A spectre is haunting my sanity; the spectre of Ashnikko:

Who?  What?

            Ashnikko (a portmanteau of her legal name, Ashton Nicole Casey), is the hip hop artist behind the EP Hi, It’s Me, the subject of this essay.  Her fame is largely attributable to TikTok, where her music first gained popularity following a video of Miley Cyrus lip-syncing to her song Stupid.  And I am deeply, weirdly fascinated by her.

But … an essay?  Why?

1. Because quarantine is long and boring and I desperately need something to do.  Otherwise, I’ll go crazy.
   • Kidding!
     • … sorta …
2. During quarantine, I’ve had the time to read books on some really interesting topics/concepts.  This gives me the opportunity to play around with those ideas.
3. I cannot emphasize this enough: I am desperately bored.

And why Ashnikko?  You could have written about literally anything.

• Hey, don’t shame me for my choice of weird-quarantine-inspired-scrawl-of-an-essay topic!
• There are legitimate content reasons why Ashnikko’s Hi, It’s Me lends itself well to analysis that use the ideas I’ve been reading about.
• Are you telling me you don’t want to watch me try to legitimately analyse songs with lyrics like “Fat pussy like Santa” or “That dick tastes like Yankee Candle”?
• As far as I can tell, this essay would make me the first person to try to interpret her work within a critical frame.
• There are aspects of her life I find really interesting and surprisingly similar to my own.  She is American but grew up abroad; in Estonia and Latvia.  In fact, she is, to this day, the only American to attend an Estonian public school!  After that, she moved to London, where she lives at time-of-writing.
• Her whole aesthetic is weirdly attractive to me in ways I can’t quite put into words.

• I unironically enjoy her music.

Okay, fine.  I don’t get it, but I’m willing to listen.  Give me the rundown on this EP of hers.

            Hi, It’s Me, Ashnikko’s 2019 EP, explores a pretty common subject: the stages one goes through after a painful break-up.  In fact, Ashnikko claims this is based on a real-life break-up she was going through before-and-during the creation of this EP.  Hi, It’s Me starts off with the titular song, in which Ashnikko has a self-dialogue about how she shouldn’t reconnect with her ex.  This is followed by Special, in which she addresses various suitors by telling them that they need to make the case that they are special and thus worthy of her attention.  Narratively, we can assume that these men (specified as men, notable because of Ashnikko’s bisexuality) are now pursuing her because of the break-up.  Then comes Stupid, a message to the man that broke up with her, telling him how she is better off without him.  Stupid is followed by Working Bitch, where Ashnikko tells a potential suitor that her job (hence, working bitch) is perfectly satisfying.  But, she says, he can be her “side-dick”, as long as it doesn’t interfere with her work.  Finally, we have Manners, which serves as a sort of self-affirming anthem, a sort of “Fuck you, I do what I want” message to the narrative ex.  While there is another song that follows it, an edit of Stupid by DJ Dolphin, it is simply a PG version of the song that is radio-friendly.  It will not feature in the analysis. 

           With the exception of Manners, every song, Hi, It’s Me, Special, Stupid, and Working Bitch, has an accompanying music video (which will be considered extensions of the text).  I encourage you to listen to/watch them, just under 15 minutes of content in total, as it will help you follow the rest of this essay.

Well, I watched the music videos and listened to Manners.  What’s your general thesis?

            Ashnikko’s Hi, It’s Me is (with one notable example) a fantastic case-study of co-option and commodification.  Specifically, Ashnikko’s embrace of ‘Boss Bitch’ aesthetic is a co-opted feminism that not only serves to strengthen capitalism, but actually reproduces the kinds of gender dynamics Ashnikko appears to try to subvert in this album.

… I’m sorry, are we talking about the same album?  An album about a break-up, featuring lines like “You better stock up on tissues / Jacking off to all my pictures”?

            Yes.

With music videos that look like a queer cowboy’s LSD-induced wet dream?

            Yes.

An artist who tweeted this monstrosity of her face photoshopped onto an egg and recently released a video of her singing her newest single while getting her pubic hair waxed?

            Absolutely.

Oh, okay, I get it.  Quarantine has finally gotten to you and you’ve officially gone off the deep-end.

            Entirely possible, but, my thesis still stands.

To be totally honest, I didn’t really follow it.  I didn’t even recognize a number of the words.

            And that is totally fair!  A lot of the jargon I used comes from Critical Theory, which is (rightly) criticized as tough to follow for those unfamiliar with it.  Critical Theory isn’t so much a grand unified theory (like evolution, for instance), but rather a lens you can use to approach a subject.  At its core, Critical Theory is the use of various fields of study (gender studies, ecology, economics, psychology, etc) to analyse and then challenge harmful hierarchies.

That was … informative but answered none of my questions.

            Sorry, yeah, let me provide a few quick definitions:

• Commodification
  • This is the process of making something a product you can sell.  For example, space travel is not a commodity yet and is generally overseen by governments.  However, you can imagine that within our lifetimes, there will be companies (like SpaceX) that will try to commodify it, perhaps like something akin to a cruise!
• Co-option
  • This is a tricky one, but the easiest way to think about it is as the ‘de-fanging’ of social movements disruptive to the established order.  Often, the movements are co-opted such that they aren’t just non-threatening, but actually serve to strengthen the established order!

