It was during that time that I first became aware of music and the racial politics of popular culture. As the 1980’s saw many spheres of society slowly and stubbornly accommodate racial integration mandates, culture remained segregated. Black R&B and soul music remained largely in a world unto itself.
In reflecting on the recent passing of soul songstress Teena Marie, or “Lady T.” as she was known, I recall what it meant to cross the cultural color line back then. In the 1980’s MTV refused to play black music. R&B and soul artists only appeared on black radio. Before hip-hop became all anyone knew about black music, R&B and soul music was confined to a black media ghetto largely invisible to the cultural mainstream.
Although Michael Jackson, Prince and Whitney Houston greatly expanded the mainstream appeal of black music in the 1980’s, successful black artists like Freddie Jackson and Alexander O’Neal never crossed over. Melissa Morgan or Cherelle never developed significant white followings. Only black folks were familiar with Luther’s signature “Bad Boy Having a Party” call: “Oh yeah…well alright!”
My white schoolmates likely never heard these and other black R&B and soul artists. While I knew all about Madonna and Kiss, they knew nothing about Levert. My cultural double consciousness was complicated, however, by Teena Marie: a white female musician and vocalist who became a force in soul music and on black radio.
While her career began in the late 1970’s and continued up until her untimely death last week, I remember Teena Marie as one of the queens of 1980’s “quiet storm” radio. Anyone who grew up listening to black radio knows about the quiet storm: a late night broadcast of soft, sweet, sometimes gritty and often adult romantic soul music.
That’s where I first remember hearing Lady T. I often went to bed listening to songs like “Fire and Desire,” her incomparable duet with R&B and funk legend Rick James. I eventually knew all the words to other hits such as “Déjà Vu,” “Out On a Limb,” and “Portuguese Love.”
Most of her fans were unaware of her race until they saw her picture. To some she was essentially “passing” for black – an unusual twist on a familiar experience in black life. Culturally “passing” is typically thought to involve moving from the marginal to the mainstream, but never the other way around.
There’s nothing to suggest that Teena Marie ever intentionally tried to “pass” for black. Much to the contrary, whenever asked about race she displayed a keen awareness of the racial politics bubbling right under the surface of her appeal.
But her presence on 1980’s black radio was indeed a very curious anomaly. Her talent and career challenged very common notions of racial and cultural essentialism – the belief that all members of a group share a set of traits specific to their group identity. As a child I uncritically subscribed to such thinking and often wondered how a white woman could be so familiar with soul music. Where did she learn the phrasing, cadence and intonation of black speak? How did she master the improvisational nuances of a soulful vocal run or scat?
Most of all, why was she so comfortable pursuing a career rooted in the separate and insular black cultural market when she obviously could have been a successful mainstream artist?
In hindsight maybe she couldn’t have enjoyed mainstream success singing like she did. She wasn’t merely imitating other soul artists – her soul was genuine. It seemed natural for her. Lady T. wasn’t just another “blue-eyed soul” act; she was a soul musician and singer who just happened to be white.
She didn’t “pass” in some crude, patronizing, imitation-of-blackness way. Teena Marie “passed” in the sense that she was intimately adopted by black audiences at a time when the cultural color line was of considerable symbolic and material importance. They connected with her sincere love and mastery of soul music and celebrated her considerable talents without qualification.
The racial politics of popular culture have evolved significantly since the 1980’s, and so have my thoughts on cultural essentialism. Artists like Jon B. or Robin Thicke can appear on the quiet storm all night without my ever thinking about their race. But I remember hearing Teena Marie on 1980’s black radio. She challenged my understanding of race and what constituted soul music at a time when I struggled with the contradictions of racial integration.
In that way she’s a trailblazer. Her music and her example will be sorely missed.
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I have to admit that I find it unnerving that in so many media sources Teena Marie is being coined the “Ivory Queen of Soul” amongst other labels. Her talent was uncompromised as was her ability to win the hearts of any lover of R&B / Soul.
It bothers me that we are constantly inundated with connotations that created a wider divide between black and white, especially when it comes to a woman who gives credit to her inspiration – be they poets or musicians.
In your words, she was a true trailblazer and deserves more respect than to be considered a “second rate” version of someone else.
“But her presence on 1980’s black radio was indeed a very curious anomaly. Her talent and career challenged very common notions of racial and cultural essentialism – the belief that all members of a group share a set of traits specific to their group identity.” To me, this is the most significant portion of this essay because while it highlights Teena Marie’s exceptional talent it confirms some stereotypical views of how we see race and culture as it relates to talent. Her being an anomaly means that it is a rare occasion that a white singer will sing in a way that resonates with a largely black audience. While we act as if race is an afterthought, we apply a tag on a white artist who appeals to a black audience to this day ie; Robin Thicke. Teena’s genius was in the unique set of circumstances that made her a celebrity and endeared her to so many black and white fans, as well as in her voice, and that is nothing that we (or she) have to apologize for.
beautifully written, my Brotha! my thoughts to your pen (or keyboard – lol).
while i was reading every line, i kept nodding my head in agreement. i uttered the internal “hmmmms” as i read your description of the soulfulness she possessed, thinking back on her sound and how comfortable she was in her own vocal prowess. how DID she embrace that? at what point in her life did she manage to embody those “nuances,” cadence, and rifts? her voice would soar and belt and twist and turn, weave in and out of angst, longing, romance, sorrow, joy, and affirmation. i continued reading and nodding and ‘hmmm”-ing, like when she hit that note – THAT note – in “cassanova brown” that made you jump or at the point when “i need your lovin” made a key change and took us higher on her hot air balloon ride or when “deja vu” took us to chuuuuuuuch – whether or not you ever attended one.
i remember.
i remember “square biz” and how i spent days after school practicing her “rap.” this white girl spoke about “collard greens” AND “hot wa-ter corn-BREAD” and there was no doubt that the two side dishes belonged together – like she and R&B. the rap revealed the “renaissance woman” who loved bach, shakespeare, giovanni, spirituals, and rock. the rap had honesty, sincerity, and self-indulgent, which further solidified her R&B status.
it was and is an official JAM.
as i got older, i not only appreciated her voice, but her musicianship and storytelling.
she was a lady about her music who was about the lady…
well, i will not write a blog in response to yours (too late? lol). i just want to say “thank you” for expressing MY thoughts about lady t. thank you for taking the time to blog about her with such intimacy. for me, her race took a back seat to her contributions to black radio and black music. funk, soul, R&B – that’s lady t. she was black music that happened to be white. thank you for the expression and understanding the contradiction AND correlation between the two.
indeed, we embraced her. indeed, we will miss her. but thankful for the legacy of music she left for us to enjoy.
peace.
I really enjoyed how you caught the essence of what Teena Marie stood for and how she became the icon we know her to be. I think she was extremely underrated and believe it or not, really concerned me as if she were my sister. Weird, huh? Thanks for sharing. Teena is true trailblazer and more of an influence for me than anybody will ever know. Thanks again Christopher. Well written, my friend…
I appreciate your musing here! When you mentioned the Quiet Storm, I had some nice musical flashbacks.
I went to sleep every night with the radio on back then. That is simply not possible these days. No, not at all!
This was absolutely beautiful. I enjoyed reading it and sharing it. Thank you.