How does a dancehall song surprise me in 2015? Well, hear nah, Dexta Daps’ “7eleven” does. It’s been a long, long, long time since I last heard a dancehall song possibly complicate the areas of gender and sexuality in the West Indies. And possibilities for complexities count for a whole damn lot where I am coming from (I’ll take it where I can get it at this point). Worse yet, a song being sung by a man. Worse yet a hot song at the cusp of an artiste finally blowing way, way up.
Female sexuality is, of course, no stranger to dancehall. All throughout the diaspora, we find musicians and performers wrestling with an articulation of self and culture through the rhythms and lyrics created. Sex is ever (though not solely) prominent. In Jamaica, as elsewhere in the region, we often do a dance between the “virgin/Madonna-whore dichotomy. On the one hand, venerating the female body and womanness, purity and fidelity when enacted appropriately, and demonizing the sexuality of women who don’t play by the rules, who have too much sex and like it, who dress provocatively, and who have had more than one man* to name just a few. (More on more than one man later.*) These women are thots, hoes, sluts, skettels and baddises.
With its liberal usage of “fuck” and “pussy” inside beautifully melodious articulation, I really like the song. I dig it for several reasons, least of all how it helps us delve into pum pum politics in song. Firstly, to hear a West Indian man acknowledge — even barely acknowledge — that his woman has a sexual past (maybe) is nearly unheard of. Men do not do that in dancehall. Or many other places even. They don’t and if they do, they are hardly singing about how she’s his main in the same breath.
Most men sing about a woman as though the only man who has ever existed on her realm of sexual experience is them. Even though, in reality, that’s often hardly the case. Dancehall love songs like Kartel and Spice’s “Ramping Shop” or “Conjugal Visit” create the same kind of sexual bubble. There’s a whole lot of fucking and quinting going on, but only between Spice and Kartel. Nothing else exists or has ever existed in the history of their fucking.
Obviously, if you’re in a presumably committed relationship, probably your sexual history is in fact, not relevant to the current boo and no one expects it to be brought up regularly, but the fact is it’s all part of who we are. It shouldn’t undermine your current sexual relationship/s at all. Separating women from their sexual history is this weird patriarchal inclination whereby a woman becomes incrementally devalued by her sexual experience (basically anything and anyone outside of who you are currently dealing) but for men, it’s a plus. A lot of men internalize this nonsense and pathologize sexual women. They would do the same to their gyul too, the only difference is being with her now. Too many men are overly consumed with notions of how much man a woman might have had before they came along. Get over it, you’re probably not the only person she’s fucked. (more…)
Because you needed this in your life and the carnival season is upon us and because wining (without an “h”) is totally a feminist act. And some of allyuh need to be schooled in some classics.
Do note: for the purposes of my personal analysis, a feminist calypso or soca song can be feminist regardless of whether the performer has explicitly called themselves feminist. So, no, Destra may or may not consider herself feminist (I have no idea about that) but that doesn’t prevent a feminist lens from being applied to her work.
I’m also aware that male songwriters have penned some classics for women, but unless we are going to completely erase the agency of the women performers who bring the songs to life, then that too, doesn’t detract from meaning and implications. All shared art: musical, written and otherwise, is liable to interpretation, which may or may not collude with the artists’ agenda. Additionally, all songs sung by a woman aren’t implicitly feminist just because a woman sings it. Case in point: Patrice’s “Give Him (Bam Bam).” Yeah, no eh.
Anyhow, a soca or calypso song may be feminist if it advocates for women’s autonomy and agency, interrogates and or celebrates women’s sexual agency (in soca and calypso, this is often symbolised by the free movement of and “ownership” of the bam bam as well as wining); reinscribes social mores, or advocates for or examines gender (in)equality, or complicates how we think about gender or gender roles in society. Or just sounds good to the feminist ear. Basically, if feminists can flex out to it and not cringe inwardly, then we might be on to something.