And about the “Boss Bitch” term, what do you mean by that?  It strikes me as a bit sus…

         Yeah, needless to say that’s not from critical theory.  I crimped the term from Doja Cat’s song (co-written by Ashnikko, featuring in the film Birds of Prey) by the same name.  I would define the Boss Bitch as: “An aesthetic adopted by female rappers/hip hop artists wherein they mirror many of the tropes of male rappers/hip hop artists”.  The performance of the Boss Bitch aesthetic is often done to subvert the tropes of male rappers/hip hop artists.

           Now, as a fan of rap and hip hop myself, I obviously recognize that to say ‘the tropes of male rappers/hip hop artists” is too wide of a definition to be useful.  But here I refer to a stereotypical perception of male rappers/hip hop artists (one I recognize is tinged with the history of anti-Black racism).  You know what I’m referring to: the Stereotypical Rapper, draped in beautiful women who fawn over him, popping bottles in the club that were bought with his vast wealth (often of criminal or violent origin).  Now plenty of rappers/hip hop artists lean into this trope, sometimes to the point of parody (one of my favourite artists, Schoolboy Q, does so in his early albums).  But it obviously has sexist undertones and is heavily coded as male.  Specifically, the women surrounding the Stereotypical Rapper are not treated as people; they are objects through which the Stereotypical Rapper shows off his status/wealth/power/masculinity.

So, the Boss Bitch is just a female Stereotypical Rapper?  Why bother with a different term?

            You would think!  But actually, it’s a little more complicated than that.  I’ve identified at least three subcategories of the Boss Bitch, all of which have fundamental differences to the Stereotypical Rapper.

Of course you have…

1. The Social Capital Boss Bitch: This is the most common Boss Bitch I’ve found, best represented by Nicki Minaj or Cardi B.  In this variant, the Boss Bitch is still surrounded by objectified, beautiful women through whom their status is elevated.  However, unlike the Stereotypical Rapper, the presence of the beautiful women is to signal that the party ‘follows’ the Social Capital Boss Bitch, thus indicating their status.  The presence of the beautiful women is not linked to the Social Capital Boss Bitch’s sex appeal, but to her status.
2. The Queer Boss Bitch: This variant has a more direct one-to-one comparison with the Stereotypical Rapper.  Exemplified by Azealia Banks, the Queer Boss Bitch indicates her status using the beautiful women as proof of their status/sex appeal.  Because this Boss Bitch is queer (or performs queerness), the women serve a similar function as to the Stereotypical Rapper.  Notably, however, while there is objectification in this variant of the Boss Bitch, it is not a gendered objectification (as in the Stereotypical Rapper).
3. The Inverted Boss Bitch: Finally, we have the Inverted Boss Bitch.  It is, nearly, a gender-flipped version of the Stereotypical Rapper.  This take on the Boss Bitch surrounds themselves with attractive men, through which the Boss Bitch flaunts their status/sex appeal similarly to the Stereotypical Rapper.  The Inverted Boss Bitch also often performs many tropes of masculinity; aggressiveness, sexual forwardness and ability, independence, etc.  The Inverted Boss Bitch dynamic still involves objectification and the objectification is gendered, but it differs from the Stereotypical Rapper.  This is because of differences in cultural connotations of men-dominating-women vs women-dominating-men.  It is in this category that we find Ashnikko.

Okay, that makes enough sense.  But why does Ashnikko fit into the Inverted Boss Bitch category?

            With the exception of the song Hi, It’s Me, every song features Ashnikko being pursued by a man/men.  Ashnikko is always dismissive of these men, only allowing them to stick around if they sexually fulfil her or raise her status.  Note the objectification here; the men are tools/objects to Ashnikko’s sexual pleasure/status aggrandisement.  When they no longer succeed in that purpose, they can be (and are) thrown away.  While Stupid, Manners, Special, and Working Bitch all display this dynamic, it is best exemplified in the lyrics of Working Bitch and the music video of Special. 

           In Working Bitch, Ashnikko is addressing the men pursuing her.  She tells them that she’s independent and doesn’t need them, that “I’m a working bitch / Ain’t got no time for dick”.  In short, she’s a busy woman and is “Too tired to entertain little boys”.  Note here how the men here serve as objects to flaunt her sex appeal and social status; Ashnikko is so attractive and successful that men are pursuing her.  Not only that, but Ashnikko is so successful that she can’t even be bothered with such trivial things like men.  However, as long as these men don’t get in her way, if they “Wanna play second fiddle to my job / Wanna be side-dick in a one-stop-shop”, she tells them to “Let me know”.  That is, the men (objectified to the point of only being “side-dick”) can stick around as long as they A: fulfil her sexually and B: don’t get in her way.  Of course, she notes that “My blue vibrator brings me more joy” than the men, that is to say that she can please herself better than any man could. 

           There is a second layer of emphasis in the choice of “blue vibrator” in the line.  Use of the colour blue in Ashnikko’s work is used to allude to herself and her iconic long, blue hair (apparently inspired by Hatsune Miku).  Thus the line doubly emphasizes how much more fulfilment she can bring herself than can the men.

… *sigh*

It’s also a reference to the Ashnikko-brand vibrators.

… Wow.

            Indeed.  Anyways, moving right along.  The music video for Special is also a perfect visual example of the Inverted Boss Bitch as well.  The music video begins with Ashnikko and her crew drinking and gambling, evidently waiting for the entertainment to arrive.  In this case, the entertainment is some scantily-clad dancers.  Note that drinking and gambling are generally male-coded activities.

            The entertainment then arrives (though off-camera at this point) and we get a shot of Ashnikko and crew waiting for the performance.  Note here both Ashnikko’s clothing and posture.  Ashnikko wears a black suit and black boots, both male-coded.  While the dog collar is a more female-coded item, it seems to be worn in a semi-ironic fashion (especially juxtaposed with the suit and boots).  Additionally, the leather is thicker and the metal hoop larger than one might expect, increasing the ironic distance.  Now look at the pose; the spread leg position she’s sitting in is also male-coded.

