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Abstract
“Black Muslim women and hip-hop? . . . real Muslims don’t listen to hip-hop.” For many it is
almost unfathomable that black Muslim women would have any involvement with hip-hop
music. While several scholars have explored the connections between hip-hop and Islam, hip-
hop scholarship usually neglects in-depth conversations about black Muslim women. Using the
examples of Erykah Badu, Eve, and myself, this paper explores the ways in which black Muslim
women of the hip-hop generation use our music to negotiate faith and culture. Creating
improvisation zones that highlight the flexibility of religion as it moves through cultures and
spaces of resistance, black Muslim women successfully reconcile hotep and hip-hop.
Introduction
Though several scholars and critics have explored the connections between
hip-hop and Islam,2 for many it is almost unfathomable that black Muslim
women would have any involvement with hip-hop music. Using the
examples of hip-hop artists Erykah Badu, Eve, and myself, I argue that the
ways in which black Muslim women balance structures in Islam with hip-
hop culture create unique spaces or “improvisation zones”3 through music
that define and express religious and cultural identities simultaneously.
74
Recognizing and celebrating these improvisation zones have serious
political implications in contemporary U.S. society. At the juncture of
religion and culture there are often moments of improvisation that are
ignored in discourses around Islam, which thus marginalize the experi-
ences of particular groups of Muslims, such as black Muslim women. The
ways in which black Muslim women have become agents in negotiating
Islamic faith and hip-hop culture in their music is of great significance
when considering issues of power and representation that work to define
and control black Muslim womanhood. This paper will explore this
significance by highlighting the ways in which black Muslim women
become improvisational agents, negotiating Islam and hip-hop in their
music, as well as some of the tools used by the larger society to represent
Islam and hip-hop that work to marginalize black Muslim women.
76 meridians 8:1
hop generation and who construct improvisation zones through the
infusion of Islamic faith and hip-hop culture in the music we create.
Erykah Badu
Erykah Badu (born Erykah Abi Wright) is a rhythm and blues, rap, and soul
artist who has released three major albums with multi-platinum sales, and
has received four Grammys among many other awards. Born in 1971 in
Dallas, Texas, Badu was far removed from the South Bronx, the birthplace
of hip-hop. However, hip-hop culture began to travel almost as soon as its
inception, since governmental policies limiting support for working-class
and poor people and social arrangements that encouraged continued
disparity in housing and education affected African Americans in most
major cities. As a result, rap music as well as other elements of hip-hop cul-
ture spread rapidly as forms of expression and coping mechanisms for
disenfranchised youth. By the late 1980s hip-hop culture had traveled and
was adapted in many inner cities across America, including Dallas, where
Badu was known as “MC Apples,” one half of a high-school female rap duo.
Now a well respected and accomplished singer and songwriter, Badu’s
music is perhaps one of the best examples of an improvisation zone that
fuses Islam and hip-hop culture. In the song “One,” Erykah Badu and
Busta Rhymes team up to reflect on their ideal family situation according
to Five Percenter religious beliefs. The Five Percent Nation is a group of
Muslims who follow the teachings of Clarence 13X, a former member of
the Nation of Islam (NOI). Due to dissatisfaction with the NOI, Clarence
13X left the community in the early 1960s and spread his own perspective
on Islam until his death in 1969. Ideas about the roles of women and men
in the Nation of Gods and Earths are key in the lyrics:
Busta Rhymes (BR) What I’m gonna do with Erykah Badu / I’m gonna
have some fun / What do you consider fun? / Fun, natural fun
Erykah Badu (EB) I said what I’m gonna do with my man Buster Rhymes
/ I’m gonna have some fun / What do you consider fun / Fun, natural
fun. (Badu and Rhymes 1997)
Though the average listener may not attribute such lyrics to the influence
of Islam, those who have knowledge of the guiding principles of Five
Percenters may offer an alternative interpretation. In the above lyrics a
simple reference to having “natural fun” can be seen as a proclamation
Busta Rhymes calls himself “Lord” because Five Percenters believe that
when a man learns the proper lessons in life his status becomes divine. In
this doctrine, men become gods and women are earths, which is why he
refers to his woman as “Mother Earth.” He also proclaims that the way in
which the family should move is based on actual fact, which speaks to the
Five Percent doctrine that asserts God is not a mystery and that everything
in the universe can be explained mathematically. Therefore one’s actions
can be based on fact instead of on blind faith. Felicia M. Miyakawa
contends that
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Following the verse by Busta Rhymes, Erykah Badu sings a hook or
chorus that reiterates the importance of the family unit thinking as one in
order to uplift. Through supporting traditional gender roles within a
patriarchal belief system, this song often mirrors popular representations
of Muslim male/female dynamics, in which women are relegated to roles of
submission. In her explanation of male/female dynamics in the Five
Percent Nation, Aminah Beverley McCloud claims that
women, referred to as Earths, learn who they are and their proper place
from the men. In general, the woman’s role is “to learn to keep chil-
dren, home and be there for her man.” She is also taught proper
behavior for home and abroad. Women can have a profession and a
career; this is an avenue for spreading understanding. Women are to be
fully covered, wearing face veils with unadorned skin (no cosmetics are
used). (McCloud 1995, 61)
In this conversation, Erykah Badu proclaims that she can still follow the
basic Five Percenter principles, but she knows that the roles women and
men play are not static ones contingent upon rigid categories.
