Write Like A Girl, Issue 9
When I turn on my car radio, I am usually expecting to hear one of three things: an excessively loud advertisement for liposuction, a love song with strangely sad lyrics, or a song objectifying women.
We hear demeaning lyrics all the time, to the point where we no longer acknowledge the insults. Women are constantly called “hoes” and “——-” across all genres of music, though mostly by male artists. Most consistently, these women are cheated on or cheated with.
Women are the male artists’ “ball and chain,” holding onto him and preventing him from being happy. She might nag or be boring, but most often her flaw is that she won’t have sex with him.
Whatever her motivation, once she no longer serves a sexual purpose, she is useless. And so, he cheats on her.
This cheating creates the other type of women: the side-chicks that the artist finds irresistible for some physical reason, but unsuitable for a real relationship. The male artist in these scenarios is never pursuing the girl because he finds her intriguing. He just needs to get his rocks off, and she’s an easy way for him to do so. The woman he sings about is not a real person, but a sex toy.
The most obvious example of these types of objectification is the 2013 hit “Blurred Lines,” by Robin Thicke featuring Pharrell Williams and T.I. Its chorus echos over and over, “I know you want it,” often followed by “But you’re a good girl,” with the “but” implying that she was reluctant to have sex.
This type of language mimics rape trial defenses, in which rapists suggest that their victim was actually looking for sex because of her clothing, language, location, or some other detail.
Music videos offer no better reflection of women. In fact they often feature women as props in the background as they flaunt their bodies. This can sometimes be hard to discern because it is so prevalent in our culture, so for evidence I would suggest a look at Marina and the Diamonds’ music video for “How to be a Heartbreaker” (and perhaps a look at the lyrics as well, which call attention to sexist male artists’ songs). It is very easy to see that the men in this music video are not people, but props to make the set more dynamic. If you then take a look at a music video featuring a male artist, you will easily see the same situation, but with the roles reversed.
This, it should be noted, is not the same as when artists sexualize themselves in their own music. With songs like “Partition,” by Beyoncé, or “M.I.L.F. $,” by Fergie, the artist is controlling her own narrative. Certainly, the lyrics and music videos are suggestive, but there is a distinction between these and those by male artists. These women are not performing as props for someone else, but rather exerting their right to be as sexual as they want to be.
It is clear that much of modern music has sexist undertones, but whose responsibility is it to reject those songs? It seems clear that the artist should take much of the blame, since they chose to perform the music, but what about the listener? Do we have a responsibility to consciously switch songs when we hear something objectifying?
To some degree, I think yes. It is our responsibility as a consumer of content to think critically about what we are consuming.
On the other hand, you aren’t a terrible feminist if you don’t do so all the time. You are just being human, and humans like a good beat regardless of the words that are playing over it.