TQW Magazin
Dalia Ahmed & Adina Hasler on JEZEBEL by Cherish Menzo

The struggle of Black women in hip-hop

The struggle of Black women in hip-hop

A heap of shiny golden material on the left side of the stage, a blank screen in the background, and then there’s Cherish Menzo – cycling in slow motion towards the audience, in the style of a Hype Williams video. The mood is gloomy, and the slowness of these first moments feels as oppressive as the heaviness of the world with everything that’s systemically wrong with it. Menzo bears the insignia of power from the heyday of hip-hop in the 1980s and 90s: a fur coat, a shiny gold chain, silver grills – i.e. jewellery for the teeth – white Adidas socks, the bike is a lowrider, and long white acrylic nails that immediately catch the eye. The nails are spectacularly staged by Menzo – as insect antennae here, as teeth of an unearthly species there. The movements are calm at first, almost too slow, but they soon develop into dynamic, savage repetitions through close-ups on the screen and in the interplay with the acrylic nails. Once we have gone through the movements and body parts with Menzo over and over again, we realise that this is about hip-hop and, above all, about women in the world of mainstream hip-hop. Slowly, scene by scene, we move away from the body study towards the music video and its choreographies. Choreographies that are pieced together from various African-American dances. Popping & locking, krumping, crip walking and twerking are all dance styles with a rich and long tradition. Twerking in particular plays a central role in Menzo’s piece – after all, it has become emblematic of hip-hop dance in recent years. Notorious in the eyes of some, loved and practiced by others. And, yet again, appropriated by white artists who habitually help themselves to elements of African-American culture. But Cherish Menzo’s subject of interest isn’t cultural appropriation – she seems to be concerned with self-exploitation. Even the title of the piece, Jezebel, refers to US-American minstrel shows. A form of entertainment that was a new avenue of oppression and segregation in the United States after the Civil War. In these popular vaudeville shows, white people painted themselves black and played stereotypical characters that were intended to paint a negative, racist image of Black US Americans. A reaction of White America to the abolition of slavery. Black performers and jazz musicians also took part in these shows because there were hardly any other income opportunities for them as Black artists in the Southern United States, which were governed by the Jim Crow laws. Jezebel analyses a modified, contemporary form of displaying stereotypes and archetypes. Menzo negotiates how these roles have been imposed on Black artists in mainstream hip-hop. She stages herself as Nicki Minaj and raps Oochie Wally by Nas and the Bravehearts. A song in which singer Shelene Thomas, who isn’t featured in the credits, sings a hypersexualised text. In her criticism of hip-hop Menzo uses classic hip-hop gimmicks such as distorting and slowing down sounds and vocals – a technique developed by Texan DJ Screw. Projected in close-up on a screen she raps Jay Z’s Big Pimpin’ and, at the end of the piece, breathes ‘life’ into the heap of material as a reference to Missy Elliott’s blow-up suit. But her bodysuit is golden and boasts large, conical breasts. When Menzo tears them off at the end and also disposes of the acrylic nails, she suggests an act of liberation to us. Presumably, Menzo’s message is a call to emancipation from hypersexualisation. But it’s not that simple. After all, artists like Cardi B, Nicki Minaj and Megan Thee Stallion also contribute to their listeners’ empowerment. What remains is an ambivalent feeling. Yes, much is amiss in mainstream hip-hop, but are female rappers and dancers really the ones who should get criticised? Not those who profit most from it all? I.e. the white label bosses and a system that offers women and people read as female hardly any opportunities for other forms of creative output and self-expression.

 

Dalia Ahmed is a music journalist and presenter on Radio FM4. Adina Hasler is a cultural worker.

 

 
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