“If you say daddy’s home, daddy’s home for me / And I know you’ve been waiting for this love in your day / You know your daddy’s home (daddy’s home), and it’s time to play (so it’s time to play) / So you ain’t got to give my loving away / So all my ladies say hey hey hey daddy / Hey hey hey daddy” –Usher, “Hey Daddy (Daddy’s Home)” Currently #2 on Billboard’s Hip-Hop and R&B chart, it’s practically a given that I will hear the second single from Usher’s new album
“Raymond vs. Raymond” over and over and over again on the radio. What bothers me is that while the tune is so catchy, I’m distracted by the lyrics, which when examined, are slightly disturbing. If I’m to be entirely honest, the song’s lyrics actually gross me out. There’s nothing that I find arousing or sexy about calling the object of my affection “daddy.” I know, I know–most people use the pet name as whimsically as “babe” or “sweetheart,” but because this term of endearment is particularly sacred to me (I have the world’s best father) it just seems perverse. This isn’t a dig solely at Usher–last year, tongue-tying rapper Twista’s hit single “Wetter” took the use of the term “daddy” to another level. Featuring an unknown female singing, in the most salacious way possible, “I’m calling you daddy, daddy, will you be my daddy? C’mon and make it rain on me.” Seriously? Robin Thicke jumped on the bandwagon in December when his album “Sex Therapy” dropped, including the Nicki Minaj assisted track “Shaking It For Daddy.” I am beginning to feel inundated with music that’s making it acceptable to sexualize the word daddy. I feel the title “daddy” should be reserved for a responsible father who has done his job as man in raising his child. Without enough actual “daddy’s” in our community, you would think they could at least claim this small token of their kids’ appreciation. Is the term “daddy” being extended to men by their female partners who are perhaps subconsciously attempting to fill that father-figure role they never had growing up? A few nights back, I was playing billiards on a first date and we decided it would be flirtatious to up the stakes and make bets for the winner. “If I win, at some point I get my toes painted and feet rubbed,” I said. His response, “And if I win you’ll have to call me ‘Daddy’ for the rest of the week.” While in my mind I screamed, “Check please!” I decided to play out the game, knowing I had to win. After I did just that, (8 ball, corner pocket) I revisited his request to see if that was something he coyly requested because it was in fact a relationship requirement. “I mean it’s no biggie, but when I’m in a relationship I would prefer it be ‘daddy’ over ‘honey’ or ‘bay’, it… just makes a man feel good,” he chuckled. Gag! He wouldn’t understand that the man I call “daddy” showers me with unconditional love, not dependent on what I do or don’t do. Whether or not the word stroked his ego because of the implication of power, I just knew it was a request I could not fulfill, whether in jest or seriously involved. In the big scheme of things, it’s all relative. The sexual world is filled with caliginous psycho-sexual quirks and kinks, and one may seem a bigger deal to some than others. Personally, without hesitancy, if a man ever asks me, “Who’s your daddy?” I will be compelled to shut the situation down fairly quickly, answering: Willie Carroll.
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