Taking Ownership of Female Sexuality in Dirty Computer

Image credit: Two Earths, by Zoe Kalamaros

Aimée Burlamacchi

Read the Faculty Introduction.

Janelle Monáe’s 2018 Dirty Computer is what she calls an “Emotion Picture” consisting of a collection of music videos within an Afrofuturist setting, therefore combining film, music and science-fiction elements, creating an opportunity for a particularly layered exploration. The multifaceted nature of the media used in Dirty Computer, along with the multi-layered nature of the issues that Monáe approaches, provoke deeper analysis of what Monáe conveys in Dirty Computer as well as how she conveys it. Notably, Monáe’s Dirty Computer belongs to the rising genre of Afrofuturism, “a style of literature, music, art, etc. that combines science-fiction elements with ideas from the culture and history of Africa and African people” (Cambridge Dictionary).  In Dirty Computer, people are called “computers” and “dirty computers.” The latter refers to people who do not conform and who are sent to “The House of the New Dawn” to be cleaned with a gas called the “nevermind,” which causes people to forget their memories and experiences.

The setting of a dystopian future where people must be cleansed of “[their] dirt, and all the things that make [them] special” does create a risk of reductionism, but Monáe subverts such a risk by integrating elements from modern American society and pop culture to link her commentary back into reality (Monáe 22:45). By combining Afrofuturist elements with a dystopian setting as an allegory for the oppressive institutions involved, Monáe maintains a strong commentary on a number of issues in modern American society. Through analysis of this commentary, it is clear that Monáe uses a feminist approach to the presentation and discussion of female sexuality, characterised by her rejection of the male gaze, in favour of a more overt and aggressive expression of sexuality, which breaks stereotypical standards of the “tame” female sexual identity.

To begin, dystopia meets reality in the song “Screwed,”  where Monáe comments on both the current state of politics and social justice in the USA as well as the owning of female sexuality by playing on the lyrics “We’re so screwed[…] let’s get screwed” (16:28-17:05). Although the lyrics do not reflect this, it can be argued that the commentary relates primarily to the USA’s social and political situation. While the protagonists are running away from government drones, Monáe shows the audience real-life videos of bombings and wars, as well as the Statue of Liberty, effectively bringing the narrative into an American focus and away from the dystopian setting with this small integration of real media. Monáe’s lyrics imply that “we”  are so “screwed” due to the wars and injustices that the USA is involved in, but there is another more covert meaning in this.

In addition to “Screwed” implying the destructive implications of war, Monáe’s lyrics also express her sexual desire almost as a solution to these very injustices: “let’s get screwed” she sings, boldly and assertively, but not in a commanding manner. This declaration is almost an invitation, a solution to the previous “We’re so screwed.” This is further highlighted in the line “You’ve fucked the world up now, we’ll fuck it all back down” again playing on the slang meaning of “fucking” versus the literal meaning. Here, Monáe’s lyrics express to the audience that the world needs more sexual liberation and love, to overcome all the hate and catastrophe. Sex, used in slang in many forms to express something extremely wrong or bad, is given a new perspective: rather than representing oppression, sex is a path to finding one’s own power for change.

Furthermore, by using pronouns such as “we” in the last quote, Monáe creates a sense of unity with the audience and actively involves the listener, thus making her commentary more relatable. However, she also does not shy away from pointing fingers to those who are to blame. She does this with the intentional use of “you” in “you’ve fucked the world up now.” “You,” in this case, can be interpreted as the government, the institutions that uphold traditions meant to restrict individuality and freedom of expression. However, Monáe also points a more direct finger at the government later in the Emotion Picture. In the music video for the song “Pynk,” some characters are seen wearing underwear with the words “it grabs back” (Monáe 25:55). This is a very direct and obvious dig at former President Donald Trump’s infamous sexist quote regarding “grabbing [women] by the pussy”; this act of violation is a symbol of male power in the US trying that often uses sex to control and belittle women (“Access Hollywood”). Here too, Monáe manages to seamlessly sew commentary on the reality of the United States within the framework of her dystopian setting.

