Nu OriginsToday I had the unfortunate experience of interacting with a young Black woman whose behavior reminded me of a troubling trend in our culture. Loud, aggressive, unapologetically rude, and seemingly proud of it—this encounter wasn’t just unpleasant, it was disheartening. Because it wasn’t an isolated incident. It was a mirror held up to a growing image of what we’re starting to glorify and normalize in our music, on our timelines, and in our daily lives.
Somewhere along the way, we stopped celebrating grace, education, strength, and dignity, and began putting the spotlight on chaos, vulgarity, obesity and unchecked ego. What we once called “ratchet” has been rebranded as “real.” But at what cost?
Look at the mainstream female rap stars who dominate headlines today—whether it’s Cardi B throwing microphones at fans, Sukihana going viral for hyper-sexual antics, or Sexyy Red proudly proclaiming dysfunction as personality. These are not fringe figures. They are center stage, selling millions, influencing millions more, and shaping what young Black girls aspire to become.
This isn’t to say these women don’t have talent, hustle, or the right to be themselves. But when *this* becomes the only image that gets amplified, the only narrative the world sees of the Black woman—it limits our daughters, our sisters, and our future.
We used to uplift women like Lauryn Hill, Angela Davis, and Maya Angelou—women who embodied resistance, beauty, and brilliance all at once. Now, we’ve traded in the image of the matriarch for the myth of the tattooed baby mama, ass out, “bad b\*tch.”
Let’s be honest: it’s not just about them. It’s about us. Men too. We’ve allowed this. We cheer for it. We repost it. We sleep with it. Some of us even raise our daughters in its image, then get mad when they don’t know how to act in a boardroom or a courtroom.
We need to push back—not with hatred, but with standards. Not with judgment, but with truth.
We cannot normalize obesity and aggression as “confidence.” We cannot treat rudeness as authenticity. We cannot keep rewarding dysfunction with visibility and then wonder why our communities are broken.
To my brothers: have the courage to speak up. To draw lines. To elevate what you value in women beyond what’s trending on TikTok or what gets likes on Instagram.
To my sisters: you are so much more than the lowest common denominator that the media feeds you. You are creators, leaders, nurturers, warriors, and queens—real queens, not ghetto caricatures wrapped in Gucci and ego.
If you’ve made it to the end of this article, that means you care. And if you care, then you also have a responsibility to help shape what comes next. Because what we tolerate today becomes what we inherit tomorrow.
Let’s choose something better.