Without further ado, some of my favourite feminist chunes in no particular order. (List is not at all exhaustive. List is also, arguably, very Trini soca/calypso oriented.)
“Die With My Dignity”: because you shouldn’t have to bull for a wuk. Unless of course that is what your work entails. Voluntarily, safely and with personal agency of course. (We don’t slutshame or invalidate sex work in these here parts.)
Also, because Singing Sandra was part of The United Sisters, the first ever all-woman kaiso soca group and she’s a legend!
Sample lines: “Well if is all this humiliation/ to get a job these days as a woman/ Brudda, dey go keep dey money/ I go keep my honey and die with my dignity!”
Which leads me to “Whoa Donkey” by The United Sisters because of soca sisterhood and the no-attempt-to-hide-sexual-innuendo coupled with a dance that is nothing short of classic. Sample lines: “Tonight in de fete/ Is ride until yuh wet/ climb up on ah back. . .”
Saddle up, fellas! And ladies.
“Obsessive Winers.” Denise, Alison and Destra. Soca Queen Triad who doh deal with outta timers. That is all.
Calypso Rose’s version of a classic, “Rum and Coca-Cola.” She is a Tobagonian by birth from the sister isle and the first woman to ever win a Road March title!
Drupatee Ramgoonai for rewriting social, gender and racial expectations as the first female East Indian soca star. (Also see the equally classic “Mr. Bissessar.”)
The first time I heard of (a) pretty pussy was when someone I knew referenced the song to me. It was so awkward, I didn’t even have the presence of mind to properly process a problematic compliment. Lady Saw said what? was my preeminent thought, followed by something in the zone of, buh what de. . . ? It was also the first time that I really reckoned with the notion that pussies could be pretty, and that women as well as men, from my part of the world were just as concerned with the notion of tidy, pretty, vaginal parts. I knew a smattering of people in general, up here, were concerned with such it seems, if the articles on cosmetic vaginoplasty I came across in popular magazines were any indication. Recently, on Jezebel, I read a contemplation on whether porn gave men unrealistic expectations of what the variegations in vaginas really look like, essentially a reminder that: “your ladyflower is not the wrong color”, (nor possessing the wrong lip length) despite what popular pornographic renderings might tell you.
I was also out of it because to be honest, I really haven’t taken on much of the new (or relatively new) dancehall now, or at that time. I can just barely skip to my lou (yes, I know that’s already old by now, but that’s my point) and I haven’t paid too much attention to Lady Saw since “The Healing”, still my favourite dancehall love-song duo ever. And of course, if I’m in a party, I will totally get perpendicular to her “Back-Shot”, and “Sycamore Tree” to name just a couple. Overall, I do dig Lady Saw though, more so than not; her brashness, skill, vocal dexterity: one minute hitting a powerful guttural note, the next purring dangerously or riding a riddim with unapologetic sexually-laden gusto.
This is an addendum to Hot Wuk in the Dancehall: What’s Sex Got to do with it? that’s been lurking around the place for me to finish and post. So a certain male, um, friend of mine, who likes to complain that I unfairly bash men all the time (so not true!), responded to my blog in person a while ago, by telling me that his beef with what I had to say was that “the women singing the same thing too!” I don’t know if I agree with that entirely or that it makes much of a difference to my stance in the original piece. Mainly because female performers like Tanya Stephens and Lady Saw still complicate their sexual experience(s) in ways that male djs hardly (n)ever do today. (more…)
I have to thank my auntie for telling me the other day about the “jahaji-bhai” within our family tree. I feel as though she referenced it to me before once, way back when but this was the first time that we went in-depth into it along with many other ruminations. Speaking of brotherhood of the boat, if you were in Trinidad then, you might remember how in the aftermath of Brother Marvin’s song in the late nineties, certain sectors in society pointed out the historical inaccuracies alluded to in the song? While other people were heaping praises on the calypso’s thesis and looking to hold hands and sing kumbaya with everyone? Even the Maha Sabha weighed in. Jahaji-bhai had at long last bridged the great divide!
