For Black women, the world of hip-hop has always been a minefield of misogyny
I knew little about the music industry before becoming editor in chief of Honey, a young magazine for urban women, right after the somewhat anticlimactic shift from the 20th to the 21st century. Within a week of offering me the job, my new boss invited me to Sean “Diddy” Combs’ notorious White Party in the Hamptons. It seemed as if every major urban entertainment heavy hitter were milling around the conspicuously luxurious modern house and vast grounds. These were the elite who decided what sound was hot and which artist would get radio play, which designers were in and what style was next, what were the coolest restaurants, nightclubs, luxury cars, vacation destinations and liquor brands. It was immediately and abundantly clear that hip-hop was primarily a male preserve in which men discussed how they were going to handle other men they considered allies or adversaries — and what they were going to do to women they considered props or property. It was nearly impossible to tell which fabulous woman was a model and which was an executive. The hierarchy was a clearly defined caste