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Dear T-Pain, Lil’ Wayne, Akon and any of you other rappers stuck in this lyric rut,
Please stop singing about strippers already.
Seriously.
I’m not a prude and I don’t care what kind of places you frequent in your free time, but I am the mother of two teenage girls who like your music and frankly I’m about to kick you out of my house.
I don’t have anything against strippers, per se, but let’s face it, we don’t need a generation of girls growing up with the glorified belief that being a stripper is as sexy as, oh I don’t know, being a scientist or something.
It’s hard to be a parent these days. The world is bombarding my girls with messages that I’m increasingly unable to filter out. They leave the house and turn the radio on and there you are, rapping about some stripper taking your money and being super awesome.
And it’s not just one of you, it’s all of you for some bizarre reason. You can’t swing a stick, or, er, a pole, at a music chart right now and not hit a song that talks about strippers, so what gives?
I’m doing my best to see that my daughters grow up to be strong, successful and self-sufficient, but some days they like you more than me, so I’d appreciate a little help.
Think about it, wouldn’t it be awesome to think that pretty girl you’re singing about drove up in an Escalade because she’s a bank president? I’d put headphones filled with your music on my girls while they were sleeping if that was the case.
But right now I’m avoiding you. I’m telling my daughters you are kind of dumb to make stripping sound so glamorous when the fact is it’s a pretty hard life. I’m telling them you don’t look for enough in a woman and that they can do better.
Why do we have to work against each other this way? I used to even think some of your stuff was not too terrible, fun to dance around the kitchen to even.
But now your lyrics are setting a bar for my girls so low they could shuffle over it, a bar that looks frighteningly like a stripper pole, and I can’t let you do it.
You know how much the kids love you. Think about the message your’re sending out. Think about if it was your daughter. After all, we both want the same proud successful girls out in the world don’t we? Don’t we?
We need to work together to create a new sexy, guys, one that celebrates the amazing things my girls could do someday that don’t include a pole. Tell them you’ll still like them if they are super smart. Tell them your dream girl has a doctoral degree. Tell girls that they are worth far more than the shape of their body and how many clothes they will peel off.
Tell them or I will. Actually, I’ll be telling them anyway, but I’d respect you a lot more if you did the same. And I’d let you back in the house, except for while my girls are studying, that is, because we don’t have music on during homework time even if you like pretty bank presidents in Escalades.
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