While I do appreciate that song and you-tubed it, while singing along recently; I think the loftiness with which the racial miscegenation of an African blood-line was sung about was problematic for some elders and others vocal in the Afro-Trinidadian community. They’re sensitive to it and I guess I could understand why. There were enough people around, who didn’t understand why however, to spark much criticism and discussion. I mean, there is a verse in the song that goes, “for those who playing ignorant/ talking bout you African descendant/ if yuh want to know de truth/ take ah trip back to yuh roots/ and somewhere on ah journey/ yuh go see ah man in a dhoti/ saying he prayers in front of a jhandi.”
The palpable existence of an Afro-Trini identity seems to be prevalent at first glance (especially in the areas of culture) but it’s also not as highly valued in other areas. We usually see this expressed most noticeably in “racial mixtures” and the ways in which people choose to recognize and classify their own mixes, celebrate it (or not), what parts they prize more than others, what parts are de-valued and in what ways. Plus it doesn’t help that without Brother Marvin singing that song, I (and I suspect many other people, unless you actually knew him) would have never guessed he was mixed with Indian in the first place (in Trinidad, as elsewhere looks matter especially when we talking race).
Back to my auntie, (who is my mother’s sister) so she and I have frank discussions about race and identity a lot. Since my fantabulous mother is Guyanese and my father is a Trinidadian—one might expect some ethnic mixing to be going on somewhere along the lines there somewhere, right? Wrong. *Wags a finger in the air* Not necessarily so. Many people stereotype the Caribbean region as this utopic mixing pot where delicious blends are whipped up and churned out, in the right part African heritage, right part Indian heritage or Chinese and so on. Most significantly, the right part African heritage. Just enough for the right size bam-bam, hair texture, wining skills and hue.
Let me also state, as an aside, lest people start to get their cosmopolitan selves all in a tizzy—that: people are sometimes mixed and nothing is wrong with being mixed. (Racially/ethnically/culturally etc.) Mixed people are awesome people in their own right. And I have nothing against them or the fact itself. What I do find fascinating however is the way in which some mixed people who are either self-identified or societally identified as black—tend to pride the “mixing” that is to say, whatever they are mixed with, instead of, or at least more than the black in them. That’s fascinating. Because the discourse of race and racial identity is so prevalent in many societies. Because it’s just interesting to me. Because, well, I just like to think about stuff like that.
Some days, based on many of the things that I hear, read, see and observe—I just sigh and think that it feels sometimes like no one wants to be black except a small core of people. And it’s maddening to think this. Some days in America, I feel trapped in this definition of “black” and what that must mean for the world viewing me. I think people grow to love who they are, inside and out and there is no singular blueprint telling you the sucessful way to navigate through it all. You just do, because the self is all that you’ve really got. You can do the same for others too which is a bigger challenge but necessary because we live in a community of different kinds of people from diverse backgrounds. I came across this term while reading an article in my favorite tea spot the other day, “metacognition” which is defined as ‘the activity of stepping back and thinking about your own thinking’ and I said, “by golly! If that isn’t what I like to do.” I’m going to use that term from now on.
Back to the matter at hand, that “blackness” is often de-valued is nothing new but it’s also prized—strategically so. I’m not even talking eugenics. Just the general cultural landscape with regard to race and mixing and the ways in which the perceived racial/ethnic hierarchy in mixes reveal themselves, through the things people say. Or do not say for that matter. Take for example, I know some black and chinese mixed individuals who despite the deep brown glow of their skin and in some cases, the kinks in their hair–rave about their “chinese-ness” like a badge of honor, so much that it boggles me. Which is why I think some black people have issues with Tiger Woods (speaking of hypodescent) . Being just black must be hella boring because nobody seems to hype it much (ever).
