The most fatal poisons are those we are capable of ingesting unknowingly. Carbon monoxide has no scent, taste, or color, meaning that an unsuspecting person can breathe it in without feeling any immediate symptoms. But once its effects take hold, unobstructed, the only outcome is death. The normalization of predatory behavior seeps into our lives in a similar manner.
When Tarana Burke shook the world with the #MeToo Movement, she illuminated how often predatory behavior is normalized by putting a face to the countless victims it has consumed. This normalization is in full effect when people make excuses for sexual predators who also happen to be their favorite entertainers. You hear it in remarks like, “We all make mistakes when we’re young,” or “I can separate the art from the person.” The latter statement is often conveniently declared when listeners choose to support entertainers like R. Kelly, despite years of detailed sexual abuse allegations involving young black girls. You also see this form of regularization when Tekashi 6ix9ine, the Brooklyn rapper born Daniel Hernandez, gains the support of someone as powerful as Nicki Minaj.
Hernandez, who will open for Minaj and Future on their upcoming NICKIHNDRXX tour, pleaded guilty to three felony counts of “use of a child in a sexual performance” in 2015. Best known otherwise for his colorful hair and incessant internet antics, 6ix9ine was propelled from SoundCloud favorite to Hot 100 star with the success of his first single “Gummo” late last year. Minor hits with curious titles like “Kooda” and “Keke” soon followed, eventually culminating in “FEFE,” 6ix9ine’s highest charting single yet and currently the No. 5 song in the country. The track not only features Minaj, it was recently added to her new album Queen, in what is thought to be an attempt to push the LP to No. 1.
In the video for “FEFE,” Nicki and 6ix9ine pose with Super Soakers, share an ice cream cone, and partake in the sort of playful hand games perfected during childhood. Some might say that this is simply acting for the video, that their camaraderie ends when the director yells “cut.” However, Minaj’s public reference to 6ix9ine as her “BFF” and her “baby” would suggest otherwise. Such a co-sign from a rapper of Nicki’s caliber cannot be understated.
Regardless of your views of her music, her impact on music is undeniable. Minaj remains the first female rapper to sell over 5 million copies of each of her albums (Queen, which arrived just last Friday, excepted). She’s appeared on nearly 100 singles that have charted on the Hot 100—almost double the amount that Michael Jackson had in his lifetime. In her approximately 10-year span in the music industry, she has accrued a loyal fan base—affectionately dubbed “Barbz”—that has helped her remain a household name, even during long stretches between new music.
To that point, the New York Times published a story in which a single critique about Minaj resulted in “internet chaos.” The writer Wanna Thompson tweeted, “You know how dope it would be if Nicki put out mature content? No silly shit. Just reflecting on past relationships, being a boss, hardships, etc. She’s touching 40 soon, a new direction is needed.” In response, Thompson was berated and viciously attacked online by legions of Barbz. This included hateful messages like “kill yourself” and “pathetic black bitch,” as well as insults about her physical appearance. Some went as far as tracking down Thompson’s personal phone number and retrieving pictures of her 4-year-old daughter. Even Minaj herself jumped into the fray, reportedly responding to Thompson via DM with taunts about her looks and dismissing her as jealous. Minaj later posted what appeared to be a response to Thompson: a tweet listing songs she’s released that she considers “mature.”
While Minaj is not directly responsible for the actions of her Barbz, the influence she wields is clear. She is expected (at the very least) to be mindful of the message she sends the millions of young people who crowned her queen long before this album dropped, regardless of whether that level of social responsibility seems “unfair” to her. As a result, even though the Nicki conversation is now dominated by Queen and the disturbing claims of violence made by an ex, her connection to 6ix9ine will always linger in the minds of some. And with good cause.
The choice to use her platform to further legitimize a sexual predator is in direct contrast with the nation-wide, black women-led movement to silence music’s most infamous abuser. Co-founded by Kenyette Tisha Barnes and Oronike Odeleye, #MuteRKelly aims to get the R&B singer’s music banned from the radio and his concerts canceled through protests and boycotts. This movement, though it specifically targets Kelly, seems to fully grasp the clear connection between money, influence, and the abuse of power as tools of silencing and intimidation. Disrupting this balance by removing one or more element from the trio could possibly disempower abusers and facilitate justice for their victims. “This is the first time where R. Kelly is being held to this level of accountability,” Barnes tells me. “Based on our estimates, the movement has cost him approximately 1.2 million dollars in lost revenue due to canceled and undersold concerts. And frankly, the more we financially reduce his chances of continuing to pay people off, the less he is able to target and abuse young girls.”
It is perhaps too soon to quantify the specific long-term effects of #MuteRKelly, yet the juxtaposition between this movement and Minaj’s decision to abet a pedophile isn’t lost on me. It has evoked a slew of complex emotions and questions.
I live, thrive, grow, fail, and recover all while being a black woman in America. Which means my assistance is marginal, my mistakes are magnified, and my success is minimized. This understanding is part of what fosters an innate desire to protect and love other black women. It is also this understanding that, when “FEFE” came to my attention, triggered questions before any feelings of disappointment surfaced.
I wondered how much the pressure to remain relevant with a younger audience factored into her decision to work with a pedophile. I considered the emotional stress from the comparisons often made between her and Cardi B, coupled with the industry’s history of only supporting one female rapper at a time. I thought about what it means for a female rapper to function within an environment where misogynistic behavior has long been the norm. And I explored the possibility that I could be measuring her against impossible standards of perfection. Without knowing Nicki personally, I can only address the standards I am measuring her against. I do not seek perfection from anyone. I do, however, seek consistency between a person’s words and their actions.
On May 25, 2012, Minaj spoke out against child molesters when she tweeted: “And for the record on sum serious shit, I believe people who abuse children should be stoned to death in public. The end.”
Apparently, this is not “the end.” Rather, it is the beginning of even more questions, chief among them: Will this contradiction between her anti-child-abuse views and her decision to support a child abuser affect her revenue?
Minaj’s choice to both professionally and publicly back 6ix9ine has already lost her the support of many in the community. Yet there may also exist people like me, who want to cheer for her in the spirit of sisterly love while still asking her to acknowledge the message she is sending victims of abuse. Fortunately, the space between feeling sisterly love and seeking public accountability is carefully woven together with nuance and understanding. I can feel that bond with someone and openly acknowledge that their actions are harmful. Especially when that person is a noted MC whose ability to move the crowd continues long after they leave the stage.
If this pattern of normalization continues to seep into our culture, by the time the magnitude of the damage is determined it will have caused irreparable harm to society. While Minaj’s album is titled Queen, I have no expectations of her to reign over the moral compass of hip-hop. Nor do I expect her to rule her career with flawless perfection. But I do hope she realizes that the message she sends by supporting an abuser threatens to eclipse the vibrant verses she has spent years perfecting.
Shanita Hubbard (@msshanitarenee) is an adjunct professor, speaker, and writer.
