Lisa Fager Bediako: Not About Rape, Not About Rihanna

Not About Rape, Not About Rihanna

by Lisa Fager Bediako | Special to CNN

(CNN) -- Rihanna's "Man Down" video was the motivation for Industry Ears -- a media watchdog group I co-founded -- to recently join forces with the Parents Television Council to hold media corporations, in this case Black Entertainment Television, accountable. We argued that the graphic violence aired in the video was inappropriate for the age group that makes up nearly half of BET's "106 & Park" video show's audience: 12- to 17-year-olds.

Our concern lies not with Rihanna as an artist, but with BET and its parent company, Viacom, as purveyors of violence. Over the last several weeks, however, I have witnessed our original concern with the video become twisted from a national discussion about protecting children into one of feminist empowerment and free artistic expression.

The first moments of the "Man Down" video show a man in a crowded train station being shot in the head and falling into a puddle of his own blood. This grisly image is, to us, the most questionable part of the video.

Our suggestion to BET is that they edit the "too graphic for kids" portion of this video, roughly the opening 45 seconds. We have all seen guns, drug paraphernalia, and T-shirt logos blurred out or whole scenes edited out of music videos that appear on music channels. MTV and BET routinely require record labels to edit videos, so why not this one?

Some argue that the discovery later in the video that the man being shot is a rapist, and that the woman shooting him is his victim, makes this depiction of violence acceptable. We disagree.

In his 30 years of viewing BET, Paul Porter, Industry Ears co-founder and former BET video programmer, says he has never witnessed "such a cold, calculated execution of murder in prime time." Cable television content is not regulated like broadcast television, but most cable networks have adopted the broadcast television standard of airing sexually explicit, violent and mature content after 10 p.m. and adding disclaimers, especially if the program attracts younger viewers. "106 & Park" airs weekdays at 6 p.m.

Read the Full Essay @ CNN.com 

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Lisa Fager Bediako is president of Industry Ears and formerly worked for Capitol EMI Records, Discovery Communications, CBS radio and other entertainment media outlets.

Critics Miss the Mark on Rihanna's Video

With her new controversial video "Man Down," Rihanna defies stereotypes about rape victims.

Critics Miss the Mark on Rihanna's Video

by Mychal Denzel Smith | The Root.com

The music video for pop star Rihanna's latest single starts off with a literal bang. In "Man Down," a visibly distraught Rihanna is seen raising a small gun and killing a young man with a shot to the head in broad daylight on a crowded Jamaican street. We later learn that the young man had sexually assaulted her in an alley. It's the ultimate revenge story set to a reggae-tinged sound track -- and a far cry from anything else Rihanna has done in her short career.

I'm not typically a fan of Rihanna's music, but this particular piece and accompanying video have won me over. Her willingness to tackle a topic of gravity and importance, often absent from the pop-music landscape, without sensationalizing or making light of the emotional turmoil that accompanies sexual assault is commendable. But I'm on one side of what has become a very heated debate.

Read the Full Essay @ The Root.com

One ‘Man Down’; Rape Culture Still Standing

One ‘Man Down’; Rape Culture Still Standing

by Mark Anthony Neal | @NewBlackMan

Art should disturb the public square and Rihanna has done just that with the music video for her song “Man Down,” directed by long-time collaborator Anthony Mandler. The song and video tell the story of a casual encounter in a Jamaican dancehall, that turns into a rape, when a young woman rejects the sexual advances of the man she has just danced with. Much of the negative criticism directed at “Man Down” revolves a revenge act, where Rihanna’s character shoots her rapist in cold-blood.

Some have found the gun violence in video’s opening sensationalist and gratuitous. The Parents Television Council chided Rihanna, offering that “Instead of telling victims they should seek help, Rihanna released a music video that gives retaliation in the form of premeditated murder the imprimatur of acceptability.” Paul Porter, co-founder of the influential media watchdog Industry Ears, suggested that a double standard existed, noting that, “If Chris Brown shot a woman in his new video and BET premiered it, the world would stop.” Both responses have some validity, but they also willfully dismiss the broader contexts in which rape functions in our society. Such violence becomes a last resort for some women, because of the insidious ways rape victims are demonized and rapists are protected in American society.

Part of the problem with Rihanna and Anthony Mandler’s intervention, is the problem of the messenger herself. For far too many Rihanna’s objectivity remains suspect in the incidence of partner violence, that was her own life. As a pop-Top 40 star who has consistently delivered pabulum to the masses, minus any of the irony that we would assign to Lady Gaga or even Beyonce, there are some who will simply refuse to take Rihanna seriously—dismissing this intervention as little more than stylized violence in the pursuit of maintaining the re-boot. Porter, for example, argues that BET was willing to co-sign the video, which debuted on the network, all in the name of securing Rihanna’s talents for the upcoming BET Awards Show. It’s that very level of cynicism that makes public discussions of rape so difficult to engage.

I imagine that much less criticism would have been levied at Erykah Badu, Marsha Ambrosias or Mary J. Blige for the same intervention, in large part because they are thought to possess a gravitas—hard-earned, no doubt—that Rihanna doesn’t. This particular aspect of the response to Rihanna’s “Man Down” video highlights the troubling tendency, among critics and fans, to limit the artistic ambitions of artists, particularly women and artists of color. Rihanna’s music has never been great art (nor should it have to be), but that doesn’t mean that the visual presentation of her music can’t be provocative and meaningful in ways that we nominally assign to art. Additionally, responses to “Man Down” also adhere to the long established practice of rendering all forms of Black expressions as a form of Realism, aided and abetted by a celebrity culture that consistently blurs the lines between the real and the staged.

Ultimately discussions of “Man Down” should pivot on whether the gun shooting that opens the video was a measured and appropriate response to an act of rape. Perhaps in some simplistic context, such violence might seem unnecessary, yet in a culture that consistently diminishes the violence associated with rape, often employing user friendly euphemisms like sexual violence—as was the case in the initial New York Times coverage of a recent Texas gang rape case—rather than call a rape a rape. As an artistic statement, intended to disturb the public square, Rihanna’s deployment of the gun is an appropriate response to the relative silence associated with acts of rape, let alone the residual violence that women accusers are subject to in the denial and dismissal of their victimization with terms like “she deserved it,” or “she was asking for it” because of her style of dress.

