basically unaffected by this kind of media representation, but I supported her move to make her job a safer and less irritating place. We ordered another round and I asked her to please continue venting, "I get that kinda shit all the time when I'm behind the bar," she tells me, "and it's mostly from white guys- they think they're 'down' because they watch Chappelle's Show and see these kinds of 'ghetto' images that it's okay to treat women of color a certain way; like animals. These idiot frat boys come-in every night, see me working the bar and think it's their perfect opportunity to put their hands on me and fulfill some kind of 'big booty freak jungle fantasy.'"
Big booty fetishization is no new phenom, either. The "Hottentot Venus" of 19th Century fame was a title given to one or more indentured or enslaved Khoisan South African women, as they toured Europe as the main attraction of a freak show. Their asses were literally the main attraction, put on display and paraded around for a price, usually in a burlesque-like atmosphere. It was not unheard of for people to pay extra to touch the Venus' legendary rump, and they were often times pimped-out by the show managers after-hours. They were not only sexualized curiosities, but the Hottentot Venus' were viewed and treated as subhuman. Saarjtie Bartman, the most famous Hottentot Venus was studied and treated as a science experiment during her life, and when she died at age 25, her body was sold to the Musée de l'Homme, dissected, studied, and put on display in Paris, France. Her genitals, skeleton, and brain were on display in the anthropology museum until May 6th, 2002 when she was finally returned to her native South Africa after much tumult between the two nations, and laid to rest in a proper Khoisan burial.

The men's urban interests rags that wallpaper and litter the trains and news stands of the city are nothing incredibly new to any New Yorker. After reading the piece and discussing it with other ladies (and gent's), I was perplexed. We all basically agreed on, "yeah, big booty rags and urban men's interest- so what? They always have been and always will be, most likely." Perhaps shocking to middle America as they quickly spread in popularity to racks nation-wide, King, XXL, Vibe, BlackMen, and the like are probably not winning any wars of justice or starting any great revolutions with pin-ups and centerfolds. At best, they're running a successful game , getting rich themselves and making the jerks at the Village Voice richer. Their "activism" spin was asinine and played-out; it served to soften the ethical blows to the Village Voice's false political egoism as they simultaneously slapped "urban chicks" and women of color so as to be "down." I think the irony of this whole absurdity is that the morons reading this piece as a sociological/anthropological window into "urban culture" wouldn't dream of going into the neighborhoods where these publications are on every toilet's tank and end table, and if a regular reader walked too closely behind him or her at night, you'd better believe they'd have their Lily-white fingers on the 9-1-1 dial of their blackberry.

Post Note: Unfortunately, after much Internet digging, I couldn't find a picture of the cover of the Voice. Please forgive, as this was the focus of my tangents.

Another Pair of Sneakers

My first article for Beyond Race Magazine was published in the Beyond Race blog yesterday, before the print issue is even released!
I have a small sneaker-fetish habit, and in order to keep it from destroying my life and my credit, I keep it under-wraps by using sneaks as rewards.

Me on the phone with my Editor: "You liked my piece?!...in the new issue?...word?!...I'm sorry, I actually have to run...No...I'm just kind of in the middle of..."
Shoe Sales Guy: "Excuse me Miss, did you want the sneaker cleaner with that too? And would you like me to ball-lace your dunks or street-lace them for you?"

On top of this dopeness for my feet and the next issue of Beyond Race, formerly of Chappelle's Show fame, Donnell Rawlings, Comedian Extraordinaire lays it down and tells it like it is on Beyond Race and bulldogs.

How many pairs of sneakers and trips to the NIKEiD store can I possibly finagle out of this?