In light of Kitwana’s belief that there is a severe disjuncture between the
sexes, these ideas about the roles of men, women, and family are also
important in hip-hop culture. Though the hip-hop generation may have
been raised in an environment that cultivated a sense of alienation be-
tween the sexes, many who identify with the hip-hop generation recognize
this and resist the divide. As previously stated, hip-hop culture, and by
extension hip-hop music, has been a space for alternative expression,
therefore it can be a space of resistance. Similarly, this hip-hop song that
details the ideal family unit, according to Five Percenter beliefs, challenges
the notions of division and competition between the sexes, opting instead
for the celebration of unification.
eve
Eve Jilhan Jeffers (Eve) is a multi-platinum rap artist who took the music
industry by storm in 1999 with the release of her debut album Eve: Ruff
Ryders’ First Lady. Though she has been known most recently for her
clothing line Fetish, her UPN television-show Eve, and her roles in major
films such as XXX and Barbershop, Eve has been rapping and singing since
she was teenager. Born in Philadelphia in 1979, Eve dealt with the obstacles
she faced as a youth with the help of poetry and music; pursuing these
interests became a welcome alternative to her job as a stripper during her
teens.
Eve’s music often expresses many of the attitudes that help to shape hip-
hop culture. In the song “Heaven Only Knows” she reveals some of the
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troubles she encountered in life and how rapping became a way to escape
her hardships:
Went from dancing on tabletops to making labels pop / For the love of
the money so I could cop / Everything from icy rings to drop tops, and
now I’m on top / But to look back on my reality, happy I stopped. (Eve
1999)
Eve discusses how she chose to become a stripper so that she could have
access to expensive merchandise. These lyrics reflect Kitwana’s ideas about
the hip-hop generation’s obsession with achieving wealth by any means
necessary. However, she goes on to discuss how being involved in this
lifestyle at such an early age was detrimental to developing a sense of self
worth:
No one in the house knew TV was my life / What am I to do but cry alone
at night / Who was I to tell, and what would they think of me / No one
understood the pain that was sent to me / Broke down from the things
men would say to me/ Selling drinks to a naive kid, I blamed me / But I
really never had someone to tell me what to do / Teach me that I’m
better than just pussy, that’s true / Teach me that the future was written
already waiting to respect myself in life not to be consumed with hate /
And do positive and positive will happen / Stay positive and positive was
rapping / It was like my brain was clouded with unnecessary shit / But I
chose to see through the negative and make hits, but Heaven only
knows/Heaven only knows/Heaven only knows/Heaven only knows/
Heaven only knows/Heaven only knows/Heaven only knows/Heaven
only knows/ Uh, uh, yo, yo/ Now I’m 20 years old and look where I’m at /
I thank Allah every night and pray there’s no turning back. (Eve 1999)
In this section, Eve tackles several issues related to her faith and hip-hop
culture. Recognizing the negative effect that television had on her as a
child, Eve’s lyrics are perhaps evidence of Kitwana’s argument that the
media and popular culture affect the ways in which members of the hip-
hop generation perceive our identities. “Today, more and more Black youth
are turning to rap music, music videos, designer clothing, popular Black
films, and television programs for values and identity” (Kitwana 2002, 9).
Further, Eve’s relationship to the men she discusses can also be seen as a
commentary on the sense of alienation that works to divide the sexes in the
When black Muslim women create music, they create social networks or
communities that, depending on their particular experiences, interpret
this fusion of religion and culture in different ways.
