marxisforbros

Nicki Minaj is not a woman who easily slides into the roles assigned to women in her industry or elsewhere. She’s not polished, she’s not concerned with her reputation, and she’s certainly not fighting for equality among mainstream second-wave feminists. She’s something else, and she’s something equally worth giving credence to: a boundary-breaker, a nasty bitch, a self-proclaimed queen, a self-determined and self-made artist. She’s one of the boys, and she does it with the intent to subvert what it means. She sings about sexy women, about fucking around with different men. She raps about racing ahead in the game, imagines up her own strings of accolades, and rolls with a rap family notorious for dirty rhymes, foul mouths, and disregard for authority and hegemony.

While Beyoncé has expanded feminist discourse by reveling in her role as a mother and wife while also fighting for women’s rights, Minaj has been showing her teeth in her climb to the top of a male-dominated genre. Both, in the process, have expanded our society’s idea of what an empowered women looks like — but Minaj’s feminist credentials still frequently come under fire. To me, it seems like a clear-cut case of respectability politics and mainstreaming of the feminist movement: while feminist writers raved over Beyoncé’s latest album and the undertones of sexuality and empowerment that came with it, many have questioned Minaj’s decisions over the years to subvert beauty norms using her own body, graphically talk dirty in her work, and occasionally declare herself dominant in discourse about other women. (All of these areas of concern, however, didn’t seem to come into play when Queen Bey did the same.)

I went to Sally’s to spend a five dollar rewards, so I grabbed another tube of grey dye to keep this hair scheme alive. Mom grabbed nail polish. She stopped at a display and looked at the sparkly blue eye pencil and asked me if she was too old for it I said no, haters can suck it and bought it for her. The cashier was super nice and we talked hair dye and she told me she liked my everything. That was the most tumblr compliment ever and it was great. 

One of the hardest parts about going back to see my mom and my brother is I still walk about the house looking for the dog. Even though he’s been gone for more than two years. I still expect to see him out on the back porch. So I catch myself wandering to look for him then act like I was getting something in another room.

frijolesrefritos

onlyslightly:

themerrymisnomer:

christinefriar:

I. love. the. Anaconda. video. but the writeups I’ve been seeing keep referring to Drake as a co-star, which I think misses a big part of the point.

The reason this video rules is because Drake is an extra. Drake is a prop. Drake is a bro in the comfy-casual clothes that he rolled up to the set in, who has no lines or purpose other than the be ground upon, and whose face is obscured by shadows most of the time.

This is not a continuation of the Drake/Nicki/Rih media narrative. This is a dank-as-fuck feminist power play. This is, “Drake is whatever to me.” And this is a man who, if he isn’t at the top of his game, is close to it. A huge celebrity. And here is Nicki looking fucking amazing, tormenting him into a boner, then swatting his hand away and walking out of frame.

Your anaconda don’t want none unless she got buns, hun? Maybe she doesn’t want your anaconda. Maybe she’ll do whatever the fuck she wants with her buns, and it doesn’t matter what you think or feel.

^^^^^ Goddess help me, I love her conscious reverse-gaze/subjectification of bodies.

I seriously don’t understand how people confuse this as anything but deliberate.