By: Karizma Greene (’25), Staff Writer
“I’ma spend his cream, Seduce & Scheme” is the infamous one-liner from Issa Rae’s new show, Rap Sh*t. It comes from the song “Seduce and Scheme” by the show’s main characters Shawna (Aida Osman) and Mia (KaMillion). I couldn’t begin to express my obsession with these two and the vibe they’ve created already, but this is bigger than my romanticization of modern television. We’ve got bigger fish to fry.
From rapping to her mirror reflection on Insecure to creating her own music label, Issa Rae does impeccable work of highlighting Black female rap. Rap Sh*t is timely with the emergence of Glorilla, a hot new female rap artist hailing from Memphis, but it’s also helping to remedy the gender divide in the rap game.
“She’s a conscious rapper, she loves Lauryn Hill, Queen Latifah,” said Aida Osman on her character Shawna in an interview with Genius. Conscious rap hit the scene at a time when Black women had no hope. Aside from the agonizing wage disparity, Black female rappers also experienced verbal, physical, and emotional abuse behind the scenes. Conscious rap was the fire that rekindled our urgency for a seat at the table. It bandaged our wounds inflicted by men and mended us back together. The 808s were fresh, vibrant, and accompanied by vocals that sent tracks over the moon and defined a new style. “But that’s not working for her,” Osman said.
In the midst of our U-N-I-T-Y movement, there were women like Mia who chose to take a different stance. “Mia’s gangsta is her OnlyFans,” KaMillion said when asked about her character’s arch. I couldn’t have described it better myself. While Shawna chose to go against the grain, respectfully, Mia worked with what she already had: sensuality. It was loud, captivating, and unapologetic. As a fan of the show, it urged me to explore what I didn’t know I possessed.
Black female rap has also become synonymous with sexual liberation and reclamation. In early adolescence, many of our community influencers would teach us to suppress our sensual curiosity in hopes of us not being “too fast.” Female rap stands to reverse these disciplines and allow Black women to navigate life at any speed they please.
To me, Black female rappers are like the big sisters I’ve never had but have always needed. With its different approaches and styles, Black female rap represents a melting pot of warm embrace for us.
So, what’s the difference between Shawna and Mia? What’s the difference between Foxy Brown and Lauryn Hill? The City Girls and Noname? There are many, but the main similarity that binds them together is the goal: women’s empowerment. Adding Black femininity to rap is creating spaces for women to regain their autonomy and maneuver through the world with poise.
KaMillion told Genius, “F*** these n*****, I got my girl.” The rap industry is full of narcissistic men, with a few exceptions, who undermine women’s abilities. For instance, consider Little Kim. Despite undoubtedly being one of the best in her field, regardless of gender, she was still counted out. Her album The Notorious K.I.M sought to pay homage but to also quiet the opposition. Like Kim, we’re changing this narrative one album at a time.
Personally, I can listen to both Shawna and Mia lay bars all day and I’ll be ready to fight the good fight with a sturdy head on my shoulders. Y’all should check out Rap Sh*t on HBO for great music, characters, and commentary!
Image Source: https://variety.com/2022/tv/reviews/rap-shit-review-issa-rae-hbo-max-1235319809/
