While Rihanna’s highly controversial music video for the song ‘Bitch Better Have My Money’ has notoriously attracted allegations of misogyny, it is definitely more appropriate to read it as a postfeminist text. Throughout the music video Rihanna embodies the characteristics of postfeminism as defined by feminist and academic Jess Butler, whilst taking an intersectional approach in order to overcome “the ongoing tendency among ‘mainstream’ feminists to ignore the experiences of women of color—a legacy that…postfeminism carries on” (Butler).
The postfeminist nature of the music video, while inherent in the lyrics of the song which “promotes consumerism and the commodification of difference” (Butler), is enhanced by the basic narrative of Rihanna being a self sufficient woman on a quest to get back her money.
While in the video Rihanna steps up her already impressive style (I mean that look on the boat is somethin’ else) and finally presents the ultimate definition of Squad Goals (here’s looking at you Taylor), what is truly astounding about the video is the way Rihanna transcends the roles typically assigned to women (especially those of colour) in music videos through the amount of agency she performs.
If “postfeminism draws on a vocabulary of individual choice and empowerment” which “therefore requires individuals to be increasingly self-reliant and self-governing” (Butler), the way in which Rihanna situates herself within the neoliberal framework in BBHMM becomes clear. The mere fact that the video was directed by Rihanna herself signifies the self-control Rihanna as a figure enacts over her artistry and persona.
The plot of the music video completely back these ideas, particularly in Rihanna’s representation as a self made women looking to financially better herself. With BBHMM’s staging of a woman in complete control of her decisions independent of any male intervention, it works against innate understandings of women’s roles in society and “emphasises individualism, choice, and empowerment as the primary routes to women’s independence and freedom” (Butler).
Yet Rihanna’s agency moves beyond her ability of self transformation and extends to the way she presents her sexuality. While the visualisation of female sexuality is by no means an innovative inclusion in terms of music videos, the intent of Rihanna’s sexuality is what sets BBHMM apart from the typical musical video. You only need to watch the scene in the pool to see how Rihanna presents her body as not merely an object designed for male consumption but a vehicle for her to exploit the police officer’s male vulnerability, once again pushing the boundaries of female gendered representations.
This once again positions BBHMM as a postfeminist text in the way it exhibits characteristics through displaying Rihanna as a woman who “defines femininity as a bodily property and… marks a shift from sexual objectification to sexual subjectification” (Butler).
To say feminism is no longer relevant would be incredibly dismissive to the injustices continuously faced by women in today’s society, especially in circles of queer women or those of colour. However through BBHMM Rihanna presents a framework of an idealised state of postfeminism which can be seen as a hopeful future for women of all races and classes.