by Jackson Katz
I realize that social and political critiques of the work of artists are fraught with peril. Artistic tastes vary widely, and so do people’s opinions about the social and political responsibilities of art and artists. For example, many Americans believe that artists have an obligation only to be true to their artistic vision—not to be concerned with the social consequences of their art. According to this perspective, the expression of unpopular or disturbing ideas through art might make people uncomfortable, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. The purpose of art is not to make people feel good, but to give voice to the widest possible range of human experience and emotion. As the recording artist and feminist Tori Amos explains, “If you’re singing songs that are about cutting women up, usually these guys (like Eminem) are tapping into an unconscious male rage that is real, that is existing—they’re just able to harness it. So to shut them up isn’t the answer . . . they’re showing you what’s happening in the psyche of a lot of people.” I would never say that it is necessary to “shut up” Eminem, but I do believe that it is imperative to explore the implications of his popularity. In fact, I do not think it is possible to talk about rape culture in this era and not talk about the man who has been called the “hip-hop Elvis.”
If you followed the entertainment media over the past few years, you would get the impression that Eminem has moved beyond controversy and is now entrenched as a larger-than-life cultural force. He certainly experienced a more rapid and broad-based ascent into the mainstream than any black rappers ever have. But he has not been embraced by everyone. At the same time the white music/entertainment establishment was enthusiastically promoting Eminem as one of the most important artists of his generation, many people in the movements against domestic and sexual violence were appalled and profoundly disheartened. For decades, women and men in the field had maintained that rape and domestic violence thrive in a cultural environment where men’s violence is not only tolerated but often encouraged. And then along came a charismatic white artist in a black musical genre whose lyrics consistently ridiculed and degraded women, and took images of homicidal misogyny to a new low: “Put anthrax on your Tampax and slap you til you can’t stand.” But instead of inspiring an anti-sexism backlash, Eminem’s music was heralded by many as a brilliant, boundary-crossing contribution to lyrical performance and comic art. Instead of being condemned for stoking the fire of men’s fury against women, the songwriter was lionized as an artistic voice for the ages—while his critics were dismissed as cultural rednecks and yahoos, or worse, opponents of artistic expression and free speech.
For people who are not familiar with Eminem’s recordings, a sober reading of his lyrics—unadorned by the catchy tunes and infectious beats—can be an emotionally devastating experience. One college professor I know told me that one of her students in a humanities class read aloud the lyrics to several Eminem songs as part of a class presentation. As she read the words, a number of female students began to cry; several got up and left the room. A number of the men in class looked uncomfortable and chagrined. In any assessment of art, it is important to remember that context matters. Critics who defend or excuse Eminem’s misogyny often claim that his detractors do not understand his artistic intent when he gives voice to some of the most graphic homicidal rage against women ever captured on record. For example, in one of his most famous songs, “Kim,” Eminem presents a chillingly realistic narrative about a verbal confrontation and throat-slitting murder of his then-wife, who is named Kim in real life:
Don’t you get it bitch, no one can hear you?
Now shut the fuck up and get what’s coming to you
You were supposed to love me
(Kim choking)
NOW BLEED! BITCH BLEED!
BLEED! BITCH BLEED! BLEED!
It is possible that in this song and many others, Eminem uses his lyrical skills to transport the listener inside the mind of a murderer in a way that enlightens us about misogyny even as it entertains. It is possible, as Eminem’s defenders assert, that his music contains multiple layers of meaning and that to take it literally is to miss its rich complexity. It is also possible that the very appeal of Eminem’s music depends on widespread acceptance of violence against women as a cultural norm.
