There’s Some Whores in this House: The Secret Genius of Cardi B and her subversive magnum opus, “WAP”
WAP is a barrier-breaking masterpiece. Throughout this article that touches on feminism and subversion of expectation, I’d like to tell you why.
[Note: This article features discussions about adult topics and uses/mentions explicit language to describe these topics and the work in question. TW: SA, racism, and domestic abuse.
I recommend referring to endnotes while you read this article. If you’d like endnotes that hyperlink back to the section you were reading, feel free to visit the original publication of this piece on pizza.fm. While the endnotes are excessive, they’ll provide important tangential information to what is being discussed without interrupting the flow of the discussion as a whole, as opposed to the frequent interruptions that would ensue if the endnotes were incorporated into the text.]
Over the past few months, “WAP” has taken the internet world by storm. A raunchy song teaming up two female rappers accompanied by a controversial and uncharacteristically well-made video in the age of lowered production quality due to the coronavirus pandemic, backlash from conservatives, its trending on Twitter, and so much more have made this song a focal point of pop culture in this uncertain time. While I am sure that many of you reading this article have heard “WAP” or seen its accompanying music video, this article sets out to identity the qualities of “WAP” that guaranteed its success.
Yeah you dealin’ with a complex, multi-faceted individual
Before discussing “WAP” itself, the artist behind the track should also be discussed. Cardi B is an inherently polarizing figure. As a former sex worker and reality TV star of “Love & Hip Hop,” Cardi has been in a critical spotlight even before the release of her breakout hit, “Bodak Yellow.” She is the subject of frequent character assassination with various focuses, whether it’s her ability to rap, her blackness, the subject matter of her lyrics, her past as a sex worker, her feud with Nicki Minaj, et cetera. While some of the allegations (outside of the subject matter of her music) against Cardi B are indeed concerning,¹ there seems to be a deep desire from the public to bring Cardi B down, fueling this character assassination, whether legitimate or not. As someone in the public eye, scrutiny is inevitable; however, as a prominent, self-proclaimed Afro-Latina² (according to her recent feature on Anitta’s “Me Gusta” and in discussions with Zendaya), Cardi B seems to receive a disproportionate amount of hate than her other female rap colleagues or her Afro-Latino rap colleagues.³ For the purposes of this article, I’d like to present a different view of Cardi B to be able to examine “WAP” as a valid, artistic work rather than the sham product of a talentless,⁴ problematic individual.
Cardi B lived a difficult life in the South Bronx. A year after graduating from high school, Cardi B began stripping to make money, gaining financial independence: she entered an abusive relationship after being kicked out of her mother’s house, which stripping allowed her to escape through the money she made. She stole from boyfriends⁵ in times of desperation, something that is wrong, but was a crime of survival rather than of malice.⁶ Soon, things started looking up for Cardi B. She became a reality television star on VH1 and started a burgeoning rap career. Then, with the release of “Bodak Yellow” and its accompanying music video in 2017, heads turned. Soon, Cardi was appearing on features, talking to late night hosts, creating a following, and releasing music while, over time, improving her lyricism as a rapper. She branched out into a Spanish crossover career by working with other Latin artists. Her releases and music videos always gathered attention from the public, despite a stream of criticism (one of her songs, “Press,” deals specifically with the negative press attention she received). Cardi’s interests (other than rap) were also apparent over the past few years, based on her internet activity and interactions with others. She has an affinity for discussion of political issues, evident in her Twitter exchanges and conversations with Senator Bernie Sanders and, more recently, President-Elect Joe Biden. She also has a love for history, evident in her tweets about history in general and Poland in particular, as well as her 98% and 93% scores on her US History and Global History Regents Exams, respectively. Most importantly to her personal life, she is a mother to her daughter, Kulture. Cardi continues to make being a mother a priority through her ongoing divorce with rapper Offset. In a livestream promoting “WAP,” Cardi B spoke with her daughter in Spanish, a small show of a larger effort that Kulture would grow up bilingual. In addition, Cardi has discussed her devotion to her religion (Catholicism) on a few occasions, including on this Instagram post.⁷ In short, to reduce Cardi B to a talentless hack is missing the point: she is undoubtedly an individual with depth, despite what some may say about her or the music she creates.
When it comes down to her use of a transphobic slur in the past, it is important to see her growth as a person who understands, and takes action to correct, her mistakes. For her use of the word roach (something fellow female rapper Nicki Minaj has criticized in the past for being anti-black and colorist), Cardi B argues that it simply comes down to a discrepancy in connotation: she’s used roach to describe herself and it serves as a fragment of her Bronx upbringing that has to do with a general, colloquial insult rather than a race-specific insult for her.
To criticize Cardi B for aforementioned reasons seems more like a misinformed attack on her identity, the way that she speaks,⁸ her personality, or her sex work background rather than legitimate criticisms.⁹ In this way, Cardi B subverts expectation by being a prominent, complex Afro-Latina from the Bronx who is more than a reductionist view of a female rapper without any talent.
It is this same subversion that propels her recent release “WAP” to be the rapper’s magnum opus. Listeners can find this subversion not only in the work itself, but also in discussions that surround the work as well as in its performance thus far as a commercial work of art. For those who may not enjoy “WAP” or rap in general as preferred listening, I ask that you keep an open mind as I speak on this song’s relationship with gender roles, feminism, rap as a genre, the COVID-19 pandemic, and, as I will discuss shortly, song structure.