Can't Be Saved By Your Babbling or Your Backpack

Okay. After establishing some quick points in the previous post, a lot of people supportive of my doing this were asking me, "what the fuck exactly are you trying to do?" Aside from attempting to bring some light in and air out your stinky, musty, dark little corners in life with a little humor and mild laughter, my point was to explain parts of my perspective on what largely convinced me to embark on this blogging experiment. And maybe I was just trying to charm the pants off of my readers by exhibiting my range of skill creatively without stroking my already too-inflated ego until it bled.
Hemorrhage or homage, I wasn't really specific or clear about what I'm actually trying to do here. Then again, I think that's probably a huge part of the motivation- if not, the focus. I'm a young woman trying to be a writer or something like it. I have recently been extremely fortunate to have been given a sprawling amount of opportunity by some very supportive editors and writers. I've basically been encouraged to grow and exercise my craft freely, writing about the hip-hop community & culture (among other things), which I'm madly in-love with. Like anything else, it's an enormous, ever-changing work in-progress, but something I felt made sense and was important enough to write about.
I'm basically just a kid that loves breaks & hip-hop. Disappointed and irritated by the state of hip-hop blogs, writing, and publicity, I began to notice how these vital distractions in the music industry were obstructing amazing artists and people in-general from getting a fair chance at appreciating and being appreciated as good music. On the reverse of that, many good people are being turned-on to embarrassingly, mind boggling-ly awful music and gross misrepresentations of hip-hop & hip-hop culture (mainstream and backpack, god forbid) by worshiping the false idols of thug-hyped, media-frenzied, overly decadent Gangstalicious images.
Removed from the mass-media "urban hype" machines are the brave souls writing the vast array of hip-hop blogs that have become so popular lately. The tides have shifted, and the mainstream-ization of self-published Internet columns and blogs have reached a height of culmination, taking bloggers and Internet junkies away from marginalization and obscurity. I hold myself in a position of camaraderie and solidarity with self-made and independent writers, especially those who are completely self-contained- like most blog nerds. Before anyone starts hurling wild accusations and vehement denials, let me just say that I understand how fucking difficult it is to do all that independently (in the most literal sense) purely on the basis of genuine love. However, without some kind of intervention or mentorship, a writer has a serious temptation to babble and ramble about whatever strikes his or her fancy with no consideration of organization or content. I think it sucks that so many artists become easily annoyed and dismissive of mentions and exposure in said hip-hop blogs because of this element. Kris Ex, quite possibly one of the greatest hip-hop journalists of all time and a great influence of mine said in an interview that,

"I think one of the main reasons why webzines are lame is that there really is no quality control...what happens is that you get some kid who wants to write 1,000 words about the new Kanye West single. Sometimes this leads to fascinating writing, but more often it's just a recipe for garbage...I feel as if many of the younger writers today don't understand how important and sacred true criticism is. It's a very deep process that requires a lot of introspection before you put the first word to the page. I see so many writers who don't have any respect for the art of criticism. It's really easy to make fun of someone's work or to tear them down. But that's not criticism. True criticism notes what went wrong, what went right, what could make the project better, identifies who would like this music and why, and requests that the critic looks in the mirror, sees his or her own shortcomings."

In this spirit, my concept was to cast a critical gaze at contemporary hip-hop culture & media representation in a way that was encouraging writers, artists, and whoever else chances upon this blog to put-out better work and to resuscitate whatever sense of community hip-hop still has left in it, myself included.
Intended also as an outlet to entertain, update, and discuss hip-hop culture, my projects, weekly flavors, and goings-on out & about, I will seriously try to limit the random diatribes and personal bullshit by sticking to my own overly-opinionated advice.

...And Then There Was Ichi Ban...

While the rest of the female world searches and quests for the perfect pair of hotpants to go with those black, strappy, slingback stiletto heels they just found on sale that give their legs the power to melt the brains of all men, one woman searches for a tiny, meager little morsel of creative output inside herself that can also melt things, but mostly help people figure shit out. Sorta.
In a sticky, sweltering apartment in Brooklyn, on an unseasonably warm, early Summer night- Memorial Day weekend to be precise- she created this blog in response to her perspective on the bloggosphere and on urban & hip-hop culture in general.
Ichi Ban has been providing such information and "services" (aka, overblown opinions) for a little while now, mostly to friends and close associates she sees greatness and potential in and wants to see blow-up in the hip-hop community and beyond. Labeled as the "unpaid hype girl" for many, she admittedly strokes egos by socially representing said artists, friends, etc., for purely egotistical and selfish reasons. "I mainly do this because I'm a jerk," she explains, "I think I have the best taste in the world- especially in music- and everyone should like what I like." She also is a contributing writer for Beyond Race magazine, and takes-in little freelance jobs every now & then.