Today I focus on Nicki Minaj, a female rapper who is part of Lil Wayne's Young Money crew and has recently gone solo She's been on my radar for some time. Jonah Weiner recently wrote a Slate column about her. Jay Smooth and Maura Johnston had in an interesting exchange about her for NPR. Apparently this Web site gets several searches for her as well, so she's clearly someone we should be talking about.

 In all candor, I've avoided talking about Minaj because her music doesn't interest me. I also find her sexualized, glamorous image more boring than scandalous. However, I could make similar arguments against several female pop stars, as many capitalize on post-feminist notions of material wealth and (hetero)sexual desirability, which feminists like Susan Douglas believe perpetuate enlightened sexism.

 That said, there's plenty to talk about. What first comes to mind is Minaj's relationship with Barbie. Her deep identification with Mattel's blond icon is intrinsic to the rapper's identity that her fans even refer to themselves as Barbies. Johnston points out that there may be something celebratory about Minaj's appropriation of an eminent symbol of white femininity, which Smooth contests as complying with these standards.

For me, I wonder if the aspiration results from some black girls wanting to find dolls with whom they can identify, yet constantly being reminded by toy makers that they haven't figured out how to cater to a
group that still doesn't appear to be their ideal market. This was recently made clear when Wal-Mart sold Ballerina Teresa at a cheaper retail price instead of placing the same value on the doll and Ballerina Barbie because Teresa was reportedly not as high a seller. Ty also had a difficult time creating dolls of color. This was evident with the reaction garnered from the Sasha and Malia dolls, whose hair and facial features aligned with white post-adolescent beauty standards. As a result, the company later claimed the dolls were not modeled after the first daughters.

The racial politics of hair factor prominently into this discussion as well. Amidst the discourse around the maintenance of Zahara Jolie-Pitt's tresses and the pathologizing of black women in Chris Rock's documentary Good Hair, several issues around Eurocentric beauty standards and the cultural ignorance many people have around black people's hair came to the surface. This necessitated the intervention of many cultural critics, including my friend Kristen at Dear Black Woman.

When I think of Minaj's image, two female solo artists come to mind: Lil Kim and Lady Gaga. Both represent extremes of sexual and material excess. Furthermore, fellow rapper Kim got her start as a member of Notorious B.I.G.'s Junior M.A.F.I.A. crew and packaged herself as a living doll in the music video for "How Many Licks." In the clips that accompany "Massive Attack,""Bed Rock," and Ludacris's "My Chick," Minaj likewise revels in the possibilities of empowerment that luxury, sexual agency, and aligning with powerful men may offer.

 As with Kim and Gaga, Minaj's moneyed feminine excess does lend itself toward camp, which may have feminist potential. So I find it interesting that Minaj has been noted for her potentially subversive fashion sense and her visual identification with figures like Wonder Woman.

But much of this is still connected -- regardless of Minaj's own sexual orientation -- to heterosexist iterations of female power. Minaj doesn't barge into nail salons and bridal shops and grinding with female customers like Yo! Majesty did in the music video for "Don't Let Go."

 Perhaps the main issue regarding Minaj's image has less to do with her than the dearth of female MCs in mainstream hip hop. Artists like Lil Mama, Estelle, Ke$ha, and Kid Sister get some recognition, but not on the level that kingpins Jay-Z, Kanye West, T.I., and Lil Wayne receive. Older female rappers have either become less culturally relevant, like Missy Elliott, or have branched into a variety of creative and merchandising opportunities outside of hip hop, as Queen Latifah has done.

There have been some interesting female voices who have emerged from underground hip hop. Considerable interest gathered around Lady Sovereign and Northern State during the last decade. Veterans Bahamadia and Jean Grae are getting recognition. Several queer MCs are visible, including Jen Ro, Invincible, and sissy bounce mainstays Katey Red and Big Freedia. Dessa, Rye Rye, Speech Debelle, and Psalm One have received critical praise.

As Minaj is often cast as the lone female in a man's crew or the guest star on a male rapper's single, I do like that she plays with accent and dialect. Minaj's flow is distinctive in part because she floats in and out of a variety of voices and characters. As a feminist who came of age during the third wave, I'm inclined to read this stylistic choice as an indication of the fragmented nature of female identities.

