So I don’t think that because a woman is a feminist all her actions are too and I also don’t think that engaging occasionally in sexist pop culture makes someone less of a feminist. Tripping about in spike heels is not a feminist act, and nor is having cosmetic surgery, such as breast enlargement or having a toe removed to fit into the latest Blahniks. I don’t think pole dancing or prostitution is liberating, despite the constant suggestions that feminism is all about personal “choice”. To be clear, I do not subscribe to the neoliberal view that individual choices made by women who are at least a bit feminist are even vaguely feminist ones. Stereotypes of black women are played out in the videos, in which they are framed as overly sexualised and animalistic. The women who feature as backing singers or dancers for male hip-hop artists are also often portrayed in a racist and sexist way. As a white woman who tries to be anti-racist, it is surely contradictory to my politics that I invest in a genre with this message. As my friend Byron Hurt said, following the success of his film Hip-Hop: Beyond Beats and Rhymes, rich, white male music moguls promote African American rap artists with an image that perpetuates the racist stereotype of black men as pimps and gangsters. Hip-hop is one of my favourite music genres, but the dominant message is often about men being in control being hateful to women and throwing their guns and money around while posing with flash cars. In order to exist in the world, and consume pop culture, it’s difficult to avoid hardcore sexism. To be a feminist is to live with daily contradictions and inconsistencies. This was an all too real occurrence that I was actively campaigning against at the time.
I was halfway through Tom Jones’s Delilah when I realised that it was a song about a jealous man killing his unfaithful wife. I recall one embarrassing but hilarious moment while singing karaoke at my 30th birthday party. There are lines I do observe – when I notice them.
In recent years, some feminists have responded particularly strongly to this issue, with many British student unions banning the song Blurred Lines, on the grounds that it is “deeply offensive and dangerous”. When it comes to songs it’s not unusual for the beat and the artist’s voice to be brilliant, but the lyrics offensive, as with Snoop’s back catalogue. Cut all those out, and you’re left with a very limited selection. Now, there are some fantastic women making films, but because of sexism and discrimination the vast majority of films are still made by men. When I interviewed the iconic feminist Shere Hite, for instance, she told me she only watched films by female directors. How do I reconcile my feminism with the sexism in some of the pop culture I love? There are certainly some feminists who try to police what they watch and listen to quite carefully. I have never subscribed to the orthodoxy of the left, and find stringent groupthink tedious. And while this might make it easier for me to enjoy his music, the truth is that, as a long-time fan, I have never really worried that my musical taste could end up with my feminist membership card being revoked. This week Snoop announced that, after years of calling women whores and bitches, he has changed his ways, and will from now on respect us. And in 2010 I went to the Glastonbury festival – my idea of hell (as I said, I really don’t like camping) – to see Snoop live on stage. In 2003, I watched as he showed up at the MTV awards with two women in dog collars and leashes.
Snoop’s music has a clear strain of sexism, but that has never stopped me listening to it.