One wishes that as much energy that was expended criticizing Rihanna’s video for its gun violence was expended to address the ravages of the rape culture that we live in. One man may be down, but rape culture is still standing.

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Mark Anthony Neal, a Professor of African-American Studies at Duke University, is the author of five books, including the forthcoming Looking for Leroy and the co-editor (with Murray Forman) of That's the Joint!: The Hip-Hop Studies Reader (2nd Edition) which will be published next month.  Follow him on Twitter @NewBlackMan

Woman Up: 5 Revenge Films to Watch and Discuss

Woman Up: 5 Revenge Films to Watch and Discuss

by Black Artemis | Better Than Keepin' It Real

Because Rihanna’s Man Down is only the latest attempt in popular media in which a victim becomes a vigilante, I find the controversy it has generated almost laughable. The vigilante trope is as American as running pigskin down a field. It made Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson movies stars in the 70s and now keeps Nicolas Cage on top of his IRS installment agreement. Regardless of where we stand on the morality or effectiveness of vigilantism, we generally accept that violence begets violence.

That is, until the victim-become-perpetrator is a woman.

Even though we cannot get our fill of the steady buffet at the Cineplex of men wrecking havoc in the name of vengeance, let a woman bring wreck, and controversy ensues. Meanwhile, the men in these narratives are rarely themselves the victims never mind survivors of sexual assault.* Rather they seek revenge for a crime committed against someone they love -- almost always an adult female relative (most likely a love interest) or minor child.

Apparently, Hollywood realizes that we are not ready to see a man go HAM because someone fucked with his brother, male lover or even adult child. This is because we cling to a clusterfuck of patriarchal beliefs that insist:

1. A man can possess a woman or child.

2. A man cannot be possessed by anyone else but himself.

3. A man who fails to protect his human possessions should be able to redeem himself by regulating those who violate him by messing with them.

It then goes to reason that, despite our taste for tales of vigilantism, any narrative in which a woman who experiences a crime then takes justice into her own hands will prove unsettling. Where does she come off regulating anyone’s behavior as if she owns anything including her own body?

Read the Full Essay @ Better Than Keepin' It Real

Loaded Guns, Loaded Metaphors: Rihanna’s “Man Down” Video

Loaded Guns, Loaded Metaphors: 

Rihanna’s “Man Down” Video

by Janell Hobson | Ms. Magazine

Rihanna has a genius for controversy. As soon as the music video for her latest single, “Man Down,” premiered this week on BET’s 106 & Park, it created an instant backlash from various groups demanding it be banned from television. However, the outcry is not about depictions of S&M fantasies or a same-sex kiss or even passive acceptance of domestic violence. This time, she is being condemned for promoting murder.

I have to wonder if I’ve seen the same video.

I see a revenge story by a rape survivor, who makes it clear that, no matter what a woman wears or how she dances or if she walks alone at night, rape is wrong and deserves punishment. Rihanna reiterated this message when she broadcast on Twitter:

Young girls/women all over the world … we are a lot of things! We’re strong innocent fun flirtatious vulnerable, and sometimes our innocence can cause us to be naïve! We always think it could NEVER be us, but in reality, it can happen to ANY of us! So ladies be careful and #listentoyomama! I love you and I care!

While I understand the moral concerns about popular messages that condone violence, the hue and cry over this video seem to reflect a deeper anxiety. After all, if parental groups worry that pop stars such as Rihanna are encouraging young women to seek violent retribution, then I wish they would also condemn blockbuster action movies, video games and comic books that preach the same message to young boys. 

Or is it perfectly okay for action figures like Thor or Batman or a regular American G.I. to seek justice through violent means? And what does it mean for the larger public to loudly condemn a fictional scene of a rape victim grabbing her gun and pulling the trigger on her perpetrator, especially when other violent representations in media are not condemned but championed?

Read the Full Essay @ Ms. Magazine

Does Hip-Hop Hate Women? Chatting Up Chrianna and Youth Culture

from NewsOne.com

PODCAST: Experts Rap About Chrianna & Youth Culture

As the world waits for Chris Brown to appear in court today to be arraigned on two felony charges connected to the dating violence incident with R & B singer Rihanna, NewsOne.com sat down with a handful of journalists, scholars and activist who have had their finger on the pulse of hip-hop generation’s gender wars for much of the last decade: Tracy Sharpley-Whiting (author, Pimps Up, Hos Down and director of Black Studies at Vanderbilt University), Joan Morgan (author of When Chickenheads Come Home to Roost), and Newsone’s own senior editor Bakari Kitwana (Underground Current and director of Rap Sessions). This was moderated by Mark Anthony Neal (Left of Black and author of New Blackman).

The debate got heated on all sides as the group challenged young fans and the mainstream media and prepared for the Does Hip-Hop Hate Women? townhall meeting this Thursday April 9 at Connecticut College.

Listen Here

Guest Post: Esther Armah on Rihanna & Chris Brown

special to NewBlackMan

THE NEXT IKE AND TINA?
by Esther Armah

“Yo! Check this out! Rihanna all battered, dyamn! She look like Tina musta did!.” The scene is a New York library session with a group of high school teenagers. Young women and men scramble over chairs to get to the computer screen where the young man is seated. One teenage boy, hand over his mouth, points and creates rapid fire scenarios around the image. Another laughs. Others point at her bruises. And there are those who are quiet, shocked at the picture. Bruised, battered, busted, Baijan singer Rihanna, eyes closed, is their focus. This is the picture that travelled the globe, followed by an affidavit that colored in details from the alleged assault by her pop star boyfriend Chris Brown. Raucous and rowdy, the librarian hushes them. Blame is thrown around like a ragdoll. Some blame Rihanna. Two question Chris Brown. Words like forgiveness, money, light-skinned beauty, provocation are slung, momentarily explored, discarded. They go quiet. The teenager who found the image on the computer shouts: “They like the new Ike and Tina?!”

