I was only nine years old when Queen Latifah released her seminal hit, “U.N.I.T.Y,” but I could already understand why she was so tired of women being referred to b–ches and hos.
The usage of those pejorative terms to describe women was rampant in the music of her male contemporaries like Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg, and it permeated culture so much that the usage extended to anywhere else boys and men congregated — my school, my neighborhood, and shamefully, my home at times.
Recalling that period in a 1999 interview with Terry Gross, host of NPR’s Fresh Air, Queen Latifah explained: “You know, at the time, there were so many records coming out with, you know, rappers calling women, you know, bitch this, ho that. And I just thought it was, like, getting out of control. It was becoming a bit too much.”
Yet she knew the problem went beyond language and noted as much in the song.
“The record was about – the first verse is about that, you know, the respect – respecting a woman. The second verse is about abuse, a woman being beaten by her man and finding the strength to leave. And the third verse was about young girls, like, who wanted to be tough, wanted to be gangster B’s, you know what I mean? I mean, the record was really about a lot of different things, and the point of the record was unity. Let’s bring it all together. Let’s put all this stupid stuff to the side and let’s be together, man. Let’s stop pushing each other away from each other, and let’s be down with each other.”
I still remember watching the video following an episode of Living Single in which a male character referred to the four female leads of the show as b–ches and hos and being left with the feeling that I never wanted to be the kind of person that berates and demeans women.
As impactful as both the song and video were, though, and as varied as hip-hop has become in the decades since its release, mainstream hip-hop artists haven’t arguably gotten that much better in their attitudes and descriptions of women.
My frustration with that reality was my intended focus on the piece. Still, upon revisiting Latifah’s Black Reign album, in which “U.N.I.T.Y.” served as the lead single, I think reflecting on what she accomplished with this body of work as it celebrates its 30th anniversary is more appropriate.
When Black Reign was released, Queen Latifah’s first effort under a new deal at Motown after years at Tommy Boy Records. Her star power had soared following roles in films like Jungle Fever and House Party 2, with various TV appearances and her new starring role as Khadijah James on Living Single.
Still, while she had already been recognized as a force in hip hop following the release of her pioneering debut album All Hail the Queen, her second, Nature Of A Sista, was at the time considered somewhat of a disappointment as some critics slammed it as watered-down and too focused on crossover appeal given Latifah sang more and further leaned into the R&B and house music sounds she dabbled in on her debut.
Then there was the tragic death of her brother, Lancelot Owens, Jr., a police officer in New Jersey who was killed in an off-duty motorcycle crash the year before Black Reign. Latifah has spoken about how that loss has impacted her throughout her career – including how his death led to her having a lack of interest in music altogether until artists like the late Heavy D and Patti LaBelle, who could relate to her on the loss of a sibling, reached out and helped motivate her to channel the grief into her art.
It resulted in an album that is Queen Latifah’s best to me.
On songs like “Rough” featuring KRS-One, Treach, and Heavy D or “Superstar,” she proved that for all her musical talents, she remained a rapper first and had the skills that allowed her to keep up with anyone on a track with her. The same can be said of “I Can’t Understand,” where she directly responded to a diss from fellow pioneering female rapper Roxanne Shante as the song also tackled the continued inequities plaguing inner-city youth, or “Coochie Bang,” where she rapped about sex as she sees it (while advocating condom usage at a pivotal point in time).
Although the album featured a brasher, Queen Latifah, she continued highlighting her singing abilities – going full R&B on “Weekend Love” and my favorite Queen Latifah song, “Just Another Day.”
The closing track, “Winki’s Theme,” dedicated in memory of her older brother, features a full-on live jazz quartet — a sound she would explore on the 2004 Grammy-nominated The Dana Owens Album.
In hindsight, some of the criticism leveled against Queen Latifah for singing on her second album was shortsighted and a reflection of the lack of imagination from many of the male reviewers who dominated music criticism back then.
After all, what rapper, male or female, hasn’t been singing their hearts out since the 2000s – regardless of whether or not they can hold a note?
“U.N.I.T.Y.” may be the standout hit, but Black Reign is ultimately a triumph for Queen Latifah and female rappers as it became the first album by a solo female rapper to go gold.
Much as we celebrate Queen Latifah three decades later, this album shows she’s one of the most underrated artists from this era.
Michael Arceneaux is the New York Times bestselling author of “I Can’t Date Jesus,” “I Don’t Want To Die Poor,” and the forthcoming “I Finally Bought Some Jordans.”
