Chocolate Chip: I Was Not A Rap Video Ho

by Charlie

SEEKING: “ethnically ambiguous” women with “regal faces” who “must be comfortable with artistic nudity” for an “Egyptian themed,” Helmut Newton-esque (read: drop them draws, Nefertitty!) “artistic video promo.” I received this invite on Facebook and thought to myself, “easy money? I’M THERE.” Then it occurred to me that I hate videos with half naked women posing next to rap stars who lip-sync songs about bitches and hos while blithely holding a bottle of Cristal in one hand and money in the other. Newton inspired or not, the image of a black woman standing next to a be-blinged rapper conjures stereotypes I’d rather not perpetuate. QUERY: Could this be one of the reasons why I find the idea of dating black men so unappealing? Has the doctrine of “big pimpin’” and the gospel of R. Kelly ruined my chances with (li’l) Romeo?

If you put a gun to my head and asked me to tell you the truth about dating, romance and love I’d say, “you can feign competence and knowledge of the first two, but you can’t learn how to fall in love nor can you choose who you fall in love with.” I keep failing at love because I keep trying to choose who I fall in love with. “White is right” is all wrong. Mayhap I’m simply paranoid. Just because I’ve not dated a black man seriously doesn’t mean I’m avoiding them and just because ersatz rap star personalities look like assholes to me, it doesn’t mean dating one would make me look like an asshole too, does it? Maybe it does.

I was scratching my head when Beyonce married Jay-Z. Has she seen the video for “Big Pimpin’”? Has she heard the lyrics on “Who You Wit?” Because I don’t think she’d want to be wit him after listening to the song. Maybe Jay-Z and all rap and R&B; stars are truly personae, far removed from the black man within who wants nothing more than some Cheese Whiz with crackers, grape soda and a few Oreos. Even so, isn’t there something to be said about entertainers earning massive amounts of money promoting false images? Rap and R&B; music and their bastard videos are American inventions firmly established within the cultural metasphere. Even if the black gangsta rapper cum millionaire story is all a charade, it’s not perceived as such by most and at the very least it still needs to be held accountable for my racist dating record!

Today’s blacks are in desperate need of serious artists to offset some of the harm caused by the explosion of gangsta rap and its weak ass steeze. More women would help. Which reminds me: Missy E, drop a new one! Where the hell is Lauryn Hill and why the fuck did Erykah Badu get neekid in her new video? (This is the point where I throw my hands up and ask for a popsicle before naptime.)

Rap and R&B; music videos probably shouldn’t be held responsible for impacting one’s dating life, but do care that much about music. Listening to records at night alone in my room with the lights off or watching hours of music videos on MTV (when they still had those) was what I did for many years in between driving my parents totally bananas. Music was the snakeskin jacket-a symbol of my individuality and my belief in personal freedom. Everything else was fuck all. If you didn’t get MY music, you didn’t get ME. So witnessing those videos go from this to that was very damaging after all and someone (black men?) needs to be punished (they’re used to it anyway?).

Trying to find similarities between the Sugarhill Gang and Twista is like trying to find a straight man with a waxed chest in speedos in the Pines on Fire Island. While I don’t think one video can be identified as the pivotal turning point between then and now, the video for Bell Biv DeVoe’s 1990 hit “Poison” is a strong candidate (among several others directed chiefly by Hype Williams and almost anything from R. Kelly.) In addition to featuring a series of complicated dance moves, you may also notice the ubiquitous presence of several skanks standing around in tight miniskirts looking superfluous and lost in the video. I suppose if you’re going to caution one to “never trust a big butt and a smile” you may need several big butts to illustrate your point, but more importantly, the content of the song and the video serve as precursors for things to come: the growing presence of hyper-sexualized images of black women in music videos that evolved in tandem with the catapulting success of black entertainers in the 1990s.

Of course, black men can’t take all the credit for exploiting naked women in their music videos. Travel back to 1983 when Kiss removed their make-up and released the video for “Lick It Up” or 1987 and the release of Mötley Crüe’s video for “Girls, Girls, Girls” or Warrant’s 1990 “Cherry Pie.” All of these videos fit the rubric-woman with open legs, literally, playing sluts on screen. Fortunately (on that count), hair metal wasn’t afforded the same longevity that has sustained rap music and allowed rap music videos to devolve into their current state of utter repugnance. Had Vince Neil et al continued to make their trashy music videos,, my dating pool would be even smaller. The absence of drunk, long haired, tattooed, leather clad white dudes and black men who spend 90% of their time glorifying ice and booty and all those who want to be like them? (Lest we forget: “The people that I really love are these kind of larger-than-life figures-somebody like Lil’ Wayne, who’s, like, the same age as me. For me, loving somebody involves an element of unapproachability.” That’s from “Ryan Dombal, 28, the only Pitchfork writer in New York.”)

So that pretty much leaves me with Thais and nerds of all stripes and colors.

Rap and R&B; owe this endurance to hip-hop, a movement inspired by the socioeconomic realities of black life in the ghetto. Rap represents the underbelly of that movement, with an “in-your-face-homeboy” attitude. Its attendant controversy generated appeal for me! But, when rappers weren’t telling the police to go fuck themselves, they bitch slapped each other over rhyming skills (a reshuffled version of the dozens), threatened to kill you and talked about bitches on their nutz. Guess which one struck a chord with the populace? It’s worth pointing out that there’s a striking difference between the videos for Ice Cube’s “Check Yo Self,” or Wu Tang’s “Protect Ya Neck” and Jay-Z’s “Big Pimpin’” or Lil Wayne’s “Mrs. Officer.” It’s excess. More money more problems, as they say. And one of those “problems” happens to be bitches on deez nutz. So maybe I’m doing black men who subscribe to the rap star as paragon of success model a favor! I certainly don’t want to burden you all with more “problems.”

To set the record straight, there’s nothing wrong with being a black woman with nice tits and an ass the size of Jupiter in some man’s music video. It’s a job and a girl’s gotta eat. My beef is with the bitches and hos design that dominates the genres, how it has stunted the quality of this music and, by sheer omnipresence, created a standard black men think they must achieve even though it is unrealistic for almost everyone. Nothing will not stop a broke ass black man from wearing “bling” purchased on Lenox Avenue. I made a decision not to turn up for the “promo” because I don’t want to contribute to the farce. Also I probably would have been sent the fuck home anyway. But in terms of dating, I don’t care what color you are, just RESPECT, don’t use products in your hair and don’t worship at the altar of Young Jeezy.

Charlie is the pen name of a super-profesh young black lady in New York City.