Once again, sexual openness and assertiveness are presented as a solution: Trump’s demeaning phrase, both sexually and in terms of power, is responded to with the aggressive assertion that women will grab (sex and power) back. In fact, throughout the emotion picture, power and sex are strongly interlinked, as Monáe states in “Screwed”: “Everything is sex, except sex, which is power, you know power is just sex, now ask yourself who’s screwing you” (Monáe 17:49-17:56). These powerful lyrics highlight the importance of women–especially minority women–claiming their sexuality as their own and reclaiming the power that the male-female power dynamics have taken from them by sexualising, objectifying, and “othering” women. Ultimately, sex is power, and Monáe tells us that both have been too long in the hands of men. Monáe further advocates for women’s sexual empowerment by rejecting traditional depictions of women in relation to sex. Traditionally, women’s sexual identity in media has been restricted to a few archetypes: two of these are the shy, private, understated attitude, and the femme fatale attitude presented through the male gaze. Laura Mulvey,  in her theory of the male gaze in film, states that often in media, women are the object of sexual desire rather than the subjects, as to cater to the pleasure of heterosexual men (809). Monáe makes it abundantly clear that her work rejects such archetypes of women, centering on women as the protagonists in her narrative.

This dichotomy between women as objects versus subjects becomes evident when comparing Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” music video, which has been widely criticised for female objectification, to Monáe’s video for “Screwed.” In Thicke’s video, women are sexualised in a way that makes them completely passive, while at the same time being presented as temptresses and playthings for the men. They look longingly into the camera and dance by shaking their hips while being backed against a wall, while Thicke sings “I tried to domesticate you, but you’re an animal, baby it’s in your nature” (Thicke 0:37-0:45). Here the audience sees women literally compared to animals and men trying to “domesticate them.” Beyond the problematic lyrics, throughout the video sex is used to belittle and control women: on various occasions, Thicke and Pharrel are seen holding a woman by her ponytail, a demeaning gesture somewhat reminiscent of a leash (Thicke 0:50). The various women are being observed by the male characters, and seem to put up a show for them while the male singers simply stand and dance.

Monáe’s representation of women’s sexuality shows completely different elements: all throughout Dirty Computer the predominantly female characters are seen interacting with each other and are arguably given personalities through their dynamic actions. More importantly, power is distributed equally between genders, as opposed to being presented as a sexual object for the pleasure of the male observer.  For example, one of the female characters holds a trumpet to her crotch mimicking a phallus extension to her body, a silly and sexual action that implies a more masculine energy, which would be seen as improper for a woman to express by traditional standards (Monáe 16:50). This boldness in reclaiming sexuality rejects concepts of  “impropriety.” This rejection is important because of the influence it has on a female audience that may think that being sexually explicit and bold is only acceptable for men. Rather than depicting a passive and shy woman looking at the camera and biting her lip like Emily Ratajkowsky in “Blurred Lines,” Monáe creates a different environment. In Dirty Picture, women are not just the observed, striving to please male ideals, but instead quite literally take their sexual identity into their own hands, as portrayed by the same aforementioned trumpet later being used as a camera to record Monáe and a man looking at each other longingly (17:39-17:52). A more literal signal of Monáe’s deliberate rejection of the male gaze is conveyed through costume: Monáe wears a shirt that reads “Subject, not object” obviously confronting Mulvey’s theory of the male gaze with a feminist perspective. These important elements, from costume to actions, subvert traditional depictions of women in music videos by giving female characters the role of the observer rather than the observed.

Another key difference is that in Monáe’s videos, sexual dynamics are not as reductive as the traditional male-female dichotomy. We see same-gender couples, and even what seems to be a polygamous relationship between Monáe, a female love interest, and a male love interest. In rejecting traditional ideals of female sexuality, Monáe also explores ideas of sexual and gender identities, reminding us that women’s sexuality is not as restricted and homogeneous as “Blurred Lines” depicts.

