With a view count just shy of 170 million, odds are that you’ve seen Nicki Minaj’s new video for the song “Anaconda.” If you haven’t, then you should change that—ASAP. With her signature bubblegum-popping style, Minaj has created an anthem for all the women that don’t fit the cookie cutter mold of beauty that society tells them they have to contort themselves to exemplify; to put it simply: women with big, fat asses.
With samples from the infamous “Baby Got Back,” Minaj takes a song about a man declaring love for a specific aspect of a woman’s anatomy, separate from the woman herself, and reclaims it. In “Anaconda,” she brags about her various sexual conquests, attributing them to her “sex appeal.” In Minaj’s world, she is not the hunted, but the hunter and men are her prey to use them and throw them away as she pleases. Your anaconda don’t want none unless she got buns, hun? Well, hun, maybe she has buns, but doesn’t want your anaconda.
This message is only emphasized by the music video, which, to the surprise of no one, has come under fire. “How can Minaj be a feminist if her video consists of her and other scantily-clad women dancing provocatively?” some are asking. Easy: it’s all about intent. The women dancing—Minaj included—are never reduced to props. While some shots do focus on certain ass-pects of their anatomy, they are not faceless, commoditized pieces of meat. They own their own bodies and can do with them what they please. This disappointing trend of deeming any form of sexuality that does not play explicitly to the white-hetero-male gaze “degrading,” is what is anti-feminist.
This is not about men.
This is so poetically demonstrated when Minaj peels a banana—a popular phallic symbol—and raises it to her lips. Instead of doing what the audience is no doubt expecting, the next scene shows her cutting the banana to bits and throwing it away with a disgusted look on her face. Need further proof? It’s even more obvious is the scene where she treats fellow rapper Drake to a lap-dance. Drake is not a co-star in this video; his part could have played by a mannequin. He is the prop, the object for Minaj to act upon, not the other way around. When Drake does reach out to touch her, Minaj bats away his hand. Her body is hers and the message is clear: you can look, but not touch unless I give you permission.
For those who think that the hype surrounding “Anaconda” and its music video is undeserved, think again. Nicki Minaj has worked hard to get to the top of what is a ruthlessly male-dominated industry without sacrificing her own femininity. She’s here and she’s here to stay. As she tells her opponents in her verse in Kaye West’s song “Monster,” “You can be the king, but watch the queen conquer.”