Candy vs Cardi: which vision of womanhood do we want?

In which two smart, sassy women go to the mat over public virtue

Please note: this essay is rated M for Mature. Crude language and sexual content contained herein.

Last week was witness to the most epic of epic bitch fights, between conservative America’s black prom queen Candace Owens, and Hispanic stripper-turned-rapper Cardi B. 

In terms of ferocity, it was second only to Camille Paglia’s vicious fax war (#neverforget) with Julie Burchill, which Birchill ended with:  “Dear Professor Paglia, Fuck off you crazy old dyke. Always, Julie Burchill” 

Hilarious as that was, it was just a war between two egos.

It’s obvious to me, however, that we should take seriously the battle between Candace and Cardi — even though this is somewhat dangerous territory for a middle-aged white lady like myself to venture into. It’s a challenge not to slip into a scolding-mom tone (or even worse, trying-to-be-down-with-the-cool-kids mom); and equally to avoid faux academic detachment that ends up making its user sound like a narrator in a 1970’s nature documentary. 

So, for what it’s worth: The song that caused all this is, in my humble opinion, hot flaming garbage - and I’ve written about it before. That does not mean I think Cardi herself is worthless trash, or that she’s even entirely wrong. She is just operating according to the logic of the marketplace — and that is a big problem.

Enter Candace, a girl-next-door type from Connecticut. Although not from a rich family, she went to high school with the son of the local mayor (who went on to be Governor), so she’s not exactly working class. Before becoming famous, she worked as vice-president of admin for a private equity firm. Cardi is a city girl — the Bronx and Washington Heights — who before becoming famous worked as a stripper to escape a bad situation at home.  She made her name pulling out other girls’ weaves on the reality show Love and Hip-Hop. She was wild even before she started rapping about her pussy.

So it would be easy to caricature Candace versus Cardi as a good girl vs bad girl smackdown. Owens’ position is that Ms B is polluting the culture with her sexually explicit lyrics, outfits and performances (specifically the Grammys, last week.) Cardi has responded that it’s not her job to raise anyone else’s children and her music is for adults only.

But the fact that WAP was released at all, never mind its success, is a big red flag. Cardi’s hit of 2020 was a jaw-dropping display of crude exhibitionism with zero artistic merit. It didn’t even have a catchy hook, it was just an ugly clanging of cold, metallic voices spitting out soulless, pornographic lyrics. I literally thought it was Satanic — and I’m an atheist. 

Funnily enough, Cardi herself tugs at my heartstrings. I find her both sweet and very funny. She’s what would come out if Lucille Ball and Fran Drescher had a Dominican baby who no-one ever taught not to say bad words. She’s a comedian, a 21st century funny girl. She’s a self-made woman.

She is no match for Owens, however. In this title bout, she was heavily out-classed, though not because she’s stupider than her adversary. It’s because Owens has the stronger point. Owens’ calm, confident take-down was hard to watch because she first recognised Cardi as human — a fellow mother —  before driving home that Cardi’s performance was a debasement of herself, no matter how rich she got off it.

And that’s what it was. Spare me the “female empowerment” take. Because mainstreaming a song about wet pussy — using those precise words, not even bothering to employ allusion or metaphor — is not ok. Most people, deep down inside, know that Cardi’s song violates basic decency and dignity. Most people would rather their daughter grow up to be Candy, not Cardi. Most people recognise that sexual activity is fundamentally private and sex acts are best left in the bedroom, between consenting adults, not on live television with an audience of millions. 

Nor are my objections to Cardi’s song just a matter of taste. Sure, taste informs a person’s choice of hairstyles, musical genres, clothes, and sex partners. But taste, while defining, is fairly superficial. It is not a profound personal and social issue the way sexual morality is. I hate Cardi’s long talon-like nails, but I wouldn’t bother writing an essay about it.

The debate between these two women tells me we are all on the shores of the Rubicon in terms of public morality. If we have gone from Madonna’s Like a Virgin coyness, to Beyoncé’s allusions to fellatio in Partition, to Cardi straight-up rapping about her labia — what comes next? A romantic song about a beloved’s asshole? 

Not every body part is for public show. Not every desire is fit for airing on network television. Not every sexual act or encounter is empowering — actually, a lot of it really is just degrading promiscuity. If liberal culture insists on pretending otherwise, it will come to regret it. 

Or perhaps, there will be a backlash and we’ll see a return of the sackcloth and ashes. That doesn’t sound like much fun either. 

Cardi’s WAP Grammy performance was like watching a toddler who’s going through a phase of taking off his or her clothes and running around buck naked in public. It was messy and out of control. Can the adults return to the room and handle this please? 

I don’t really know a nicer way of saying this: women, don’t be hoes. Or at least, don’t brag about it in public. Because the more of yourself you give away (or sell), the more you regret it later.

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