 However, I have to wonder if part of this has to do with Minaj trying to create multiple women within herself so she can have another female rapper to talk to. Thus, while I bristle at the Barbie femininity on display in the music video for Mariah Carey's "Up Out My Face," I'm happy Minaj can at least find one kindred spirit. But let's also remember that Psalm One believes in her too.

Saturday Night Live's"Bride of Blackenstein" skit did black women no favors. In this blaxploitation-like spoof of The Bride of Frankenstein, which aired Jan. 30, we learn that even a black chick created from scratch in a laboratory is demanding, bossy and built like an extra from the "Baby Got Back" video. Starring SNL guest host Jesse Eisenberg as Igor and musical guest Nicki Minaj as the Bride, the skit opens as the latter first emerges from her coffin:

Upon laying eyes on her, Master—played by SNL's Jay Pharoah—declares, "Uh, it's alive. It's…dayummm!"

What accounts for his animated reaction? Master spots what Igor calls "the swelling" in the Bride's backside. Her derriere also excites Blackenstein—SNL's Kenanan Thompson—who anticipates getting his "groove on" with his new wife. The Bride, however, isn't having it. Although she was happy to exhibit her rump made of "jelly-filled basketballs" for the boys, she draws the line at letting Blackenstein have his way with her.

"You think you can just walk up on me and get some of this…all of this?" she asks. She then proceeds to demand that Blackenstein get a job.

Stunned by her noncompliant attitude, Master asks Igor where he got the parts for this creation. Turns out she was assembled from a DMV worker, a Walgreens cashier and a "ho who didn't know her place."

To call the segment cringe-worthy would be an understatement. The audience, of course, ate the skit up—laughing most raucously at the "ho" jab. Meanwhile, Igor is vexed as to why Blackenstein won't tell the Bride that she must do as he says because he's a man. But that tactic wouldn't work on "sisters." Not only are black women "hos" who demand that our men bring home the bacon if they expect to get some loving, we're also emasculating shrews. Igor wouldn't know this, though, because he's never been with a black woman.

"I've just been with Jewish girls," he explains.

Master's reply? "Oh, then you kind of understand."

Oh, snap! It's not surprising that dig got laughs, considering that Jewish girls, like black girls, are oft painted as overbearing and undesirable.

The skit took aim at WASP women as well. When villagers storm the laboratory after discovering Master's scientific shenanigans, one is particularly transfixed by the Bride's backside, which she happily thrusts his way. This gets a rise out of the villager's wife, played by Kristen Wiig, who demands to know if he's checking out the Bride's derriere.

"You know I like my booty like yours—flat and shapeless," the villager says flippantly. Then, the camera zooms in on his wife's bony butt, eliciting more laughter from the audience.

When the villagers leave after the Bride demands to know if they have a warrant, she immediately resumes bossing Blackenstein around. But it's all good. The Bride's luscious ass makes her worth the trouble, Master says.

Oy, vey. I don't know how SNL managed to stuff so many stereotypes into one short skit. Truth be told, some parts of it were funny. I especially liked its use of 1970s diction and Eisenberg's portrayal of the clueless Igor. Unfortunately, that doesn't make up for the writers inserting one stereotype after another about black women. These stereotypes, of course, lead to real black women being told they have chips on their shoulders, even when that's absolutely untrue. These stereotypes lead others to make no bones about addressing a black woman as "girlfriend" and proceeding to roll their necks in the manner they've seen black women do on TV. Lastly, these stereotypes lead to black women being told that men don't want them because, no, the ass isn't worth it.

Welcome again to RetroPop, the Top 40-centric series where I invite you to help me compare the messages of lady-performed Billboard hits with themes from the work of great female artists of the past.

Oh, Nicki, Nicki, Nick-meister Minaj. You've given us so much fodder for gender-focused conversations about pop music: when you jammed with the little girls in tutus singing the sexually and violently explicit lyrics of your single, "Superbass"; when everyone was calling you out for being alternately a "bitch" and a "pussy" and a "feminist disappointment" for pulling out of the Hot 97 Summer Jam after that DJ insulted your song; when you gave that amazing rant about being a woman in hip hop while putting on your mascara.

But Nicki, today we're going straight to the lyrics of your latest hit single, "Starships" to find out what it has in common with a (relatively) well-known and respected poem by all-around funky lady Edna St. Vincent Millay. Holla!

