EDGE CONTROL ZINE: The social importance of Missy 'Misdemeanour' Elliott - 31/08/2019

I would like to begin by clarifying that my love for Missy Elliott’s music is not recently discovered. What is new, however; is my admiration for the artist herself.

 I vividly remember listening to ‘Work It’ on Choice F.M. (A London-based hip hop and rnb radio station now defunct due the expansion of Capital F.M.) whilst I was in the passenger seat of my Dad’s car in the early 2000’s, impatiently trying to decode what she was saying in the chorus. Upon reflection, two things in particular strike me about this memory. Firstly, ‘Work It’ was released when I was only three years old. By the time I had experienced the expertly strange sounds of Timbaland and Missy it was way past its prime airplay spot on the radio, limiting the extent to which I could become fully immersed into the world of Missy Elliott (co-created by Timbaland). And secondly, I was completely unaware of her triumph of finally reaching mainstream success with her “biggest hit to date!” well into her solo career; due to the aforementioned point of me being literally three years old. In the early 2000’s I was far more concerned with what Beyoncé/Destiny’s Child song I was going to do my next dance routine to, subconsciously marginalising the majority of rap music to my periphery. 

As I got older and I became more conscious and reflexive about my position as a black woman who listens to hip-hop, I began to notice consistent patterns with the representation of women in a male-dominated and capital-orientated industry. This, paired with my first significant encounter with Missy Elliott, watching ‘The Rain’ [Supa Dupa Fly] video on Youtube; I became starkly aware that black women in rap music often exist in two extremes, with little to no overlap. They are either the hypersexualised, braggadocious woman whose subject matter centres mainly on two topics, sex and money (Cue your Nicki Minaj’s and your Lil’ Kim’s). Or they are our spiritual aunties, revered for their socially conscious music that preaches wise, omniscient sentiments such as; ‘the most important relationship one must have, is one with yourself.’ (Cue Lauryn Hill, “how you gon’ win if you ain’t right within?”)

Whilst both types of women are important for their emphasis on female empowerment and promoting our sense of agency in a society that frequently denies such opportunities, especially to black women, it still consistently begs two sad truths. Firstly, that these are still types. Black women are regularly reduced to binary form in order to be accepted by the Western mainstream mass, (on the basis of sexual viability that then decides the extent and forms of objectification that will follow) and secondly; that stereotypical portrayals of black women are tropes still commonly used to garner profit, just in a modernised, less overt manner. 

Missy ‘Misdemeanour’ Elliott defies this logic in all capacities. She expresses fluidity between these two extremes, conveying the reality of black womanhood. It is something both empowering and gratifying but is also something that is often difficult to navigate, especially in spaces that aren’t readily accepting of us as equals. Despite our characterisation in mainstream media, there is no standardised form of ‘black woman’. We exist in a multitude of shapes and sizes, varying in value systems and economic statuses; united by a shared sense of belonging to race and gender, and that only as the common denominator. 

 Nowhere is the multidimensionality of the black woman as an artist in today’s age more evident than in Missy Elliott’s opening statement, the music video for The Rain [Supa Dupa Fly]. When I first watched this video in the summer of 2015, my first thoughts were a combination of “Why have I never seen this video before?” and “Why is this not her most popular song?”(A consequence of my naïve self only relatively aware of the constrictions of an industry that is sustained largely by commodifying creativity and is rife with sexism). 

Sporting a shiny black inflated jumpsuit and the now-iconic gold headpiece, I was finally transported into the weird and wonderful world of Missy Elliott. It is unapologetically goofy and cartoonish, bizarre and bright, and unlike any music video I have ever seen since. Showcasing not only the extent of creativity that is possible for black women when our trajectory is not halted by the glass ceiling, (one that is hued the colour of misogynoir) but that of a black female artist unafraid of strange, working outside of the conventions of hip hop; an industry that is known for reproducing double standards for women. Missy redefines how black women must categorise themselves in order to be marketable and digestible, by creating good music and being authentic in a space that rarely affords the opportunity to. 

Indirectly, Missy Elliott’s importance lies in her ability to reclaim the narratives of dark-skinned, full figured women. This is a group within society whose access to sexual liberation movements have been historically subordinated due to the specific symbolic and physical violence that has been long inflicted. Her confident announcement that she’s got “a cute face, chubby waist, thick thighs in shape” in her first verse on Lose Control proclaims this in full force. Whilst this statement does not seem especially significant upon first listen, it undoubtedly shows the rare image of a black woman who does not neatly adhere to European beauty standards or an established archetype, assert self-affirmation that is not licensed by Eurocentric ideals or male voyeurism. 

The impact of Missy Elliott as a symbol of unbounded ingenuity regardless of marginalised status is shown emphatically by Ashlee Haze, in her poem ‘For Colored Girls’, (that was then used in the opening track for Blood Orange’s 2016 album, Freetown Sound).  As representation is inextricably linked to desirability and self-image, Missy’s message is powerful for girls with ‘chubby waists’ and ‘thick thighs’ everywhere. By asserting this in an industry where the self-expression of black women is so often in contention with the policing and commodification of the black female form, Missy Elliott challenges this conflict of interest and comes out on top each and every time. 

 Simultaneously existing outside of the norms of rap music and gendered-racial expectations of black women, whilst being critically acclaimed and loved universally, the success story of Missy Elliott is truly an anomaly. Her position within popular culture is unparalleled and inspirational, highlighting that you do not need to prescribe to preconceived notions to have confidence in your sex appeal, and that in no way is being unique and eccentric distinct from this. 

 Missy Misdemeanour Elliott was a crucial force in the restoration of my faith in hip-hop as a genre, because she showed me that black women can be humanised in music. Not as our aunties or as a ‘bad bitch’ but just simply as a black woman, and that will always be enough.  

Dara Coker.