That Ishkabibble

HaraJuku?

Harajuku. Do you even know what that means….*shakes her head firmly.* She obviously doesn’t and neither do you.

I hate Nicki Minaj.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t hate Onika Maraj. Oh! Don’t know who that is, do you?  That was the woman who Nicki Minaj USED to be. You know before the alleged plasticfication of her form and the subsequent eradication of her personality and heritage.
Who is Nicki Minaj? A machine of regime? A dolled up black geisha, here to perform at snap’s notice? The voice of the urban young female?  Yeah, and I’m Tiger Wood’s 17th mistress ( Tiger. Call me. PuurMeowWink.)  

My question is, what makes a young woman, of African and Trinidadian decent, want to become a Barbie? As we all know or may not know, Barbie was engineered after a German doll, and remained a character of the Caucasian persuasion until the year 1967, when Mattel produced the doll, “Colored Francie”. Colored Francie technically was just White Barbie painted black, still equiped with an aqualine nose, and bone straight hair. And the name Francie. What in the high ”Hold My Mule” Hell, kinda name is that?

They even had an “Oreo” Fun Barbie in 97, that caught all kinds of negative attention for being, beside utterly ridiculous, racially insensitive and thoughtless. *cues Dorrough – Cream on the inside, Black as hell on the outside.*

So. Of all the things that Onika Maraj could have chosen to be. Why Barbie? Now, I know it would be remiss of me to squarely put this all on the shoulders of Ms. Maraj. She probably had little to do with her transformation from regular mediocre MC to….whatever she thinks she is today. She just sat back and watched as the music executives proverbially fucked her, pumping and prodding her already weak psyche with the adjustments that would bring sells, spins, and fans. Changing her whole persona, and allegedly her body, to make her the perfect female weapon in this male dominated genre of hip hop.

At the end of the day, who am I to knock her hustle? She’s a beautiful woman (if that is indeed her face) and has a flawless figure (if that is indeed her figure) that probably fuels a number of hand-spank sessions all across the urban landscape. Can’t hate on that AT ALL. Hell, she did exactly what she thought she needed to do to succeed and that, at the end of the day, marks the chest of a strong woman; mentally, perhaps. Spiritually….maybe not so much.

One, such as I, just wished that proverbial spintable in the sky, that in the genre of hip hop, a woman didn’t have to go to those extremes to be noticed. Would Onika Maraj, had been just as popular had she remained herself? Although, a very difficult plight to do whilst bathed in the limelight, it is hard to believe that the woman we see before us is ANYTHING like she was before the magic wand of success transformed her into a monster. Little girls around the world will see this and eventually will grow to believe that this is the correct avenue to perusing your dreams. Place your actual talent on the backburner with the baby’s milk, and make PaPa a meal. Appeal to the masses sexually, to be considered respectfully.

Therein lies the one problem I see in the culture of hip hop; its stubborn refusal to dismiss its misogynistic columns that has been a source of sustainment for years, probably since in inception. But to go into that would require, an agent and a book deal, and I have neither.

*Turns to the Little Girls of the World* Don’t listen to Ms. Minaj, or any Young Money executive when they approach you with a handful of cash and boxes of Tupperware for beautification. You ARE already beautiful. Just as you are. You are talented and worthy of this world. JUST AS YOU ARE. Don’t let them tell you differently. Now, go play with your Barbie.( #kanyeshrug)