I'm especially jazzed to compare thoughtful feminist poetry with this Minaj single because on its surface, the tune could easily be mistaken for a totally insignificant and shallow let's-down-another-Red-Bull club anthem crafted solely for sorority girls to blast during their beach parties. And for that purpose, and/or for encouraging me to bounce in my office chair with my headphones on, it certainly does the job. For those wanting to do their own close reading of the text, check out the "Starships" lyrics here. For those in a hurry, here's the short version: Tequila! Let's get it on! Last chance to dance! Random reference to STARSHIPS!

And for our respected artistic comparison from a great female artist of the past, here's my favorite little ditty by the American poet and feminist and winner of the Pulitzer Prize in 1923, Edna St. Vincent Millay:

"First Fig"

My candle burns at both ends;

It will not last the night;

But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—

It gives a lovely light!

So, fair enough, Edna isn't quite as good at busting out catchy pre-chorus hooks. But when you examine the pieces side by side, Nicki and Edna's works aren't so different.

Celebrated poet and thinker St. Vincent Millay's piece ruminates on the brevity of life, and the beauty resulting from that brevity. Celebrated pop artist and thinker Minaj's song similarly presents a female character saying, "Let's really live it up, space people in this tequila-filled dance club starship, because life is short and we won't be hurtling through space to a funky beat forever."

Sure, there's that part where Minaj's lyrics say "That's our life, there's no end in sight." But this is irony, people. See, the character also references dancing like "it's your last chance." She knows. She knows about our unavoidable demise. She owns that starships are meant to fly, even if they eventually, inevitably, run out of starship gas. But in the meantime, their futuristic disco-ball navigation systems sure emit a lovely light, just like Edna's little candle did, once upon a time.

Suddenly, Nicki's little club jam got a lot more existential, didn't it?

I don't know about you, but the next time I'm at an awkward small-talk-filled party and somebody asks me who I'd like to have dinner with, living or dead, I'll be able to say with confidence: "Forget dinner, somebody get me Edna St. V-M, Nicki Minaj, and some bottle service at a space club and we'll just see where the evening goes. I bet they'd have a few philosophies in common."

Previously: Introducing RetroPop, Pride & Prejudice & Carly Rae Jepsen

Hi there and welcome again to RetroPop! The guest blog in which I attempt get funky whilst elevating the dignity of current Top 40 radio hits by pairing them with similarly-themed works of art from great women writers of the past, and have a bit of fun with the classics in the process.

I've already written about the amazing force that is Nicki Minaj when we mused on why Edna St. Vincent Millay might have loved Minaj's "Starships." But my favorite currently-charting lady rapper is in the news this week for a different reason and I thought it might result in another interesting RetroPoppy mashup, so oblige me as we return to the delightful Land of Minaj.

There's been much confusion on the Internet generally, and Twitter specifically, in the past few days about Nicki's supposed endorsement of Mitt Romney. I thought to myself, "Huh. That's unexpected. Eh, I love her anyway." And, like (I'm guessing) a zillion per cent of other folks watching things on social media scroll by, I didn't even click on one darn link to find out whether the information was true—I just moved on to the next tweet.

Well, thank goodness for my addiction to Rolling Stone, because the good folks over there got me hip to something much closer to the truth. Turns out Nicki was pounding the satire alarm:

Nicki Minaj has cleared up any and all questions surrounding her supposed endorsement of Mitt Romney during a guest verse for Lil Wayne's new Dedication 4 mixtape. ("I'm a Republican, voting for Mitt Romney/You lazy bitches is fuckin' up the economy," she raps on the cut "Mercy.")

'Ha! Thank you for understanding my creative humor & sarcasm Mr. President, the smart ones always do. *sends love & support* @BarackObama,' wrote Minaj on Twitter, responding to an interview on Monday when the President himself addressed the lyrics in question."

Of course, I should have trusted Minaj for a little bit of straight-up satire, and I'm ashamed of myself for not having considered that possibility sooner. If you're curious about the manner in which she made this provocatively partisan phrase-turn, click through to the video here, but be warned that it's fairly explicit and quite unlike her mainstream pop tunes. Interestingly, the last time I talked about Nicki in a blog post, one reader lamented the lack of depth in her lyrics and I pointed to her more edgy, thoughtful and richly developed narratives and characterizations in her rap work. This is a great example of what I meant!

So let's salute our rapping friend's multi-layered (character-wise) rap by comparing it to another one of my favorite political satire songs from the past, Malvina Reynold's "Little Boxes." Though the tune became a big hit for Pete Seeger in 1963 it later turned into a hit for Reynolds (posthumously) as the theme song for Showtime's Weeds.