I said certified Music Major Formal Analysis
When working with pop songwriting, one of the guiding principles is form, like it is in any other type of music. How form manifests itself in pop music¹⁰ is in the division of a song into sections. Those sections typically consist of verses and choruses,¹¹ with each verse being numbered (verse 1, verse 2, etc.). As with the rest of pop, this sort of structure is common in Rap as a subset.¹² While the prowess of a rapper is often exemplified through their performance within their verses (hence “rap verse”), choruses are of monumental importance in pop as a whole, as opposed to the musical tendencies of Classical, Jazz, or Blues where this exact structure of verses and a chorus is not always the most common.¹³ Those latter styles are distinct in that they are able to go more towards the complex or simple varieties of song form with ease, while pop as a whole tends to stick to a verse-and-chorus structure. Why? Because people like repetition, recognizability, and “hookability” in music, even while having verses that differ. Having a recognizable element come back and repeat is pleasing for the ear and the brain: pop songs are written with this in mind. Would people enjoy listening to a complicated chorus that is impossible to sing along to in the context of pop? It’s unlikely. Listeners of pop generally want something they can expect, not a curveball that is unexpected. The chorus is often the most memorable part of a song, with the songwriters knowing full well that listeners expect that repetition when the chorus returns. While verses are important to separate choruses (instead of having a song be a chorus that repeats and repeats), the chorus is still what the ear tends to come back to. In fact, if you think of your favorite songs, the chorus is likely the first thing that comes to mind.
One common pop song structure can be described as follows:
Verse 1 / Chorus / Verse 2 / Chorus / Bridge / Chorus
Many songs follow this exact “template structure”, but variations on it are as commonplace as the structure itself. A song could start with a chorus just as easily as it could begin with a verse. A bridge might not be necessary in the context of a song. Pre-choruses might fill the gap between a verse and a chorus, just as post-choruses could augment a chorus while introducing new material. An intro or an outro may be added. Recently, shortening of pop songs and the introduction of music made for streaming services has allowed for shorter or simpler forms within pop, such as a singular verse between two choruses, a singular verse and chorus, or even a short musical interlude in the context of a larger album.
However, complete subversion of the expectation of a pop structure within pop music can prove to have interesting results that are certainly listenable. One famous example is Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.” While Wayne’s World arguably propelled the song into stardom here in the US, the stardom-ability of the song itself, namely within its novel structure, also facilitated its widespread adoption amongst the American populous. “Bohemian Rhapsody” is longer than a typical pop song, more varied in structure than a typical pop song, and more stylistically diverse than a typical pop song. However, it is diffucult to define “Bohemian Rhapsody” as anything other than a general, all-encompassing “pop,” as it is quite settled in the popular music canon. Despite how it breaks the rules with its difficult-to-define structure, “Bohemian Rhapsody” is still under the pop umbrella. There are also more recent examples of subversion of song structure in pop music. Summer Walker’s “Girls Need Love” and Drake’s subsequent remix both repeat no sections of the song, amounting to what could be considered a through-composed¹⁴ R&B track. Ariana Grande and Victoria Monét’s “Monopoly” essentially features three different choruses that repeat instead of having variation occur within the verse (co-writer Victoria Monét said as much in her Genius interview)
In the case of “WAP,” we can see a subversion of song structure, too. The song begins with a first introduction of the beat itself, including its noticeable vocal sample (“There’s Some Whores in this House,” sampled from Frank Ski’s aptly titled “Whores in this House”). It then continues into another introduction, with Cardi B rapping through four bars. A short intro like this isn’t uncommon, but Rap verses are not typically known for being this short.¹⁵ On first listen, the intro is intriguing, but not exactly to the point where it is the thematic pinnacle of the song. The listener might catch what the acronym WAP means on the third line (“Wet Ass Pussy”), but what happens next is where the against-the-grain subversiveness of this song shines through.
Following this four-bar intro, Cardi B continues with what is later revealed to be the first half of the chorus. However, in the context of what has been presented so far, the first half of the chorus seems to be a continuation of the intro, mainly due to Cardi’s expansion on the aforementioned “Wet Ass Pussy” line. Cardi B has used the momentum of expectation to create a false sense of recognition. To the first-time listener, Cardi B’s first presentation of the chorus is not anything decidedly chorus-like: it’s just more of the same.
In creating “WAP,” this setup was deliberate. Cardi B revealed in an Instagram Live stream, in anticipation of the release of the track, that the decision to put the chorus in full at the end was indeed an intentional choice made later in the production process, rather than a goof turned production decision. Assuming that this was a collective decision between her and her two producers, Ayo the Producer and Keyz (“ we decided to put the hook at the end”), it is apparent they (the three credited songwriters apart from the feature, Megan Thee Stallion) intentionally bait-and-switched their audience into thinking that the chorus was a continuation of the introduction.¹⁶ Cardi continues with her first verse following the first presentation of the chorus, what the first-time listener may still perceive to be the intro until said verse is completed. Following that verse, Megan Thee Stallion presents her first verse, second overall, that ends with a reference to Cardi B’s “Wet Ass Pussy” figure.¹⁷
If this song’s structure were to be mapped out thus far from the perspective of the first-time listener, it would be mapped like this:
Intro / Verse 1 / Verse 2 / Verse 3 / Verse 4
However, when we reach the chorus after this fourth verse, this structural view shifts. The listener now understands that the Intro and the end of Verse 2 both were part of, or responding to, the full chorus at the end. We can now understand that part of the intro and part of the second verse can be labeled as modifications of the chorus. In addition, hearing the song in full allows for the similarities between both Cardi’s and Megan’s respective couple of verses to become apparent. If using letter labelling to indicate sections of the form as is common in theoretical discussions of music, the song would map out as follows:
(Instrumental/4-bar Intro) / B’ (1st½ of Chorus) / C (Cardi’s first verse) / D (Megan’s first verse) / B” (variation on Chorus figures within Megan’s verse) / C’ (Cardi’s second verse) / D’ (Megan’s second verse) / B (Chorus)¹⁸
In other words, both Cardi’s and Megan’s first verses are related to their second verses,¹⁹ the Intro is unique to any other section in the structure and stands out on its own,²⁰ and the chorus is only presented in full at the end.
