After I became a mother, I just couldn’t listen to the demeaning tracks of artists such as Eminem, Lil Jon and Busta Rhymes
During my final year of university, I remember hanging out with friends by a lake one summer. One friend set up his new hookah pipe as a dozen of us settled on a picnic mat, preparing for a laidback evening of good conversation and music. I offered up my iPod to the friend-of-a-friend who had a portable speaker and was controlling the music. But as she scrolled through my music library, the mood soured; she looked at me aghast, berating me for my choice of “un-feminist” music.
One by one, she read out the titles of songs by Eamon, Busta Rhymes and other artists whose names I can no longer remember, who rapped profanities that I no longer feel comfortable typing on my keyboard, disgusted. As a woman, I shouldn’t be listening to such music, she told me.
Her public admonition of my music choices irked me, but I didn’t let her condemnation get in the way of my enjoyment. I continued to jam to rappers such as R Kelly, Fat Joe, Lil Wayne and Lil Jon. My favourite artist as a teen was
Eminem
. I memorised all the lyrics to Without Me and was certain that his songs enriched my own vocabulary – especially after he revealed that he studied the dictionary as a child. In my 20s, my late-night solo drives were incomplete without my car pulsating to Lil Wayne. Sure, the lyrics could be vulgar but, despite this, I genuinely enjoyed the music – the raspy voice, the penetrating beats and the speed at which he dropped what I thought were witty rhymes. It made me feel carefree and confident as I drove with my windows down and volume cranked up to the maximum.
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