How Queen Latifah’s Debut Album Sparked Joy at a Time When Everything Burned (ZORA)
It was 1989 and I was eight years old when I arrived at the colossal red-brick building in Brooklyn where Mama, Daddy, and I lived. After hustling through a cracked cement courtyard and passing a thick metal door, I ran through the marbled lobby, bounded up the stairwell two steps at a time, and landed in front of apartment 2H. I pushed the key that swung from a snaked lanyard around my neck into the lock. I entered our apartment, rubbed Twilight’s tabby spine, and turned on the TV. After a few clicks at the remote, the cable box switched stations. Yo! MTV Raps was on.
A woman appeared on screen rocking black threads with golden cuffs and a tribal sash to match her shoulder’s adornments. She ambled through a dusty industrial park beneath a large, rusted wrought iron sculpture. Flanked by two other women uniformed in Kente blazers and black shorts, the woman walked straight-backed with measured steps. Juxtaposed against her formidable disposition and the dreary setting was a buoyant beat that bumped beneath smooth feminine vocals: “Ooooh, ladies first. Ladies first. Ooooh, ladies first. Ladies first.”