Oh come on!  Really?  The way she’s sitting is male-coded?

            The next time you take a bus or subway, take a look around, how do you see women sit?  Generally, either with their feet on the floor and their legs right next to each other or with one leg crossed on top of the other.  Now, look around at the men, how do they sit?  Generally, with their feet on the floor with some degree of spread between their legs.

Just because men sit a certain way doesn’t mean that way of sitting is ‘male-coded’.  It’s just more comfortable for men that way.

            Hmm, why do you think sitting with slightly spread legs is more comfortable for men?  Maybe because, otherwise, you put a lot of pressure on a very sensitive area?  Why then does Ashnikko sit like that when she doesn’t have that problem?  Well, by sitting with an exaggerated leg spread, she transmits a very particular message to her audience.  She is telling her audience (to use a technical term) that she has-

Oh no…

           Big Dick Energy.

Why are you like this?

         Good question, blame quarantine.  Following this, we see the entertainment, the dancers.  Or, rather, we see part of the entertainment, their legs.  The legs are very female-coded; they’re shaved and the dancer on the left is wearing fishnets.  Additionally, the dancing they do is very female-coded.  The only aspect that is male-coded is the muscle-tone of the legs.

            The dancers then go on to perform for the titillation of Ashnikko and her crew.  You could probably argue that this is also male-coded, where men are expected to ‘get more’ out of these kinds of performances.

Hold on a second, she’s pretending to masturbate to female dancers?  And she’s bi?  Doesn’t that suggest this fits more with the Queer Boss Bitch aesthetic?

            I was hoping you’d ask that.  It isn’t until more than two-thirds of the way through the music video that we get a full shot of the dancers.  Behold:

Oh … they’re men?

            I believe so.  Or at least, with a greater view of the dancers, there seems to be many more male signifiers.  Of course, they could identify differently (perhaps as non-binary, they’re not credited, and I couldn’t find more information on them).  But, in combination with the lyrics (which explicitly references a ‘boy’ or ‘fuckboy’) and the inspiration for the album (Ashnikko’s painful breakup with a boy), I think the evidence favours interpreting these dancers as men. 

           I want to give Ashnikko some credit to begin.  It’s a really clever subversion of audience expectation.  We go in knowing the tropes of the Stereotypical Rapper and we’re led to believe Ashnikko is performing those tropes for the majority of the music video (save for Ashnikko being a woman).  Ashnikko then pulls the rug out from under us at the end by revealing the dancers were not women but men! 

           That said, I think Mama Vom accidentally reproduces some of the sexist tropes she is attempting to subvert in this music video.  To be specific, she unintentionally recreates the Male Gaze.

“Mama Vom”?  “Male Gaze”?

            Oh, right, forgot to mention!  “Mama Vom” is a nickname given to her by fans for her based on her frequent use of vomit as a motif.

            Anyways, the Male Gaze is a term from film studies coined by Laura Mulvey.  It refers to how the framing of women’s bodies in visual media is often done in a way to titillate male audiences, often sexually.  I use the phrase ‘women’s bodies’ because the Male Gaze also involves objectification. 

           I’m like 99% sure Ashnikko is familiar with the term because she appears to be trying to subvert it.  In Special, we see male dancers performing for Ashnikko’s pleasure, much like how women would be expected to perform for men.  Additionally, these male dancers are definitely objectified, only appearing as legs for the vast majority of the music video.  The issue, however, lies in the framing.  The objectified legs are at the edges of the frame, so the audience focuses less on them.  Ashnikko, meanwhile, is placed front-and-centre, the object of focus in the frame.  More than that, it is her sexual pleasure/titillation in the men’s dance that is the focus, not the dance itself.  And by centring her own body and focusing on her sexual pleasure, Ashnikko inadvertently reproduces the Male Gaze.

So, to sum up, and correct me if I’m wrong; Ashnikko fulfils the Inverted Boss Bitch aesthetic by A: performing masculinity as a woman and B: using objectified men as a way of indicating her social status/sex appeal?  An aesthetic that is a response to and subversion of the Stereotypical Rapper?

            Exactly right, even if she doesn’t always do so perfectly (like with the accidental reproduction of the Male Gaze).

Okay … but something’s bothering me about all this.  Like, isn’t this a good thing?  She’s subverting a pretty problematic aspect of the culture of rap and hip hop: the objectification of women.

            Unfortunately, it’s not quite that simple.

Figures.  Why not?

1. Though it seems contradictory, the ‘subversion’ Ashnikko engages in actually strengthens aspects of the gender relations she’s trying to weaken.
2. The form of feminism that she is (probably unintentionally) promoting only serves to strengthen capitalism.

Now hold on just a second.  Even though I don’t understand your first objection, it at least seems related.  But your second point is absurd!  Not everything is about capitalism/communism you pinko!

            First off, that’s Mr. Pinko to you.  And secondly, one of the core discoveries made by critical theorists is that no oppressive hierarchy is completely disconnected from any other oppressive hierarchy.  That’s what we call intersectionality; the idea oppressive hierarchies intersect and (often) reinforce each other.  And so most critical theorists would argue that the oppression of women under patriarchy is inextricably tied to oppression of workers under capitalism!

I’m nowhere near ready to deal with that yet.  Let’s start with your first point; why do you think Ashnikko’s songs aren’t as subversive as she may think vis-à-vis gender relations?