Of course, people are free to embrace the various facets of who they are racially—however they so desire and I am not implying that people shouldn’t do so but celebrate all aspects of yourself equally. People also don’t have a say in how they happened to be created. Still, I would love to see some people stop throwing black by the wayside, like some remnant of self that you drove out to a remote part of the desert and decided to discard. People need to understand that it’s not just what you say about yourself—but you speak to others too in the process. I am in favor of people grappling with all sides of who they are, honestly. Not for me but for themselves.
Think about it, what if you’re Chinese mixed with black. Who is to say what’s the qualifying factor? Are you Chinese identified, despite your black parentage or in spite of? Obviously slavery, racism and edicts like the one-drop rule in the states, sections of the code-noir in parts of the West Indies and others like it, continue to affect us today. Obviously it’s also complex as hell for the people involved sometimes. It’s still true that many racial mixtures today are defined primarily in relation to the dilution of blackness than whatever else is there in the mix. White and Asian mixes like Jon and Kate Gosselin’s kids for example, are considered “less” of a mix than say, Kimora Lee and Russell’s kids. And I use less, relatively speaking up there. One could counter that Jon is mixed too—but so is Kimora Lee.
According to Guyana’s Bureau of Statistics, in a population of 751, 223 (2002), East-Indians are reflected as 43.5 percent of the population, 30.2 percent of African descent and 16.7 mixed. (For full details, see reference links below) So, if you didn’t know any better, one would think the odds were high for some kind of mixing to take place in one’s formerly thought of as primarily Afro-Guyanese family. But then again…Which also reminds me of one of the prevailing cultural stereotypes about Tobago, our lovely sister-isle (despite all the other prevailing stereotypes which I am not going to touch here) that because the island is traditionally more homogeneous and is not as mixed as Trinidad—somehow we’re better off in that regard. Total rubbish. Once again, mixing is hailed.
So my aunt makes this announcement to me and while I am not surprised nor, bothered by the fact, I’m thinking it makes sense that there are Indians in my Guyanese family. I have also never met any of them, ever. Maybe because I grew up in Trinidad—to start with—but even when I have visited Guyana, the only close relatives I’ve ever met were black. My aunt didn’t shed any light on why this is so either but I also didn’t ask. Maybe I will, next time I chat with her. So the prevailing ethnic vibe in my family is not a mixed one. I used to think that my big sister and and her white boyfriend would be the first set of variation coming directly into our racial gene pool.
I have an African first and middle name, in the right place and the right time, you might catch my dad rocking an agbada other than on August 1st (Emancipation Day in Trinidad and Tobago)—you can catch where I am going with that. A smidge afrocentric? Maybe. Still, why is any of this significant? Well there’s my aunt’s announcement, like a “Gotcha! Guess what?” moment, richocheting around in the context of what was being discussed at the time. It was clearly meant to stir up dialogue between us and in myself, so I’ve been pondering on it. So suffice it to say, our family is slightly mixed-up too? Am I now supposed to be excited about that? Screaming it from every roof top? How does this add to my definition of self via the new revelations inside my family tree? Is this process even relevant? Really, I just love when people understand that celebrating blackness is great and should be just as prevalent as other traits that we prize. In actuality, that does not happen a whole lot—outside of say, a Bobo Shanti camp (among a few other places) or Emancipation Day for some folks.
The thing too is that there are lots of people who mistakenly believe that a transformative society will be one that encourages and celebrates mixing of races—and because of this, people presume that the racial lines that are supposedly blurred by mixing, will eventually disappear. Not going to happen that easily, I think. Sometimes Trinis are in danger of doing this as well, touting our mixing in lieu of rampant racial segregation that does exits (yes it does!) in many places and instances. Honestly, if you take your blinders off and look, you will find it. Furthermore, as to my point, even in mixing—hierarchies exist. Paradigms aren’t going to be radically shifted just because segments of our society are inter-mingling and reproducing together more frequently. Nor should they. Real change is real and lasting and shifts mind-sets and outlooks. According to an article (again read in my tea-spot this weekend) about the new face of white supremacy in the states, “by 2042 white people will be a minority” in America (from a random perusal of a current Details magazine article). Only time will tell, what shifts and impact, if any, that new racial make-up will arrive into.
