G I R L, misunderstood
How the conversation, or lack thereof, around an album cover symbolizes the nature of patriarchy
I was on the way home from the grocery store when my mother told me about an odd interaction she’d had earlier at church. Deacon (we’ll call him) Bob, weighing at around 350 pounds or so, oxygen tank in tow — a byproduct of congestive heart failure and type 2 diabetes, reprimanded his comparatively healthy yet suddenly wobbling wife:
“Wobbling around like that, woman you look bad. You gonna need to lose some weight, ain’t ya?”
The coarse remarks struck mom: “How dare that man. I couldn’t believe he said those hurtful things to his wife; and so easily!’
But that is the nature of patriarchy: the dismissal of the presence of feelings, especially those of women.
Earlier this week Pharrell released a free stream of his latest album, “G I R L.” But so far, the majority of the focus has not been on the music. Upon seeing the album’s cover, of Pharrell with 3 fair-skinned women, journalist Dream Hampton ignited a fire:
Twitter, you may be familiar, is this public online forum where, from time to time a person or two come to dialogue, soapbox, learn, vent, joke, purge, and sometimes troll.
So excuse Ms. Hampton for exercising her unalienable URL-given right to profess personal disappointment — not outrage — at what she saw as another instance of “perpetual erasure of black women.”
You see, almost everyone is allowed an opinion on Twitter, but the waters run a bit murkier for black women. Immediately as Ms. Hampton’s tweet, amplified by her thousands of followers, sparked a dialogue, the detractors, mostly black men, arose.
The summation was simple and taut: “Hey, angry black woman, this isn’t important. Shut up.”
It was a typical response: cold action before acknowledgment, judgement before attempt at understanding. It’s a reflection of the patriarchy that dominates society outside of the dot.com. and a reflection of the normativity that gives men the audacity to determine for women what they can and cannot care about, what is “worthy” anger and what is not.
Immediately this was “another issue for y’all (women) to be mad at.” Those angry black pseudo militant neck snapping slactivists were at it again.
Personally, I barely batted an eye at Pharrell’s cover. Firstly, let’s get this out of the way: there IS a black woman present (in the middle). Secondly, as beautiful and resounding as it would have been to see a Lupitian on the cover, I, like one of the most gifted musical visionaries on the planet, understand cultural shifts and methods of exposure.
Black music is experiencing a concerning trend of diminishment at the moment. As the lines of rap, r&b, and pop continue to blend and blur, the color is beginning to fade. For the first time in the history of the Billboard music charts, no African American had a chart-topping hit. Jay Z, Drake, Kanye West, and Beyonceé all released albums. But don’t mistake the lack of black bodies for the lack of black influence. R&B tinged tunes were some of the year’s biggest successes. Justin Timberlake’s “Mirror’s” nabbed a top spot. As did the almost criminally Marvin Gay-esque “Blurred Lines,” the undisputed top song of the year by Robin Thicke featuring T.I. and Pharrell. The song was a huge success, topping the charts in over 14 countries and breaking the record for radio impressions in a week with over 219 million spins. So no, the music hasn’t changed, just it’s vehicle. Pharrell knows this.
A hip hop immortal he has, solo, as part of the super-producer duo The Neptunes, and funk band N.E.R.D given music some of it’s most classic offerings. They need no context: “Frontin’,” “Drop It Like It’s Hot,” “I’m A Slave 4 U,” “Grindin’,” “Rock Your Body,” “Hot In Herre.” He also has 7 Grammys to boot, and an extremely successful clothing line that has made him a fashion icon. But even with his remarkable career spanning two decades, never has Pharrell been bigger or had more eyes on him than right now.
Producing and appearing on the biggest commercial single of last year was one thing. But then Pharrell produced Daft Punk’s “Random Access Memories,” which won the Grammy for both Album of the Year and Song of the Year (“Get Lucky”). This, obviously led to a producer of the year Grammy as well. All, mind you, after his song “Happy” (the current number one song in the country) is nominated for an Academy Award for Best Original Song.
2013 = Pharrell. 2014 = probably, Pharrell.
In the last year, Pharrell has magnified from amazing to immortal. He’s no longer just Skateboard P, patron saint of millennial hipsters. All of a sudden Tunisians in national turmoil, soldiers in war zones, and my aunt Shirley know his name and dance his praises.
So it was cool for many women to hear that “G I R L,” the biggest album from one of the biggest stars on the planet right now, would be a homage to the ladies:
“Women have been so good to me over this entire career,” Pharrell admitted recently in an MTV News interview. “Everything I’ve ever gotten is because they’ve paid for [it], so they’re, like, my bosses — indirectly and directly — you guys are like my bosses. So for me, I wanted to analyze that for a second.”
As genuine as they are, these are calculated steps. Few in music understand the business of the business better. Pharrell has made a reputation on pushing boundaries, on understanding, molding, and blowing away “the box,” as the NY Times pointed out in this feature two summers ago.
So to underestimate and write off his cognizance of the importance of an album cover would be unwise. Covers market a vision, any marketer, let alone The Marketer, knows this. They communicate to consumers before the plastic is ripped off and the beats, vibes, and words seep into our conscious. Covers stare out at us and subconsciously help us decide whether we’re interested or not. They lure us in, and turn us off.
Perhaps Pharrell, who has a history of including women of various shades and colors in his work before, is married to a black woman, and, to be fair, actually put a black woman on the cover, thought about what it meant to keep it monochromatic and passive in his selection of fare skinned, rail-thin beauties. Perhaps, he chose this cover to resonate with those who aren’t already throwing up the star trek sign. Maybe this cover was made for those Oscar-voting, record buying majorals who do not know him and are just now becoming acquainted, rather than the minorities who already do and got him to this point. Slim chance? Possibly. No chance? Hardly.
The idea of post-racial America is as cute as it is absurd. It is not preposterous to conjecture, from a marketing standpoint, that something as small as a dark skinned woman on the cover of the album coming out at the height of Pharrell’s quest for pop dominance and acceptance might impact sales and thus impact. We are, after all, still not hiring people because of how they spell their names, and murdering children because of how they dress and the music they listen to.
Regardless, for a guy who says he made this album for women of all types everywhere, it’s not unreasonable to point out the photo lacks an element reflective of inclusive diversity.
So is this topic of erasure truly so unfounded and ridiculous as many men make it seem? Or, is this just another case of dismissing women, their emotions and viewpoints as frivolous sciamachy? Was this ever about the cover, or about shutting up women?
Here’s an idea, fellas. The next time a sizeable faction of women see an issue, let’s hold off on auto-judgement and dismissal and try to see their point of view. Unity: it’s the only way we can move forward as a people.
Men don’t have to always be right, women don’t have to always be angry, and sometimes, cover girls don’t have to always be black.
— @aaronronel
