Body Capital: How Twerking Shapes The Sound Of Southern Rap
This essay is part of The South Got Something To Say: A Celebration Of Southern Rap, NPR Music's canon of the best songs, albums and mixtapes by Southern rappers. The project — created by a team of Southern critics, scholars and writers and led by Briana Younger — is an enthusiastic celebration that recenters the South as a creative center in hip-hop and acknowledges the region's wide-ranging contributions to the genre.
I grew up twerking in my room, at the skating rink, in a circle in the street and basically at any gathering where young people were alone with bass and new bodies. When I recently asked my 17-year-old about her twerk anthems, she sent over Zed Zilla and Jucee Froot's "," which calls up by Splack Pack, and Shardaysa Jones' "," warning me that they may be too much for me. In response, I played for her some of my girlhood favorites: Uncle Luke's "," "," the femme reply to DJ Jimi's "Where They At" and 2 Live Crew's "." I have subjected her to my twerking since she was born, but these staples, or the idea of me dancing to them in some cases when I was younger than she is now, made her conjure
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