feminist friends and I will be busy working on these things.
I have another confession: I like the Pussycat Dolls. I mean, I’m not president of their fan club or anything, but some of their songs are on my iPod because they really get me pumped when I’m cleaning my condo or working up a sweat in the gym.
But even I was shocked when the creators behind the pop group and their reality show started touting the PCD movement as feminist.
And it seems I wasn’t alone. In a March 2007 article in the Deseret Morning News, Scott D. Pierce wrote:
“On the surface, Pussycat Dolls Present: The Search for the Next Doll is just another stupid, derivative, vulgar and lame reality show. But when you listen to the people who produce the show and see how The CW is marketing it, it becomes utterly disgusting. . . .
‘[T]he people behind the TV show went out of their way to tell TV critics recently that this was a show all about ‘empowering’ women. The narration at the beginning of tonight’s premiere . . . intones, ‘The Pussycat Dolls are all about female empowerment.’”
I’ve never watched the show, which was later called Pussycat Dolls Present: Girlicious, but I am pretty familiar with the lyrics of the PCDs’ hit song “Don’t Cha.” In fact, it used to be my cell phone’s ring tone for my ex-boyfriend. (Yes, I’m ashamed.) I have also interviewed PCD lead singer Nicole Scherzinger, and she came off as smart and down-to-earth. And yes, I like dancing around to their songs when I’m dusting, but this is not some grand feminist act. The line “Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?” doesn’t exactly sound like a quote from a bell hooks book.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m certainly not anti-sexy—I’ve been to my fair share of striptease aerobics classes. But in the PCD “movement,” the Dolls’ scantily clad, gyrating bodies, not their talent, seem to be doing the heavy lifting. This isn’t really the “feminist” message I think should be sent to the young women and girls who make up a large part of the PCD fan base.
Look, if you want to tell a man to loosen up your buttons or that you can freak him better than his girlfriend can, go for it. But don’t think that you’re necessarily liberating all of your sisters in the process.
There’s something else happening in the music industry, however, that’s frightening me much more.
It’s not news that misogyny runs rampant in much of the rap industry—the words “bitch” and “ho” are practically synonymous with the words “woman” or “girlfriend.” In videos and CD booklets, women are often seen draped over male rappers like accessories, just part of the rapper’s bounty of money, cars, and bling. Most female characters in many mainstream rap songs and videos are cast as strippers, or are at least shaking their asses like them.
Nonetheless, some so-called video vixens have stated that despite all this, this industry has empowered them.
Actress, TV personality, and former video model Melyssa Ford had this to say in her essay “Calendar Girl” from the book Naked: Black Women Bare All About Their Skin, Hair, Hips, Lips, and Other Parts :
“I am the highest-paid video girl to date. I’ve endured all the snide comments and ignorant remarks from people who presume to know me because I’m on their television screens and in the pages of their magazines. But I’m not the promiscuous twit I’m often mistaken for. I am a businesswoman who has used videos to launch a multimedia career. My product is me.
Besides being the lead girl in hip-hop and R&B videos, I am a sex columnist for a men’s magazine. I star in my own DVD. I’ve hosted television shows, and I’ve produced my own calendar, which I sell on the Internet. My job is to sell fantasy and perfection. When the cameras go on, I detach myself and play the sexy vixen who will turn a nigga
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