[This piece was written for the 15th Anniversary of Erykah Badu’s iconic Mama’s Gun. You can find the original here.]

Fifteen years ago, I borrowed my mother’s copy of Mama’s Gun. The over-50 crowd may not have been Ms. Badu’s assumed demographic, but then again, “Bumpy’s Lament” was just as much hers as it was mine–flipped, remixed, and repurposed as “Bag Lady.” Music is music that way, I reckon.

Reflecting on the album, this should come as no surprise. Mama’s Gun engages both analog and soul but finds its temperament in Hip-Hop. It’s a modern throwback minus all the cliches. It’s the vehicle through which I can explain the genius of Jay Dee and she in turn can properly educate me on the importance of Roy Ayers.

On this album, we found Ms. Badu playing many roles. Having lived quite a bit between this and her debut, she reintroduced herself with a stunning maturity, capturing rebellion (“Cleva”), consciousness (“A.D. 2000”), and a remarkable swagger (“Booty”) with a pen game that would make your favorite rapper blush.

For me, however, I keep going back to “Green Eyes.” The commanding three-piece suite follows the trajectory of love lost and the immediate thereafter. We smile through the discomfort of our newfound reality, pretending their new, “little friend” doesn’t bother us. With a hollowed strength etched in bullshit, we loudly proclaim our acceptance of the situation.

“I don’t care! I swear! I’m too through with you…”

Now, at this point, it’s no longer clear whether we’re trying to convince our past lover or ourselves, but Lord knows we try. Somewhere along the way, we begin questioning why we even ended things in the first place.

“But I don’t love you anymore… Yes, I do, I think… Loving you is wrong, baby….”

The most prolific author of fairy tales is Nostalgia. So, with good reason, you have doubt. Is it real? Is it love? Who knows? But none of that matters because the damage has already been done. We’re conflicted and falling fast. Vulnerability and Desperation become our two biggest cheerleaders, pushing us further towards the goal line of our greatest Fears. It is in these habits and contradictions that Ms. Badu captures our shared humanity. When it comes to love, we’re all a little fucked up.

Today, we celebrate that. Some will reinterpret her work and others will simply enjoy it for yet another time. Perhaps, Ms. Badu’s greatest gift is the singular message that emanates throughout this entire project–do you in the way only you can. Sometimes that looks like insecurity and pain, sometimes bravado and jokes. It can mean many things, but through it all, do that shit boldly.

So, with that in mind, I decided to flip Roy Lichtenstein’s 1964 piece “Ohhh…Alright…” into something more Baduish.

Borrowing Mama’s Gun from my mother was one of the greatest decisions I’ve ever made. Queens recognize Queens and today I’m thankful for both.

“Keep in mind that I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my shit.” — Sara Bellum