This structure isn’t typical for a pop song.²¹ Typically, as mentioned earlier, a pop song will present the chorus either before or after the first verse. Instead, Cardi B and her team made the decision not to do so, but why? We know it was intentional (“we decided to put the hook at the end”), but do not necessarily know the reasoning behind said intention. However, in the setup of the structure overall, there is some room for informed speculation.
One desirable quality of rap is lyrical prowess. Sure, aesthetics shifted over time to include contrary aesthetic qualities of rap, notably in the mumble rap subgenre.²² Despite this, one can still praise a rapper for their lyricism: spitting bars is still something arguably desirable among rap artists. Interestingly, things start to fall into place if “WAP” is analyzed along this line of thinking.
The verses themselves may be shocking to the listener (something I will discuss in detail later on), provocative, and strong in their delivery. In the structure above, we can see that much of the song is made up of verses. Therefore, these verses are the intended focus of the song as a whole, over the chorus, simply due to runtime. The chorus, in comparison to pop music as a whole, is not given as much runtime in “WAP” as elsewhere. This perspective of emphasizing the verses, out of a desire to highlight them as the virtuosity of the rappers themselves, and deemphasizing the chorus in the process starts to make sense when analyzing the structure overall. A chorus in pop is important; placing it in full at the end implies that it is unimportant. It is in this line of thinking that “WAP” both understands and respects the typical pop structure while also turning it on its head.
Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion fill the listener’s need for repetition in the B’ and B” sections, as well as within the similarities in their respective verses. However, the songwriting team intentionally holds back on the chorus until the end, as if to say that the chorus is not as important as the verses. In essence, the rappers want focus to lie on the verses because that’s where their virtuosity is presented, not in the chorus itself. Typically, presenting a chorus in full only at the end of a song is formal sacrilege. It is difficult to come up with a good reason for subverting pop form in this way but the songwriters on “WAP” did so in an intelligently clever way: by reminding the listener that lyrical prowess is important in rap, especially for this song and its subject matter.
I want you to park that Feminism, Social Conservatism, and the Male Gaze right in this little garage
Much of the discussion around this song both interpersonally and in the media (which I will discuss in more detail shortly) centers around the raw, uncensored raunchiness of those lyrics, especially in the verses. It has been a complaint of rap as a genre from emboldened genre critics for some time. Just as Prince was vilified for “Darling Nikki,” so too are rappers of today vilified for their explicitness. But in this respect, too, one can find subversion in “WAP,” particularly in terms of gender. One of the principal complaints of rap “attitudes” is that rappers objectify women through their lyrics. While this is a complicated discussion which deserves its own article, one can say that the objectification described is typically made by men about women. This objectification, whether justified or not (again, outside the scope of this article), is a reiteration of cultural values. Men are societally allowed to objectify women as a facet of their gender role as the “dominant” gender.
In this respect, “WAP” approaches this expectation of rap in a way that is somewhat surprising. Men objectify women in rap, but women (possibly due to the infrequency of women rappers) don’t participate in objectification as often. Some women rappers²³ objectify men as a change of pace, something evident in Nicki Minaj’s 2014 hit “Anaconda.” However, “WAP” toys with that expectation that the gender roles have to be reversed. Following a tradition set by other women rappers in the past [think Kelis’ “Milkshake,” Lil’ Kim’s “Not Tonight,” or Khia’s “My Neck, My Back (Lick It)”], Cardi and Megan essentially objectify themselves.
An important point here: some find this sort of approach as demeaning to women: “WAP” is intentionally meant to be that way. I’ll explain this a bit further. What we see in rap often, as well as other media like film and television, is the Mulveyian “male gaze”; in other words, women are sexualized and objectified because of the largely male makeup of the creators of said media. From Megan Fox in Transformers to Jessica Rabbit in Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, the intentionally titillating perspectives of the content creators leaks into pop culture without much thought. Swap the visuals for provocative lyrics and the male gaze is present even without a visual medium to transmit.²⁴ While this might cause some concern in the world of visual media, especially among parents and more socially conservative audiences, the criticism of male gaze increases when examining the discourse around Hip-Hop, Rap,²⁵ R&B, and other genres pioneered by Black artists. Kanye West, Snoop Dogg, Tupac, Lil Wayne, and any other rap artist that is not in the “socially conscious rap”²⁶ category have received criticism centering around the raunchiness of their lyrics, among other things.²⁷ Writing this, I’m also reminded of the criticism that Beyoncé received upon releasing her eponymous album, Beyoncé, an album that celebrated her sexual confidence following her struggles with body image during pregnancy.