Really? Chris Brown = Ike. Rihanna = Tina. Really. Tina Turner? Living legend, she of ‘Proud Mary’, and ‘Nutbush City Limits’ fame. She who endured violence at the hands of Ike throughout her 16 year marriage. And Ike? He of flashy clothes, musical vision, fierce musical independence and creativity. And later of voracious cocaine use and legendary temper fame. He who ended up in and out of jail. Both brought to life courtesy of Oscar worthy performances by Angela Bassett and Lawrence Fishburne in the July 93 film ‘What’s Love Got To Do With It?’ Still, how frightening that Chris at just 19 and Rihanna at just 21, should be doomed to a relationship marked by nearly two decades of cycles of violence as told in her biography ”I, Tina”. Tina left. In the end. She went on. She got strong. She healed. She recovered. She spit in Ike’s eye with each step of her success. Ike became the focus of ridicule. Broke, a self-imploding sad dude, high on stories of has-been glory, continually denying the violence and for whom many showed more than a little contempt. Tina & Ike. We know Tina’s story. We’re still learning Rihannas’. And that of every other black girl who knows Rihanna’s bruises intimately, and who has stared in the mirror at unrecognizable features.

The numbers say that most often a Tina would be dead at the hands of the man who she shared the aisle, vows, a gold band and a bed with – or a Rihanna who shared an intimate space with her alleged abuser. The number one killer of African-American women ages 15 to 34 is homicide, at the hands of a current or former intimate partner, according to the American Bar Association’s Commission on Domestic Violence. The same study showed Black females experienced intimate partner violence at a rate 35% higher than that of white females, and about 22 times the rate of women of other races. Every number is a personal tale, a truth hidden, bruises covered, pain buried. Brenda Thomas’s book ‘Laying Down My Burdens’ shared her own behind the headlines story of a 15 year violent relationship – one that she finally escaped, but whose scars she carries. A new report “Black Girls in New York City; Untold Strength and Resilience,” by the Black Women for Black Girls Giving Circle (BWBG), a funding initiative of The Twenty-First Century Foundation and the Institute for Women’s Policy Research (IWPR) revealed violence remained a major fear for young black girls - and that they expected to have to protect themselves.

To the high school teenagers in that library, I wonder what Ike and Tina represent. Their laughter isn’t easy. Or comfortable. But it is there. Their eyes tell a separate truth from their laughter. They check one another’s reaction before offering their own. Older women watch them, unimpressed. Their conversation spins and spits at the video vixening of black women. They lament how these young women have been “ized” and “fied” - categor-ized, demon-ized, vili-fied, sexual-ized. I watch too. Not just these women, but depictions of us right across myriad forms of media. We have become comatose cuties, walking wounded, part of the living dead wrapped in the kind of fly fabulosity that shields external bruises and hides broken hearts and souls – even as popular American culture elevates the broken and celebrates the aristocracy of mediocrity. Back at the library. Two generations of women. One turns in horror to hear the one behind it shrug and ask what the big deal is? Other women rail against each other. Fast girls, good girls, bad girls, brown girls, light girls - the labels signify whether the violent treatment was apparently deserved. Smart women, hood chicks, Afrocentric activists, weave on crew, corporate cuties – notions of how women should and shouldn’t behave to avoid being on the receiving end of violence are too often tempered with – but she shouldn’t have, or why did she, or she should’ve known……….The generations part – each slightly disgusted by the other.

BROKEN MANHOOD = REAL MAN?
Chris Brown points to a deeper conversation – the one about manhood and masculinity and what that means in America. It reeks of the beginnings on this land of a people for whom the legacy of the lash and the lynch have become seamless and intimate parts of their relationship with this soil and one another. We are on intimate terms with violence. That experience continues to haunt via the nightmares of young women whose reaction speaks of their socialization in the acceptance of violence. What kind of man is he? Thug. Hood. Aggressive. Sexy. The marriage of aggression with manhood is an integral part of patriarchal America. Ike was a badboy, a cocaine user, a man in charge of his woman. That equaled sexy. A real man. Chris is seen as a sweet boy, a young man, a good man. So Rihanna must have provoked him, so said so many. Chris Brown’s persona was that of the good boy, the sweet man, the clean cut image, the anti-gansta sweetness of r’n’b. That affected folks’ conclusion that he “simply wouldn’t go off like that without dire provocation.” Another truth? Violent, troubled men are using women’s bodies as battlegrounds. They are the places where their internal wars are waged, their rage is poured, insecurity is fought, disrespect is mastered, pain is smothered. And then society – us, we, you, me, he, she – weighs in with versions and visions of how it happened, whose truth and whose lies linger, whose fault it is, what she should do, how he should act, that he should be forgiven, that she should know better than to provoke, that he was provoked. Manhood, masculinity and violence in America are so intimately intertwined, that to talk about violence and men is to have a conversation and exploration about what it is to be a man in America – and around the world. Add to that the protective posture of black folk when it comes to the brothers. They face such vulnerability due to the various assaults by society. So they are protected. Trouble is the way we protect young black men has been and continues to be via the sacrifice of young women. Add to that the created persona of celebrity, where image is truth, perception is everything. And versions of yourself can be packaged and sold as part of the commodification that is so much of today's black music – sometimes genius, sometimes tragic. Action around manhood does exist. Conversations about black manhood are present and live right here in New York – and across the States. Examples? ‘The Masculinity Project”, a major offering exploring the complex dynamic of manhood via film, exhibitions, personal testimony. The 10-city “State of Black Men National Townhall Meetings” tour in 2004, the 2007 “Black and Male in America, a 3-Day National Conference” followed up with monthly all male forums in Brooklyn that explore topics such as spirituality, physical health, mental wellness. All these events denote black male activists’ commitment to exploring masculinity – and the link between that and violence. And then there are the books. The most recent such as the moving and thoughtful “Be A Father To Your Child:Real Talk from Black Men on Family, Love and Fatherhood”. Edited by writer and activist April Silver, and featuring short stories, essays, interviews and poems by 25 men - a mix of activists, musicians, writers, educators and poets. There's also “The Beautiful Struggle,” by Ta’Nehisi Coates to name just two. Other books like “Black Pain: It Only Looks Like We’re Not Hurting,” by Terrie Williams reveals the untold story of black folk and depression, a sometimes contributory factor to violence. So often, domestic violence and its condemnation or discussion is led by women. In New York men like award winning film-maker Byron Hurt have been engaged in exploring masculinity and its association with violence, and his upcoming annual event “Stand Up…and Speak Out”, an annual conference in New York on May 21 and May 22nd organized by “A Call To Men”, an organization committed to ending violence against girls and women continues that work. He is one of many, many male activists right here in New York doing this work around manhood and masculinity in America. Movements of men are a welcome - and much needed - addition to the voices of women raised in continued protest and condemnation around relationship violence. For the daughters and the sons who are witnesses and who navigate this troubled terrain, this work is precious.

