The Vulnerability of Black Women in Music: A Dive Into SZA's Lyricism and Its Criticism

When artist get too authentic, they risk being demeaned. What role does this play along the intersectionality of Black Women musicians like SZA?

Dec 06, 2023

Just last week, Spotify unveiled its annual data analysis, Spotify Wrapped, offering insights into our listening habits—revealing the hours devoted to music, the artists providing daily solace, and even pinpointing the months of heightened comfort. My anticipation surrounding this moment unveiled, as expected, my top artist for the fourth consecutive year was, SZA.

SZA's music has consistently provided a profound sense of recognition. During moments when articulating emotions proves challenging, I find refuge in her 2017 album "CTRL," particularly in tracks like "Broken Clocks" and "Garden (Say It Like Dat)," piecing together fragments of what feels shattered. However, not everyone views SZA's lyrical prowess as a therapeutic force. Upon the release of Spotify Wrapped, TikTok user (@hollabeckgirl) shared a video titled "What Your Spotify Wrapped Says About You," offering interpretations of top artists. They quipped, "If it's SZA, you probably need an exorcism as well," a sentiment echoed shortly after regarding the same about Summer Walker (For purposes of perspective, I will admit that Summer was, and has been for years, my number two artist).

Respecting the humoristic stance of this user, it's worth noting that the sentiment expressed is not uncommon. Over the years, SZA's musical repertoire has garnered labels such as "toxic," "hoe music," and "music for women perceived as toxic, who, ironically, believe you're the toxic one." I understand the aversion—nobody necessarily desires a soundtrack that champions lines like "I should Kill [my] ex" or boasts about 'Secretly bangin' your homeboy.'

Yet, in my perspective, those who ascribe to such critiques seem to struggle with appreciating the inherent vulnerability embedded in the acknowledgment of feelings, frailties, and intrusive thoughts that may arise after betrayal or mistreatment by someone held in affection. These admissions frequently find refuge within the confidential pages of our journals, the intimate dialogues with cherished confidants or therapists, or remain confined within the recesses of our hearts—unprocessed until we acknowledge their existence and opt to confront them. Artists such as SZA and Summer Walker, however, have bravely brought these private struggles into the public sphere.

And that’s real as hell.

However, as I alluded to before, not everyone craves authenticity. Some derive solace from sidestepping raw emotions, preferring the buoyant mantras that champion escapism in a "fake-it-until-you-make-it" manner. As a lover of such uplifting affirmations, I can appreciate the allure when seeking a positive respite. Yet, (allowing my southern, clap-back inclination to chime in), what we are not fittin’ to do is disrespect the artistry of one of the most vulnerable and honest Black women to grace the music industry. Regardless of personal biases, acknowledging SZA's musical prowess becomes a mandate when paying homage to Black women, as Black Feminism emphatically urges—this is non-negotiable.

A Look At SZA’s Artistry Through a Black Feminist Lens

One notable factor contributing to the potential rejection of SZA's lyricism is the tendency for her expressions of vulnerability to be misconstrued as a portrayal of victimhood, rather than an honest acknowledgment of feelings encompassing helplessness, loneliness, and occasionally, obsession. Her lyrical compositions often employ eloquent word choices to vividly convey the depth of these emotions, aiming to immerse the listener in a shared experience of what she is describing.

Throughout history, Black women have often been confined to specific stereotypes, with one prevalent example being the "Strong Black Woman" trope. As described in an article from Great Good Magazine, this trope characterizes Black women as projecting strength, self-sacrifice, and an apparent absence of emotion to navigate the challenges of race- and gender-based discrimination in their daily lives. This expectation is not only imposed by their white counterparts but also by Black male counterparts. Given the influence of these standards in a white patriarchal society, it becomes unsurprising that individuals shaped by such norms might perceive SZA in the derogatory manner outlined above.

