Review by Choice Review
This book analyzes the connections between hip-hop lyrics and culture and the emotional health of Black women. In each chapter, Hubbard (Northampton Community College) pairs personal memories with themes from popular songs to highlight multiple factors that shape Black women's experiences, both past and present. Occasionally, the content takes some time to develop, but once it does, the connections are striking. Of particular note is how the author challenges the perceptions and standards of Black womanhood as defined by Black men, doing so in a way that avoids devolving into a rant against Black men. Hubbard also deconstructs how those misperceptions sometimes put Black women at odds with one another; at other times, the struggle against those errant expectations contributes to a source of support and responsibility for Black women's growth. Overall, this volume serves as a multifaceted challenge for Black women to pursue self-determination, to expect accountability and reparation when wronged, to be accountable to others and make amends when in the wrong, and to recognize and break toxic behaviors that place others' well-being as more important than one's own. Summing Up: Recommended. General readers. --Tracey Michelle Hughes, University of Missouri - Kansas City
Copyright American Library Association, used with permission.
Review by Library Journal Review
Award-winning writer Hubbard (journalism, Univ. of Toronto) pens a conflicted love letter to hip-hop, arguing that the "ride-or-die chick" cultural phenomenon is a double-edged sword. Growing up, Hubbard was inspired by the storytelling in hip-hop's depictions of life in lower-income areas. She cites The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill as a seminal album that made her feel seen as a Black woman. It wasn't until her worldview expanded and diversified that she began to see the misogyny in some hip-hop songs. She saw the ways in which many lyrics serve to oppress Black women and reinforce stereotypes that they should be self-sacrificing. She examines Jay-Z's 4:44, noting that public declarations of contrition are not enough. Hubbard also recounts revealing conversations with a friend of hers, who is Black, a woman, and gay, which led to her confronting her own latent homophobic attitudes that she attributes to the influence of the hip-hop lyrics she grew up listening to. Ultimately, she seeks a world where Black women are free to be themselves, without judgment for being either ride-or-die or choosing to reject that paradigm. VERDICT Perfect for fans of Brittney Cooper's Eloquent Rage and Mikki Kendall's Hood Feminism.--Barrie Olmstead
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
A journalism instructor and Black feminist activist offers her perspective on the "missing narrative about Black women's lives" in contemporary culture. Hubbard derived much of her early views about Black womanhood from hip-hop songs like the LOX's "Ryde or Die, Bitch," which celebrates the self-sacrificing Black woman. The author shows how this female archetype has deep roots in both Black culture and the Black church and exists across boundaries of education and class. After finishing her master's degree in criminal justice, Hubbard willingly became the emotional and financial support for a convict boyfriend, his young daughter, and ex-girlfriend, all while spending several days a week volunteering for her community church. The author examines the fraught nature of public spaces for Black women, especially the "corner." Songs like Common's "The Corner" speak of street corners as spaces of brotherhood and safety for Black men, but for women, those same spaces are rife with the possibility of harassment. "For black women and our bodies," writes the author, "we have a complicated relationship and experience with those corners that has been…ignored in our community." Indeed, the Black men "hunted by the police" are the ones who, along with the police, hunt Black women and girls to inflict harm upon them. Hubbard also shows how the violence Black women experience is linguistic. She suggests that labels like queen exist to keep them in their place and divide them from each other. Used by men to compliment "good," sexually modest Black women, queen does nothing more than force women to play the kind of respectability politics that turn up in the lyrics of even the most progressive women hip-hop artists--e.g., Lauryn Hill, whom the author discusses in depth--and contribute to the "collective and individual harm…[of] Black women." Candid and provocative, Hubbard's examination of the unspoken truths about Black women's lives is well rendered and liberating. An important book about significant issues that often go unexplored. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