Whether socially conservative audiences will admit to it or not, the disparity in the criticism that these aforementioned Black genres receive²⁸ comes down to bias, whether explicit or implicit. As mentioned before, women are criticized more often than men for the similar music they create; however, race also plays a strong role in where the criticism falls. It’s become somewhat of a trite trope for socially conservative audiences to criticize Rap as “wrong” in some way (think older generations, Fox News, etc.), to the point that Kendrick Lamar sampled criticism of his own music from Fox News in his track “DNA” as a counterpoint to being proud of his upbringing/identity and Vince Staples wrote a response to the outraged mom reading the lyrics to “Norf Norf,”²⁹ indicating that she missed the point of the song entirely. It’s all too common in the world of Rap, but genres not led by Black artists (namely, much of Top 40 radio Pop, Country, Alternative, etc.) don’t receive this kind of criticism. Note how much Country also objectifies women (especially in the somewhat derogatory categorization of “Stadium Country”) and yet does not receive similar criticism about said objectification to that of predominantly Black genres. Add to that the intersectionality of Black women, and you have the recipe for the criticism that surrounds “WAP” over the past few months. However, Cardi and Megan flip the idea of the male gaze by, well, being women. Admittedly, this song does seem to appeal to the male gaze in some fashinon, but let’s examine that similarity a little further:
The male gaze is typically introduced by a male at the creation of the media to be consumed. In this case, Cardi and Megan wrote their own verses in a sexually charged way, but likely without the input of men in the process ( see endnote 16). Instead of the expectation of the male gaze backing up these sexually charged lyrics, Cardi and Megan break with expectation to write a frank piece about sex with their own interests in mind rather than that of men.
It is at this point where feminism plays an important role. While women are societally discouraged from discussing sex in frank terms, men are given much more societal leeway in that line of discussion, both in music and in daily life. The male gaze and “boys will be boys” is in stark contrast to the idea that women cannot be open about sexual discussions, whether in a sex-positive manner or otherwise, so much so that Sex and the City seemed more scandalous than ordinary because of the gender of the characters involved. Society tells us that women should not even be allowed to mention sex and be sex-positive, but “WAP” does more than mention: it celebrates sex in a liberated, distinctly free way (i.e., sex positivity). To dismiss “WAP” as simply raunchy and without depth, namely in its provocative verses, is to dismiss the idea that women can, and should be societally allowed to, discuss sex as they please under the egalitarian ideals of feminism. Sure, age and maturity also play a role into who should and should not discuss sex according to societal norms, but media intended for adults warrants a mature, adult audience. People don’t go out consistently decrying R-rated movies simply because they have a sex scene, yet music like “WAP” receives a disproportionate amount of criticism.³⁰ The lack of the male gaze and the overtly feminist subject matter make critics uncomfortable with the idea of a mature, feminist work; those critics, whether they admit it or not, would rather see something more akin to the (more societally acceptable) male gaze if sex is discussed at all. Being at an equal talking level to men about these mature ideas is what feminism, and thus the societal equality of the sexes, represents.³¹ Therefore, “WAP” is a deeply feminist piece that proves that women can indeed discuss mature, sexual topics; society does not self-implode from the “audacity” of a woman to “even discuss this sort of thing.”
Quickly, as an aside, feminism also warrants discussion within rap as a genre. Even in the gender makeup of rap artists, where men are much more present than women, the equality of the sexes that is a tenet of feminism is far from reality. Plenty of women rappers with strong material exist, even up-and-coming artists like CupcakKe and Tierra Whack, but their prominence is overshadowed by that of their male counterparts. For this reason, the mere existence of a breakout song from female rappers like Cardi and Megan is out of character for the genre and, again, a subversion of expectation.³²
And the previously discussed intersectionality that defines Cardi B as a person adds to this push against the grain of societal expectations with the presence of “WAP” as consumable media. Not only are Cardi and Megan distinct for being women in a typically male genre, but their intersectionality among a society where they are a minority (both being Black women, and Afro-Latina in the case of Cardi) is a magnet for criticism, whether intentional or not. It is for this reason that the appearance of such a feminist, minority-created song is not only controversial and expectation-subverting within its genre, but within discussion around American music as a whole. In brief, “WAP” is controversial because society is uncomfortable with the idea of a feminist piece written by an Afro-Latina and a Black woman.
Look, I need a hard hit-ting verse…
Returning to a more micro-examination of the lyrics and a discussion of genre rather than a macro-examination of the song itself: expectations are also subverted in the demeanor of both Cardi B and, likely in response, in Megan Thee Stallion’s verses in terms of their seriousness. Rap is considered a more serious genre, so much so that “comedy rap” or “joke rap” is often designated separately. However, there seems to be a trend slowly growing where the line separating “joke rap” from your regular “rap” is blurred. Doja Cat became popular as a singer and rapper after one of her “joke rap” songs unexpectedly took off. Lil Dicky, despite being an entirely “joke rap” artist, has managed to get features in what would be considered more serious rap. In much the same way, both of the rappers on “WAP” utilize humor in a way that is unconventional for rap outside of the “comedy rap” designation.
Notoriously, Cardi ends the song with “macaroni in a pot for this wet ass pussy”, a comparison that alludes to a popular Vine, a platform where Cardi initially gathered some of her fame. It’s a ridiculously over-the-top way to indicate what sounds are going on during sex. This phrase is so separated from both everyday speech and typical rap lyricism that it stands out as memorable to the listener. Music critic Anthony Fantano jokingly commented on the innuendo of this particular phrase, saying “if you don’t like ‘WAP,’ you’re bad at sex,” implying that if the innuendo flies over your head, then you don’t know what good sex sounds like. Humor requires recognition, and this phrase has enough emphasis, both within the context of the song itself, and in public discourse surrounding the song, to have the required recognition for the humor to land.
