With Ms. Melodie’s passing, the presence of powerful women in hip-hop has grown even smaller. Women in hip-hop are like black Republicans: people caught up in a world that they fear, despite belonging on some level, also ultimately hates them.
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It’s not as if Ms. Medlodie had any platinum albums or number one hits, but she will forever be remembered for her verse on the ’89 anthem “Self Destruction.” The verse, short and to the point, stood its ground with bars by the top emcees of the time:
I’m Ms. Melodie and I’m a born again rebel
The violence in rap must cease and seckle
If we want to develop and grow to another level
We can’t be guinea pigs for the devil
The enemy knows, they’re no fools
Because everyone knows that hip-hop rules
So we gotta get a grip and grab what’s wrong
The opposition is weak and rap is strong
One could argue that her verse, along with that of fellow female emcee MC Lyte, was one of the most memorable on the star-stocked epic hip-hop message song. Ms. Melodie was not only a credible emcee in her own right, she was also the former wife of legendary rapper, KRS-One. Despite this iconic status, Melodie would never have fit in with the ladies of rap today depicted in forums like TV’s Love & Hip-Hop.
The recent death of Ms. Melodie makes us mourn that the roles of women in the art of rap have drastically changed since the days of “Self Destruction.” While it was never an easy road for women in hip-hop, the “golden era” of the genre (which many say was ’88 to ’93) showcased articulate women with a voice. Remembering these women will help us keep in mind how much female power has been lost.
One of the first women to powerfully express herself in rap was Roxanne Shante. Shante took on the identity of the woman from the UTFO song “Roxanne, Roxanne” and started one of the first battles on wax with her song “Roxanne’s Revenge.” “Roxannes Revenge” was a clever, devastating retort as she gave a distinctive personality to the fictional woman barely outlined on the first track — plus she held her own in a verbal competition with the hottest rap groups out at the time.
One could even credit Shante as being one of the first battle/dis record pioneers. Outside of her battle with UTFO, she clashed with The Real Roxanne, Sparky D, and openly dissed popular rappers LL Cool J, Run DMC and Kurtis Blow. Beyond brazen and bold.
Shante would hold her own in the Juice Crew with Big Daddy Kane, Biz Markie and Marley Marl, and endure the epic Bridge wars, in which her womanhood was attacked when KRS-One said, “Roxanne Shante is only good for steady f**king.” Unperturbed, she would respond to KRS-One by viciously dissing him and his Boogie Down Productions Crew in return.
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Way before 50 Cent, she made a name for herself by dissing rappers, both male and female, and becoming intertwiened in lyrical battles. Shante showed that women could compete with men in hip-hop and have their own unmistakable voice — while still being fully integrated in hip-hop culture.
Roxanne Shante was young, fierce and fearless, yet still distinctly feminine. She would find her mantle taken up by the women of Salt ‘N Pepa.
Like Shante, the ladies of Salt ‘N Pepa would get their start answering a popular rap song with “Showstopper,” a dis track targeting Doug E. Fresh and Slick Rick’s “The Show.”
Cheryl James (Salt) and Sandra Denton (Pepa) were both sexy and feminist, bashing promiscuous men with their hit “Tramp” and celebrating female sexual empowerment with the timeless anthem “Push It.”
Their hot style, divalicous attitude and energetic lyrics reflected a positive identity to young, urban African-American women. They could be sex symbols who still wouldn’t take any ish from a man — a powerful message lacking in images of women associated with hip-hop today.
Roxanne Shante’s other heiress apparent was MC Lyte, another feisty teen rapper who would give a voice to the “around the way girls” in cities across the country. Lyte would become the first female to put out a full length hip-hop album in 1988.
Lyte would represent hard for women in the war of the sexes, going toe to toe with Positive K on “Not Havin It” and releasing the female-empowering, man-bashing hit “Paper Thin.” Lyte also had a scene-stealing verse on the aforementioned hip-hop classic, “Self Destruction.” She showcased dazzling storytelling skills on “Cappuchino” and “Poor Georgie,” the latter an old school gem.
The success of Lyte and Salt ‘N Pepa allowed several other women to get chances at the mic. Queen Latifah and Monie Love provided a much-needed touch of feminism to the Native Tongues’ progressive, abstract afro-centrism, contributing clever, honest verses about sex on “Buddy” with De La Soul, The Jungle Brothers and A Tribe Called Quest. The two also created their own black female anthem, “Ladies First” in which they took pride in their gender and struggle. That song will still get any club hopping, and both men and women thinking.