Whether you love him or loathe him, Eminem is unquestionably an impressive cultural player. He is a multitalented artist: a wildly inventive rap lyricist, a charismatic performer, and an effective actor (essentially playing a glorified version of himself in the 2002 Hollywood biopic 8 Mile.). What is in question is the nature of Eminem’s art and image, and its significance. Obviously his unprecedented mainstream success has much to do with his whiteness, and critiques of Eminem have typically centered on the racial politics of his initial rise to notoriety and then to the heights of pop-cultural fame. But there is another way to understand Eminem’s popularity, which is that he has achieved success not in spite of his virulent misogyny and homophobic utterances—as many critics allege—but in part because of them. Richard Goldstein argued in a brilliant piece in 2002 in the Village Voice that many of Eminem’s male (and some female) fans take “guilty pleasure” in identifying with the aggressor—especially when the victims are women and gays. As Goldstein explains:
“At its hard core, Eminem’s poetics is pornography, and it’s accorded the same privileges. Just as we’ve declared the XXX zone exempt from social thinking, we refuse to subject sexist rap to moral scrutiny. We crave a space free from the demands of equity, especially when it comes to women, whose rise has inspired much more ambivalence than most men are willing to admit. This is especially true in the middle class, where feminism has made its greatest impact. No wonder Eminem is so hot to suburban kids . . . He’s as nasty as they wanna be.”
Several years ago, Eminem was the target of protest from gay and lesbian activists who objected to his lyrical endorsement of violence against them. Other gays have embraced him in spite of this (most notably, and controversially, Elton John). But Eminem’s homophobia is not simply a matter of specific lyrics. Rather, it is central to his constructed crazy/tough white guy image. For all of his vaunted “honesty” and presumed vulnerability, the misanthropically cartoonish “Slim Shady” persona that Marshall Mathers—aka Eminem—hides behind requires (at least publicly) a purging of anything that can be associated with femininity. Hence, you hear from Eminem—and his mentor, Dr. Dre—a steady stream of “bitch-slapping” misogyny peppered with anti-gay invective, all in the service of establishing their “hardness.” “Now I don’t wanna hit no woman but this chick’s got it coming/Someone better get this bitch before she gets kicked in the stomach.” The irony, of course, is that this hypermasculine posturing—so contemptuous and dismissive of women—produces its own homoerotic tensions, which then requires Eminem (and other rappers) to verbally demonstrate their heterosexuality by attacking gays. It is an embarrassingly predictable process. The popular hip-hop writer Touré provided further insight in this area in a widely circulated Washington Post article in 2004 about the sad state of women in hip-hop: “The love in hip-hop is over men, over love, crew love, brotherly love,” he said. “It’s very sort of ancient Greek. It really doesn’t allow for a lot of room for women. Hip-hop at its essence is boys, not men, but boys talking about what they do for and with boys.”
Much of the mainstream cultural commentary about Eminem comes, understandably, from music critics and cultural commentators who write in major newspapers, magazines, and websites. Many of these people were initially critical of the misogyny and homophobia in Eminem’s work. It was not uncommon to read strong criticism of this in their reviews of his early albums. But as he grew in popularity, criticism of the gender and sexual politics of his music became more muted. Richard Goldstein pointed out the evolution of New York Times critic/columnist Frank Rich’s thoughts on Eminem in a November 2002 piece in the Village Voice. In 2000, Goldstein observed, Rich described Eminem as “a charismatic white rapper [who] trades in violence, crude sex, and inve
ctive roughing up heterosexual women, lesbians, and gay men.” In 2001, Goldstein wrote, “Rich pondered whether ‘racial crossover in the cultural market makes up for a multitude of misogynistic and homophobic sins.’” By 2002, Goldstein reported,“Rich ended up slamming ‘moral scolds’ for dissing Em, while confessing, ‘I’ve been fascinated with him ever since I first heard his songs at the inception of his notoriety.’”