TRAUMA = DOLLARS
Healing. The healing is the universal word and work much needed, but also much maligned. Healing developed a bad rap. Even as it continued to be crucial. Healing got turned out like a whore by a pimp. Trauma became an industry, laid out on its back by publishing pimps who sniffed the green in the drama and spewed forth lecturers, authors, wannabe wannabes all espousing that delivery of demons lay in self love. The young women who called me after my special live radio show on violence talked about that. Some were pissed. They asked of self-love, where do I get that? Who can give me that? What would it look like? No glib notions for them. Explanations, they wanted. Break it down, they demanded. Explain where we get that, they asked. What would it feel like? And they were not satisfied with trite answers. One woman offered; ‘saying ‘you need to love yourself” is not helpful’. She continued: “clearly I don’t. I don’t know how. “ Don’t tell me what to do, show me how to do it.” Some young women spoke about the hypocrisy of healing from a previous generation. They spoke about a place where healing was little more than a conversation that sold books, created lecture circuits, and glibly paraphrased lives, experiences, complexities into neat caged sentences. The clarity of crap dominated pages of work. That’s what they thought. And they didn’t like it. It didn’t help them. Their anger at this industry for the apparently traumatized prompted suspicion and levels of contempt. They wanted answers, facts, details. And then there was a generation of women that admonished their youngsters to put away the pity party and pull themselves together. So some became silent. Or they lied. Or denied. Or built shields and armor. Learned behavior poured from breast to mouth, via the broken love of procreating previous generations doing the best they could with what they had. Healing? What did a road to recovery even look like?

ROAD TO RECOVERY……..Long and winding road…
Kyra, Ceillise, Nyema and La-vainna. Spanning a decade – from 11 to 21, each endured violence at the hands of a boy or a man. All were featured on the live radio specials for Wake Up Call, a morning talk show I host on WBAI99.5FM over a two week period. A media appetite for blood and gore prevails when it comes to domestic violence stories. Battered women, and those that batter fulfil the gory-ometer level where the news has more drama than dramas. Recovery is less sexy. It makes fewer headlines. Provokes less discussion. Sells fewer papers. Means less viewers. Equals loss of listeners. But that’s where the real work is. Erica Ford of L.I.F.E., a non-profit organization based in Queens that deals with troubled young people between the ages of 13-24 typically on the receiving end of some form of violence speaks about committing federal dollars to this work of practical healing that is long and often difficult. Her project is specifically devoted to the holistic healing of these youngsters. But it ain’t just federal, how about community dollars, ask some? Real ones, not punk dollars, states one young woman. Just as they wanted real recovery, not punk healing. They don’t want to hear what they call the proclamation healing. The proclamation without the acceptance. Not the: “I will never raise my hand to a woman again,” which one young lady likened to an alcoholic swearing they would never take a drink again, but then getting a job in a bar. Especially since, she explained, many still want to negotiate what violence means – and that no bruising or battering meant that violence hadn’t taken place. “They still negotiatin’, while I’m tryin’ to clean myself up from the pain.” Some of these younger women accused older generations – and since they are in their early 20s, they meant anyone over 35 – with hypocrisy about the notion of healing. Some explained they feel sacrificed as they listen to women negotiate acceptable levels of violence from men towards women, and then chastise their behavior. They question this notion of role-models. One said “y’all still want educated thugs, and I ain’t know the difference ‘tween an educated thug and a violent dude. Most thugs got smarts, so when dude smacks me, then yáll wanna know why I choose him. Cos you did, cos y’all did.” With recovery, these women, these witnesses to the violence between adults they love, despise and fear ask: What does a man who used to hit a woman and says he doesn’t now – where is his program? Alcoholics got a 12 step program, regular meetings, drug addicts got rehab? What about rage? How does he deal with the triggers that prompt his rage to turn into a closed fist and then a black eye? Where does he go for his sessions to tackle that rage.? What happens before rage becomes a closed fist against smooth chocolate, caramel or mocha skin that becomes a bruised, black eye – and worse? And the young men say little or nothing, struggling to control emotions but refusing to engage in any external source to quell feelings that may ultimately erupt and turn a woman into that statistic about homicide quoted earlier. One young woman said: ‘my dad had a ritual. Before he ever laid a hand on my Mama I saw there were a bunch of things he would do, so I had maybe five minutes to get outta there or find somewhere to take cover’. Others described the violence as uncontrollable and explosive. One said: ‘disagree with my Pops, expect to get a slap, then another then another, then it was on.’ Another explained: “Pops would, like black out, he wasn’t himself anymore. I wanted to ask him, where do you go? Why can’t you control where you go? If you say you’re not going to hit any more what did you do to change that?” Acceptance maybe one thing. Recovery is the next – and that is the patient, diligent, difficult, persistent work of therapy and more. Blame, like judgement, paralyzes and silences. Young women’s bodies cannot continue to be a battleground for the righteous indignation, pain and rage of black men. Young women are not just asking men to stop. They want us to heal, to do the work. All of us. Them, their men, their parents, their community. Are we willing to hear this call to practical healing? La-vainna Seaton is 17. Her friend approached her at school. Explained her boyfriend hit her. Asked for advice. What should she do? La-vainna told her: ‘where there is love, abuse cannot exist’.

