Recently, standout albums have been released by Colombian artist Kali Uchis, Belgian singer Shay, and Spanish musician Bad Gyal. They all have one thing in common: They're bad bitches. We could just as easily add Aya Nakamura, Rosalia, Cardi B, Megan Thee Stallion, Doja Cat and Nicki Minaj to the list.
The term came from female rappers, often non-white and from underprivileged backgrounds, who rose to prominence around 2010. Back then, women were predominantly portrayed as objects in the lyrics and videos of male rappers. In 2012, when France's first bad bitch Liza Monet rapped about her best move in My Best Plan (6.2 million views), she was harrassed online and slut-shamed. But other female rappers followed and #MeToo happened.
But what exactly is a bad bitch? It describes an ambitious woman unafraid to voice her sexual desires, and to embrace cellulite and stretch marks. Financially and mentally independent, she never cowers and refuses to be silenced – especially not by a man.
Dressed sexy in a denim miniskirt, hip-high thong and plunging neckline, this provocateur doesn't mind being scanned from head to toe as she walks down the street. On the contrary, when a passerby, denied her attention, spitefully labels her a "slut," she defiantly meets their gaze, a smirk on her face, as if to say, "yes, and so what?"
Reversing the stigma of insult
In an interview with Brut, the "pretty bitch," as Shay calls herself, explained that she had turned the stigma of the derogatory "whore" around to make it an empowering word, "removing the negative power of this term [used] to denigrate women." This mirrors the approach of the African-American community with the N-word, or homosexuals with "queer."
But how can she be free when she fits perfectly into the beauty standards? Indeed, she does so consciously, believing it is good for her career. The reggaeton scene is a telling example. Karol G, Anitta, Kali Uchis and Becky G are all artists who know that to "break through," they must first conform to the standards, which are difficult to achieve without plastic surgery. Meanwhile, the success of their reggaeton counterparts is not contingent on their appearance (fortunately for them, otherwise many would never have emerged).
Like the Queen of Sheba, the bad bitch radiates an instantly recognizable aura. Yet, occasionally, she has to face basic reality, like when, on her way to reload her tap card at the pay station on the subway, she can't get her credit card out of the slot because of her 3.5-centimeter-long acrylic nails, and has to ask for help. Being an icon is tough.