The sexual revolution of the 1960s grew louder in the next decade. Pop culture in the 1970s became sexier, signified by one of the biggest songs of 1973 being Marvin Gaye’s timeless ode to procreation ‘Let’s Get It On’. And that very same year saw the release of the brilliant self-titled debut album by raunchy funk-queen Betty Davis. While the stigma around sex appeared to be in decline, the burial of Davis’ album showed that some expressions of sexual desire weren’t welcome, especially those as revolutionary as hers.
Like many celebrity women of the ’70s, Davis was dismissed by men. Born Betty Mabry, Davis is mostly known for her short-lived marriage to jazz legend Miles Davis. She introduced him to new fashions and new sounds, inspiring the 1970 album that revived his waning career, Bitches Brew (the title was her idea).
Unfortunately, their relationship was plagued by Miles’ jealousy and violent temper, culminating in him divorcing her after a year of marriage. She barely registered in Davis’ 1990 autobiography, praising her as “a free spirit” and “talented as a motherfucker”, but dismissed her as a “high-class groupie”. Upon escaping Miles’ tyranny, she explored her sexuality and created her own unique sound.
Through her lyrics, Davis strongly asserts her sexuality and fights against objectification.
Betty Davis’ self-titled debut is a colossal slab of erotically-charged funk. Her vocals are passionate, raw and untamed, and they practically overpower professional backing-singers and future stars The Pointer Sisters and Sylvester on ‘Game Is My Middle Name’. But her lyrics reveal progressive insights into sexuality and male-and-female relations that, at the time, shocked listeners.
While songs like ‘Let’s Get It On’ express the virtues of free love, the male-dominated point-of-view of the time expected women to be faithful while men continued their sexual conquests. When women did this, they were accused of cruelty and reducing their significant-other to tears, as Gaye did in ‘I Heard It Through The Grapevine’.
Davis explored this double-standard on ‘Your Man My Man’, where rather than confronting a romantic rival she suggests they share this lothario and use him like the sexual object like he does to them. After all, as she sings, “It’s all the same”.
Through her lyrics, Davis strongly asserts her sexuality and fights against objectification. As she sings on ‘If I’m In Luck I Might Get Picked Up’, even though she’s “wiggling my fanny” it doesn’t give anyone the right to harass her. “This is my night out,” she defiantly sings, “So all you lady haters don’t be cruel to me”; significantly contrasting her lyrics to hits like ‘He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)’ by The Crystals.
Radio stations that played her sexually explicit music were picketed by religious groups, with one receiving a bomb threat.
Her strongest ‘no-means-no’ statement is ‘Anti Love Song’, where she tells a past lover, “No, I don’t want to love you because I know how you are,” revealing a toxicity in the relationship. “I know how you like to be in charge, but with me you know you couldn’t control me,” she later sings, her old flame unable to cope with her boldness. It’s one of the few songs she refrains from screaming, instead calmly purring and displaying complete control over the situation.
Betty Davis was well-aware of how much society feared a strong black woman, paying tribute to one on ‘Steppin’ In Her I. Miller Shoes’, dedicated to the late Devon Wilson. Wilson was Hendrix’ girlfriend and muse, inspiring songs “some sad, some sweet, some said were very mean”. Unfortunately, as Davis recounts in the song, “she was used and abused by many men”. It was a fate Davis suffered through her own career.
Radio stations that played her sexually explicit music were picketed by religious groups, with one receiving a bomb threat. Patrons walked out of her raucous live shows; they were so famously wild that KISS reneged her support slot, fearing she’d steal the show. “I’m very aggressive on stage, and men usually don’t like aggressive women,” she told Jet Magazine. “They usually like submissive women, or women who pretend to be submissive.”
The one that hurt most was the National Association for the Advancement of Coloured People (NAACP), who suggested she was a disgrace to her race for ingraining prejudices about ‘loose black women’; “I’m coloured and they’re trying to stop my advancement,” she retorted.
Despite the backlash, Davis continued recording and performing, including releasing a third on major label Island Records. After that album’s failure, Island demanded she cover her skin and relinquish control to other producers and writers. Dismayed, she walked away and disappeared, refusing to perform again.
In her absence, Davis has inspired the next generation. Reissues of her albums and documentaries have seen her reappraised. Artists like Peaches and Joi have praised Davis’ influence, and Prince said of her music, “This is what we aim for”. Betty Davis’ sexual politics were too much for the ’70s, but the world has finally caught up.