***

Esther Armah is an award-winning international journalist, a radio host, a playwright and an author. Armah host 'Wake Up Call' on WBAI99.5FM New York and the tri-state area and ‘Off The Page’ on WBAI99.5FM. Every FIRST and THIRD FRIDAY of the month. 11am – 12noon.

Bakari Kitwana on Rihanna, Chris Brown and Partner/Domestic Violence

from NewsOne

A Hip-Hop Response To Chris Brown & Rihanna
By Bakari Kitwana

For nearly an entire week, the Chris Brown/Rihanna alleged abuse incident has dominated major news media headlines. Unfortunately, these sensationalized reports did less to elucidate the national epidemic of violence against women and more to cement into our national psyche the idea that the new face of domestic abuse is young, Black and hip-hop. Instead of accepting sole responsibility for one of America’s most neglected pathologies, young Americans should turn this tragedy into an opportunity.

In the last two election cycles, hip-hop led the way in making involvement in national elections fashionable among youth. Hip-hop political organizers could do the same in extending that influence into the arena of public policy with the goal of establishing an innovative solution to abuse that shifts the way the nation thinks about its treatment of women.

The election of President Barack Obama, with young people across race supporting him long before even the African American community’s vote was solidified, marked the first political victory for this generation. Two-thirds of the 23 million young Americans 18-29 who voted in the 2008 presidential election voted for Barack Obama. These same young people taking the lead on a public policy solution to end dating violence would be an important second act.

Contrary to public opinion the hip-hop community has a long history of resisting the status quo of domestic abuse, misogyny and gender inequity. From books like Tracy Sharpley-Whiting’s Pimps Up, Hos Down and films like Aishah Simmons’ No! The Rape Documentary to organizations like the Center for Young Women’s development and Industry Ears, Inc., there is an emerging hip-hop generation leadership that has its finger on the pulse of a change agenda for women.

Such an agenda is reflected in the nearly 5000 comments posted on Blackplanet.com responding to Chris Brown and Rihanna newsone.com updates. The overwhelming mood of these comments was that the Black community needed to separate itself from stereotypes of domestic violence. Blackplanet.com members even spontaneously created online discussion groups to address the issue.

The media’s obsession with the Chris Brown/Rihanna incident, alongside a new administration that seems to take the debt it owes young voters seriously offers young political organizers a rare opportunity for this generation to take the lead on dating and domestic abuse.

Read the Full Essay HERE

Kevin Powell on Domestic Violence: Rihanna and Chris Brown

special to NewBlackMan

Rihanna/Chris Brown:
Ending Violence Against Women and Girls (The Remix)
By Kevin Powell

Writer's note:
Given all the hype and controversy around Chris Brown's alleged beating of Rihanna, I feel compelled to post this essay I originally wrote in late 2007, so that some of us can have an honest jump off point to discuss male violence against females, to discuss the need for ownership of past pains and traumas, to discuss the critical importance of therapy and healing. Let us pray for Rihanna, first and foremost, because no one deserves to be beaten, or beaten up. No one. And let us also pray that Chris Brown gets the help he needs by way of long-term counseling and alternative definitions of manhood rooted in nonviolence, real love, and, alas, real peace. And let us not forget that Rihanna and Chris Brown happen to be major pop stars, hence all the media coverage, blogs, etc. Violence against women and girls happen every single day on this planet without any notice from most of us. Until we begin to address that hard fact, until we all, males and females alike, make a commitment to ending the conditions that create that destructive behavior in the first place, it will not end any time soon. There will be more Rihannas and more Chris Browns.

In my recent travels and political and community work and speeches around the country, it became so very obvious that many American males are unaware of the monumental problems of domestic violence and sexual assault, against women and girls, in our nation. This seems as good a time as any to address this urgent and overlooked issue. Why is it that so few of us actually think about violence against women and girls, or think that it's our problem? Why do we go on believing it's all good, even as our sisters, our mothers, and our daughters suffer and a growing number of us participate in the brutality of berating, beating, or killing our female counterparts?

All you have to do is scan the local newspapers or ask the right questions of your circle of friends, neighbors, or co-workers on a regular basis, and you'll see and hear similar stories coming up again and again. There's the horribly tragic case of Megan Williams, a 20-year-old West Virginia woman, who was kidnapped for several days. The woman's captors forced her to eat rat droppings, choked her with a cable cord and stabbed her in the leg while calling her, a Black female, a racial slur, according to criminal complaints. They also poured hot water over her, made her drink from a toilet, and beat and sexually assaulted her during a span of about a week, the documents say. There's the woman I knew, in Atlanta, Georgia, whose enraged husband pummeled her at home, stalked her at work and, finally, in a fit of fury, stabbed her to death as her six-year-old son watched in horror. There's the woman from Minnesota, who showed up at a national male conference I organized a few months back with her two sons. She had heard about the conference through the media, and was essentially using the conference as a safe space away from her husband of fifteen years who, she said, savagely assaulted her throughout the entire marriage. The beatings were so bad, she said, both in front of her two boys and when she was alone with her husband that she had come to believe it was just a matter of time before her husband would end her life. She came to the conference out of desperation, because she felt all her pleas for help had fallen on deaf ears. There's my friend from Brooklyn, New York who knew, even as a little boy, that his father was hurting his mother, but the grim reality of the situation did not hit home for him until, while playing in a courtyard beneath his housing development, he saw his mother thrown from their apartment window by his father. There's my other friend from Indiana who grew up watching his father viciously kick his mother with his work boots, time and again, all the while angrily proclaiming that he was the man of the house, and that she needed to obey his orders.