Placing a phrase like Cardi does at the end of a song gives it emphasis; so too does changing/isolating flow, repetition, and a dropout in production. Other notorious lines from this song, e.g., “I want you to park that big Mack³³ truck right in this little garage” and “I want you to touch that little dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat,” utilize these three emphatic techniques, to the point where discussion surrounding this song references these two lines specifically because of their emphasis. Adding to this is the notably humorous element present in both phrases: the former is followed by a truck horn, uncharacteristic of the song but somewhat fitting given the Mack reference, and the latter is bizarre in its subject matter. To say “I want you to touch my uvula” is strange enough, but to maintain the contextual meaning and add length, as well as colloquialism (i.e., little dangly thing, etc.) is even more unexpected. This unexpectedness is what makes these two phrases humorous. Also unexpected: the change in flow at the introduction of, and internal repetition in, Megan Thee Stallion’s overtly provocative line “Gobble me, swallow me, drip down the side of me/Quick, jump out, ‘fore you let it get inside of me.” Megan Thee Stallion, and Cardi B for that matter, do not stay away from humorous elements of the track, rather, they dig into the surprisingly raunchy lines to the point that they convey a certain type of humor in the seriousness and emphasis of their delivery.
To be able to discuss these individual pieces of a verse at such length are indicative of the shock value that the verses hold. This song would not be the subject of this article if it was not attention-grabbing in this shocking way. Much like it derives humor from being raunchy in a way distinct from everyday conversation, so too do the verses derive shock from this same distinction. However, shock does not have to be negative: with feminism and societal expectation in mind, one can also deduce that the shock associated with hearing those lyrics is a result of the aforementioned contrast between societal expectation and the lyrics, particularly in the verses. In this case, shock is an avenue to process this contrast to arrive at appreciating that “WAP” is written in a unique and surprisingly genius way.
…I need a deep-ly engaging visual to top it all off
Alongside the well-written, well-produced song that surprises with its seriousness is the accompaniment of a music video of high production value. In any other year, this would be unremarkable. This is, after all, a strong lead single³⁴ from Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion: a song from two high-profile artists is typically bound to have a visually strong music video to accompany it. However, in the age of COVID-19, music videos with high production value are well outside of the norm. Think back to Justin Bieber and Ariana Grande’s “Stuck With You” or the initial video for Rich Brian’s “Love in my Pocket.” They’re intentionally DIY because of the pandemic restrictions in place. Even the seemingly simple video for Taylor Swift’s “cardigan” required overcoming logistical challenges introduced by the pandemic, as indicated by the end-of-video message. If at the beginning of the pandemic, we were told that Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion would release a music video, recorded during the pandemic, with elaborate sets, backup dancers, large snakes/big cats, celebrity cameos, and insanely bright colors, no one would believe it. However, that’s exactly what happened. In defiance of the DIY aesthetic that appeared out of necessity, the music video for “WAP” broke the rules in a surprisingly safe manner, given the current pandemic.
Cardi B had a clear vision for the video, as evidenced by this behind-the-scenes footage where she discusses the plan with Megan Thee Stallion. A vision as uncompromising as Cardi’s for this music video required overcoming additional logistical challenges imposed by COVID-19. Cardi B spent $100,000 on testing alone to accomplish this vision in the music video. The costumes that drew attention for their uniqueness and provocativeness were shipped from Europe and subsequently experienced shipping delays. On top of that, everything else mentioned in the last paragraph seems to be out of a fever dream of ambition in the midst of restrictions of movement. Live animals and live celebrities alike serve as a surprising addition, given the COVID-19 logistics to have people in the same room (either handling animals or being themselves and walking/dancing in separate rooms of a CGI mansion). This video was not only shocking and unique in its subject matter (to the point that YouTube asked to have Cardi use the clean version of the song, one that she didn’t particularly enjoy recording), but also in the sheer magnitude of the production. The timing could not have been better to take the financial risk to carry out the high production value of the music video. And even with the restrictions, it included trademarks of Cardi B’s brand and director Colin Tilley’s creativity: loud colors, boob fountains, “ass sculptures,” hairstyles galore, and intentional bizarreness. It’s no wonder that it broke YouTube records for the biggest American debut on the site.
I want you to touch that little Interconnectivity and Community thing that swing in the back of the Internet
As the saying goes, any press is good press. While Cardi B certainly turned heads that spoke some bad press of the song and the accompanying music video, the public support for this song (again, evidenced by its chart-topping positions) was massive. From the plethora of amazingly quirky covers, astonishing parodies, and over-the-top²⁵ remixes of thesong that capitalize on its outlandish ridiculousness out of context, to the admittedly hilarious reactions from folks like Ben Shapiro, the aforementioned Anthony Fantano, Leslie Jordan, assorted shocked parents, Grandma OK from ReacThing, TwoSetViolin, and others, to the downright hysterical reactionary responses from public figures³⁶ and laymen alike, part of the appeal of “WAP” has nothing to do with the song itself, but instead with the conversations that are created around it. Nothing could prepare me for the dissimilarity between those who champion the song as a bop and those who decry it as Satan’s latest antics. In selectively pointing out their distaste with this song in particular and staying mute about the large swath of sexual content that, as a part of the human experience, is inevitable in music, those who are vocal about disliking this song actively participate in the promotional process by sticking out like a sore thumb. Sure, “WAP” had a rollout and was not a surprise release, but the similarities between this song and the aforementioned eponymous album by Beyoncé are clear when you realize that word of mouth, press coverage (whether positive or negative), and reactionary comments from public figures are what essentially serves as the promotion for the album: this is much like the plethora of ways in which people interacted with “WAP” that propelled it forward in that the surrounding buzz serves as an agent of promotion.