Out west Ice Cube introduced Yo-Yo, who was the South Central girl with the attitude and intelligence to match his. She branded her crew the IBWC –Intelligent Black Women’s Coalition — and rapped about uplifting her gender. It’s hard to imagine that today.
Def Jam would put out Nikki D, who would tell tales of teenage sex from a woman’s perspective in “Daddy’s Little Girl,” and Boss, a talent who put out a female take on the paronoia and stress inherent in gangster rap on her track, “Deeper.”
Isis would bring a strong female presence to X-Clan, just as Sistah Souljah did for Public Enemy. Boogie Down Productions of course had strong female members such as Ms. Melodie, along with her sister Harmony and Real World reality show alumna Heather B.
Even that haven for misogyny Death Row Records had a strong female rapper, Lady of Rage, who had fierce guest appearances on several albums and even spawned a massive hit with “Afro Puffs.”
Ladybug Mecca put a female touch on the burgeoning jazz/hip-hop scene as part of Digable Planets, and Da Brat bought vibrancy to the growing hip-hop scene in Atlanta in the early nineties way before it became the black entertainment capital.
As hip-hop became more commercialized and marketed as a “gangsta” artform in the mid nineties, the roles for females drastically changed.
Rap music became more focused on streetlife, criminal elements and material success. Female rappers had to take on roles that made them sidekicks or sidechicks, Bonnies to their gangsta rapping Clydes.
Two emcees who fit those roles perfectly where Lil Kim and Foxy Brown. Both rappers were protégés of successful rappers. With their advent, the voices of female MCs in the mainstream would never be the same.
Lil Kim met Notorious B.I.G. as a teenager. He became her mentor and Svengali, crafting her rhymes and image while maintaining a sexual relationship with her. She was in essence a creation of Biggie’s, a materialistic, sexy and sexual woman, who was down to ride with her criminal male accomplices, the new role for female rappers. Gone was the independence, the flirty individualism, the desire to uplift and entertain.
Foxy Brown was also molded into another rapper’s image from a young age. Jay-Z allegedly wrote Foxy Brown’s first album and like Kim crafted her into the sex bomb gangster’s sidechick, more interested in gold digging than real men with hearts of gold.
Unlike female rappers before them who would counter their male counterparts’ misogyny, Lil Kim and Foxy brown would promote it, actively playing the roles of the b****es and hoes that existed in the chauvinistic world of gangsta rap: women defined by their raw and available sexuality, crass materialism, and revelry in the gangsta lifestyle.
As the nineties ended, Lil Kim and Foxy Brown would become more known for their problems with the law than their music. Both lived up to the gangsta girl image created by their mentors and became involved in shoot outs and highly publicized trials.
Very few female emcees have experienced popularity in hip-hop since Lil Kim and Foxy Brown. Both Eve and Trina started out as strippers. While Eve has combated domestic violence through her song “Love Is Blind,” Trina — unlike the hyper-talented Queen Latifah — is quite comfortable being called a bitch.
As hip-hop became more image-oriented, the video girl replaced the female rapper as the male rapper’s companion. Popular women in hip-hop were no longer known for their skills but for their looks. Women in rap were stripped of their voice and given a body as their only means of representation.
There was one blip of light with Lauryn Hill in the late ’90s with her solo album, but then — nothing.
Remembering Ms. Melodie makes this vacuum even more soul-sucking.
Ms. Melodie may not have sold a million records, but she represented her culture proudly as well as her gender. As hip-hop became a business, women’s sexuality — not their thoughts or opinions — were used to sell it. The death of one of the original female voices in hip-hop only underscores the void in women’s representation that exists today.
Misogyny and the objectification of women sell records, feminism does not. No longer is there room for Queen Latifah, Yo-Yo, Roxanne Shante and MC Lyte to stand up for women against the men who bash them. Today, Nicki Minaj is the most popular female rapper by far. Her distorted image and superficial lyrics might make dollars but they don’t make sense.
As hip-hop lost its voice of social consciousness, the voice of women and their struggle was silenced. If women are going regain real representation in rap — which will benefit the entire community — they are going to need to bypass the corporate, male-driven business structure that perpetuates the misogyny only real female MCs can fight, staying true to Ms. Melodie’s words: “The opposition is weak and rap is strong.”
Follow Casey Gane–McCalla on Twitter at @CaseyGane