            Okay, to explain this, you have to understand the idea of citationality, an idea attributable to Jacques Derrida (though I’ve not read his work directly).  Citationality is the idea that by citing or referencing something, you functionally bring it into existence.  And the more you cite something, the more real it becomes (and the more real its consequences).

So … magic?  You’re talking about magic right?  Like literally speaking things into existence?

            You’re not totally off, though it seems like you don’t believe it.

Because I don’t, that sounds ridiculous! 

            Okay, try this one on for size.  Let’s imagine a small town.  In this small town, there is a woman, purported to be a witch, who lives on the best farmland in town.  Of course, the townspeople would love to use that land, but they know the witch will curse them if they try to take her land.  All of the townsfolk have heard and believe the witch has powers, that is to say, her magic has been cited to them.  As a result, they leave the witch alone.  And so, isn’t it fair to say that the witch’s magic powers have, in a sense, protected her land?

But the witch doesn’t have any real powers!

            Agreed.  But, the belief in her powers means that the town functionally operates as though she has powers.  Thus, the witch’s “powers” saved her land.

Okay, but what does any of this have to do with Ashnikko’s feminism or lack thereof?

            So another academic, Judith Butler, took Derrida’s ideas and applied them to gender.  Judith Butler holds the (fairly radical) position of gender abolitionism; the idea that we should try to dismantle (and thus, not be governed by) the ideas of sex and gender.  In her book Bodies that Matter, she discusses the idea of the Law of Sex.  While Judith Butler’s understanding of the Law of Sex is very nuanced, a simplified way of understanding it is that every time you cite sex or gender, you reinforce the concepts.  Moreover, by reinforcing the concepts of sex and gender, you make their coercive power stronger and their consequences more significant.  Butler argues that this is a negative thing as it creates bodies that matter (i.e. those that fit within societal understandings of sex/gender/sexuality) and those that don’t (i.e. those that don’t fit within the same societal understandings of sex/gender/sexuality).   This is referred to as the Law of Sex; a matrix delineating which bodies/genders/sexual orientations are seen as legitimate or illegitimate.  This is harmful, in Butler’s view, because all bodies/genders/sexual orientations should be seen as legitimate.

Okay, once again, these are interesting ideas, but frankly, I’m not a ‘gender abolitionist’ and I struggle to see how this applies to Hi, It’s Me.

            Fortunately, you don’t have to be a gender abolitionist to use Butler’s ideas.  Let’s think about the Law of Sex in relation to Ashnikko.  So, we’ve both acknowledged that Ashnikko is an example of the Inverted Boss Bitch aesthetic.

Right.

            And that the Inverted Boss Bitch aesthetic is a subversion of the Stereotypical Rapper, where the subversion lies in the swapping of the roles of the man and woman.  But what do we mean when we use the word “subversion”?

I mean, pretty obvious right?  The Stereotypical Rapper aesthetic is one where men use women as objects to self-aggrandize.  So, in response, the Inverted Boss Bitch subverts that by having women use men as objects to self-aggrandize.

            And you’ve reached the crux of the problem.

You’ve lost me.

            The key part was “in response”.  You would agree that the Inverted Boss Bitch is a response to the Stereotypical Rapper.

That’s literally what I said.

            This means that, definitionally, the Inverted Boss Bitch only exists because the Stereotypical Rapper exists.  Without the Stereotypical Rapper, the Inverted Boss Bitch does not exist.

I don’t think I agree.  If I could wave a magic wand and make Stereotypical Rappers disappear, the Inverted Boss Bitch would still exist.

            Well, it would and it wouldn’t.  You’re right, if you Thanos-ed every Stereotypical Rapper, the artists who perform Boss Bitch aesthetics would still exist.  Ashnikko would continue to sing songs about how she “don’t need the dick, I need magic, I need money”.  However, there would be no Boss Bitch aesthetic.  Why?  Because if there is no Stereotypical Rapper to subvert, the Boss Bitch can’t exist because it exists as a subversion.  If there is no dark, there cannot be light!

Okay, I get what you’re saying.  But what does this have to do with that whole citationality spiel you went on?

            So, let’s put the two ideas together.  Imagine you’re me, and you’re watching an Ashnikko music video for the 11^th time that day doing research for this essay.

Please tell me you didn’t watch an Ashnikko music video 11 times in a single day.

            You’re right, I watched it far many more times than that. 

           Anyways, imagine I’m watching this Ashnikko music video.  By watching it, the idea of the Inverted Boss Bitch is cited to me, increasing its citational power.  In citing the Inverted Boss Bitch to me, it cites a subversion of the Stereotypical Rapper.  But in order for me to hold the “Boss Bitch” idea in my head, I have to also hold the idea of the Stereotypical Rapper (against which the Inverted Boss Bitch is a subversion).  Thus, counter-intuitively, citation of the Inverted Boss Bitch also serves to cite the Stereotypical Rapper.  And by citing the Stereotypical Rapper, you increase its citational power and all of the negative consequences that entails (objectification of women, etc).  Even worse, this kind of citation reinforces the idea that the Stereotypical Rapper is the common/mainstream idea (in Derridean terms, the privileged term) that the Inverted Boss Bitch subverts.  This reinforces the idea that the Stereotypical Rapper is the norm/natural.

That was a bit of a word salad.  So basically, citing the Inverted Boss Bitch by definition cites the Stereotypical Rapper.  And citing the Stereotypical Rapper is bad because objectifying women is bad?

            Eloquently put.