Similar to the societal hyper-focus that surrounded Tiger King during this pandemic, the focality of the internet during the era of COVID-19 allowed for “WAP” to become, well, a focal point in a time when the public wants their declining quality of life to become less and less of a focal point. This overt celebration of femininity within feminism presents a final act of subversion in the fact that “WAP” is the opposite of what one expects to hear and see during a global pandemic. At the beginning of the year, COVID-19 was a disease confined to East Asia and cruise ships; towards the end of the year, the world has seen sudden and dramatic changes to daily life. For the gem of “WAP” to shine its brightest, the dull backdrop of this pandemic allowed for it to glisten in full.
Sure, I have an affinity for this song as a quirky, strange, and catchy hit that arrived while just sitting at home doing not much of anything. However, as I hope I have demonstrated, “WAP” can be appreciated in a more definitive, academic way. I champion this song and its artist for what was accomplished in its release and decidedly crown this gender-role-defying song as Song of the Summer.
In short: “WAP” is a subversive, feminist, and surprisingly expressive magnum opus. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. It’s Christmas, let’s go home.
Writer’s Note: This nearly 20-page article took over four months to complete and has been a source of comfort to come back to throughout a number of health struggles. Special thanks to my friends in the Discord, my family and friends at home, and anyone else I’ve discussed this article and its contents in detail with over the past few months. Additional thanks to older family for giving me important generational input, the journalists whose articles I consulted online, my 8thgrade English teacher Mrs. Smith for putting my writing in shape, and Cardi B for releasing this song. A final thanks to Pizza FM, for allowing me to finish off my series on Latinidad with this article and an upcoming one on the residual impact of Los Dells 2019 in the age of COVID-19.
P.S. This behind-the-scenes footage of Normani’s cameo and this subsequent art-film-geek remix were too good not to share here.
There’s some endnotes in this house
[1] Notably concerning allegations include her 2016 Instagram Live confession of her robbing men she was sleeping with, her previous use of a transphobic slur, and instances of the word “roach” appearing in her vocabulary as an insult (these will all be discussed later).
[2]This is part of a series on Latinidad, but I would be remiss to not mention that I am not Black and therefore cannot write this article from the Black perspective. There are allegations about blackfishing that I cannot legitimize or delegitimize from my own perspective. Particularly in Cardi B’s relationship with Nicki Minaj, this claim of blackfishing is part of the discussion surrounding Cardi B, so I feel that it is something that I should discuss in some fashion. I’ll make some observations on the topic, such as in the next note, but as someone who is not Black, I’ve used the opinions of Black authors to inform my own. This community-submitted Blavity article by Amber Alexander and this New Orleans Data News Weekly article by Keka Araujo have informed my stance somewhat.
[3]…one prominent example being Tekashi 6ix9ine. Sure, he has had similar allegations appear, but the frequency of these allegations pales in comparison to other, more prominent criticisms regarding both sexual assault and his plea deal in which he disclosed information in court about the gang he was a part of. For more information about the enigma that is Tekashi 6ix9ine, I recommend listening to the Spotify and Complex podcast titled Infamous: The Tekashi 6ix9ine Story. However, as it pertains to this article, I suggest taking note of the role that gender may play in the frequency of such allegations in comparing 6ix9ine to Cardi B.
[4]Much like accusations from Meek Mill against Drake of ghostwriting backed by evidence ( ghostwriting as a term in Rap is typically used to mean that someone writes a portion of, or the entirety of, your verse or hook), many attribute her lack of talent to her supposed ghostwriter. This is especially true of the writing process for “Be Careful” off of the album Invasion of Privacy, where Cardi rapped a portion of her verse exactly as Pardison Fontaine did a year prior, beat and all (Note: this song actually had seventeen songwriters credited, mostly because it samples “Ex-Factor” by Lauryn Hill, which in turn samples “Can It All Be So Simple” by the Wu-Tang Clan, which in turn samples “The Way We Were / Try To Remember” by Gladys Knight & the Pips, which in turn samples “The Way We Were” by Barbara Streisand). However, Cardi and her co-writers have made it clear that there is an important distinction between ghostwriting and co-writing, something which is also true in other pop genres were multiple co-writers are common. As for “Be Careful,” Pardison Fontaine is credited as a songwriter under an alias. Based on the novel and distinctly Bronxite/Dominican inclusion of rhyming “cool though” with “ culo” and “ putas” with “poolside,” it is safe to say that her name among the sixteen other songwriters credited is a worthwhile inclusion.
[5]Initially, the allegations against Cardi B, as previously mentioned, were specifically that she drugged, sexually assaulted, and stole from men while working as a stripper. This Complex article describes the situation well, especially Cardi’s clarifying Instagram Live response. I recommend reading it if you have any doubts about the situation as a whole. These allegations are notably self-reported, as they stem from an Instagram Live stream where she admits to some of the allegations and allows other allegations, particularly using date rape drugs and sexual assault, to be reached via conjecture. However, Cardi later clarified these statements a couple years later with more context. In these clarifications, she described that as a stripper, she did take advantage of men while they were willingly intoxicated and not drugged by her: in this case, she clarified “taking advantage” is not in a sexual sense, but in a financial sense, i.e., by robbing men by going through their wallets while they are not cognizant of what is going on due to being intoxicated. Additionally, Cardi pointed out that if she were to drug or sexually assault men in addition to petty theft that she would be risking her own life and her career as a stripper, certain that word would spread and retaliation, whether on her life or her career as a sex worker, would ensue. Since I do not have the perspective of a sex worker when it comes to industry blacklists and murder within it, I trust Cardi B’s perspective on the situation. In addition, there were no victims of sexual assault to come forward: the only person who did come forward with allegations in response to the resurgence of the livestream later admitted that he only came forward as a joke. Considering that Cardi B brought the allegations against herself and that her clarifications are a clarified admission of wrongdoing (and specifically to petty theft, which is a crime), it seems that rumors of Cardi B sexually assaulting men based on the aforementioned Instagram Live persist for other reasons. In my opinion, it’s likely the unintentional perpetuation of misinformation in the echo-chamber that is the internet; however, it could also be something intentionally malicious as a strong character assassination that carried on into public discourse. I discuss the role that race, ethnicity, and gender play into the public perception of Cardi B elsewhere in this article.
