Slaughterhouse 13

START TIME: 9:27
FINISH TIME: 10:37
WORD COUNT: 692

THIS WEEK'S QUESTION: Should Sir Mix-A-Lot's "Baby Got Back" be considered a feminist anthem?

I’m not qualified to answer this, as I’m as capable of speaking for feminism as I am for speaking on behalf of African-Americans or astronauts. I may have opinions, but it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m at all qualified to utter them. Then again, you’re at my eponymously named blog and may have been directed here by my eponymously named Facebook page, personal website, email address, so you’re well aware that my opinions, no matter how unqualified, get uttered whether they make a lick of sense or not.

So here’s my opinion, and you’re aware of where to throw the tomatoes.

But this requires me to break down the song. And I’m tired of the song. Still. And it’s been SEVENTEEN YEARS. But the point of the Slaughterhouse is punishment, so give me five minutes to wade into it again.

With regard to Sir Mix-A-Lot personally, the first song I knew him for was “Beepers” which used the voice recording of the SkyPager announcement, and “My Hoopty” which was a hilarious video about his horrible giant old car. This was 1988. So yes, I was one of the handful of white people, most of us MTV and Box viewers, who knew who he was before everyone was drawling, “Only if she’s five-three.” There was very little that was pro-feminist about rap music in 1989, from the lyrics (there’s a whole bunch of cassettes in a box in my closet that have a lot of lyrics that I’ve memorized, tucked in a file in my brain entitled “never say that out loud”) to the choreography (strut, pose, turn, strut, pose, grab crotch, repeat), so I think I’m on safe ground asserting that if Sir Mix-A-Lot made a feminist anthem, he sure as hell didn’t mean it.

I mean, for Christ’s sake, the biggest butt in the video is his. Unquestionably.

I imagine people trying to assert that this is a feminist anthem are imagining themselves in the shoes of Sir Mix-A-Lot, complaining about “the beanpole dames in the magazines” and not as one of the people in the song’s opener, imitating Dana Carvey, David Spade, and Chris Farley as Gap sales ”women” complaining that the woman’s too “black.” (She does! Swear to God! I just listened to it!) But if the feeling amongst some of these women who’ve adopted this tune is that there are certain chalk lines that are free to be crossed because this gentleman might find it appealing – um, you best reconsider.

Such as? (I can hear the knives being sharpened. Stay calm.)

First off, I’m polite and will not be staring at your ass; please refrain from printing anything on it. I read 99.97% of what’s placed in front of me, including nutrition labels and soda cans (from memory: “Phenylketonurics: Contains phenylalinine”), so why would you wear something reading BEBE or PINK? I can’t help it. It’s information. I must consume.

Segundo, I’m an endurance athlete, perfectly comfortable running down the street in Spandex – and you won’t see me in public without a shirt. There’s not a lot, but more than enough, skin left, and I’m quite certain you don’t want to see it. That’s an aesthetic consideration I make in a climate where temperatures reach 115. PLEASE don’t have the sort of body in a pair of low rise too small jeans in which the top of it looks like a soufflé and expect me to keep from cringing. And ladies, this not a sexist pig gender thing. I've been at a Wal Mart in the summertime, I've seen unironic cutoff jeans, trucker hats, and beer bellies that should have their own ZIP code, and you don't want to see it either.

These are two teeny-tiny examples. A true feminist anthem would be something like Salt N Pepa’s “None of Your Business”. Look up the lyrics. It has nothing to do with the fact that they’re women, but I think this song makes the same point without the ultimate goal of being next to Sir Mix-A-Lot.

So ultimately, since the only thing it aspires to is Sir Mix-A-Lot casting a slightly wider net, my answer is “no, it shouldn’t.”