In the wake of the release of\u00a0Straight Outta Compton<\/i>\u00a0Director Ava DuVernay tweeted \u201cTo be a woman who loves hip-hop is to be in love with your abuser.<\/i>\u201d<\/p>\n
The film, which grossed around $60 million in its first weekend, and is expected to hit the $100 million mark this upcoming weekend, is touted as the true story of legendary rap group N.W.A. However, soon after its release, many took issue with the film\u2019s revisionist history where misogyny and violence towards women were concerned.<\/p>\n
In an article penned for\u00a0Jezebel<\/a>, hip-hop journalist and former TV presenter Dee Barnes, who was attacked by Dr. Dre in a nightclub bathroom in 1991, spoke out about the incident being\u00a0cut from<\/a>\u00a0the film, and also detailed the experience of being unable to find work after the occurrence.<\/p>\n Barnes\u2019 essay included a particularly succinct observation that cuts to the heart of the representation, or lack thereof, of women throughout the movie. She says, \u201cThere is a direct connection between the oppression of black men and the violence perpetrated by black men against black women. It is a cycle of victimization and reenactment of violence that is rooted in racism and perpetuated by patriarchy.”<\/p>\n Barnes\u2019 insight, DuVernay\u2019s tweet, and the overwhelming success of the film all work to illustrate the unique conundrum many black women face when it comes to the quagmire of race and gender. All too often, it can feel as if we must \u201cpick a side\u201d in the dialogue of racial equality versus gender equality, even if we feel under-considered in both conversations, and even if both are of equal importance to us.<\/p>\n This in turn creates a situation in which we must either fail to acknowledge that our lives are at times devalued, and our needs ignored by the very same people we are asked to stand in solidarity with, or we can acknowledge this, and subsequently be viewed as detractors from a cause that is greater than ourselves.<\/p>\n [blockquote]Black women often feel [we]\u00a0must \u201cpick a side\u201d in the dialogue of racial equality versus gender equality, even if we feel under-considered in both conversations, and even if both are of equal importance to us.”[\/blockquote]<\/p>\n For instance, I once had an acquaintance tell me that she refused to identify as a feminist because being one would do nothing to help her black son. I can understand her sentiments; black women, after all, do not have the luxury of focusing on a singular cause. And I myself am leery of the label \u201cfeminist\u201d because I am aware that traditional feminist rhetoric, even from its inception, has notoriously existed in friction with Civil Rights efforts, and in doing so, has often rejected alternative narratives. As early as the nineteenth century, when activist and journalist Ida B. Wells hoped to gain suffragist Frances Willard\u2019s support in addressing the issue of violence against African-Americans in the South, she soon found that Willard considered the issue less than a priority, especially in light of the passing of the 15th amendment, which theoretically–though the Grandfather Clause actively attempted to circumvent this–allowed black men (but still not women), to vote. Willard was even quoted in the\u00a0New York Voice\u00a0<\/i>as saying,\u00a0\u201cThe safety of [white] women, of childhood, of the home, is menaced in a thousand localities,”\u00a0<\/i>in reference to the perceived threat of black men.\u00a0At the time, it was more important to her to secure the support of white women in the South, who she hoped would help both the temperance and suffrage cause, than to advocate for a community that was being systematically hunted and murdered.<\/p>\n The divergence of these two movements, whether we are intimately aware of the history or not, has imprinted itself on theories surrounding race and gender, and at times, the friction is still tangible. It has really only been in very recent time that ideas like intersectional feminism have attempted to address this history, and create dialogues that recognize different women do indeed have varied and unique needs.<\/p>\n While one doesn\u2019t need to be a feminist to know that what occurred between Dr. Dre and Dee Barnes, and the other women he abused was horrific and beyond wrong, it\u00a0feels\u00a0<\/i>equally as wrong to see particular groups of people with particular motives condemning Dr. Dre, not for being an abuser, for which he rightfully should be condemned, but who rather use the incident to insidiously encourage pervasive stereotypes about the dangers of black men. When this occurs, sadly, it shifts the focus from the women who were hurt, and turns them into mere martyrs of white America’s fear of black male rage. A rage that, as Barnes pointed out, stems from a cycle of victimization and oppression. So just like that, these women are once again trampled over and re-victimized, for the sake of making a point.<\/p>\n On the one hand, many argued that\u00a0Straight Outta Compton<\/i>\u00a0intended to tell the story of the unification of a marginalized community against its oppressors, which it did with great success. Characters who were formerly the stuff of white America\u2019s waking nightmares were humanized and imbued with a level of sensitivity\u00a0 and intellect that made them unfailingly likable. Especially in a time where police brutality, racially motivated profiling, and the disproportionate loss of black lives at the hands of law enforcement are very pressing issues. On top of that, the film, which features a primarily black cast and was directed by F. Gary Gray (who in an ironic twist was actually the cameraman for the Ice Cube segment that allegedly led to Barnes\u2019 assault), was a box-office smash. All of these things make\u00a0Straight Outta Compton\u00a0<\/i>a triumph and an affirmation that in the overwhelmingly\u00a0whitewashed movie industry<\/a>, black narratives, like black lives, do matter.<\/p>\n Following the release of box office numbers Nicki Minaj put up this celebratory Instagram post:<\/p>\n \u201cWhen black\/HipHop driven movies start doing these numbers at the box office EVERYONE takes notice! Unheard of!!! 50-60 million dollar debuts are just another level. Very proud. Congrats to ALL involved. Our movies should always do these numbers. It only opens doors for more! And they\u2019re more than deserving of it.”<\/i><\/p>\n It was a sentiment echoed by many celebrities and throughout the social media sphere. But the story of Dee Barnes, Michel\u2019le and the other women who were battered, bruised and then forgotten offers an equally compelling narrative.<\/p>\n As a woman, it\u00a0is<\/i>\u00a0difficult to overlook the fact that despite seminal N.W.A protest anthems like \u201cF*ck tha Police,\u201d which unapologetically took aim at law enforcement’s penchant for criminalizing melanated people, there are still N.W.A. songs that include lyrics like,\u00a0\u00a0\u201cSmother your mother and make your sister think I love her.\u201d<\/i>\u00a0There are also songs like \u201cA Bitch iz a Bitch,\u201d which, despite the intention to deliver a f*ck you of sorts to mainstream media for concentrating exclusively on the group’s misogyny rather than its at times powerful discourse on racial and socioeconomic inequality in America, is still sadly essentializing of women.<\/p>\n