Perhaps the most traumatic tale for me these past few years was the vile murder of Shani Baraka and her partner Rayshon Holmes in the summer of 2003. Shani, the daughter of eminent Newark, New Jersey poets and activists Amiri and Amina Baraka, had been living with her oldest sister, Wanda, part-time. Wanda was married to a man who was mad abusive-he was foul, vicious, dangerous. And it should be added that this man was "a community organizer." Wanda tried, on a number of occasions, to get away from this man. She called the police several times, sought protection and a restraining order. But even after Wanda's estranged husband had finally moved out, and after a restraining order was in place, he came back to terrorize his wife-twice. One time he threatened to kill her. Another time he tried to demolish the pool in the backyard, and Wanda's car. The Baraka parents were understandably worried. Their oldest daughter was living as a victim of perpetual domestic violence, and their youngest daughter, a teacher, a girls' basketball coach, and a role model for scores of inner city youth, was living under the same roof. Shani was warned, several times, to pack up her belongings and get away from that situation. Finally, Shani and Rayshon went, one sweltering August day, to retrieve the remainder of Shani's possessions. Shani's oldest sister was out of town, and it remains unclear, even now, if the estranged husband had already been there at his former home, forcibly, or if he had arrived after Shani and Rayshon. No matter. This much is true: he hated his wife Wanda and he hated Shani for being Wanda's sister, and he hated Shani and Rayshon for being two women in love, for being lesbians. His revolver blew Shani away immediately. Dead. Next, there was an apparent struggle between Rayshon and this man. She was battered and bruised, then blown away as well. Gone. Just like that. Because I have known the Baraka family for years, this double murder was especially difficult to handle. It was the saddest funeral I have ever attended in my life. Two tiny women in two tiny caskets. I howled so hard and long that I doubled over in pain in the church pew and nearly fell to the floor beneath the pew in front of me.

Violence against women and girls knows no race, no color, no class background, no religion. It may be the husband or the fiancé, the grandfather or the father, the boyfriend or the lover, the son or the nephew, the neighbor or the co-worker. I cannot begin to tell you how many women-from preteens to senior citizens and multiple ages in between-have told me of their battering at the hands of a male, usually someone they knew very well, or what is commonly referred to as an intimate partner. Why have these women and girls shared these experiences with me, a man? I feel it is because, through the years, I have been brutally honest, in my writings and speeches and workshops, in admitting that the sort of abusive male they are describing, the type of man they are fleeing, the kind of man they've been getting those restraining orders against-was once me. Between the years 1987 and 1991 I was a very different kind of person, a very different kind of male. During that time frame I assaulted and or threatened four different young women. I was one of those typical American males: hyper-masculine, overly competitive, and drenched in the belief system that I could talk to women any way I felt, treat women any way I felt, with no repercussions whatsoever. As I sought therapy during and especially after that period, I came to realize that I and other males in this country treated women and girls in this dehumanizing way because somewhere along our journey we were told we could. It may have been in our households; it may have been on our block or in our neighborhoods; it may have been the numerous times these actions were reinforced for us in our favorite music, our favorite television programs, or our favorite films.

All these years later I feel, very strongly, that violence against women and girls is not going to end until we men and boys become active participants in the fight against such behavior. I recall those early years of feeling clueless when confronted-by both women and men-about my actions. This past life was brought back to me very recently when I met with a political associate who reminded me that he was, then and now, close friends with the last woman I assaulted. We, this political associate and I, had a very long and emotionally charged conversation about my past, about what I had done to his friend. We both had watery eyes by the time we were finished talking. It hurt me that this woman remains wounded by what I did in 1991, in spite of the fact that she accepted an apology from me around the year 2000. I left that meeting with pangs of guilt, and a deep sadness about the woman with whom I had lived for about a year.

Later that day, a few very close female friends reminded me of the work that some of us men had done, to begin to reconfigure how we define manhood, how some of us have been helping in the fight to end violence against women and girls. And those conversations led me to put on paper The Seven Steps For Ending Violence Against Women and Girls. These are the rules that I have followed for myself, and that I have shared with men and boys throughout America since the early 1990s:

1. Own the fact that you have made a very serious mistake, that you've committed an offense, whatever it is, against a woman or a girl. Denial, passing blame, and not taking full responsibility, is simply not acceptable.
2. Get help as quickly as you can in the form of counseling or therapy for your violent behavior. YOU must be willing to take this very necessary step. If you don't know where to turn for help, I advise visiting the website www.menstoppingviolence.org, an important organization, based in Atlanta, that can give you a starting point and some suggestions. Also visit www.usdoj.gov/ovw/pledge.htm where you can find helpful information on what men and boys can do to get help for themselves. Get your hands on and watch Aishah Shahidah Simmons' critically important documentary film NO! as soon as you are able. You can order it at www.notherapedocumentary.org. NO! is, specifically, about the history of rape and sexual assault in Black America, but that film has made its way around the globe and from that very specific narrative comes some very hard and real truths about male violence against females that is universal, that applies to us all, regardless of our race or culture. Also get a copy of Byron Hurt's Beyond Beats and Rhymes, perhaps the most important documentary film ever made about the relationship between American popular culture and American manhood. Don't just watch these films, watch them with other men, and watch them with an eye toward critical thinking, healing, and growth, even if they make you angry or very comfortable. And although it may be difficult and painful, you must be willing to dig into your past, into the family and environment you've come from, to begin to understand the root causes of your violent behavior. For me that meant acknowledging the fact that, beginning in the home with my young single mother, and continuing through what I encountered on the streets or navigated in the parks and the schoolyards, was the attitude that violence was how every single conflict should be dealt with. More often than not, this violence was tied to a false sense of power, of being in control. Of course the opposite is the reality: violence towards women has everything to do with powerlessness and being completely out of control. Also, we need to be clear that some men simply hate or have a very low regard for women and girls. Some of us, like me, were the victims of physical, emotional, and verbal abuse at the hands of mothers who had been completely dissed by our fathers, so we caught the brunt of our mothers' hurt and anger. Some of us were abandoned by our mothers. Some of us were sexually assaulted by our mothers or other women in our lives as boys. Some of us watched our fathers or other men terrorize our mothers, batter our mothers, abuse our mothers, and we simply grew up thinking that that male-female dynamic was the norm. Whatever the case may be, part of that "getting help" must involve the word forgiveness. Forgiveness of ourselves for our inhuman behavioral patterns and attitudes, and forgiveness of any female who we feel has wronged us at some point in our lives. Yes, my mother did hurt me as a child but as an adult I had to realize I was acting out that hurt with the women I was encountering. I had to forgive my mother, over a period of time, with the help of counseling and a heavy dose of soul-searching to understand who she was, as well as the world that created her. And I had to acknowledge that one woman's actions should not justify a lifetime of backward and destructive reactions to women and girls. And, most importantly, we must have the courage to apologize to any female we have wronged. Ask for her forgiveness, and accept the fact that she may not be open to your apology. That is her right.
3. Learn to listen to the voices of women and girls. And once we learn how to listen, we must truly hear their concerns, their hopes and their fears. Given that America was founded on sexism-on the belief system of male dominance and privilege-as much as it was founded on the belief systems of racism and classism, all of us are raised and socialized to believe that women and girls are unequal to men and boys, that they are nothing more than mothers, lovers, or sexual objects, that it is okay to call them names, to touch them without their permission, to be violent toward them physically, emotionally, spiritually-or all of the above. This mindset, unfortunately, is reinforced in much of our educational curriculum, from preschool right through college, through the popular culture we digest every single day through music, sports, books, films, and the internet, and through our male peers who often do not know any better either-because they had not learned to listen to women's voices either. For me that meant owning the fact that throughout my years of college, for example, I never read more than a book or two by women writers. Or that I never really paid attention to the stories of the women in my family, in my community, to female friends, colleagues, and lovers who, unbeknownst to me, had been the victims of violence at some point in their lives. So when I began to listen to and absorb the voices, the stories, and the ideas of women like Pearl Cleage, Gloria Steinem, bell hooks, Alice Walker, of the housekeeper, of the hair stylist, of the receptionist, of the school crossing guard, of the nurse's aid, and many others, it was nothing short of liberating, to me. Terribly difficult for me as a man, yes, because it was forcing me to rethink everything I once believed. But I really had no other choice but to listen if I was serious about healing. And if I was serious about my own personal growth. It all begins with a very simple question we males should ask each and every woman in our lives: Have you ever been physically abused or battered by a man?
4. To paraphrase Gandhi, make a conscious decision to be the change we need to see. Question where and how you've received your definitions of manhood to this point. This is not easy as a man in a male-dominated society because it means you have to question every single privilege men have vis-à-vis women. It means that you might have to give up something or some things that have historically benefited you because of your gender. And people who are privileged, who are in positions of power, are seldom willing to give up that privilege or power. But we must, because the alternative is to continue to hear stories of women and girls being beaten, raped, or murdered by some male in their environment, be it the college campus, the inner city, the church, or corporate America. And we men and boys need to come to a realization that sexism-the belief that women and girls are inferior to men and boys, that this really is a man's world, and the female is just here to serve our needs regardless of how we treat them-is as destructive to ourselves as it is to women and girls. As I've said in many speeches through the years, even if you are not the kind of man who would ever yell at a woman, curse at a woman, touch a woman in a public or private space without her permission, hit or beat a woman, much less kill a woman-you are just as guilty if you see other men and boys doing these things and you say or do nothing to stop them.
5. Become a consistent and reliable male ally to women and girls. More of us men and boys need to take public stands in opposition to violence against women and girls. That means we cannot be afraid to be the only male speaking out against such an injustice. It also means that no matter what kind of male you are, working-class or middle-class or super-wealthy, no matter what race, no matter what educational background, and so on, that you can begin to use language that supports and affirms the lives and humanity of women and girls. You can actually be friends with females, and not merely view them as sexual partners to be conquered. Stop saying "boys will be boys" when you see male children fighting or being aggressive or acting up. Do not sexually harass women you work with then try to brush it off if a woman challenges you on the harassment. If you can't get over a breakup, get counseling. As a male ally, help women friends leave bad or abusive relationships. Do not criticize economically independent women because this independence helps free them in many cases from staying in abusive situations. Donate money, food, or clothing to battered women's shelters or other women's causes. Do not ever respond to a female friend with "Oh you're just an angry woman." This diminishes the real criticisms women may have about their male partners. American male voices I greatly admire, who also put forth suggestions for what we men and boys can do to be allies to women and girls, include Michael Kimmel, Jackson Katz, Charles Knight, Mark Anthony Neal, Jelani Cobb, Charlie Braxton, and Byron Hurt. Of course standing up for anything carries risks. You may-as I have-find things that you say and do taken out of context, misunderstood or misinterpreted, maligned and attacked, dismissed, or just outright ignored. But you have to do it anyway because you never know how the essay or book you've written, the speech or workshop you've led, or just the one-on-one conversations you've had, might impact on the life of someone who's struggling for help. I will give two examples: A few years back, after giving a lecture at an elite East Coast college, I noticed a young woman milling about as I was signing books and shaking hands. I could see that she wanted to talk with me, but I had no idea the gravity of her situation. Once the room had virtually cleared out, this 17-year-old first-year student proceeded to tell me that her pastor had been having sex with her since the time she was four, and had been physically and emotionally violent toward her on a number of occasions. Suffice to say, I was floored. This young woman was badly in need of help. I quickly alerted school administrators who pledged to assist her, and I followed up to make sure that they did. But what if I had not made a conscious decision to talk about sexism and violence against women and girls, in every single speech I gave-regardless of the topic? This young woman might not have felt comfortable enough to open up to me about such a deeply personal pain. My other example involves a young male to whom I have been a mentor for the past few years. He is incredibly brilliant and talented, but, like me, comes from a dysfunctional home, has had serious anger issues, and, also like me, has had to work through painful feelings of abandonment as a result of his absent father. This, unfortunately, is a perfect recipe for disaster in a relationship with a woman. True to form, this young man was going through turbulent times with a woman he both loved and resented. His relationship with the young woman may have been the first time in his 20-something life he'd ever felt deep affection for another being. But he felt resentment because he could not stomach-despite his declarations otherwise-the fact that this woman had the audacity to challenge him about his anger, his attitude, and his behavior toward her. So she left him, cut him off, and he confessed to me that he wanted to hit her. In his mind, she was dissin' him. I was honestly stunned because I thought I knew this young man fairly well, but here he was, feeling completely powerless while thoughts of committing violence against this woman bombarded his mind and spirit. We had a long conversation, over the course of a few days, and, thank God, he eventually accepted the fact that his relationship with this woman was over. He also began to seek help for his anger, his feelings of abandonment, and all the long-repressed childhood hurts that had nothing to do with this woman, but everything to do with how he had treated her. But what if he did not have somebody to turn to when he needed help? What if he'd become yet another man lurking at his ex's job or place of residence, who saw in his ability to terrorize that woman some twisted form of power?
6. Challenge other males about their physical, emotional, and spiritual violence towards women and girls. Again, this is not a popular thing to do, especially when so many men and boys do not even believe that there is a gender violence problem in America. But challenge we must when we hear about abusive or destructive behavior being committed by our friends or peers. I have to say I really respect the aforementioned political associate who looked me straight in the eyes, 16 long years after I pushed his close female friend and my ex-girlfriend into a bathroom door, and asked me why I did what I did, and, essentially, why he should work with me all these years later? American males don't often have these kinds of difficult but necessary conversations with each other. But his point was that he needed to understand what had happened, what work I had done to prevent that kind of behavior from happening again, and why I had committed such an act in the first place. Just for the record: No, it has not happened since, and no, it never will again. But I respect the fact that, in spite of my being very honest about past behavior, that women and men and girls and boys of diverse backgrounds have felt compelled to ask hard questions, to challenge me after hearing me speak, after reading one of my essays about sexism and redefining American manhood. We must ask and answer some hard questions. This also means that we need to challenge those men-as I was forced to do twice in the past week-who bring up the fact that some males are the victims of domestic violence at the hands of females. While this may be true in a few cases (and I do know some men who have been attacked or beaten by women), there is not even a remote comparison between the number of women who are battered and murdered on a daily, weekly, monthly, or yearly basis in America and the number of men who suffer the same fate at the hands of women. Second, we men need to understand that we cannot just use our maleness to switch the dialogue away from the very real concerns of women to what men are suffering, or what we perceive men to be suffering. That's what step number three in the seven steps to ending violence against women and girls is all about. So many of us American males have such a distorted definition of manhood that we don't even have the basic respect to listen to women's voices when they talk about violence and abuse, without becoming uncomfortable, without becoming defensive, without feeling the need to bring the conversation, the dialogue, to us and our needs and our concerns, as if the needs and concerns of women and girls do not matter.
7. Create a new kind of man, a new kind of boy. Violence against women and girls will never end if we males continue to live according to definitions of self that are rooted in violence, domination, and sexism. I have been saying for the past few years that more American males have got to make a conscious decision to redefine who we are, to look ourselves in the mirror and ask where we got these definitions of manhood and masculinity, to which we cling so tightly. Who do these definitions benefit and whom do they hurt? Who said manhood has to be connected to violence, competition, ego, and the inability to express ourselves? And while we're asking questions, we need to thoroughly question the heroes we worship, too. How can we continue to salute Bill Clinton as a great president yet never ask why he has never taken full ownership for the numerous sexual indiscretions he has committed during his long marriage to Senator Hillary Clinton? How can we in the hip-hop nation continue to blindly idolize Tupac Shakur (whom I interviewed numerous times while working at Vibe, and whom I loved like a brother) but never question how he could celebrate women in songs like "Keep Ya Head Up?" and "Dear Mama," on the one hand, but completely denigrate women in songs like "Wonda Y They Call U Bitch"? What I am saying is that as we examine and struggle to redefine ourselves as men, we also have to make a commitment to questioning the manifestations of sexism all around us. If we fail to do so, if we do not begin to ask males, on a regular basis, why we refer to women and girls with despicable words, why we talk about women and girls as if they are nothing more than playthings, why we think its cool to "slap a woman around," why we don't think the rape, torture, and kidnap of Megan Williams in West Virginia should matter to us as much as the Jena 6 case in Louisiana, then the beginning of the end of violence against women and girls will be a long time coming.

