“We want to say thank you. Jermaine saw the talent that a lot of people didn’t. They didn’t want to give us a chance,” announced Tamika Scott, one fourth of R&B girl group, Xscape.

Producer Jermaine Dupri had just exited the stage having rapped his verse in house party mainstay, “Just Kickin' It” during the May 8 Verzuz performance that celebrated 90s legendary, powerhouse groups Xscape and SWV. 

“Jermaine looked past what we looked like back then, and Jermaine gave us the deal,” continued the baby-faced crooner, Scott. 

For those aware of 90s music lore, it was an obvious callback to Xscape’s early mistreatment in the industry motivated by how their appearance was received in a male dominated genre. Rap deity Biggie famously went so far as to randomly bad-mouth their looks in a song. Wallace would later apologize shortly before his death.

To know that these insanely talented, successful and obviously gorgeous women still held space for the unfair (and untrue) ridicule they experienced as girls was surreal and humbling. Especially, since the truth is that they were always beautiful. 

I couldn’t help but wonder how many women are still holding space for that little girl who was told that she wasn’t pretty enough. 

I was first made aware that I wasn’t living up to pretty girl standards by a fellow classmate around first grade. It was picture day and, in the fashion of traditional Black mamas everywhere for a special occasion, my hair had been hot combed straight. A switch-up from the pigtails I regularly sported. I also had on an uncomfortable dress which I absolutely detested. A tomboy by nature, had I not been self-conscious already, my discomfort was exacerbated when a boy came up and started staring at me.

"What?” I asked.

“Why don’t you always look like this?” he said.

“Like what?” I asked again, annoyed.

“Today you look pretty. You don’t always look like this,” he concluded.

I was young but I wasn’t stupid.

By deductive reasoning, if on that day I looked pretty, but usually I didn’t, then usually I must be ugly? I didn’t respond and thought about it. If to be pretty meant that I always had to wear my Sunday’s best and to have my hair straightened, then it would be an impossibility for me to be pretty by those measurements even if I wanted to (which I didn’t). That level of feminineness was reserved for important events. Little girls didn’t need to keep their hair down, I thought. Plus, I wasn’t about to take advice from someone I could smoke in the 40-yard dash. 

That said, I was fortunate enough to not take much stock in the particular comment. It wouldn’t be the first time I was questioned for not appropriately performing “attractive femininity” while young. But the experience opened my eyes to my other girl classmates who silently navigated jabs about their appearance, often. The ones who looked forward like they didn’t hear them. 

This anecdote highlights the hypocritical, duality Black girls are reared in.

They are expected to be pretty but not “grown.” Both feminine and distinctly gendered but also invisible. Black girls are overwhelming targets of adultification, being seen as adults instead of children, according to Georgetown Law’s Center on Poverty and Inequality. Even Blue Ivy Carter, one of the most famous and wealthy child stars in the world, hasn't been spared criticisms for simply being a little girl with little girl hair. In 2014, internet commentators, agitated that the 2-year-old's hair was not laid for the gods, cruelly began an online petition to "comb her hair." Per usual, the Carters got the last laugh when Blue Ivy was seen years later with a healthy, thick natural unbothered mane of curls. 

The mixed signals on how Black girls should look and act fall squarely in-line with the treatment of the "Who Can I Run To?" singers. Xscape had been performing since they were children, three of the members were minors when they were signed, and the oldest member was 21 even during Biggie’s sexually-laced diss track. What exactly had people been saying to and about the young women before that? 

 

It would be negligent not to note the colorist and texturist implications behind the criticisms waged at their looks. Of the four women that comprise Xscape, three are deeply melanated.  In a colorist, sexist environment, how much grace could be expected to extend to a group of brown women not overtly playing up their beauty by European standards? Even still, history tells us even if they had, there would still be no guarantee of respect. In 2019, newly crowned Miss Universe, Zozibini Tunzi, detailed the colorist comments she had endured after her epic win.

Last year, a viral video caught the candid moment a beautiful brown girl vocalized her troubling self-image and the inspiring loctician who breathed life into her. An Atlanta hair stylist named Shabria, was re-twisting 4-year-old Ariyonna's locs, when the deep dimpled cutie turned to the camera and said, "I'm so ugly," as Blavity previously reported. Shabira was visibly shaken and went into overdrive affirming the little girl. Outpourings from around the web, including celebrities, sent heartfelt messages uplifting Ariyonna and girls everywhere. 

Last Saturday's Verzuz performance was an empowering testament to the little girls, now women, who didn’t fit neatly in the box other’s labeled for them. More importantly, it showed how the counter to harsh attacks on Black girls will always be safe and affirming spaces for women. Through the banter and showmanship of both groups whose legacy has not waned over three decades, we saw compliments, adoration, respect and uplifting love. (We also saw laid faces, hair, and skin that immediately made me question my nighttime routine.) 

It’s impossible to know everything Xscape heard in their fight to share their gift with us, but seeing how gracefully they came out of it “feels so good” to know it didn’t stop them. 

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