Fine, I’ll buy it.  What I won’t buy, however, is your second critique that Ashnikko is somehow a capitalist mastermind.

            … Not exactly what I was saying, so let’s get into that.  In Hi, It’s Me, Ashnikko frequently talks about how she doesn’t need men or is uninterested in them.  What then, let me ask you, does she say she’s interested in?

I imagine you’ll tell me.

• From Special: “Left your dumb ass on read / I’m too healthy, wealthy, well-fed”
• From Stupid: “Stupid boy think that I need him … I don’t need the dick, I need magic, I need money”
• From Hi, It’s Me: “Nobody’s trophy wife, yeah I’m nobody’s babydoll!”
• From Working Bitch: “Money, make some, makin’ money better than the dick”

           In short, to paraphrase Biggie Smalls, “Disregard men, acquire currency”.

That’s … not what Biggie said.  But that’s beside the point, maybe you could say that that’s materialistic, fair enough.  But I don’t think “Fuck bitches, get money” is an endorsement of capitalism.

            100% agree with you on that, but context makes matters a little more complicated here.  Take a look at the below tweet by Ashnikko, which is representative of her entire twitter feed.

            Note the use of the term “appalling”, as it implies a moral outrage.  To generalize her point, she is outraged that there aren’t as many women running their own businesses or attaining great success in their businesses.  Ashnikko is, pretty clearly, a feminist.  But, she’s a very specific kind of feminist; a lean-in feminist (or bourgeois feminist, for my comrades out there).  Lean-in feminism, a term fittingly popularized by Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg, makes the case that women’s empowerment begins (and arguably, ends) in business/corporate advancement.  Rather than try to change an inequitable system from the outside, the lean-in feminist argues that women should rely on the (few) comparative advantages they have in the workplace in order to succeed.  And in so doing, achieving economic equality to men, thus ending sexism forever.

I get the sense you’re being sarcastic.

            You’d be right.  Though my critiques come from a Critical Theory perspective (which is generally aligned with leftism), many liberals also criticize the idea.  Since there are so many critiques, I’m going to focus on the most relevant (and, I’d argue, dangerous) assertion of lean-in feminism; that women succeeding in the workplace is equivalent to women’s liberation and empowerment.

Really?  I think you’re going to have a hard time convincing people that women succeeding in business is actually not a good thing.

            Fortunately, that’s not the point I’m trying to make (though many lean-in feminists will disingenuously assert that).  Of course I agree that a world where half of the billionaires are women is better than one where they are all men.  But let me tell you, a woman working in a sweatshop for pennies does not care if the CEO exploiting them is a woman.

Okay, I get that lean-in feminism may not be perfect, or even all that effective, but it’s not like it’s a bad thing.

            I entirely disagree.  First off, achieving economic equality is an extremely narrow view of women’s liberation and does not account for the other ways men are able to wield power over women.   As such, setting the finish line at ‘economic equality’ means that true equality will never be achieved under lean in feminism.  In addition, the methods proposed by lean in feminists to achieve economic equality (usually just affirmative action) only consider economics as a vector of power.  By neglecting other ways men wield power over women, they are certain never to achieve true economic equality by their methods.

            But more significantly, I’d make the argument that lean-in feminism is really just a co-opted feminism, a capitalism in a dress.

You’re going to have to justify that.

            And I intend to.  But first, a fun foray into the history of early capitalism!

Must you?

            Probably!  The idea of primitive accumulation is used by both liberal economists and leftist economists, but I will be focusing on Karl Marx‘s interpretation.  Wage labour, for Marx, is fundamentally exploitative, the waged-worker does not get paid the full value of their labour.  This is how capitalists make a profit, by keeping some amount of the value produced by wage labourers for themselves or to expand their business.  This then begs the question “If wage labour is exploitative, why do people ever do it?  Why don’t people just leave and work for themselves”.  This is where primitive accumulation comes in.  As we know, the resources of this world are finite; there are only so many fields, so many factories that can be built, etc.  We refer to these things as the means of production, the stuff by which we can do work and support ourselves.  Primitive accumulation refers to the process of acquisition of the means of production by a subset of the population, the capitalists.  Because the labourers need the means of production to live, and because the capitalists own the means of production, workers are given a choice.  They can be exploited under wage labour or starve to death, not a hard decision to make.  Thus we see the birth of wage labour and capitalism as a consequence of primitive accumulation.

            Of course, this was not the result of some grand conspiracy by medieval kings to develop the capitalist system.  It came from individual people making independent decisions in their own interest.  The classic example of primitive accumulation is the Enclosure Acts in England.  These were a series of acts wherein public pasture lands were literally fenced off and claimed as property by noble lords (in order to increase their wealth/power).  This is significant because peasants relied on that land in order to graze their animals.  Without access to those fields, their animals would starve (followed shortly by the peasant).  And thus, the peasants were given three decisions; work for the noble lord as a wage labourer, move to the growing cities (again as a wage labourer) or starve.  Successive waves of primitive acumulation followed, leading to the development of capitalism in England.

I never cease to be amazed at your ability to give entirely unrelated answers to the question at hand.  What does any of this have to do with some random rapper’s lean-in feminism?

            Anyone who’s had a conversation with me after a few drinks will attest to my ability to ramble, but I promise this is relevant.  Below I cite the ideas of Silvia Federici, a Marxist feminist, in her book Caliban and the Witch. 