For instance, many people have never considered whether Eve is Muslim
or not, although she refers to God as Allah in her music, and thanks Allah
in the credits on her CDs. I am not one hundred percent certain that Eve
identifies as a Muslim. However, I read her as Muslim because of my
experiences as a black Muslim woman. First her usage of Allah, instead of
God, or Lord, is certainly a clue. Second, it is common for Muslims to
discuss who is and isn’t Muslim, especially when artists use Islamic
terminology. Grapevine communication helps to support my reading of
Eve as a Muslim. Third, Eve’s use of Islamic terminology and my grapevine
communications are supported by the particular community she came
from. Philadelphia has one of the largest black Muslim populations in the
country. In addition Eve has been associated with many rap artists from
Philadelphia who identify as Muslims and who also infuse their music with
Islam and hip-hop culture. These artists include rappers like Freeway and
Beanie Siegal.
Through discussing the music of Muslims with non-Muslims, it has
become obvious to me that many non-Muslims often do not read any
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connections between the Islamic faith and black women’s hip-hop music,
and even miss blatant references to Islam. It is perhaps most obvious that
these references are either ignored or missed when searching for the lyrics
to Eve’s songs. For example, in looking through websites for the correct
lyrics to Eve’s “Heaven Only Knows,” I noticed that every site had tran-
scribed “I thank the Lord every night and pray there’s no turning back,”
whereas Eve actually says “I thank Allah every night and pray there’s no
turning back.” Inaccurate lyrics are not unusual on websites, however,
usually where one site makes a mistake, another site will have a correction,
or at least an alternative inaccuracy. In this case, after checking over seven
websites, “the Lord” instead of “Allah” was used in every case. While it
may be argued that the words are simply not clear, perhaps it never
occurred to those who transcribed the lyrics that Eve could be Muslim or
could have said Allah instead of Lord. In the absence of absolute clarity,
they chose the latter, the more familiar. Though Eve creates an improvisa-
tion zone for the simultaneous expression of faith and culture, the
particular experiences and histories of the audience will change the way
improvisational meanings are interpreted, which leaves room for black
Muslim women to read themselves into hip-hop culture’s narrative.
anaya alimah
Born and raised on the south side of Chicago, I have been making music
since I was a small child. Encouraged by my mother, a former piano
instructor and vocal music major, I’ve been trained as a classical clarinetist
since the age of nine. Though I began to write poetry in high school, my
classical training and love for jazz were major distractions from any
serious consideration of emceeing. I began rapping, producing, and
engineering (under the name Anaya Alimah6) after building my own
studio, as a way to reconcile my passion for music and my research.
In my music, I also infuse my spiritual beliefs with hip-hop culture.
“More Than Usual” is a song that grapples with class, race, gender, and
music industry politics, reflecting the spirit of resistance in hip-hop
culture in ways that are tied to my faith:
It’s Anaya Alimah, lyrical entertainer / Simply complex, the best way to
describe my demeanor / I’m all about my freedom, don’t follow I’m a
leader / That’s why they tapping me tracking the books that I be reading
{Hook}
I don’t think that they feelin me though / That’s what happens when you
rap about more than getting doe / I don’t think that they feelin me
though / That’s what happens when you rap about more than trivial / I
don’t think that they feelin me though / That’s what happens when you
rap about more than getting doe / I don’t think that they feelin me
though / That’s what happens when you rap about more than usual
{Verse 2}
Come kick it with the Queen / I like the finer things / Juices and berries
for my locks, nourishment for my thoughts / To each its own they say, to
you be your way, me be mine / So while the people sleep, conspiracies I
find / Its revolution time, better yet solution time / Too many just fall in
line, capital control they minds.
84 meridians 8:1
sages of capitalism can exist. I then go on to challenge the “get rich or die
trying” mentality by stating that I consider the finer things in life to be
juices and berries for my locks and knowledge as opposed to diamonds
and fancy cars, saying that capitalism has taken over the minds of many
people. Also, I aver that this mentality is antithetical to my religious beliefs
and paraphrase an ayah, or verse, from the Quran: “To you be your Way, and
to me mine” (Ali 1997, 1708).
