"Are my feminists in this motherfucker??!!" - "Hellll Nooo!!"(Vibe)

When it comes to Hip Hop, I'm like the worst fan ever. While its true that me rolling a wheelchair bound into traffic for disrespecting the god Rakim, and mercilessly clotheslining an unsuspecting avid reader in the middle of a "Barnes and Noble" after overhearing him mildly suggest that O.C's "Word...Life" was less than stellar, pretty much proves my unparalleled devotion to wordsmiths who I hold in the highest regard. But by the same token, I can also be an absolute nightmare to those same men and women who I ardently defend. For example, a few months ago I attended an old school show featuring MC Lyte, and as everyone else seemed absolutely delighted that she was about to go into her hit song "RoughNeck", lets just say that I had the polar opposite reaction that night. As if my weed stash had suddenly gone missing, or the way I'd react if Kobe Bryant decided to restart his rap career, I let out an agonizing scream before uttering the following: "Please don't do "RoughNeck", for the love of god and everything thats holy, I fucking HATE that song!!!" - thus infuriating the large section of her fan-base in attendance who obviously didn't share my belief that her biggest commercial hit was her clumsiest artistic misstep.(MC Lyte herself shot me a rather bewildered 5 second look suggesting that she was none to pleased as well.) A couple of years back, instead of telling the legendary MC how much of an influence he's been in my life, somehow I felt compelled to ask Run of Run DMC(while he was wearing his priest collar no less) "What in the fuck were you guys thinking with that "'Ooh Watcha Gonna Do" song? Even with the shaved heads, the black attire, and the ice grills being flashed in the video - it still couldn't stop me from giggling like a school girl with every time "busting glocks!" was mentioned!" I've never met Common, but when I do I'm going to sarcastically ask him about "Electric Circus". With Nas, I can not only see myself asking him in a rather insulting fashion simply "Ginuwine, really?", but I'd also probably address the tin ear he's historically had concerning beats and proceed to openly wonder how in the world someone can do a concept album about the most powerful racial epithet in existence and not get DJ Premier to produce the whole thing.

But nothing solidifies my "bad fan" status more emphatically than my behavior during an MC's "Call and Response" portion of the show. See, I've always clung to the notion that any prompted fan response has to be earned. If I feel as if an artist has put on one hell of a show up until that point, I'm waving my arms as if I lacked any substantive concerns, and I'm suddenly finding it acceptable to loudly yell "Ho!" and answer in the "Oh Yeah!" affirmative after being asked pretty pedestrian questions. But if a local artist or legendary artist who I've historically sworn by attempts a call and response routine in the middle of a rather lackluster performance that I just happened to attend, I'm waving my middle finger like I just don't care, and screaming niceties like "Eat shit and die" and "I want my 20 bucks back" after being asked pretty innocuous questions through a booming sound system.

I'm reminded of my mid-concert petulance this election season by the deafening silence of all the feminist activists concerning the treatment of Michelle Obama, especially considering how forcefully vocal they were every time Hillary was the victim of sexism both real and imagined. A few months ago you couldn't throw a rock without hitting some scathing article by a pen-wielding woman concerning the legitimate concerns about insensitive comments made by a few knuckle dragging pundits, or some passionate supporter of womens rights arguing their case on some garden variety cable news show. Even though there were as many clumsily illegitimate claims as well, overzealous Hillary supporters who pointed to nonexistent Obama sexism like "Snub-Gate"(where his back was momentarily turned to Hillary during a State of the Union Adddress), him very innocently stating "You're likable enough Hillary" during one of the debates, and the time he referred to a reporter as "sweetie".(He personally called the young lady later and apologized) But the movements coordination was stellar nonetheless, and even though I found some of the charges of sexism rather unwarranted - I just knew that if Obama became the Democratic Nominee that Michelle could count on that same passion and unwavering support from those same feminist activists who so forcefully had Hillary's back. Unfortunately, there has been nothing but cricket sounds thus far, proverbial tumbleweeds if you will.

Where were those same women when that glass licking troglodyte, Larry Johnson, promoted a nonexistant tape of Michelle Obama saying "Whitey" that was supposed to sink Obama's candidacy? Where are all the passionate Op-Ed's defending Michelle from the goon squad at Fox News, bottom feeders spending millions of dollars a day trying to paint her as a militant hater of America who wants nothing more than to devour white babies? As phenomenally lame as they were, where was Mrs. Obama's sistren when both the Tennesee and Washington State Republican party produced those hamfistedly clumsy "Proud" ads? They were nowhere to be found. All we get from that miserable lot nowadays are misguided autopsies of Senator Clinton's campaign and how sexism was the sole reason that Senator Clinton is not the Democratic Nominee right now and not her campaigns incompetence and the stellar efforts of Team Obama. These are also the same women who have the audacity to openly wonder why Barack didn't do more to address the sexism directed at Hillary during their hotly contested Primary battle.(While she was dropping 3 AM ads, and prompting xenophobia no less)

Their telling silence when it comes to defending Michelle is deafening, and it is going to make it hard for me to reward them with my undivided attention the next time they are addressing substantive issues on my television screen. I'll be tempted to give them a spirited "Hell NO!" as if I was asked a pretty pedestrian question during a lackluster performance, and proceed to waive my middle finger in the air like I just don't care.