How the b-word became a hip-hop term of endearment

OPINION - For every tongue in cheek, silly or ironic delivery of the word, b*tch remains as jarring, provocative and offensive as its always been when its intent isn't for comedic effect...

Luther Vandross was outed as gay after his death.

The transformation of rapper Too Short’s favorite word over the last decade or so has been pretty astounding.

For every tongue-in-cheek, silly or ironic delivery of the word, ‘b*tch’ remains as jarring, provocative and offensive as it’s always been when its intent isn’t for comedic effect.

Intent is the key. Look around hip-hop now and you’d be hard pressed to interpret ‘b*tch’ as anything other than a term of endearment, albeit the contentious history of the word won’t let it slide by so easily.

Rappers have spit about b*tches in dozens of incarnations.

There’s pretty b*tches — like the ones they mack on in club scenes of music videos. Down b*tches — the ones who may not turn heads with their physical appearance, but have rock solid character and undying love for them. Also known as main b*tches. Mad b*tches — well, you get it. But the most personal remains “my b*tch”.

There’s nothing new about it, but from Biggie’s “Me & My B*tch” on Ready to Die, to T.I.’s “Chillin’ With My B*tch” on Urban Legend, to the current Jay-Z & Kanye West collaboration, “That’s My B*tch” and Rick Ross’ “I Love My B*tches,” we get it. Every rapper worth his salt has a singular woman who’s risen above the rest and warranted a song for her dubious honor.

What’s funny is as proudly as they proclaim it over a beat, could you imagine an endearing way of saying you’re my b*itch in an intimate moment? Jay-Z’s not telling Beyoncé, ‘you know you’re my b*tch, right?’ and kissing her on the forehead before he leaves for work.

But the word has worked itself into this weird zone, even between women.

There’s really no badge of friendship like earning the moniker “my b*tch.” It equates a level of closeness that in two words explains the extent to which you’re loyal to this person. For your girl, you might pick her up when she gets a flat, but for your b*tch, you’ll be pushing the car in the rain right there with her.

So let’s do that math. “Ride or Die B*tch” = acceptable. “Move B*tch” = absolutely not.

But what made the mainstream consciousness so cool with b*tch being used so casually? What squelched the outspoken feminist voices that would’ve made this front page news declaring women everywhere under attack by a mainstream misogynist agenda.

My first thought was Chappelle’s Show.
The Comedy Central sketch show hosted by Dave Chappelle was groundbreaking for its commentary on race and culture. The show also used b*tch as a running punch line throughout its three-season run. From “I’m rich, b*tch” in the pilot, “Clap for me, b*tch” during the “Player Haters Ball” sketch, “Bring me back a banana cognac, b*tch” in the “Mad Real World” parody, and most famously, “I’m Rick James, b*tch!” in Charlie Murphy’s “True Hollywood Stories”.

They somehow softened the blow in a subtle, comedic reclamation of the word.

I really believe that without that series, there’s no way a song like Cee-Lo’s “F**k You” would be a No. 1 hit that kids who can barely tie their shoes know word-for-word. Somewhere along the line people stopped caring deeply about curse words.

The playful use of the word just has a ring to it. It emphasizes, it emotes, it’s the cherry on top of a verbal sundae, but I can’t help but get the feeling we’ve dropped the ball as a culture.

The derogatory, gangsta rap incarnation of the word was probably the most vilified. Not only was it uttered with every ounce of male domination, but it usually was packaged with suggestive visuals of women as nothing more than expendable sex objects.

We heard about abolishing this use of b*tch all the time, all the way up to the “Tip Drill” era but somewhere along it seems there was a societal fatigue to the fight to stop degrading women and those unwritten rules were relaxed. Tuned out by people who got the controversy, but determined it really wasn’t such a big deal after all.

That places the onus squarely on women to put their foot down and decide what is and isn’t acceptable. Is this a playful term of endearment shared jokingly amongst friends, or is it the stopper of all stoppers in conversation that warrants immediate checking whenever uttered?

How anyone agreed to make b*tch a pseudonym of woman, I’ll never know. But while polarity has diminished, improper intent can make this word just as powerful as it’s always been. With no clear cut answer in sight, expect your favorite rapper or celeb to continue using it as a space filler, toeing that line of flattery and outright offense.

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