Though I used only one reference to the Quran that can be considered
explicitly Islamic, the entire song is a reflection of my spirituality and how
spirituality influences my analysis of my surroundings. The goal of Islam
and the Quran is to provide “key principles of human development: justice,
equity, harmony, moral responsibility, spiritual awareness, and develop-
ment” for communities and individuals to emulate (Wadud 1995, 95). If
one considers Islam as a spiritual mindset that includes more than ritual
acts, as a faith that encompasses a genuine concern with social interac-
tions, then Islam cannot be separated from issues of social justice. Issues
of social justice such as the treatment of women, government surveillance,
and the greed that often accompanies capitalism are necessarily spiritual
challenges and are represented as such in my lyrics, which merge my
concerns as a member of the hip-hop generation with my faith.
over the years, most commentators have focused on his role in building
Pan-Africanism to the exclusion of any serious discussion about his
Islamic persona, instead portraying Islam as an irrational or immoral
choice for persons of African descent. I refer to this tendency as the
overdetermination of African-American history by the Black Church. As
an implicit ideology of both church and academic scholarship, it limits
intellectual expression by repressing the voices of the unchurched.
(Dannin 2002, 22)
This repression affects not only intellectual expression, but also represen-
tations of black religion in black culture and mass media.
The repression of unchurched voices is evident in mass media, for
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example, when considering the two networks that specifically aim to
represent black culture, Black Entertainment Television (BET) and TV One.
Though these networks are supposed to represent black culture and not
black Christian culture, they both devote many hours to Christian pro-
gramming on Sunday, perhaps understandably, but also almost every
morning of the week before 8am. Despite the fact that African Americans
are Bahai, Jewish, Muslim, Yoruba, etc., no significant, if any, representa-
tions of non-Christian religious beliefs appear on these networks. This is
particularly problematic for the hip-hop generation since, as previously
discussed, representations of black culture on television have an impact on
the ways in which those in the hip-hop generation construct identity.
Therefore, excluding non-Christian religious representation on these
networks works against accurate representations of black culture and hip-
hop culture, both of which are heterogeneous.
88 meridians 8:1
often put on a pedestal and embraced by Muslim communities as good
spokespersons.
In his essay about Mos Def—a famous orthodox Muslim rapper from
Brooklyn—Ali Asadullah follows a similar script. He states, “Mos
Def . . . represents arguably the first time that an artist, solidly wedded to
the orthodoxy of the religion, has stepped into mainstream popularity
with a complete, well-articulated Islamic message as a part and parcel
of . . . [his] popularity” (Asadullah 2002, 238). Granted, Mos Def is
probably one of the most popular rappers, known for resisting many of the
stereotypical violent, criminal, and hyper-sexualized images of black men
in hip-hop with his thought-provoking lyrics. However, to say that he
brings a complete Islamic message most certainly ignores his messages in
songs like “Ms. Fat Booty,” in which he raps about meeting a woman in a
club with an “ass so fat you could see it from the front,” dating her, and
having premarital sex with her (Mos Def 1999). Similarly, it is common for
male Muslim rappers, like Busta Rhymes and Q-Tip, to have the usual
images of naked black female bodies as a part of the scenery in music
videos. It is not as if I think these activities and/or lyrics make these men
any less Muslim; however, I do know that a Muslim woman who is explicit
about her religious beliefs could not take a similar approach without more
backlash from Muslim communities.
The first time that I heard Eve was a Muslim, it was from a Muslim man
who had three children out of wedlock, consistently lied to women and
used them for their money, and at the age of thirty frequented college
parties to pick up women. Yet his thoughts about Eve were that she claimed
to be a Muslim, but “that bitch” isn’t a Muslim because she didn’t cover her
body, used to be a stripper, and has tattoos. This type of double standard
that makes it acceptable for men to be promiscuous and to behave in an
“un-Islamic” manner is quite pervasive, especially when the men are not in
environments where they are necessarily dealing with other Muslims.
Again, because the rap industry is often seen as an accurate reflection of
hip-hop culture, black Muslim women’s representation, or lack thereof, is
of great importance when considering ideas about their role in the culture
at large. Community and/or commercial expectations of the roles of
women in hip-hop music, Islam, and black religion in general converge to
restrict the spaces that black Muslim women have to express in hip-hop
culture a minority faith and perspective. Therefore, though it is refreshing
Conclusion
The question, “can black Muslim women be down with hip-hop?” is not
just about whether black Muslim women can create music in the hip-hop
music industry. Rather, it is a larger question about whether black Muslim
women are active participants and reflections of hip-hop culture, if they
were born in the hip-hop generation. Moreover, the question encourages
the exploration of factors that may lead many to believe that black Muslim
women cannot identify with hip-hop culture.