While the comment in Minaj's rap comes from an aggressive, dark, and almost creepy place that sets this listener at unease, Reynolds instead uses a childlike goofiness to launch her critique of middle-class conformity. To be sure, that hokey-pokey-ness is a tactic Minaj often relies on in her satirical work (as in her verse from Kanye West's "Monster"that I referenced in the earlier blog post, for example, when she briefly performs the role of a character without much experience in the music biz), but Reynold's approach with "Little Boxes" is so deliciously sing-songy, it could well lull the listener into a trance of acceptance—precisely the behavior she is working to critique in her song.

As you hopefully know by now, I'm all about the discussion on these sorts of things, so does anyone care to share thoughts on any other favorite lady-performed political satires? Or any others that the President of the United States actually responded to in an interview? Yikes! The power of pop stars will never cease to impress me. Way to keep challenging your listeners and rocking the provocative-o-meter, Nicki!

Previously:On the Manhunt with Rihanna's "Where Have You Been?" and Agatha Christie's Miss Marple, Getting Dumped with Dolly Parton and Taylor Swift's "We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together"

Hello there and welcome to another week of RetroPop! For those not yet hip to RP's ways, I invite you to enjoy and comment on this guest blog in which I rock a little compare/contrast action between today's female-performed pop music and the works of great women writers of the past for fun, whimsy, and perhaps some thoughtful discussion about enduring themes of the female canon. Sometimes I just jam pieces together in a little then and now kind of situation... and other times I springboard from something in the news.

Today, I couldn't help but be inspired by a story I read about an alleged exploit of one of the most notorious pop icons of our era. And can you believe we've been talking for weeks now on RetroPop about amazing artistic divas and have not yet  touched on Mariah? She is one of the biggest-selling artists of all time and has the most number one debuts in Billboard Hot 100 history. Come on, Me. It's about time!

Unfortunately, the reason for talking about Carey today is not so much in regards to her musical awesomeness but moreso her temper. The little gossip birds are a-tweeting about some alleged feud between Mariah and Nicki Minaj, both new judges on American Idol. Now, I don't know what's true or not true, or who's wrong or who's right, but what I do know is that if anyone could hold their own in a showdown with Mariah Carey, it's probably Nicki Minaj. I don't want to spend much time talking about Nicki, as I've already posted about her twice (here and here). But this event did get me thinking about the concept of a pop diva cage match, especially in light of the confrontational nature of Carey's latest single (below)... and I couldn't help but extend that into the realm of RetroPop.

"What are some historic female artist feuds?" I wondered, considering that the archives of Perez Hilton only go back so far. I realized that the lack of historical gossip blogs meant I'd have to use my imagination instead. And the first contenders that came to mind were The Brontës. I mean, amongst whom bubbles more jealousy than sisters? Add to that their geographical isolation, their direct competition with one another, and the added pressure aroused by their inability to publish under their own names at first, and I think I know of one family home where a few passive aggressive Post-it notes may have been left on the fridge.

This Super Xtreme Mega History Heroes video gives you an idea of the kind of power the Brontës were working with.

But who would come out the victor? In one corner we have Charlotte (she wrote Jane Eyre), who appears to have been the most celebrated of the three, having been taken on tour to hob-nob with other literary types in London, even having a biography written on her by Elizabeth Gaskell, thus suggesting that she would enjoy the most public affection and be able to draw from diverse life experiences. Anne (who wrote Agnes Grey) was by all accounts the underdog, enjoying little fame, constantly being overshadowed by her sisters... and dying quite early. And Emily (Wuthering Heights) apparently had very little interest in becoming famous, writing instead for the pure love of writing. To me, that is a recipe for a scrappy fighter. But would she have the confidence to go all the way? 

In addition to these personality factors, let us consider for a moment the types of minds behind the likes of Heathcliff, the madwoman in the attic and, I guess, Agnes Grey. *Full disclosure: I haven't read Agnes Grey.* So despite my love of cheering for the underdog, I think I'd have to guess that poor Anne would get picked off pretty early in the cage match, seeing as she didn't create anything close to the enduring images of terror that Emily and Charlotte did with their famous "villains." And, in the end, I actually believe that Charlotte would be the last one standing. I just feel like the woman who brought us Jane Eyre could be counted on to be a real fighter. And so, very well, it's agreed that we could put something like 2:1 odds on Charlotte, 30:1 odds on Anne and 10:1 odds on Emily. *Full disclosure again: I am not a math person.*

But what if we plopped Mariah Carey into the ring/octagon/whatever cage-type thing you're imagining?

