How The Writings On The Wall Raised a Generation of Fiercely Independent Black Girls
Sometime during the summer of 1999, I managed to sneak the “Bills, Bills, Bills” single into my mom’s shopping cart at Best Buy, right before we reached the checkout. I was 11 years old and knew absolutely nothing about paying bills, but I just had to have the CD. I didn’t want to wait to hear the song on the radio or for the video to be played on TV. From the moment I saw those four Blacks girls in a hair salon reminiscent of the ones my mother would take me to, waving hot combs in the air, I instantly became a fan.
It wasn’t my first time seeing or hearing Destiny’s Child. Like many Black millennials, I spent a large portion of my adolescence consuming all of the latest music videos on BET and MTV. I was familiar with “No, No, No” (both versions) but something about “Bills, Bills, Bills” just hit differently. Female R&B groups had taken a significant turn. Gone were the days of competing for a man the way songs like “He’s Mine” by Mokenstef and “You’re The One” by SWV almost desperately professed. In the post “No Scrubs” era of female R&B groups, Destiny’s Child ushered in a completely new sound, swagger, and assertiveness we hadn’t yet seen. With their proud Texan roots and rap-singing lead singer, it was clear they weren’t here to just ride the wave, they were trying to make a statement.
Unlike “No Scrubs,” which also released and 1999 served as a departure from previous R&B hits, the singles from The Writings on The Wall weren’t just calling out men who had no money. From rejecting annoying persistence on “Bug-A-Boo”, to leaving your man at home to have a night out with your girls on “Jumpin, Jumpin”, to not letting a man mess up your finances on “Bills, Bills, Bills”, Destiny’s Child established a standard of putting yourself first and requiring men to bring their A-game when pursuing you. These were four Black girls who were confident in who they were, had their own money and didn’t need a man for anything. Throughout the album, they outline ten commandments of relationships and womanhood, encouraging listeners to follow suit. Though I was too young to understand the lasting impact of this messaging, I aspired to be a woman who was just as empowered as they were.
In some ways, the album feels like it is purposely challenging the tolerance of bad behavior from men in earlier R&B hits. “Hey, Ladies” is a stark contrast to just about any 90s R&B song that told us to “Creep” or “Make It Hot” for men who didn’t deserve us. Though there are some undertones of competing with other women like “She Can’t Love You,” it never comes from a place of feeling inferior to the other woman. They remain confident even when they are the ones who are doing wrong. In “Confessions,” they air out all of their dirty laundries, leaving their lover with the option to take them back or leave.
“I was mad; what was I to do?
Never had it in mind to play on you
But look at all the hurt you put me through
I can’t tell a lie, so I’m tellin’ the truth.”
Instead of begging for forgiveness, the girls own up to their mistakes in the relationship, call out mistreatment and put it all in the air — a much more mature alternative to keeping “My Little Secret.” The album is not entirely void of hopeless romantic R&B, though. “Temptation” and “Where’d You Go” are much more vulnerable, desire-driven offerings but the decision to select more self-assured songs as singles, proved to set the girls apart from other R&B girl groups — most of whom did not maintain the same level of success in the 2000s.
In the most commercially successful single on the album, “Say My Name,” we’re given a demanding presence of a woman who knows her partner is not being honest about who he’s been kicking it with. Though the absence of founding members LaTavia Roberson and LeToya Luckett in the music video was quite confusing for fans and caused substantial growing pains within the group, the track became one of the top 10 best selling singles of the year. It showcased the consistency in their message; these were not girls that you could walk all over. Not everyone appreciated the message, though. My first instance of hearing the term “man-basher” was in response to the singles from this album. Still, Destiny’s Child prevailed and went on to leave a tenacious imprint with their bold approach to dominating the music industry in the early aughts.
The back story of the album is what is most impressive. When the group signed to Columbia records in 1997, the label didn’t want to invest in hiring talent to write their songs or offer creative direction on their music videos. As a result, they were given free rein to do this themselves (each member has writing credits on nearly every song). The group became acutely aware of the importance of DIY for Black girls in the entertainment industry. Beyoncé has spoken openly about her mother designing all of their costumes because fashion designers did not want to dress them, something many Black girls can relate to. If we don’t have access to the proper resources, we create them ourselves. It’s an unfortunate truth but is also what allows us to stand out.
Destiny’s Child’s unique sound and look marked a clear distinction from other teen stars of the era. The end of the 90s R&B reign collided with a prevalence of manufactured teen stars who all kind of made the same music. Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera were also dominating the charts, but as a young Black girl, something about Destiny’s Child felt much more real to me. Sure, they were only teenagers, but their attitudes reminded me of all of the strong independent women in my life who raised me. I felt affirmed in my Black femme identity. I didn’t have to be agreeable, I could speak up for myself, and fully embrace who I was without conforming to inauthenticity. I shared this sentiment with my peers who took pride in calling out pubescent Bug-A-Boos and proclaimed which members of the group they were (I was LeToya). For many Destiny’s Child fans, this era was the entry point of subscribing to their brand of women’s empowerment that made them one of the most commercially successful girl groups of all time. It was much less contrived than what the Spice Girls offered just a few years earlier. This group did not consist of fabricated caricatures. They were real women.
The Writings on The Wall gave us timeless feminist anthems, an early induction into the Beyhive and said good riddance to creating music for the male gaze. It repositioned the way we viewed a woman’s agency and challenged us to set higher standards for ourselves and the company we keep. Twenty years later and the message it left behind endures: Black girls are a force of nature, we know our value, we will demand what we are worth and when faced with indifference, we will continue to work until we’re so good that you cannot deny the power of our presence.
