What Minaj v Swift spat tells us about race and feminism debate

Such is the noise level generated by the row between ubiquitous pop star Taylor Swift and rapper Nicki Minaj that it’s difficult to understand what kicked it off in the first place. From the outside, it seemed like an inconsequential spat involving a pair of airbrushed and ritually-indulged celebrities. Why should any serious person care?

However, numerous commentators on both social and mainstream media have insisted that the row raises important issues about feminism, power and race. Does it really?

It all started when Minaj was miffed that the video for her song, Anaconda, received only two VMA (video music awards) nominations, missing out on higher-status categories.

“If I was a different ‘kind’ of artist, Anaconda would be nominated for best choreo and vid of the year as well,” she tweeted, adding “when the ‘other’ girls drop a video that breaks records and impacts culture they get that nomination.”

More gripes at being unfairly excluded followed, concluding with the observation that “if your video celebrates women with very slim bodies, you will be nominated for vid of the year.”

Minaj’s point seemed to be that if you were thin and white, you’d be up there, in with a shot at the prize. Curvy and black? Maybe not.

Enter Taylor Swift (who happens to be both thin and white), interpreting Minaj’s words as a very personal attack on her, with the kind of automatic narcissism that’s frequently the mark of a global superstar. “I’ve done nothing but love & support you,” she huffed. “It’s unlike you to pit women against each other. Maybe one of the men took your slot.”

Minaj responded that she was doing no such thing, and Swift issued a patronising invitation for Minaj to join her on stage if she won. Then singer Katy Perry, not to be outdone in the pop queen-bee stakes, took a side-swipe at Swift, and Kim Kardashian – of course – also stumbled irresistibly into the fray.

What are we supposed to make of it all? Well, in being so quick to take offence, Taylor Swift has widely been deemed guilty of “blinding white privilege” and “faux-feminism”. The consensus seems to be that by accusing Minaj of unsisterly behaviour instead of acknowledging the legitimacy of her complaint, Swift was thoughtlessly trading on a system that benefits people like her, to the detriment of people like Minaj.

I'm perfectly prepared to believe that this is true. The music industry is well known to have all kinds of undeclared hang-ups around the issue of race, and Minaj may well be correct in her suspicion that she was overlooked because her face – or perhaps her satirical "twerking" on the Anaconda video – didn't fit.

I can imagine that indulged princesses like Swift float heedlessly above the perniciously subtle (as well as not-so-subtle) currents of race inequality in their business, never realising the full extent of their own privilege and entitlement.

But is anyone surprised? Taylor Swift is 25. She is a freakishly wealthy pop star. She says sweet, trite things like: “People haven’t always been there for me but music always has.” I expect Tay Tay – as her adoring fans call her – wouldn’t claim to be a great political thinker. Her ignorance is trivial, not news-worthy. She deserves to be neither feted nor demonised, but left to get on with singing the blandly populist songs that the world so loves.

And it’s not as though Minaj is an unproblematic feminist heroine either. She may be celebrated for parodying objectified female sexuality in her videos (though you could argue that the butt-pumping parody comes pretty close to replicating – or even exceeding – the reality, only now it’s in the acceptable name of female empowerment), but she also raps about “skinny bitches” and “stupid hoe”.

If this sorry episode teaches us anything, it’s that the public conversation around the complex intersections between feminism and race has become utterly infantilised and intellectually debased.

The rift between Taylor Swift and Nicki Minaj – now concluded by Swift’s apology, admitting that she “missed the point … misunderstood, then misspoke” – is not a debate, it’s a distraction. A simplistic spat between two young women, who occupy varying degrees of privilege, over who trumps the other at a music awards ceremony.

There is something seriously awry when we look to pop singers and rappers for political or moral leadership. You know, I think I was right the first time. Who cares?