Those Brontë girls may have overcome their share of gender stereotypes and difficulties of being women writers in a restrictive time, and, sure, they may have filled my nightmares with images of monstrous villains and spooky hillsides, but they also kept falling tragically ill with consumption and the like. Mariah, meanwhile, has been mothering twins, rocking a high-profile marriage, maintaining her reputation as a lady you don't mess with on the music charts or in real life, and facing down Nicki Minaj. That is one hearty contender. I think I know where I'd be putting my money.

Agree? Disagree? Any other literary diva cage matches that you'd like to see play out?

Previously:What Would Zelda Fitzgerald Say to Carly Rae Jepsen and Owl City's "Good Time"?, Nicki Minaj's Obama-Noted Political Satire and the "Little Boxes" She Might Enjoy

One in three women will have an abortion in her lifetime, yet in pop culture accurate portrayals of real people’s stories are rare. In this special interview, two reproductive justice advocates listen and discuss two songs: Nick Cannon’s "Can I Live?" and Nicki Minaj’s "Autobiography," and ask: what messages are pop songs sending about reproductive health issues?

Featuring:

• Alicia Walters, Movement Building Director at Forward Together
• Samara Azam-Yu, Executive Director at ACCESS Women’s Health Justice

This story is part of a joint reporting project on reproductive rights in pop culture that includes Bitch Media, Feministing, and Making Contact. This work is part of a Media Consortium collaboration made possible in part by a grant from the Voqal Fund.

Read another articles in this collaboration: How Pop Culture Reinforces Abortion Stigma—And Can Help Change It and The Dramatic History of American Sex-Ed Films.

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In her own way, Nicki Minaj broke the Internet. Last week, her video for “Anaconda” broke a record with 19.6 million views within a 24-hour period (besting Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball”). A month before that, Twitter and Instagram were aflutter when she posted the cover art for the latest single, with her bare posterior prominently displayed. The “Anaconda” video has generated a massive amount of discussion: At the time of this story, the YouTube page for the video alone has almost 200,000 comments—and continues to climb alongside the number of views—and there’s been coverage dissecting each part of the video’s four minutes and fifty seconds.

The loudest chatter around “Anaconda” is about Minaj’s sexuality and how she’s chosen to express it. A writer called it the“fiercest take on female sexuality of the year,” while others felt Minaj’s hypersexualization was a “letdown.” “Anaconda’s” YouTube page is littered with comments like, “Is this porn?”, “99% Porn,” and “If promoting female sexuality is displayed as a common prostitute, I think I prefer to do nothing.” A current top comment on the video apparently sums up many viewers’ opinions: “This bitch has no talent at all, so she decided to shake her ass to be famous, am I right?”  

For some viewers, just owning and expressing a woman’s own sexuality is easily (and lazily) derided as pornography—especially in this case for a black woman.

The song samples Sir Mix-a-Lot’s “Baby Got Back,” with the line, “My anaconda don't want none, unless you've got buns, hun.” It’s been more than two decades since “Baby Got Back” flashed across television screens. Watching it now, it’s funny to imagine that a song with the infamous opening lines, “I like big butts and I can not lie,” caused so much pearl-clutching controversy that it was even briefly banned on MTV. By today’s standards, the video is tame and comical, with Mix-a-Lot standing atop two gigantic butt-mounds as he raps, “Tell 'em to shake it! Shake it! Shake that healthy butt!”

Despite being perceived as grossly inappropriate, “Baby Got Back” won a Grammy and solidified its place in American pop culture canon (e.g. Seattle Symphony’s rendition of the one hit wonder). Yes, the song was overtly sexual and objectified women, but it also acknowledged a body type outside of mainstream standards of beauty that was desirable. What many casual listeners don’t realize is that the opening dialogue between Becky and her white girlfriend goes beyond “look at her butt.” Here’s how the song starts:

Oh, my, god. Becky, look at her butt. It is so big. She looks like one of those rap guys' girlfriends. But, you know, who understands those rap guys? They only talk to her because she looks like a total prostitute, okay? I mean, her butt, is just so big. I can't believe it's just so round, it's like, out there, I mean - gross. Look! She's just so ... black!