            Silvia Federici took Marx’s idea of primitive accumulation and applied it to gender theory.  In order for a society to continue, it has to engage in primary and reproductive labour.  Primary labour is straight-forward, it is any activity that provides the necessities of already-existing life (e.g. farming, industry, etc).   Reproductive labour refers to any work that is required to ensure that there is a workforce to do labour in the future (producing children/future workers, raising children, etc).  Note that a society is reliant on both primary and reproductive labour to continue, but reproductive labour is dependent on primary labour.  After all, you need to have something to eat if you want to have a baby.

             We generally think of European feudal society as unenlightened (and to be clear, it was).  But you may be surprised to know that there was a more equal distribution of primary and reproductive labour under feudalism than under early capitalism.  That is, it is in early capitalism that we see the development of men-as-breadwinners and women-as-homemakers.  There are numerous historical, ideological and political reasons why capitalism developed as it did, according to Federici, but we don’t have the time to get into those (for now).  Federici argues that the transition from feudalism to capitalism saw a primitive accumulation of primary labour by men.  This means, in essence, that primary labour became a male-only activity and women were relegated to the role of reproductive labour.  And because reproductive labour is dependent on primary labour, this change had the effect of making women dependent on men and their primary labour.  This dynamic of men-as-breadwinners and women-as-homemakers would remain the social arrangement under capitalism until the mid-20^th century.

Please, I’m begging you, get.to.the.point!

            Nearly there!  Men-as-breadwinners and women-as-homemakers was seen as the only possible arrangement of labour under capitalism for several centuries.  Both capitalists and socialists believed that (though the latter in a critical sense).  In this context, a movement that seeks to disrupt that arrangement (and the dependency of women on men that it entails) is very revolutionary.  That movement, of course, is the feminist movement.  As we now know, the feminist movement did achieve the ability for women to work and support themselves (obviously a good thing).  This was not without pushback, however, with anti-feminists heralding the end of society as we know it!

            Of course, we know now that women in the workplace didn’t destroy capitalism (unfortunately).  Second and third-wave feminism led to a more equal distribution of primary and reproductive labour, decreasing the reliance of women on men and the potential for exploitation.  In this sense, feminism has seen great success!

So why are you still talking about it?

• It advises women to ‘lean in’ on those aspects of patriarchy that benefit them in order to advance themselves (rather than attacking the dominating structure of patriarchy itself).
• It calls on women to defend female businesses and business leaders against critique in a strange sort of ‘gender patriotism’.
  • Remember, women doing well in business is women’s liberation under lean-in feminism.  The contrapositive statement thus is “If women’s businesses or women business leaders are doing badly/being criticized, women’s liberation is under attack and so they need be supported”
• It sets itself up in opposition to genuine anti-domination movements.
  • Workers advocating for their rights and safety are seen as a threat to women’s businesses.  Thus under lean-in feminism, the worker’s movement and the feminist movement are opposed to each other (when they should be united in their anti-domination views).

Okay, yeah those are fair-

            Oh but I’m not done yet!  Lean-in feminism is also deeply commodifiable!

Commodifying feminism?  What do you mean?  You can’t ‘sell’ feminism except maybe as books for niche academic audiences.

            Au contraire!  Feminism is very commodifiable (and potentially very profitable).  Do you remember that film I mentioned earlier?

… Birds of Prey?  The one Ashnikko and Doja Cat wrote the song Boss Bitch for?

            Yep!  The basic premise of the film is a bunch of female supervillains team up and go on a self-fulfilling adventure.

You didn’t watch the movie, did you?

            Nope!  But I gathered as much from the trailer and a bit of googling!  If you look at the trailer, you’ll notice it is an example par excellence of commodified lean-in feminism.  It is full of images of women doing badass things and beating up men, all the while vague monologues by Harley Quinn play about being independent from the Joker/women’s empowerment.  And why is it framed this way rather than like a more traditional superhero trailer?  Because these ‘feminist’ signifiers have the potential to bring in new audience members who like films with a feminist bent.  And when reactionaries inevitably get triggered and claim “SJWs/Women are ruining superhero movies”, they can also tap on that gender patriotism to get people to buy tickets.

            We see something similar with Ashnikko.  She is outspokenly sex-positive.  She tweets frequently about the importance of supporting women.  She even has a song all about consent and how her outfit is not an invitation to sex.  It’s hard to argue that her feminism is not part of her brand, just like her support for queer causes.  That is, her support for these causes is part of the ‘commodity’ you buy when you listen to her music or buy her merch.

            And to be clear, the fact that these are part of her brand does not mean she doesn’t actually support these causes.  While it’s impossible to know someone’s heart, I really do believe these come from a genuine place (based on the interviews of her I’ve watched/read).  I really believe (and want to believe) that Ashnikko is the genuinely good human being that she appears to be.  But supporting a cause and profiting from it are not mutually exclusive.

Alright, fine, you’ve made your point, I agree.  Ashnikko unintentionally reinforces certain patriarchal structures and promotes a kind of ‘capitalism in a dress’ feminism.  Is Ashnikko #cancelled now?  Can I not listen to her music now because it’s problematic and promotes bad ideas?

            Of course you can, I wouldn’t be Ashnikko’s #27 fan and foremost academic of her work if I believed that!  When I was younger, I listened to a lot of heavy metal, much to the concern of my parents.  But of course, it didn’t turn me violent or angry.  In fact, listening to metal served as a great outlet for my anger/frustration!

           But, if you’re not careful/deliberate about how you consume media, bad ideas can seep into your psyche and influence your behaviour subconsciously.  Even positive media, if interpreted incorrectly, can negatively affect your behaviour.  For example, think about all the insufferable frat guys who just love Fight Club while entirely misunderstanding the point.