The aspect of being "free of emotion," as specified in the definition, particularly contributes to this dehumanization, suggesting that she should lack emotion or, at the very least, refrain from expressing emotions that conform to a narrative or acknowledging, criticizing, or chastising a man's actions. While it's notable that the majority of critics of her music, which delves into a cathartic exploration of intense emotions, are men, it's essential to recognize that there are also women who find her music lacking in meaning and problematic.

Creating art that reflects the feelings and experiences of a Black woman is a fundamental right. While all forms of art are open to critique, such criticism should avoid adopting demeaning and shaming narratives rooted in sexism, racism, and other oppressive systems. Being a Black woman and acknowledging the intersectionality of one's identity involves navigating a world that often diminishes the value of that position. It's not unreasonable to assert that the lyrical content in question might have faced less scrutiny if it belonged to an artist like Taylor Swift, highlighting the disparities in how different artists are judged based on their identity.

An Example of Criticism Against SZA

In her 2022 hit “Kill Bill” SZA expresses her irrational feelings that derive from her ex-partner finding a new person to love. She sings:

I get the sense that it's a lost cause
I get the sense that you might really love her
This text gon' be evidence, this text is evidence
I tried to ration with you, no murders or crime of passion, but damn
You was out of reach
You was at the farmer's market with your perfect peach
Now I'm in the basement plannin' home invasion
Now you layin' face-down, got me singin' over a beat

In the envisioned verses, SZA vividly portrays infiltrating her ex's residence, taking him captive, and ultimately, ending his life. Superficially, the song delves into the theme of killing a former lover in response to the anguish and betrayal experienced by the artist. However, any discerning creator understands that art invariably possesses layers of meaning and should never be construed solely at face value. This song, surpassing 1 Billion streams on Spotify since its release according to Pop Base on Twitter and accounting for the sound behind over 1 Million Tiktok videos, resonated with listeners across the world due to the reliability in the intrusive feelings one may have towards an ex. And yet, the artist still faces critique from a variety of sources, as one can expect. In a feature for The Silhouette, writer Breanna Khameraj explains their position on the song which they listened to “so often that it will likely be [their] most listened to song on Spotify for 2023”:

I believe many individuals can resonate with the lyrics "I don't want none, I just want you. If I can't have you, no one should" with these internal feelings being validated in a public setting, it can lead listeners to believe that manipulating their partner is acceptable as long as it benefits them.

And shortly after states,

When rationalizing adverse events during these relationships, SZA sings, "I did all of this sober. Don't you know I did it all for us?". These lyrics can ground individuals in toxic relationships as they can rationalize their actions. Although they understand the relationship toxicity, it is still fantasized about as the ends justify the means.
This song's popularity demonstrates that society accepts some form of toxic relationships as extreme love satisfies our human needs. In my opinion, love without restraints can potentially lead to disastrous outcomes. The validation "Kill Bill' provides toxic relationships allows individuals to openly fantasize about extreme love.

As a fellow critic, I appreciate Khameraj's interpretation of the song, recognizing the validity it holds for them. Our interpretations, shaped by our unique perspectives, life experiences, and values, inevitably vary. However, I would like to specifically address the assertion in the quote that suggests, "The validation 'Kill Bill' provides toxic relationships allows individuals to openly fantasize about extreme love." If contemplating harm towards an ex-lover is prompted by exposure to this piece of art, it seems more reasonable to attribute such thoughts to underlying mental health factors and psychological aspects rather than solely the influence of the song itself.

Moreover, while the writer acknowledges the song's use of the movie Kill Bill as an artistic allusion, I find their argument weakened by a lack of perspective and detail regarding the similarities between the movie and the song. Exploring these parallels in more depth could enhance the strength of their argument and provide a more nuanced understanding of the artistic choices made by SZA. However, the failure to add a more in-depth analysis of the allusion proves the author solely aimed to criticize the singer’s artistry, rather than consider the complexity of the piece and the potential artistry that is created between film and song.

In other cases, this connection between mediums would have been praised as “legendary” or “artistic”. Yet, the surface-level analysis done by the reader and others denies the presence of lyrical genius and craft that goes into the songs SZA puts out.

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