As I walked back from working out at FitRec to my house on Ashford Terrace this past June, I flicked through my summer playlist to find a song to stroll to. I passed a few J. Cole tracks, skipped a James Taylor song, and listened to a few seconds of “1997 DIANA” by BROCKHAMPTON before pausing it to look for something else.
After walking to the sound of my footsteps for a few more minutes, I realized that nearly all of the artists on my playlist were male. I switched to my workout playlist and noted that 100 percent of the songs on that playlist were recorded by male artists, too.
I stood at the edge of Allston disgusted with myself. What about female singers and rappers? How did I manage to make an entire 46-song playlist without any womanly representation?
From that point on, I went out of my way to explore Spotify’s female population of artists. This realization and subsequent search lead me to a whole new group of talent that I’d never given a chance in the first place: female rappers.
My appreciation for rap only started in college. My boyfriend likes to blast rap as he gets ready, so whenever I was around pre-pregame, I’d listen to Drake and Kanye as clouds of TRESemmé hair product circled around my head.
Maybe it was the fumes from my beauty products, or maybe I just grew to like hard bass and catchy rhymes from listening to it constantly — but in any case, my interest in rap developed my sophomore year.
I don’t know why, but I’d never thought I liked female rappers. Maybe it’s because there aren’t that many to listen to, which highlights the gender inequality in the industry. As I scrolled through Spotify’s inventory this past summer, I came across the small group of female rappers offered and the absolute bangers to their names.
Nicki Minaj’s album “Queen”?
Fire.
Cardi B’s “I Do feat. SZA”?
A national treasure.
Saweetie’s track “ICY GRL”?
My life anthem.
After a few weeks of streaming female rappers non-stop and mouthing lyrics to myself in the mirror, I started to notice that much of what these women rap about concerns beauty and how they carry themselves. The definition of beauty within this smaller group of artists is precise and pulls from a variety of cultures and trends.
The most noticeable part of what these women champion concerns something that other women struggle with: weight. We all know today’s widely accepted beauty standards for women mean an impossibly thin waist with a sprinkle of delicate features, but this is not the case for women who identify as female rappers.
We’re all familiar with the term “thicc,” yes? From my understanding, the number of c’s at the end of the word can go on infinitely. The word refers to and celebrates larger, curvier women. A majority of female rappers aim for this image.
This observance of curves and being thicc is spread throughout rap lyrics and how these artists present themselves. Cardi B calls thicc women “God’s gift” in one of her songs, and Nicki Minaj makes sure you know her butt is the size of a planet in every music video — complete with several moons.
I welcome this. It glorifies the female form and empowers women to love who they are.
Another part of what beauty means to this demographic of artists also concerns fashion. While Cardi B’s partnership with the affordable fast fashion brand Fashion Nova seems to present itself at least once a day on my Instagram feed, most of these artists rock designer brands in nearly every public appearance.
This beauty trend also relates to body positivity. For decades, designer brands have only catered to thinner women who walk on runways. Seeing these curvier women make designer brands work for their bodies leads me to understand a growing movement of inclusivity within designer fashion.
Let’s move on to my favorite part, the makeup. Most of the makeup female rappers wear doesn’t stray too far away from today’s overarching trends, but I have noticed that many of these women like the look of thick black liner with a sharp wing.
My roommate calls them bad b-tch wings, and for good reason. Winged eyeliner commands the eye and gives the impression that the wearer doesn’t come to play. She is confident. She can take a meeting with corporate at 2 p.m. and be ready for a street fight at 3 p.m.
Everything that falls under this definition of beauty promotes self-confidence, which I can definitely get behind. We need to adopt the attitudes female rappers have toward beauty in order to get closer to the more accepting environment we all want.
This week, support female rappers and artists. Learn their culture. See what beauty means to them. Need somewhere to start? Check out Nicki Minaj’s newest album. She’s a queen for a reason.