            This is part of why media analysis through a critical lens is important.  By interpreting what the text is saying (and how it says it), we can tease apart its messages/themes.  And in so doing, we can evaluate whether those are good or bad ideas to live by.

And it sounds like Ashnikko’s music has a number of questionable messages…

            Even if every single song Ashnikko put out had bad messages, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t listen to or enjoy her music!  You just need to be aware of what is being said and the issues therein, lest they influence you in a negative way.  More to the point, I actually think one of Ashnikko’s songs in Hi, It’s Me has some really positive messages to take away.  It is the “one exception” I alluded to earlier, the titular song Hi, It’s Me and its accompanying music video.

Lay it on me, would be nice to inject a little positivity into this.

            Hi, It’s Me begins with a situation familiar to a lot of folks.  Ashnikko is at home and her resolve has crumbled; she is texting her ex.

            The music video abruptly cuts to outside of her home where we see these figures outside of Ashnikko’s door.  The framing and action of these people evokes fear and it is clear these are not welcome visitors.  They are also clearly wearing masks (that are a bit Uncanny Valley).

            They enter and search the house, evidently looking for Ashnikko.  Ashnikko is in a locked room, which they force their way into.  The locked door again underlines that Ashnikko is not keen on their being here.  Upon entering the room, one of the visitors removes their mask.

            The figures reveal that they are all, in fact, Ashnikko.  The Ashnikko-antagonists (the ones wearing the masks) then drag the Ashnikko-protagonist (the one who had been texting her ex) against her will into her bedroom where they tie her to the bed.  This is followed by a montage of clips wherein the Ashnikko-antagonists destroy everything tying Ashnikko to her ex.  They drown her phone in a glass of water (that she was texting him with) and burn a photograph (though not seen, presumably of Ashnikko and her ex).  Part of the chorus mirrors this, “Hi, it’s me, your best friend / Take his old t-shirt off and burn it”.

           After destroying these items, the Ashnikko-antagonists dance around the Ashnikko-protagonist triumphantly.  It seems to imply that the Ashnikko-antagonists are acting in the Ashnikko-protagonist’s best interest (preventing her from texting an ex), which they are then glad they accomplished.  They do this despite protest from the Ashnikko-protagonist.  The music video ends shortly after this. 

Wack.

           Very.  But it also has the most nuanced message of any of Ashnikko’s work.

In your opinion as foremost scholar of her work, of course.

            And don’t you forget it! 

           My take is the following:  The lyrics feature a back-and-forth of perspective of perspective that mirrors the music video.  There are lyrics clearly from the Ashnikko-protagonist’s perspective like “I slip up, I text you, I forget / that you were so, so disrespectful”.  At the same time, there are lyrics from the Ashnikko-antagonists’ perspective, for example “Hi, it’s me, back again / Here to remind that he’s not worth it”.  Combined with the revelation that the Ashnikko-antagonists are in fact Ashnikko, it’s not too much of a stretch to suggest this is an internal discussion in her mind.  She really wants to reach out to him (again, the ex is specified as a man), but there’s the voice in her head that tells her she will regret this decision.

Maybe, but when she is talking about reaching out to her ex, the response is “Hi, it’s me, your best friend”.  Doesn’t this suggest a more literal dialogue between two friends?

            I don’t think so.  The music video pretty clearly shows that this is an internal dialogue in Ashnikko’s head, literally all the characters are her!  Not only that, but it fits in neatly with the self-love/self-care ethic that Ashnikko often promotes on Twitter.

I’m gonna be honest with you, that’s nice and all, but earlier you were talking about Derrida and Marx and Critical Theory and other stuff!  This just seems like a topical way to end on a positive note.

            You’re right.  If I ended this just by saying that Hi, It’s Me promotes self-love and not texting your ex, I wouldn’t be saying a lot.  But I think there’s actually a lot more going on here.  And it’s very fitting that you’ve brought up Derrida!

Almost as though we’re two fictional characters created in order to progress the narrative of this essay and demonstrate the author’s thought process.

            Very meta.  Anyways-

Whooooa, just like how in Hi, It’s Me, characters represent the different trains of thought in Ashnikko’s mind!

            Alright, we get it, very clever.

           What I want to draw your attention to in Hi, It’s Me is the very specific advice Ashnikko gives herself: “Take his old t-shirt off and burn it”.  This is mirrored in the music video with the burning of the photograph (again, presumably of Ashnikko and her ex).  The use of fire to destroy her ex’s things is, in my view, an important point.  This may seem like a silly question; but what happens when you burn something, a log for example?  

It … turns to ash?

            Right.  What happens when you burn a photograph?  Or an old t-shirt?

It turns to ash.  What’s the point you’re trying to make?

            Everything, when burned, is turned to ash.  And ash is ash is ash is ash, regardless of where it came from.  A pile of ash from a log is indistinguishable from a pile of ash from a burnt photo or a burnt t-shirt.

Thanks for the explanation, but I already took Intro to Chemistry.

            I’m getting to the point, I swear.  Do you remember Derrida’s concept of citationality?

Yeah, basically by citing something, you make it more ‘real’.  And by making it more real, you make its consequences more real.

            Exactly.  And what did that have to do with the whole Boss Bitch vs Stereotypical Rapper thing?

Well, the Boss Bitch is a subversion of the Stereotypical Rapper.  So when you cite the Boss Bitch, you also cite the Stereotypical Rapper, increasing its citational power.

