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Beautiful – Article by Renee Barrett

5 April 2003 No Comment

When they audition young women for rap videos these days, do the brothers use the paper bag test? The comb test? I wonder how they determine who is either too black or not black enough to be considered “beautiful.” What am I talking about, you ask? The latest trend in “hippopular” culture: The whiteout of black women in positions of visibility. It has actually become offensive. Usually, I’m pretty good at flipping the channel whenever I see the redundant video “club” scene. I had also become quite good at turning a deaf ear to the ignorance spewing from the mouths of some of the members of our race these days. Well folks, I snapped! The new video by Snoop and Pharell Williams of the Neptunes has pushed me to the brink of insanity.

“You’re beautiful…you’re my favorite girl”Pharell lovingly serenades a light-skinned beauty on the beach in Brazil. And from the looks of the crowd at the beach, it seems that Black women are out of season again.

Sisters, hear me out-I don’t have a problem with light skin, curly hair, or light eyes when they truly belong to you. I don’t have a problem when they don’t. My beef is with black men who show preference to those features and characteristics-claiming that this is what is beautiful, or favored. This has become an issue that doesn’t seem to be going away. It is detrimental to Black women, and women in general because society is pushing its standards of beauty onto the world and Black men are guilty of buying into it, by spotlighting light skinned, almost white females in their videos. It is a slap in the face, and a regression into history that I thought Blacks had passed. Well…the consequences of shadism are many. The one that concerns me the most is the impact that this “whiteout has caused on my young women of color who look up to these rappers. They are the ones buying their music and supporting their lifestyle. Yet, these rappers (mainly Black me 

Shadism is definitely not a new phenomenon. The wounds of slavery and colonialism have not healed; and in fact, they are reopened like fresh wounds. Still bleeding. Before you dismiss me as paranoid, check this out: the year is 2003, I’m heading up my sisterhood society meeting at the high school I work at. The topic today is self esteem, self worth, female empowerment. We’re all sitting around the conference table, talking and eventually we get around to the latest movie, the hottest song and of course the latest videos. And which video do you think was the topic of choice? Bingo! 

One of my girls, Taisha, a pretty dark skinned sister with a dimpled smile asked the rest of our sisterhood if they had seen the “Beautiful” video. All the girls shook their heads vigorously, talkin’ about how they love Pharell, and they love Snoop, and the song was sooo hot. Taisha’s voice suddenly became more aggressive as she asked another girl in the group “why she had love for a brother that don’t love you? Did you see the girl Pharell was singin’ too? Please, he would never go for someone as dark as us.” The other young sisters started to shift uncomfortably in their seats, staring at the ground. The silence was thick.

“Yeah, said Shauna, one of my vocal sisters. “But it’s just like that now. You see all these Black guys at school goin’ out with them Spanish girls, just cuz they got that long curly Cuban hair that Snoop loves so much”.
I had just about as much as I was about to take about that Cuban hair crap! I let them know that that was a stupid comment, and that Cuban’s are white, Cubans are Black, and Cubans are Asian. There is no such thing as “Cuban” hair. 

“It don’t matter miss, Black men don’t see us unless we’re almost white, mixed-up looking, and a size 6. We’re invisible. Look at the basketball players, and all the rappers. “It ain’t fair Miss, ’cuz I know that before these rappers got record deals, they was on our block hollerin’ at a shorty. “They would tell us how much they liked our “phat-assed thighs, thick lips or chocolate skin. Why does all that change once they get a record deal Miss?” 

I looked around the table at my young sisters who were desperate for love and appreciation. Desperate to be told that they were worth something to their brothers. They too, wanted to be told they were beautiful-the way that Snoop and Pharell and countless other Black rappers-tell “exotic” women they are beautiful. They looked at me, anxious for answers. I saw in each of them the beautiful little black girls and boys who sang during the sixties, “I’m black and I’m proud,” with fro’s and fists held high with self pride! I was now facing a generation that starved themselves to stay thin, bleached their skin and fried their hair and brains with chemicals. I tried to explain the deceptive ways of popular culture. I also let them know that they had to be the ones to not only step outside of the box, but if they must, create an entirely new one. If they didn’t agree with something, or something made them feel bad, then 

“But Miss, they exclaimed, the song is so hot!”

I know it’s hard. Especially with BET and MTV playing these videos on heavy rotation. They get in your head. Literally. “I’m human”, I reassured them. I know I fall into the trap too-I may be diggin’ a song, but the moment I see the video, if it is an offensive song, I no longer want to hear it. I always stress to my sisters that if they really want change, not to just speak about it. They have to be that change, especially as young women. The future of mankind depends on it. Sacrifice is a hard thing to do, but it’s necessary. Why would anyone want to spend their hard earned money on an item that disrespects them, or devalues them? And this issue is bigger than pop culture; it has political ramifications. Since I work in a schoo 

Today, is the age of the video hoe, women are douching’ for dollars* and Sambo is shuckin’ and jivin’ all around Hollywood bringin’ down the house!’ 

Sure, maybe I do take things too seriously, I mean, it’s just a song right? I wonder if my critics, remember how hip hop started? It was a movement. It was about fighting the power. Now hip hop culture is a joke. Lyrics today sound like nursery rhymes gone awry. And this is our “popular” culture. The irony is that this “popular culture” is devastating the population who created it. I don’t find this entertaining at all. It makes me angry. 

As consumers of this multi-million dollar business called hip hop, it is our duty to hold our artists accountable for what they say and do, especially if it’s disrespectful. I am also of the opinion that anyone who is fortunate enough to be blessed with a talent, an audience and a spotlight, (let alone a microphone) than it is that person’s responsibility to educate, to mobilize and motivate their following. I want to say to all those who complain about being role models, if you don’t want the spotlight, why are you in show business? If people buy your records, quote your lyrics. If someone wants to dress like you, or emulates your style, you are a role model whether you want to be or not! 

Malcolm, Martin, Huey Newton, Sojourner Truth, Harriet, and countless other fiercely proud, Black leaders who sacrificed their lives for the liberation of an oppressed nation must be rolling around in their graves. Is this what they struggled and died for?

Is this beautiful? I think not!

*Douching for dollars is quoted from J.Records recording artist, Lamya.

Written by Renee Barrett for AfricasGateway

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