There is no doubt that as opinion-makers in the music world increasingly praised Eminem’s talent, they made more excuses for his anti-woman lyrics. That is one definition of a rape culture: a society where sophisticated people routinely overlook or rationalize rape-supportive attitudes. In the case of Eminem, it is not just that his misogyny has been tolerated. He has been celebrated and honored in a way few artists ever have. He has won several Grammy awards. He even won an Oscar for best song in 2002, for his anthem, “Lose Yourself,” from the 8 Mile movie soundtrack. Can a society that heaps untold riches and praise on a man whose lyrics routinely brutalize women claim that it is serious about eradicating sexual and domestic violence? Consider this analogy. Could a society that claims to care about racism embrace and honor a white artist who glorified racism? Is it even remotely possible that a white artist who regularly rapped and joked about abusing and killing “niggers,” “spics,” and “kikes,” would win critical acclaim—regardless of how artistically inventive he/she was?
The full stamp of cultural approval of Eminem came when the movie 8 Mile was released in 2002. The Hollywood mythmakers Brian Grazer, Scott Silver, and Curtis Hanson (8 Mile’s producer, screenwriter, and director, respectively) blatantly distorted the rapper’s story in pursuit of box office glory. They left out the sexism and the homophobia. People who went to see 8 Mile who had not heard or read the rapper’s lyrics came out of the movie with a newfound appreciation for the talented white kid from a trailer park who had the courage to make something of his life. They were spared any exposure to the downside of Eminem’s rise to fame, especially his—and his record company’s—decision to attack women and girls in his lyrics with a vengeance that was truly breathtaking.
The cultural “meanings” of Eminem are sure to be the subject of debate for years to come. But so far, the national conversation about Eminem has taken place on the terms of fawning critics, flaks for the record and film industries, and lay prophets of the cultural Zeitgeist, all of whom have been incessantly hyping the bleach-blond rapper for the past several years. Give them credit. They have succeeded wildly—Eminem is now a full-blown cultural phenomenon and global merchandising cash cow. But it is time to expand the terms of debate. It is time to offer some counterbalance to the mythologizing distortions from the PR department of Eminem, Inc. In particular, it is time to consider with eyes wide open some of the potentially horrific effects of this art in a world already filled with misogynistic and violent men.
Eminem’s lyrics help desensitize boys and men to the pain and suffering of girls and women
Eminem’s fans argue that his raps about mistreating, raping, torturing, and murdering women are not meant to be taken literally. I used to hear this regularly from young men and women when I asked them if they had any problems with the way the artist treated women in his lyrics. “Just because we listen to the music doesn’t mean we’re gonna go out and harass, rape, and murder women,” they said. “We know it’s just a song.” Thoughtful critics of Eminem do not make the argument that the danger of his lyrics lies in the possibility that some unstable young man will go out and imitate in real life what the artist is rapping about. While possible, this is highly unlikely. (Although rare, it does happen. In December 2005, a twenty-one-year-old Eminem impersonator in London was sentenced to life in prison for beating a twenty-six-year-old woman to death and stuffing her body in a suitcase in a case that was widely reported as “life imitating art.”) Rather, one of the most damaging aspects of Eminem’s violent misogyny and homophobia is how normal and matter-of-fact this violence comes to seem. Rapping and joking about sex crimes have the effect of desensitizing people to the real pain and trauma suffered by victims and their loved ones. The process of desensitization to violence through repeated exposure in the media has been studied for decades. Among the effects: young men who have watched/listened to excessive amounts of fictionalized portrayals of men’s violence against women in mainstream media and pornography have been shown to be more callous toward victims, less likely to believe their accounts of victimization, more willing to believe they were “asking for it,” and less likely to intervene in instances of “real-life” violence.
Let us not forget that the culture in which Eminem has become a huge star is in the midst of an ongoing crisis of men’s violence against women. In the U.S., rates of rape, sexual assault, battering, teen-relationship violence, and stalking have been shockingly high for decades, far exceeding rates in comparable Western societies. Sadly, millions of American girls and women have been assaulted by American boys and men. Thousands of gays each year are bashed and harassed by young men. For these victims, this is not an academic debate about the differences between literalist and satirical art. It hits closer to home.