I’ve been accosted by clearly less-informed individuals in the states that have said I don’t “look” like a Trini. And I am like, are you kidding me? Have you seen Wendy Fitzwilliam, a real life authentic Trini on tv—granted that she’s stunningly gorgeous and tall and fabulous—she looks like me (albeit withoutsome any of those factors). How is that not a ‘Trini’ look? But on that note, having had that happen once, I can totally sympathize with black Latinos who sometimes feel the same way and historically, their society is more mixed than ours is!
I don’t have our current census stats posted but if we juxtapose the East-Indian Guyanese numbers with ours, I will bet that inside there, upon further inspection, there is less miscegenation where “douglas” are actually identified as mixed—maybe even Afro-Trini depending, or Afro-Guyanese. Indian and white mixed are probably identified as mixed, so too are Indian and Chinese. I think African descent identified Trinis may even run the gamut in terms of some mixing and certainly shade but I am pretty sure that the East-Indian statistical figures hold up strongly in terms of little or no mixing. Interesting stuff to consider with all these people who like to run around going on and on about how mixed we all are.
Ultimately though, whatever you are is fine. Whatever you are not, is fine too. I don’t think we should be in any hurry to unduly praise and promote the erasure of certain kinds of racial lineage and identity either—with African being the first on board to go usually—there is beauty to be celebrated, remembered and held-on to in all kinds of people, no matter their racial make-up. There is also much to be learnt and loved.
Related references, good reads and random goodies:
To understand more where I’m coming from (if so inclined) in terms of skin shade and racial identity and why that is important. Check out my post “on being a darkie” below–
Why utopic racial-mixing and merging isn’t fool proof. (See links below) Some societies have a history of doing so, way more and longer than Trinidad has. So much so, that the stereotypical look of who they culturally “are” as a people often leaves out a lot of people. (Guess who?) Someone is always going to be not mixed enough and end up at the bottom of the totem pole. Plus black people will still be marginalized. The root cause of that doesn’t automatically change because there’s more mixing.
Check out what Tego Calderon has to say about being black and Latino,
“When dark-skinned people identify themselves as “black,” there is an unmistakable little thrill of victory, a notch for “our” side, as in someone who was brave enough and tough enough to accept the designation this society despises.” Read all of Leonard Pitt’s piece below:
my dad plays this album EVERY christmas and i just had a yearning to listen to my copy of it. hey, good vibes is good vibes. hearing “all i want fuh christmas is my collie herb, my collie herb, o, my collie herb” in april just makes me smile. merry I-smas all.
Machel at the 2008 Best of the Best Concert. Great show!!!!
Most people seemed to be buzzing about the way in which 2008 saw the return of Bunji Garlin (Ian Alvarez) as one of the forerunners of the art form. Similar sentiments echoed off the lips of friends of mine and the general word on the street was that “The Fireman” is indeed back, fresh off the honeymoon phase of things, as he blazed a fiery path to Soca Monarch glory and a successful year this season.
Now, I’ve been paying attention to the thematic concerns running through many of Garlin’s more popularised hits this season and came to a conclusion. With my feminist sensibilities intact, all the while soaking in this glorious carnival season, I decided that his vocal points in verse, had as much to do with everything else. It’s not that Bunji Garlin ever “fell off” so to speak, don’t get me wrong, it’s Bunji we talking about and his talent has never really waned. What he has been able to do quite well this year I think, (outside of “Fiery”) is capitalise on embodying the voice of “The Man,” and he does that very well.