Monáe’s overt ownership of her sexuality, her rejection of the male gaze, and her encouragement to reflect on how sex and power are interrelated all encompass what a female perspective can do for Afrofuturism, and how the genre is evolving to include these issues. Jonita Davis highlights the importance of this new, fresh perspective, and the reason why it is so revolutionary in her article “How Black Women are Reshaping Afrofuturism” when she says: “Those inner lives and experiences of Black women are still largely uncharted for the entertainment public” (12). Having black women represented in media, and specifically in science-fiction, as strong, independent, powerful central characters is so important to so many black women who may be disappointed by the lack of representation in media and art. Positive representation can make real differences in both the way that a group is perceived by others and the way that people perceive themselves; women creators including female representation in Afrofuturism is a stepping stone in creating a more inclusive standard for both media and art.

Arguably, Dirty Computer may have even inspired and opened doors for Cardi B and Meghan Thee Stallion’s “WAP,” a very sexually explicit song that came out in 2020. In fact, a version of “WAP’s” iconic dance move, twerking while doing the splits, can be seen in 2018’s Dirty Computer (Monáe 31:28). Despite its popularity, WAP has been heavily criticised by many for being vulgar, including congressional candidates (Wood). These critiques from the public reflect a typical reaction to women being overt and bold about sex and their bodies in the same way that men are. On the other hand, those who support “WAP” in its entirety affirm its valuable representation of black women in a male-dominated industry (rap) publicly, who take their power back by unapologetically expressing ownership of their bodies and sexuality. That is the legacy and the importance of Dirty Computer, which seamlessly uses media to subvert expectations of black female sexuality, and creates a space and precedent for others, especially black female artists, to do the same.

Overall, Monáe’s work depicts women as central, independent characters as well as overtly sexual beings: “powerful with a little bit of tender,” as Monáe puts it in “Make Me Feel” (Monáe 20:09). Monáe tells us that women don’t have to fit into an antiquated archetype; women are multi-layered, and can be bold, sweet, sexual, and assertive at the same time. By being outspoken about sex and sexuality, Monáe rejects the male gaze and the sexist idea of a woman as a passive object to be observed. By doing so, Monáe’s Emotion Picture brings sexual power back into women’s hands. The representation of women as free to explore their sexual identities outside of societal standards has the power to impact people who simply have not been exposed to these kinds of messages in media and art. We can only hope that Dirty Computer will inspire more similar content of sex and body positivity for women, and that through such content, societal standards may be adjusted to a reality that centers the autonomy of women and takes ownership of female sexuality.

Works Cited

Abera, Tsion. “Blurred Lines, Not So Much: Double Standards At Play For Women In Music Videos.” Rewired News Group, 2013, https://rewirenewsgroup.com/article/2013/10/24/blurred-lines-not-so-much-double-standards-at-play-for-women-in-music-videos

“Afrofuturism.” Cambridge Dictionary, 2022. Web. https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/afrofuturism.

Benard, Akeia A. F. “Colonizing Black Female Bodies Within Patriarchal Capitalism: Feminist and Human Rights Perspectives.” Sexualization, Media, & Society, vol 2, no. 4, 2016. SAGE Publications, https://doi.org/10.1177/2374623816680622.

Davis, Jonita. “How Black Women Are Reshaping Afrofuturism.” Yes! Magazine, 2020, https://www.yesmagazine.org/social-justice/2020/04/24/how-black-women-are-reshaping-afrofuturism/.

Monáe, Janelle. “Dirty Computer.” Youtube, 2018, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jdH2Sy-BlNE&t=1093s. Accessed 9 Oct 2020.

Mulvey, L. “Visual Pleasure And Narrative Cinema.” Screen, vol 16, no. 3, 1975. Oxford University Press (OUP), https://doi.org/10.1093/screen/16.3.6. Accessed 6 Feb 2022.

Thicke, Robin. “Blurred Lines.” Youtube, 2013, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyDUC1LUXSU. Accessed 1st February 2022

Wood, Mikael. “Review: Cardi B And Megan Thee Stallion’s ‘WAP’ Is A Savage, Nasty, Sex-Positive Triumph.” Los Angeles Times, 2020, https://www.latimes.com/entertainment-arts/music/story/2020-08-07/cardi-b-megan-thee-stallion-wap-review.