Girls are encouraged to be attracted to boys and men who don’t respect women
What began as a tentative dance with the media has become a passionate embrace. After initially airing “misgivings” about featuring the woman-hating rapper, magazines with predominantly young female readership, like CosmoGirl and Teen People, now regularly feature “Em” on their covers, posed as a sex symbol, as an object of heterosexual female desire. This is not simply the latest example of the star-making machinery of mass media constructing the “bad boy” as desirable to women. It sends a powerful message to girls: He does not really hate and disrespect you. In fact, he loves you. He is just misunderstood. It is the hip-hop version of Beauty and the Beast. You know, underneath that gruff exterior, between the lines of those nasty lyrics, lies a tender heart that has been hurt, a good man who just needs more love and understanding.
This is a myth that battered women have been fed for centuries; that his violence is her responsibility, that if only she loved him more, his abuse would stop. This is one of the most damaging myths about batterers, and one of the most alarming features of Eminem’s popularity with girls. Remember, Eminem is the same “lovable” rapper who wrote a chillingly realistic song (“Kim”) about murdering his then-wife (whose real name is Kim), and putting her body in the trunk of his car, interspersed with loving references to their daughter Hallie (their real-life daughter is named Hallie). This is the same “cute” guy who angrily raps about catching diseases from “hoes”: “All these bitches on my dick/That’s how dudes be getting sick/That’s how dicks be getting drips/Falling victims to this shit/From these bitches on our dicks” (“Drips”). This is the same “sexy” artist who raps: “Spit game, to these hoes, like a soap opera episode/and punch a bitch in the nose, ’til her whole face explodes/There’s three things I hate: girls, women, and bitches/I’m that vicious to walk up, and drop-kick midgets.” This is the same “adorable” man who constantly unleashes torrents of verbal aggression against women, even though he is so sensitive to the potential wounding power of words that he famously refuses to use the “n-word.” Why is it not okay for a white rapper to diss “niggers,” but it is okay for a man to express contempt for “bitches” and “hoes?”
His credulous female fans counter: He does not really hate women. How could he? He loves his daughter! For battered women’s advocates, this is one of the most frustrating aspects of Eminem’s popularity. “He loves his daughter” is one of the most predictable excuses that batterers give in pleading for another chance. The fact is, most batterers are not one-dimensional ogres. Abusive men often love the very women they are abusing. And let us not forget that when Eminem verbally abuses his daughter’s mother, by extension he abuses his daughter.
We can gain important insight into one key aspect of the Eminem persona by studying both the behavi
or of men who batter, and people’s responses to them. The man who is being lionized as one of this era’s emblematic artists shares many character traits with men who batter. One glaring similarity is the folklore that Mathers has actively constructed about his famously difficult childhood. Narcissistic batterers frequently paint themselves as the true victims. It is them we are supposed to feel sorry for—not their victims (or the victims/targets of their lyrical aggression). It is well-known that many of Eminem’s fans, male and female, reference his abusive family life to explain and rationalize his rage. But it is not as well-known that batterer-intervention counselors hear this excuse every single day from men who are in court-mandated programs for beating their girlfriends and wives. “I had a tough childhood. I have a right to be angry,” or “She was the real aggressor. She pushed my buttons and I just reacted.” The counselors’ typical answer is, “It is not right or okay that you were abused as a child. You deserve our empathy and support. But you have no right to pass on your pain to other people.”
Eminem’s popularity with girls sends a dangerous message to boys and men
Boys and young men have long expressed frustration with the fact that girls and young women often say they are attracted to nice guys, but end up with the disdainful tough guys who treat them like dirt. When I suggest in my college lectures that men need to find the courage to resist putting on the “tough guise” in order to prove their manhood, I frequently hear from sincere young men who approach me seeking advice. “Women want me to be their friend,” they say. “But they want to go out with the alpha males. If I don’t act hard I go to bed alone.” What can I tell them? What are they supposed to conclude when 53 percent of the 8 Mile audience on opening weekend was female?