When Minaj received negative feedback after releasing the cover art for “Anaconda,” she took to her Instagram to highlight the inconsistent and—let’s be honest—racist reactions to her displaying her own body. She wrote “Angelic. Acceptable. Lol” alongside photos of white Sports Illustrated models, topless and arching their backs, with their barely-covered bottoms on the cover of the magazine.

When Lady Gaga uses her body as a form of expression, she's an “artist.” When Nicki Minaj owns her own sexuality, she's slut-shamed.  

Where was the outcry against Katy Perry's “California Gurls” when she laid about nude on a puffy pink cloud, with a small piece of fluff covering her bum? Did folks call Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball” a piece of pornography when she salaciously licked a sledgehammer and writhed around naked on an actual wrecking ball? Did Jennifer Aniston face disparaging criticism for her strip scenes in last year’s We’re The Millers? Nope, they asked her how she got in shape for the role.  

While much of the criticism for “Anaconda” surrounds Minaj’s sexuality, there hasn’t been as much discussion about the politics of black women’s sexuality, specifically. Even within the hip-hop community, there was policing of Minaj’s body from AllHipHop.com CEO Chuck Creekmur, who wrote an open letter to her pleading to cover up for the sake of his daughter, and even concern trolling her as if Minaj is having some crisis of the soul and needs an intervention of her sexuality: “When you get a quiet moment answer the following questions. How is Onika Tanya Maraj doing? How does she truly feel about Nick Minaj right now?”

Writer and Bitch contributor Phoebe Robinson succinctly calls out his open letter on her blog Blaria:

“[Anaconda] was not created specifically for Creekmur’s acceptance or approval. This is Minaj’s music and her career choice so why is he behaving as if his word carries any sort of weight? Sure, he’s allowed to have his opinions, but let’s be real. This open letter condemnation is nothing more than a man deeming a black woman’s overt sexuality as wretched when that kind of ruling is not applied to non-black women.”

It’s disingenuous for Creekmur to chastise Minaj when he’s profited and traded in music videos that have featured far racier depictions of sexuality—but mostly from male hip-hop artists. But somehow, Minaj is not afforded the same type of agency and ownership of her body and sexuality, even as the most successful female hip-hop artist at this time (and one of the most popular mainstream music acts).  

While Beyonce’s recent VMA performance was lauded as a poweful moment for feminism in pop-culture, we should recognize that although Minaj’s feminism looks different—it still matters. There are questions and criticisms that the video was shot, directed, and produced by men to satisfy the male gaze, to further perpetuate the commodification of another black female body. But this condemnation ignores and silences Minaj's voice and ability to make decisions about her own representations as an artist and a business person. 

"Anaconda" shifts the common narrative of a man conquering female bodies to Minaj’s own stories of sexcapades without apologies. Towards the end, the only man in the video appears: Drake, seated in the middle of an empty room with roaming spotlights and Minaj treating him to a lap dance. In the final seconds, he reaches to touch Minaj’s ass after she had been flaunting it in his face, and she immediately swats his hand and struts away. Her body belongs to her, and she can twerk it and work it however she pleases, and she doesn’t owe anything to anyone.

Related Reading: The VMAs Cemented Feminism as Beyoncé's Brand. What Comes Next?

Amy Lam is Bitch's associate editor. She tweets at @amyadoyzie. 

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Nicki Minaj recently told Rolling Stone that she is pro-choice. Photo by Christopher Macsurak.

There is danger in a single story, as award-winning author Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie would say. In order to combat prejudice on everything from race to sexuality, psychologists and sociologists alike suggest that what’s needed is contact: The theory goes that the more exposure we have to a certain group, the less likely we are to make nasty assumptions about them. With this idea in mind, a growing number of women are sharing their experiences getting abortions. By publicly sharing their personal experiences, they hope to reduce the stigma that faces all people who get abortions.

Recent actions such as the 1 in 3 Campaign encourage women to tell their stories without fear of judgment. The grassroots campaign “builds on the success of prior social change movements, harnessing the power of storytelling to engage and inspire action and strengthen support for abortion access” and hopes to “help create a more enabling cultural environment for the policy and legal work of the abortion rights movement.” In November of last year, the 1 in 3 Campaign organized an online abortion speakout that lasted eight hours. Participants included Lizz Winstead, the co-creator of the Daily Show, along with dozens of not-famous individuals. Deb Hauser, the head of Advocates for Youth and contributing founder of the 1 in 3 Campaign, told NPR, “If we are silent, what's left is this void for other people to fill, and they've filled it with a lot of shame and judgment. We have to make the political the personal now, and we have to stand up and put women's real-life stories in the middle of this dialogue around abortion care or we're gonna lose.”

