Caked Up
The influence of white respectability politics on Black cultural movements
Words by A.S.A.
Visuals by Helen Yu
When you hear the word “cake,” what’s the first thing that comes to mind? For me, it’s a slice of red velvet with cream cheese frosting. In today’s day and age, though, “cake” has developed a new connotation altogether—one associated almost entirely with “ass.”
Being “caked up” is a common phrase used to describe a particular, well-endowed body type (especially with the rise of the Brazilian butt lift, or BBL). And with discussions about ass, the topic inevitably turns to dancing—specifically, the act of shaking your ass, otherwise known as twerking.
What we know today as “twerking” originated in Côte D’Ivoire, West Africa as a form of dancing known as Mapouka. The general act of dancing by wiggling and bouncing your butt is very common to West African dancing—it’s not necessarily equivalent to the provocative, Westernized version that we’re used to seeing on our “For You” pages. Mapouka is seen as an expression of joy—it’s something you often see at wedding receptions and other ceremonies. Believe it or not, West African aunties know how to get down when they want to.
Although twerking (like countless other “trends”) originated from and is steeped in Black culture, it has been swiftly and predictably co-opted by… well, everyone. Don’t get me wrong, I understand why. It’s inexplicably, undeniably entertaining to turn on Megan Thee Stallion’s “Cocky AF” or “Jobs” by the City Girls and shake your ass in the mirror. (You’re welcome for the recommendations, by the way.)
To me, twerking is fundamentally an act of taking ownership of your body. Yes, I know how to isolate my hips and my ass. Yes, I look hot. Yes, this music is moving me of its own volition. And yes, I’m falling a little bit more in love with myself. With something this empowering, who wouldn’t want to participate in the celebration of their body?
The issue is not, therefore, with the mass adoption of the dance itself, but rather the optics and respectability politics that many Black people are still subject to. It is by no means a stretch to say that twerking is still considered “ghetto,” even, in many cases, by members of the Black community. Take, for example, Doja Cat, Megan Thee Stallion, Normani, and
Ciara dancing at a Dolce & Gabbana afterparty in August 2021. A video of them went viral (as it should… they killed it)—but with thousands of admiring comments also came a flood of vitriol. Some cringed at their audacity to get down and twerk at such a “fancy event,” while others questioned why Black people as a community continue to allow white respectability politics to rule their understanding of what is considered “appropriate” and “classy.”
This may seem far-fetched, but all of our social constructs surrounding professionalism, decorum, and propriety are inherently shaped by white supremacy. Something as trivial as twerking at a party actually has far-reaching implications for how we, as a society, view things that are undeniably “Black.” It’s the same insidious principle that permeates countless workforces: job applicants with traditional African and African-American sounding names are less likely to be hired, and natural hairstyles are considered “unkempt.”
Something as trivial as twerking at a party actually has far-reaching implications for how we, as a society, view things that are undeniably “Black.”
Lizzo (popstar and twerking aficionado) recently gave a TED Talk on her personal experiences with twerking. Among many insightful comments about twerking’s inception, she recalled the incident that I like to call MileyGate—Miley Cyrus’s indelible performance at the 2013 VMAs. For many non-Black people and media outlets, it seemed that this was their first introduction to this form of dancing. As Lizzo mentioned, Miley catapulted twerking into the mainstream, not only exposing it to subsequent misrepresentation and distortion, but allowing the media to utterly strip away the influence of Black women—the pioneers of the dance. It wasn’t until Miley’s performance that the Oxford English Dictionary decided to add “twerking” to their lexicon, despite the fact that both the word and the dance had already been around for ages. It’s also damning that Timothy and Theron Thomas, the co-songwriters of Miley’s “We Can’t Stop,” claimed that when providing inspiration for the song, Miley stated, “I want urban. I just want something that just feels Black.”
Since 2013, public perception of twerking has changed entirely. Thanks to the influence of performers like Lizzo, Nicki Minaj, Beyoncé, and the like, twerking has been adopted by a wider community and found an entirely new identity—one that now belongs primarily to TikTokers.
My own frenzied, quarantine-induced TikTok infatuation of 2020 was memorable for several reasons, one of which being my discovery of the infamous “throw it back” challenge. Since then, TikTok has spawned a host of other trends and challenges solely judging how well one can twerk—which, for the record, I’m all for! Seeing other people own their bodies and exert sexual freedom through dance is a win for all of us.
However, the same white respectability politics allow Addison Rae to build her career off of twerking challenges while Lizzo is crucified for twerking to her own song at a basketball game. And Chloë Bailey is criticized for an “overly sexualized” rendition of Nina Simone’s “Feeling Good.” And a group of white girls twerking is seen as a fun, “girls gone wild” type of sentiment while a group of Black girls twerking is perceived as ratchet, promiscuous, and inappropriate. In Lizzo’s infinitely wise words, “I’m not trying to gatekeep, but I’m definitely trying to let you know who built the damn gate.”
The next time you turn on your “bad bitch” Spotify playlist or step into a packed nightclub, remember who paved the way for you to be able to shake your ass in public. “The strippers … the video vixens … the church ladies who shout … the sex workers … [the] ancestors,” and all the Black women in between are—and will forever be—the pioneers, the blueprint, and the best to ever do it. Ass shaking for all!