[6]Cardi B has stated that, while other rappers boast about their criminal activity in their music, she feels it’s important not to glorify her past in that way.
[7]Contrary to popular belief, it is certainly accepted in Catholic doctrine that one can be both a raunchy rapper (i.e., a denotative sinner, as the negative connotation of that word serves no purpose here) and a devout Catholic, nor is it fruitful to impose religious beliefs, or ideals of practicing religion, on someone else in the spirit of freedom of religion. For more information on the idea of freedom of religion and its limits, visit the ACLU’s page regarding freedom of religion in the United States.
[8]In discussing Cardi B, you may notice that I sometimes paraphrase quotes rather than include direct quotes. If you are asking yourself why that is, it has to do with leveling the playing field in terms of biases that accompany one’s speech. The language of this article is admittedly academic for much of it, but Cardi B often speaks a variety of English that is not standard in the United States, mixing AAVE with Dominican-American interjections and unique phraseology separate from external influence, all the while, dabbling in Spanish and a Bronxite/Dominican vocabulary and accent. Some consumers of popular culture in the United States will tend to point out someone’s use of a non-standard variety of English as an opportunity to criticize. A prominent example is Beyoncé’s Texan accent and the discussions that surround it. Despite making one of the most powerful statements within music on the experience of Black women in the United States with her 2016 album, Lemonade, some continue to insist that Beyoncé is dumb or uneducated because of the way that she speaks. While her body of work (and specifically her latest albums) strongly prove otherwise, these criticisms do not die out. In discussing Cardi B in an academic sense, while lamentably lacking inclusion of direct quotes, I can begin to dispel the implicit (or explicit) bias around this notion of a non-standard English speaker being “uneducated” for those who refuse to accept this idea while, at the same time, including links of Cardi B’s direct quotes to reinforce that language and phraseology is secondary to the message conveyed and should not be a focus of criticism outside of grammatical corrections.
[9]Recent allegations that Cardi practices Santería as a criticism seem to follow in this vein, saying more about the general criticism of her Afro-Latina background than anything else. Through discussion of these allegations, Cardi B also reiterates that religion is an important part of her life, while also acknowledging that Santería is a real religion that holds importance among its followers.
[10] From here on out, “pop” is all-encompassing. I’m using a broader definition that doesn’t denote specifically only the “Pop” genre but also genres that were once considered “popular music” or are in some way derivative of or in response to “Pop,” such as Rap, Rock, R&B, Alternative, Indie, Country, et cetera.
[11] The term “hook” is also used to describe a chorus, especially in Rap, but I’ll be sticking with chorus to have parallel discussions about pop as a whole alongside Rap.
[12] Admittedly, Rap also allows for an “endless verse” structure, where a rapper can just continue rapping without any semblance of repetition within form. This is common in freestyles but is not necessarily common for Rap music in its general consumption.
[13] 12-bar Blues form, Sonata form, et cetera. Yes, Jazz and Blues do use choruses and yes, Classical music deals with repetition in distinct and similar ways to Jazz and Blues, but not in a one-to-one similarity to pop music.
[14] A song without repetition of sections. This is usually used to refer to an art song within Classical music, but in this case, the same concept applies for this R&B track.
[15] Often, short raps are more the subject of confusion than admiration. For example, Jay-Z’s short interjection in Drake’s “Pop Style” (as one half of The Throne) was met with confusion by listeners on the internet. Rick Ross’s verse on Kanye West’s “Monster” is also frustratingly short amidst verses of interest by Kanye and the remainder of the features (namely, what is arguably Nicki Minaj’s best verse of her career).
[16]Arriving at this conclusion takes some assumptions about the songwriting process. Officially, Cardi B, Megan Thee Stallion, Ayo the Producer, and Keyz (the former two being the artists, the latter two being the producers) are all credited as songwriters for “WAP” without any distinction as to what they contributed. This is common practice in the music industry: anyone who had contributions to the track is considered a songwriter and anyone who is a songwriter must be given royalties from the song (see more on the distinction between ghostwriters and co-writers/songwriters in endnote 4). As a result, all songwriters will be listed regardless of importance or how much they contributed (the only indication of how much was contributed outside of an interview or direct questions about a songwriter’s contributions would be the splits [percentages] of royalties that are numerical codifications of how much of a song a songwriter contributed to [e.g., Sammy wrote about a quarter of the song, he only gets 25% of the splits, but Doris wrote ¾ of the song, therefore she gets 75% of the splits {however, in some musical spheres, notably in Nashville Country music, splits are divided equally among all contributors regardless of their amount of contribution}]. Sadly, splits are typically not as publicly available as the list of songwriters themselves). However, given past statements from both Cardi and Megan, they are adamant that the majority of their songwriting, specifically for verses, is their own. As is common in Rap, they do admit to having songwriters help with hooks (i.e., choruses) and occasionally throughout an entire track, but for the purposes of this article, I will assume the following: Cardi B may have had some input on the chorus of the song, especially in the placement of the chorus and the arrangement of the individual parts, but wrote the majority of her verse and completed the arrangement of the track itself (with the help of Ayo and Keyz) before presenting it to Megan Thee Stallion, who then wrote her verse in response (see the form map with bolded sections for reference as to where Megan responded to already existing material).