Kevin Powell is a writer, activist, and author or editor of 9 books. A native of Jersey City, NJ, Kevin is a long-time resident of Brooklyn, NY, where he ran for Congress in 2008. He can be reached at kevin@kevinpowell.net.

Rihanna Shoot In Yellow Top

Rihanna Profile

Name: Rihanna

Birth Name: Robyn Rihanna Fenty

Height: 6'

Sex: F

Nationality: Barbadian

Birth Date: February 20, 1988

Birth Place: St. Michael, Barbados, West Indies

Profession: Musician, Actress

Education: Charles F. Broome Memorial School
Combermere (a sixth form school similar to technical school in America)

Father: Ronald Fenty (a Bajan)

Mother: Monica Fenty (a Guyanese)

Claim to fame: Her debut album Music of the Sun with the single Pon de Replay

Rihanna Biography

Rihanna (born Robyn Rihanna Fenty on February 20, 1988) is a Barbadian singer, songwriter and model. She is the second artist, and first female, from Barbados to have received a Grammy Award (the first being Jimmy Senya Haynes). Rihanna is currently signed to the Def Jam Recordings label. Since the release of her debut album Music of the Sun in 2005, Rihanna has amassed ten Top 40 hit singles on the US.

Rihanna was born in Saint Michael, Barbados, to Ronald Fenty of Barbados (of African and Irish ancestry) and Monica Fenty, who is of Guyanese descent. She has two younger brothers, Rorrey and Rajad Fenty. Rihanna went to Charles F. Broome Memorial School, a primary school in Barbados, and then on to the Combermere School, where she formed a musical trio with two of her classmates. In 2004, she won the Miss Combermere Beauty Pageant and performed in the Colours of Combermere School Show. At the age of 15, Rihanna received her big break when one of her friends introduced her to music producer Evan Rogers, who was vacationing in Barbados with his wife. Rogers, along with his partner, Carl Sturken, helped Rihanna record material in the U.S. which was sent to various recording companies. One copy of Rihanna's work was sent to Jay-Z, who eventually signed her to Def Jam Recordings. Rihanna cites Brandy, Beyoncé Knowles, Madonna, Mariah Carey, Bob Marley and her Caribbean background as major musical influences. Rihanna also stated in an interview that her friend and former Island Def Jam record label artist Fefe Dobson was someone that she admired and looked up to, having a fellow artist writing, singing, and performing the music she truly loves.