Female singers do this voice — for women, quite often as well. That’s why “ladies’ anthems” exist across many musical genres. I don’t know if as many “men’s anthems” exist but some of the males I know have tended to rally around a few popular premises in songs, from hip-hop to dancehall and soca. While I will not disagree with anyone who lauds Garlin as a modern day “chantwell” (as a Trinidad Express columnist recently did), because he truly is. Lyrically masterful as he is, Garlin exemplifies where soca meets a contemporary midnight robber, a Bard if you will, for this generation.
And though he has been cited as the “voice of the ghetto people,” never failing to big up and connect with the various experiences in the lives of the many people stretching across the socioeconomic landscape of Trinidad and Tobago, I would also add that the way in which he appeals to men, as a representative of a particular kind of Trini man masculinity on stage, also adds to his appeal. He is also then, “the voice of the Man.” The scope of West Indian masculinity and identity and how we came to “be so,” is a tricky road to navigate.
We live in a society formed on a backdrop of slavery and colonialisation. A society that is largely governed by extreme heterocentric norms and Catholic-Christian doctrines; all these too, help to shape the way in which “masculinity” is acted out or performed. Unless of course, you are some kind of essentialist thinker, then we might all agree that masculinity (or what is perceived to be masculine at any rate) is to some extent, performed and learned behavior. (Shout-out to a brilliant Dr. Sara Crawley who first introduced the ideas of gender performativity to me in a class.)
Anyway, so too is “femininity.” Females, we too, do “femininity” and it is not necessarily something innate. When we joke that we will “be” feminine today or girly, we are tapping into this very notion. Masculinity then, becomes coded through a series of behaviors, attitudes etc. that I am not going to delve into deeply here. These attitudes are of course shaped by cultural norms and performers, like the rest of us, are products of these factors too. Of course, there may be many other variables at play as well. It is not enough to just be “ah man” or a Trini man for that matter. What matters most is the way in which one projects this identity and in the process, may or may not connect with a variety of people who identify with the same attitudes in the audience.
For example, we can compare Bunji Garlin’s performance of masculinity with, say, Machel Montano, and come up with some interesting comparisons. I also think that I need to point out that to what extent the element of mindful consciousness plays into artistes’ presentation of themselves is debatable. I don’t know if Bunji goes on stage thinking, “well, I is ah man — and this is how we do.” The audience though, drinks in the images and personas presented to us via the stage and other pop cultural outlets. Some with a more critical eye than others, admittedly so.
People do notice though and this is why there’s a reason that large numbers of men are fans of Bunji’s (and Machel) for different reasons. Furthermore, women are fans of them both for different reasons than men are. This year, Bunji Garlin had some hit songs that were immensely popular especially with all the men and young boys. All these songs epitomised a particular stance with regard to masculinity (again as perceived in our society) and a man’s perspective in a variety of ways. That’s a lot for one short season. Originality though, does give someone a lot of added leverage.
All of these songs connect to Trini men on many levels in many ways. They seemed to resonate and address specific manly concerns in the Trini man’s psyche, whether it’s about “getting horn” (re: “help”) or being chased by girls because of the size of your rims or the car that you own, the pleasures of drinking rum (on the Hunter remix), or professing why he is “ah bad boy,” or by that token, simply “ah Trinidad boy.”
Machel Montano, likewise, represents a brand of Trini man masculinity on stage and his is markedly different. If Machel is the veritable sweet-man and “winer boy,” allowing the ladies “one more wine,” then Garlin is his foil, as the badman who is just posed off in the dance, chanting upon a mic. A Machel performance is imbued with a kind of sexuality, accentuated by a hard wine, which is what some ladies especially love (and even some men, I am sure). Ladies love Bunji too, but again, it’s different. Most significantly, men are their fans for different criteria as well.