First, many consider Islam to be fixed—non-fluid. Often the media and
Islamic communities paint Islam as a foreign concept that is practiced in
its correct form in the Middle East. However, this thinking does not
acknowledge that Islam is a boundary object that is shaped by its particu-
lar contexts. Thus, improvisation becomes a useful metaphor when
describing the ways in which black Muslim women are agents in shaping
their faith within a particular cultural environment—hip-hop culture. This
improvisation does not make Americanized versions of Islam any less
authentic. Though many Muslims would like us to believe that Middle
Eastern Muslims have been able to properly imitate the “original” Islam,
and haven’t at all shaped the faith within their own cultural parameters,
this is of course not true.
Second, particular tools are used to misrepresent and therefore margin-
alize the actual experiences of black Muslim women. These tools include
popular images of Muslim women in the mass media, which often do not
depict black women, and especially not uncovered black Muslim women;
the ways in which the voices of the unchurched have been repressed in
black history and popular culture; and the systemic hyper-sexualization
and marginalization of black women in the hip-hop music industry, which
is often seen as an accurate reflection of hip-hop culture.
90 meridians 8:1
Black Muslim women such as Erykah Badu, Eve, and myself create
through our music spaces of resistance in improvisation zones. Whether
creating music that specifically outlines our religious beliefs, that discuss-
es our particular experiences, or that espouses a political agenda, reflec-
tions of faith and hip-hop culture are expressed simultaneously. Further,
we also create spaces for other black Muslim women to see and/or read
themselves into hip-hop culture’s narratives. Though black Muslim women
are down with hip-hop, discussions about our participation in the culture
are much bigger than hip-hop. They are discussions of power relationships
that black Muslim women who are a part of the hip-hop generation must
negotiate with those who make up the multiple communities with which
we are affiliated.
notes
1. “Hotep” is a common salutation that simply means peace. The word “Islam”
means submission, and the idea behind the Islamic faith is that if one submits
to the will of Allah then he or she will achieve true peace. Therefore, I use
Hotep to represent this notion of peace.
2. See Asadullah 2002, Kitwana 2002, and Miyakawa 2005.
3. In the most general sense, improvisation can be defined as the balancing of
structure and creativity (Sawyer 2001). Thus improvisation zones are spaces in
which black Muslim women negotiate the structures that constitute our
religious and cultural identities with individual (and sometimes collective)
creativity in applying these structures to our lives.
4. For an elaboration on the concept of boundary objects, see Bowker and Star
2000.
5. What constitutes Islam and Muslims as a group is certainly debatable. I define
Muslims as those who submit to the will of God or to Islam, believe in the
angels, the Day of Judgment, the scriptures and prophets (including the Quran
and the Prophet Muhammad), praying, and doing good deeds on earth. I do
not necessarily exclude those who may not be traditionally labeled Muslim.
From my perspective and interpretation of the Quran, to be a Muslim it is not
necessary to attend a mosque (Islamic temple of worship), pray at designated
times of the day in a specific manner, cover one’s body completely (for women),
or make the pilgrimage to Mecca. Many Muslims may disagree with the ways
in which I distinguish between Muslims and non-Muslims. The distinctions I
have provided are an example of my agency in new meaning-making that is a
result of my own cultural experiences. These categories are not intended to be
static. Instead they represent my particular worldview, a unique lens to
contribute to the multiple perspectives impacting discourses on Islam.
works cited
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Bowker, Geoffrey C. and Susan Leigh Star. 2000. Sorting Things Out: Classification
and its Consequences. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.
Dannin, Robert. 2002. Black Pilgrimage to Islam. New York: Oxford University Press.
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Kitwana, Bakari. 2002. The Hip Hop Generation: Young Blacks and the Crisis in African-
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sound recordings
Badu, Erykah and Busta Rhymes. 1997. “One.” When Disaster Strikes. Elektra. Audio
CD.
Eve. 1999. “Heaven Only Knows.” Eve: Ruff Ryders’ First Lady. Interscope Records.
Audio CD.
Mos Def. 1999. “Ms. Fat Booty.” Black on Both Sides. Priority Records. Audio CD.
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