By Shanita Hubbard
When I was a young girl, I fell head-first into a sexy, sometimes one-sided but always thrilling love affair with hip-hop. My love for the genre grew a lot deeper when a handsome, young rapper from Queens, New York, came on the scene: Nas.
The first song I listened to was “One Love” from Nas’ debut album “Illmatic.” In this open letter written to his incarcerated friends, Nas gives an update on what’s going on with the woman an incarcerated man has a child with. He raps “Why don’t ya lady write ya? Told her she should visit, that’s when she got hyper, flippin, talking about he acts too rough, he didn’t listen, he be riffin while I’m telling him stuff. I was like yea, shorty don’t care…”
I continued to listen to Nas. ... To all the other implied and direct musical messages that tell black women that our love for our brothers is measured in the depth of our sacrifice. ... To the implication that if we are what some call the “truest type,” then we will support and love our men to a level that may sometimes require us to ignore our own needs or safety.
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Source: The Huffington Post
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