A key notable point in stage performativity of masculinity is to look at who “wines” and who does not. Not everyone it seems, is comfortable with or interested in gyrating on stage. I am sure that Bunji “wines” and does — somewhere. But that is not a part of his stage repertoire. KMC is another soca artiste among others who doesn’t visibly wine. Apparently “bad men doh wine.” Well, I’ve learnt that men wining is not exactly as prevalent in all West Indian cultures. Now there’s also a difference between this and being wined on or wining on someone.
Take most Jamaican men I’ve encountered for example. You would be hard pressed to see one wining solitarily in unbridled exuberance anywhere. A Trini man — not so much, even more so with some Johnnie in his hands. Seeing as vast numbers of young men in the West Indies take their primary cue on masculine identity from dancehall culture and artists anyway, this is significant to keep in mind. Some West Indian cultures are tentative about the “wine” and what it means for their representation of masculinity in their particular environment. Some people are downright disturbed by it.
If you ever have the chance to watch a “real yardie man” take in a serious Machel performance, you will see what I mean (generally speaking). He will probably squirm as someone I know does and it’s always when Machel starts the oscillations. The discomfort may be quite evident. Otherwise take a “bad man” friend from Jamaica (if you have one), plop him next to you in a big Trini fete and gauge his reactions on the male winery. Many will quicker do the willy-bounce than gyrate their hips jus’ so.
Some of Bunji Garlin’s prominent themes this carnival season related to the male experience (this list is a sampling and by no means exhaustive!) :
1. wayward women who get pregnant by an outside man
2. promiscuous young women
3. women propelled by material gain
4. superficial women who run down man for their cars
5. women who will do anything to ride in that car
6. women who have compromised their morals for gain
7. the versatility of rum
8. a man must hold his liquor within reason though
8. being regarded as “mad” and moreso “bad”
10. professing his bad-man-ness.
Don’t think that pop culture, music and all these cultural factors have no part to play in how we all shape our world view because they do. They all play a huge role in informing people’s sensibilities about attitudes and what their identities should be. Young men and young women are especially susceptible. That’s why young men and older ones the world over, clamored around Kanye West’s “Gold Digger” and still today, many young men frequently quote Bell, Biv, Devoe’s famous, “never trust a big butt and a smile.”
I worry though, about young boys deriving all their ideas from these outlets and thinking every female is either a Jezebel out to seduce and destroy him, is ready to drop and spread out and “hot wuk” at his command, use all his money and wants him just for what he may own, is out just to get what she can or that every female wants a “passa passa” move behind close doors. What about tenderness, consideration, reciprocity and understanding for example? Can’t these become facets of masculinity and manliness as well?
Of course these qualities are there sometimes, but male performers “doing masculinity” dare not show this. Real men hide that side of themselves supposedly. That’s why you will probably never hear of Bunji doing a passionate love song duet with his lovely Fay-Ann. This wouldn’t go with the image. When men push up their gun finger salute — it’s akin to an affirmation of masculinity, one that they all agree with and allows them them to say, “yeah, ah hear yuh — cause yuh talking about me.”
Related links, references, further reading and works cited.
Alvarez, Ian (with Hunter). “Bring It Remix.” VP Records: Soca Gold 2008, 2008. MP3 file.
–. “Bad and Famous.” Fiery, 2008. MP3 file.
–. “Beep Beep.” Fiery, 2008. MP3 file.
–. “Help.” Fiery, 2008. MP3 file.
–. “Pretty Hott.” Fiery, 2008. MP3 file.
–. “Bad So.” Fiery, 2008. MP3 file.
Connell, Bob. “Hegemonic Masculinity.” Gender: A Sociological Reader, New York: Routledge, 2002. Print.
Montano, Machel. “One More Time.” Book of Angels, 2007. MP3 file.
–. “WinerBoi.” Heavy Duty, 1997. Audio Recording.
West, Candace and Zimmerman, H. Don. “Doing Gender.” Gender: A Sociological Reader, New York: Routledge, 2002. Print.