Infographic from the Guttmacher Institute. 

With this context in mind, Nicki Minaj’s recent discussion in Rolling Stoneabout getting an abortion as a teenager is especially important. For someone whose every personal choice is intensely criticized and scrutinized, this is a big reveal. Casual fans of Minaj may not know that she previously mentioned this experience in an early mixtape track called “Autobiography.” In that song, she spoke directly to her unborn child in a remorseful way, attempting to come to terms with her conflicted conscience: “Please baby forgive me/mommy was young/mommy was busy tryna have fun/and now I don’t pat myself on the back for sending you back/Cause God knows I was better than that to conceive then leave you.” A new song on The Pinkprint gives second life to this decision, broadcasting her any extremely personal choice to a much larger and attentive audience. The unapologetically honest “All Things Go” peels back the armor, as Minaj refuses to accept that there is shame in vulnerability. Minaj reflects that she still often thinks about the child she didn’t have, confessing in the song that her child “would’ve been sixteen, any minute.” Although she clearly feels conflicted about that time in her life, Minaj makes a point in the Rolling Stone interview to say that she is pro-choice: “It was the hardest thing I'd ever gone through… It'd be contradictory if I said I wasn't pro-choice. I wasn't ready. I didn't have anything to offer a child.” Minaj’s words echo the sentiment of some of the dozens of stories exchanged during the 1 in 3 Campaign’s national speakout. As woman named Liz said, “I was just 21. I hadn't finished my degree yet. I was living with my mother, and I knew I could not bring that child into the world and give it the life that it deserved.”

Considering her level of visibility and fame, it’s commendable of Minaj to share her experience. Although she may not spell out her identification as a feminist in billboard-sized letters like Beyoncé, Minaj is adamant about empowering young women. She stresses to fans that embracing your sexuality and attaining an education are not mutually exclusive. Referencing her racy “Anaconda” video, she explains to Rolling Stone, “I stand for girls wanting to be sexy and dance, but also having a strong sense of themselves. If you got a big ol' butt? Shake it! Who cares? That doesn't mean you shouldn't be graduating from college.” Minaj is an important voice in the larger cultural discussion, adding an undeniably bright spotlight on a matter that many would prefer to keep hidden in the dark. She is putting a well-known face to a life-altering decision that many dissenters unabashedly vilify. Through the continued accessibility of these stories, multiple narratives chip away at the overall negativity and the jarring disconnect between political connotations and private association. According to research cited on Feministing, “One in three women in the US have an abortion in their lifetimes, while nearly 40 percent of Americans claim they do not know anyone who has had an abortion.” Meanwhile, fictional stories about abortion in film and on TV tend to present abortion as far more dangerous than it is. Now, Nicki Minaj fans have a clear, real-life story to add to their knowledge of abortion.

While pro-choice advocates have been encouraging people to speak up and share their stories about abortion, anti-reproductive rights advocates have been using abortion stories in service of exactly the opposite goal. Christian-backed site Abort73, for example, views the sharing of these emotionally charged stories as support of their cause. Founder Michael Spielmant told NPR, “I think that the more people are talking about abortion in public, the better it is for abortion-vulnerable children.” Spielman’s reasoning is that continued public discussion will trigger enough doubt to change the mind of a woman contemplating an abortion.

Unfortunately for Spielman, public transparency concerning abortion seems to ease the stigma, even resulting in support. A new study by public opinion researchers at UCLA found that “when anti-choice people hear in person accounts from women who have had abortions, they are more likely to start supporting reproductive freedom.” One of the biggest threats to the efforts of reproduction rights advocates lies in an absence of dialogue.

Whether it be megastars such as Nicki Minaj or women who will never be in the spotlight, the act of freely sharing abortion stories should not be dismissed or condemned. These abortion storytelling campaigns know that wider political success starts on a micro level. Changing the cultural climate allows more women to feel comfortable enough to speak out, thus humanizing an experience that some would prefer to keep locked up behind unflinching secrecy.

Related Reading: How Pop Culture Reinforced Stigma—and Can Help End It. 

Vanessa Willoughby (@book_nerd212) is a writer and editor and is working on her first book.

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