            Okay, now let’s imagine that instead of burning the photo of her ex, Ashnikko decided to mock her ex by drawing crude things on the photo.  The marked-up photo would then exist as a subversion of the original photo.  So any time the marked-up photo is cited, the original photo (along with the memories/associations with it) would also be cited, increasing its citational power.

Just like how citing the Boss Bitch cites the Stereotypical Rapper!

            Exactly!  But that’s not what Ashnikko does, is it?  She burns the photo to ash.  The key difference here is that, unlike the marked-up photo, ash is not a subversion of the original photo.  Ash stands by itself definitionally, it contains no reference to the photo it came from.  Thus, when the ash is cited, it does not implicitly cite the original photo.  And so, in the act of burning the photo, Ashnikko destroys the ability to cite the photo (and by extension, the ex), eliminating its citational power.  I will refer to this process, that of making something unable to be cited, de-citation.

That all makes sense to me.  But how does that all fit in with the whole Ashnikko-protagonist vs Ashnikko-antagonists dynamic?  Wouldn’t Ashnikko want to limit the ex’s citational power?

            To explain this, I find it useful to cite Jacques Lacan, the French psychoanalyst.  As I’ve not read his books, I am using one of his student’s understanding of his work, Slavoj Žižek.

            The goal of early Lacanian therapy is to help the patient understand what is ‘going on’ psychologically that results in a symptom (defined as an unwanted pathological behaviour or sensation).  The idea is that, through the patient’s understanding of the reasons behind the pathology, the pathology will begin to evaporate (because pathologies are inherently unconscious).  For example, some people who grow up in deeply religious homes develop pathologies around sex and intimacy (like a sense of deep post-sex shame).  For people who then leave those religions, some will still react pathologically to sex and intimacy despite no longer being religious.  The goal of the Lacanian psychoanalyst, then, would be to help the patient understand the pathology behind that sense of shame: a hangover from their religious upbringing.

            But over the years, Lacan recognized that, sometimes, making the patient aware of a particular pathology didn’t result in the pathology’s evaporation.  What Lacan recognized is that, in many cases, there was a certain enjoyment of the symptom, even if it made them suffer.  Lacan called these kinds of symptoms, wherein the patient enjoyed their symptom, a sinthome.

Wait, why would anyone enjoy something that makes them suffer?

            Good question.  When Lacan says ‘enjoyment’, he doesn’t mean a sense of pleasure.  Rather, enjoyment for Lacan is like scratching a mental itch.  One example is the masochist; pain doesn’t necessarily bring them pleasure, but it is a mental state they want to be in.  A more relatable feeling (for some) is the impulse to hurt yourself after doing something deeply embarrassing.  Dealing with a sinthome in therapy is a much more difficult task.  This is because the therapist, who wants to end the patient’s sinthome, is in opposition to the patient’s enjoyment of their sinthome.  It is for this reason that Žižek said sometimes “you must be forced to be free”.  That is, you must be forced to address your sinthome, even if you would rather choose to prolong it.

Okay, just gonna reel you back in before you get too far off topic.  How does this relate to Hi, It’s Me?

           Good catch.  My argument is that Hi, It’s Me is essentially an example of Lacanian therapy.  Ashnikko’s behaviour towards her ex is sinthomic; she knows that reaching out to him is a bad idea and will hurt her, and yet, she still wants to.  Consider the line “My stupid brain thinks that I need you, misleads me all the time”.  Ashnikko displays awareness that it’s her “stupid brain”, her enjoyment of/wish to reach out to her ex, that “mislead[s]” her into engaging in sinthomic behaviour.  Note here the split-brain effect, a part of her brain wishes to engage in sinthomic behaviour and the other part telling her that it will hurt her.  Not only does this nicely parallel the Freudian conflict between Id and Superego (which influenced Lacan greatly), but it also maps perfectly onto the music video.

            The split between the two parts of Ashnikko’s brain is represented in the split between the Ashnikko-protagonist and the Ashnikko-antagonists.  The Ashnikko-protagonist wants deeply to reconnect with her ex due to the enjoyment she would derive from it.  The Ashnikko-antagonists, on the other hand, are the rational part of her brain that know that this sort of behaviour will hurt her.  Ashnikko is at an impasse, she knows she needs help to stop this behaviour, but at the same time doesn’t want it.  And so, Ashnikko “must be forced to be free”, must be forced to stop engaging in this sinthomic behaviour.  This is why, in the music video, the Ashnikko-antagonists literally have to tie her down in order to help her.  And how do they help her?  Well, they burn the photo of her ex and drown her phone.  That is, they destroy the things that remind her of her ex or allow her to contact him, thus preventing Ashnikko from engaging in sinthomic behaviour.  The music video ends with two Ashnikkos in a car, getting ready to leave.  With the objects associated with Ashnikko’s sinthome destroyed, she is symbolically ‘moving on’ from her sinthomic behaviour (by literally driving away).

           In the end, we are left with a beautiful irony.  Ashnikko is an artist entirely centred on a subversion, the Boss Bitch aesthetic.  Through the Boss Bitch, she unintentionally cites exactly what she’s trying to subvert.  At the same time, the song Hi, It’s Me discards subversion entirely.  The song shows recognition of how easy it is to fall into sinthomic behaviour and how sometimes we “must be forced to be free”.  In a message entirely contrary to Ashnikko’s aesthetic, Hi, It’s Me advocates for a process of de-citation in order to move on from an ex.  To put it a little more poetically, it advocates living your life not to spite your ex, but in spite of them.  And that, I think, is a really solid message. 

           Now, to finish up this first essay, I’m going to leave you with a pearl of wisdom from that wonderful, blue-haired siren that is Ashnikko.