It may be an acquired taste, but most Memphians who care about hip hop have
gotten used to the scary-sounding production, hardcore lyrics, and weird bass
hooks that typify the music of Three 6 Mafia. The group’s latent misogyny,
however, is another matter. Luckily, Gangsta Boo, for years the group’s only
prominent female member, is around to set things straight. For this, Gangsta
Boo doesn’t get enough credit. Her lyrics and style are powerful and affirm
femininity and sexuality. And because her songs and verses can stand alone,
Boo’s managed to escape the prevalent “token diva” ghettoization
that has weighed down so many female members of male-dominated rap
cliques.
The best song on Gangsta Boo’s new album, Both Worlds,
*69, is “Can I Get Paid (Get Your Broke Ass Out) — Da Strippers’
Anthem.” The production is very Three 6 Mafia — horror-movie Casio
background and that tinny tap-tap-tap Memphis-style drum machine — but the
lyrics are affirming, revolutionary, and, dare I say, feminist.
There may not be any other song in mainstream music that is so
empowering and supportive of sex workers. And before you bring up “What
Would You Do,” that ubiquitous current single by City High that hinges on
a dialogue between a female stripper and a disapproving male friend, let me
say this: “What Would You Do” is a nice start but the essential
message of the song is that, due to family finances, some women have no choice
but to become strippers and prostitute. This hardship sets them apart from
(and above) other sex workers.
The theme of “Can I Get Paid” is much more
straightforward: “Get yo broke ass out the club if you ain’t gonna
tip.” Boo speaks in the voice of a stripper and her narrative doesn’t
come off as condescending, self-pitying, annoyingly contemplative and poetic,
or, worst of all, pathetic. This woman is in control; this woman has demands.
She doesn’t waste time questioning the morality of her profession or the
assumed hypocrisy of her career choice. Instead, she straight up tells her
male patrons who don’t tip to quit wasting her time, with lyrics that are 100
percent confrontational. The most blatant example: “We don’t like them
boys who be all up in our face/We don’t like them boys who ain’t spendin’ no
money/We ain’t got no time for y’all muthafuckin’ broke-ass n****s in the
club/If ya ain’t tippin’ get the fuck out, bitch.”
With the perpetual influx of rap and rock songs about stripping
from a male and non-sex-worker point of view, “Can I Get Paid” is
long overdue. Every other mainstream song about sex work ranges from being
merely flaky to being outright detrimental. Example one, the best of the
worst, is the aforementioned City High song. Example two is “Lady
Marmalade,” particularly the new version by Christina Aguilera, Lil’ Kim,
Mya, and Pink. The song glamorizes the life of a sex worker without exploring
aspects of the trade. In the video, the pop princesses prance around in
corsets and high heels on a burlesque stage while servants help Miss Christina
put on her I-fell-face-first-into-a-red-paint-can makeup. This is dangerous
and may remind some of the movie Pretty Woman 10 years ago — a
Cinderella story that served as an enticement for lonely young girls to move
to L.A. and become hookers. Example three is Tina Turner’s “Private
Dancer,” in which the obviously hardened stripper longs for a life
outside of her meaningless existence. Example four, the worst of all, is the
typical narrative from a third-person (and usually male) perspective which
either wrongfully describes sex work as nothing but dangerous and
exploitative, pleads for women to leave the industry for Prince Charmings who
promise a new life, or both. “Roxanne” by the Police and the new
Wyclef Jean song, “Perfect Gentleman,” are good examples.
Gangsta Boo’s song is different. She knows why she strips; she
knows the ins
and outs of her job; she knows the pros and cons; she knows how
to make the money that’s there. She doesn’t fall in love with her customers
(“Stick the money in my lacestrap if you want a show/I’m a private
dancer/Be your love slave for awhile”); she maintains complete control of
her performances (“If them beggin’ bustas is perverted/Keep they mouth
away”); and she doesn’t wax poetic about escaping the business (“I
got bills to pay, but a sister’s gonna suck it up”). Her job is just
that, a job — and she makes it clear that strippers can be smart
businesswomen in control of their bodies and lives.
Gangsta Boo definitely knows what she’s talking about —
surprisingly so for a woman who admits that she’s creating a character and not
speaking from her own experience. Of all forms of mainstream music today, rap
and R&B seem to be the only two genres where women are crossing boundaries
and making major progress. Gangsta Boo is absolutely at the forefront of that.
Getting paid is essential, but can the lady get some respect too?