See Something, Say Something: Nicki Minaj

By chris.alexander on 5:09 AM

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Since landing in what some friends consider to be a land where we frolick on the beach in loin cloths with spears before heading back to our mud huts to cook over a fire built in the ground (yes, this happened), I can admit to disconnecting from events in the States that would have otherwise captured my attention. I'm quite unaware of what's going on in the upcoming Presidential election, except that Herman Cain, though more of a joke than a candidate, is frontrunner in the race for America's Next Top Crotchety Racial Embarrassment. I haven't kept abreast of every Occupy Wall Street spinoff, don't give have a shit who gets eliminated from X-Factor USA, and am, give or take, three miles outside of the loop, musically.

I can't say this is an unwelcome feeling.

Above all of those areas, least important of all are the happenings in the world of Hip Hop NigNogs. Through Twitter and Facebook, I gather that Lil Wayne skeeted whatever lyrical magic he once possessed down some young man's throat while locked up in the slammer, Drake is still as emotional as an eighth grade girl with braces, and someone named Boosie may or may not be in jail (again). All I know of J Cole is that he could get the entire business. Dr. Dre still hasn't dropped an album. Eminem is still rich, angry, and is now aging in reverse. That's all I got.

Don't. Give. a Fuck.

However, since moonwalking into teaching dance down here in Panama, I've had to search these internets to see what's hot, what has a dope beat, what the kids are rocking to these days, and so on. Yes, mainstream hip hop is still as dumb as I thought it'd be. Even more grating is the endless string of wrist-slitting anthems fist pumping classics churned out by UsherDavidGuettaFloRidaBlackEyedPeasLMFAOPitbull that Panamanians. fucking. love. and. play on the radio. and. choreograph and perform. to. every. motherfucking. day. While selecting music for a show I'm contributing choreography to, I happened across a response to the video for Big Sean's "Dance (A$$)". Couldn't point Mr. Sean out in a police line up, but he's apparently hot right now, or something. I only know the name because of his verse on Kelly Rowland's dated jam "Lay It On Me." The remix features Nicole-Ann Minaj. Sigh.

In searching for the song to see if it moved me at all or inspired some choreography, I saw this headline:


In short, the author, Melinda Newman, is "...disappointed in Nicki Minaj’s participation in the video for Big Sean’s “Dance (A$$)" remix released this week." 

As the sole female rapper who actually garners widespread public attention, Nicki is, apparently, expected to represent ladies in a positive light.

Girl, what?

I don't know anything about the site HitFix or who the writer Melinda Newman is, but her writing leads me to believe she's a generally competent person. I take it she has a high opinion of herself, and expects honorable things from women in the limelight. That's cute and all, but we're talking about Nicki Minaj here. So, I shall respond to her posed question with a question of my own.

What the fuck did you expect?

This is a woman who worships the ultrafertile, cough syrup-loving king of mindless cokehead rap, Lil Wayne. 

This is a woman who's running the streets dressed as Judy Jetson's overly ambitious Black Friend with an ass of questionable authenticity that's big enough to contain the ashes of the careers of every forgotten rapper with ovaries of the past decade.

This is a woman who kinda shook her tentative shimmy beside this guy, Tar Baby 5000, the Shame-fighting, Negrotastic Coonbot. 

This is a woman who, even with "an ass so big like the sun" and boundless budget, has the stage presence of a melting slug. The very woman who makes 2009 Rihanna look like 1995 Janet Jackson on stage.

This is a new rapper whose best work came before her debut album, and whose best verses can be found on other people's albums and mixtapes. (This is also called the Darien Brockington Effect.)

This is is a woman who successfully convinced thousands of Black and brown girls that they, too, can mount aerodynamic multicolored weaves atop their heads and call themselves fucking Barbies. (If not Nicki, who else will brainwash the kids?! Think of the kids!)

Nevermind that she apparently exchanged hip inches for rhythm. Nevermind that even the youngest Atlanta geigh can out-twerk her and that she moves like she's afraid to break something. Forget the fact that she hasn't quite gained muscular control over all of her assets. Damn all of that.

Nicki Minaj, like every selectively responsible rapper, takes breaks from reminding us of how clean and tasty her 'gina is to remind kiddies to stay in school. That, Melinda Newman, is the extent of her social responsibility. Repping ladies in a positive light? That's Drakeisha's job. Sure she probably has a charity to balance out the goonery. But, laying the weight of carrying the torch of breasted emcees worldwide upon her ample ass is not fair. Besides, it's evident she doesn't care who takes her seriously or sees her as some upstanding, classy broad. Her lacefronts make that abundantly clear.

Sure she's crude. Sure she uses sex and outlandish gear to sell her brand of pop-hop. And of course, her mere existence and wild popularity speaks to the changing face of music. It's hard out here for the rapper with ovaries. Being prolific and/or cute is hardly enough to storm the scene in 2011: it's yet to be seen what old faves like Missy can/will do in a post-Minaj world. Nicole-Ann will likely reach a point where she'll reel in her spread-eagle approach to music. If you're looking for a role model or someone to hold it down with uplifting lyrics that you can pop that coochie to, check out Mary Mary. Let homegirl awkwardly drop it like it's hot and collect her check.

Again, in my life, Minaj is absolutely inconsequential, but it's the high moral hopes for such a nonsensical person that point to signs of stupidity.

If you couldn't look to little Kim or Foxy Brown for some level of class, don't put hat load on Nicole-Ann. Kimberly famously bragged of her ability to conceal Sprite cans in her well-traveled mouth. She, like Nicole-Ann, got as much press for her wardrobe (or lack thereof) as for her lyrics. It's a game. Ms. Minaj is the latest surgically enhanced nonsensical plaything of the moment. She, like Kim was, is a frolicking mascot, a caricature. She's admitted she's channeling her theater days as inspiration for voices and characters. She is a jester, not a woman to whom you look for positive examples. This is not someone whose hypersexuality you occasionally enjoy, but expect to have some limit or boundary of crassness, over which she would not cross. Give it a break. Wrong tree. Lost cause. All of that.

Remy's gone. Foxy's crazy and more concerned with buying up all the big, silky weave in Brooklyn. Until Kimberly Jones quits huffing bleaching cream and/or builds a functioning time machine to bring her formerly colored former self here from 1997, looks like this is all you have to work with, person who expects class from crotch-pumping rap chicks. Well, you also have Kreayshawn, but if rapping albino rats aren't your cup of tea, suspend your search for a bewigged savior and deal with Cirq du Minaj.

 Sorry.

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2 comments/Ashanti Terminator 5000 credits for this post

great blog! Totally crackin up at your most recent nicki minaj post. lol I'm followin!

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Posted on December 24, 2011 12:06 AM  

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Posted on February 6, 2012 9:33 PM