[17] It may seem out of place to elevate the repetition of this phrase as a figure given its content. However, in this discussion of “WAP,” I will use phrases that accurately refer to what is occurring. “Repetition” is a more mundane term that would be more widely understood, but ultimately too broad for the higher-level musical discussion that is being attempted. “Figure” may seem too sacred to use when describing an intentionally sexual piece of pop music, but if the notion that one cannot use academic language to describe pop music is placed aside, the vocabulary used can more accurately reflect the intricacies of this song that have merit and deserve praise.
[18]The ‘are an indicator of “prime,” or a variation on an existing part of the form. Where this gets interesting (as I will discuss shortly) is that variations of the chorus are made before the chorus is presented in full.
[19] Similarity of their flow and some repetition within subsequent verses from the same rapper is being used as the justification for this connection.
[20] Though, admittedly, it does set the precedent for the rest of the song with its use of the “Whores in this House” sample (that continues repeatedly throughout) and introduces the “Wet Ass Pussy” figure (also repeated throughout). However, the introduction of figures as a component of form is not enough to label other sections as derivative of the Intro in this analysis of form.
[21] Again, “pop” (note the lowercase “p”) not as a genre, but the overarching label of “popular”
[22]Mumble rap can be used a somewhat derogatory term, but here the genre label is being fully embraced.
[23] “Female rap” is a term more frequently used by artists like Nicki Minaj, a standout “female rapper” for a generation. I’ll try use the term “women rappers” from now on to distance the discussion of women in rap from women rappers as a genre or novelty, a clarifiable misconception that sometimes occurs when using the term “Female rap.”
[24] Well, music videos are visual, and rap videos do have somewhat of a reputation for introducing a visual element of the male gaze, but that’s beside the point.
[25]The distinction between Hip-Hop and Rap (sometimes referred to collectively as Hip-Hop/Rap) is a nuanced one that cannot be discussed in the necessary detail within this article. While it does venture into somewhat of an opinion piece rather than a definitive separator between the two, this Ebony article does a good job of clarifying the distinction.
[26]While this is not a genre indicator per se, it is a term that’s appeared in the past few years to describe rappers that focus on socially conscious subject matter, in contrast to the rest of the genre. It also does facilitate grouping socially conscious rap into a separate genre, something that all may not agree with, but is immediately understood when using it as a genre separator.
[27]It’s been 32 years since N.W.A’s “Fuck Tha Police” was released (which, mind you, is a protest song about police brutality and the role that race plays in it). People still approach that song with contempt instead of recognizing it as an expression of freedom of speech that criticizes the system of oppression within the law enforcement of the United States. For those of you still unconvinced that this is a meaningful expression of protest, listen to all the lyrics and you’ll see how N.W.A has experienced police brutality firsthand, a surprising piece of history that rings true in the age of this summer’s resurgence of the Black Lives Matter movement.
[28] Yes, there are participants of these genres who are not Black but, like much music as a whole in the United States, Black people are, and continue to be, the pioneers in Hip-Hop, Rap, and R&B.
[29] Again, “Norf Norf” is arguably protest music, expressing Staples’ own existence within the gang activity that he grew up in with somewhat of a tone of frustration at the state of things, despite celebrating his own existence and persistence through it all.
[30]In discussions surrounding this song, one may recall the stance of Tipper Gore on more mature music and the introduction of the Parental Advisory label. However, to say that a song is explicit and may not be appropriate for children is far different than saying “WAP” has no audience because of its “explicitness”: it’s number one debut on the Spotify, Apple Music, and the Billboard Hot 100 Charts (among others) is evidence enough that it has a sizeable, clearly defined audience. As Adam Levine said about the Parental Advisory label, “Adhering to a meaningless label won’t make me a good parent. Asking my kid about what they’re listening to will.” If you find issue with “WAP” because of your concern that your kids may hear it, artists like Adam Levine would recommend having a thoughtful discussion with your kids about the subject matter of the song instead of being dismissive. In this case, those discussions coincide with many of the discussions that I explore in this piece: feminism, sex positivity, gender roles, race in America, and societal expectation.
[31] I recognize that I am not a woman discussing feminism from a place of privilege. However, I have found the perspectives of women of different ages very helpful in the creation of this article. Having studied social identity theory in college, this line of thinking is not specific to men, but rather part of the discussions that surround social identity theory (and associated gender discussions).
[32] Not to mention, this is Cardi B’s first solo release of the year. Something very controversial in social discussions is certainly a sharp contrast to the lack of solo releases that preceded it.
[33] Contrary to popular belief, the lyric is not “Big Mac truck.” Rather, “big” refers to the size of the truck (yes, this is innuendo) and “Mack” refers to the brand of said truck.
[34] No album has been announced yet, but I’d be surprised if this was a one-off rather than a lead single for an album.
[35] Hearing “MACARONI (macaroni) MACARONI (macaroni) MACARONI IN A POT” to the tune of “Bohemian Rhapsody” is especially entertaining.
[36]Brittney McNamara wrote an amazing Teen Vogue article about why men feel threatened by “WAP”/female sexuality and it very much coincides with, and expands on, the discussions on the clash between feminism and socially conservative values, particularly as they pertain to gender. Click on the hyperlink in “figures” to read it in full or click here.
Originally published at https://www.pizzafm.org on December 29, 2020.
