40 The Nation. May 28, 2018
music is its unabashed sincerity. In a pop-
culture moment where honesty is as much an
earnest means of self-care as it is a commod-
ity—appearances are, one way or another,
always kept up—Cardi has the audacity to be
messily imperfect. It’s what makes her so en-
dearing. Her transparency creates room for
the portion of her fans whose stories resemble
hers to also feel a small bit of vindication.
On the buoyant “Best Life,” which gets a lift
from hip-hop’s favorite optimist, Chance the
Rapper, Cardi raps: “I never had a problem
showing y’all the real me / Hair when it’s
fucked up, crib when it’s filthy / Way-before-
the-deal me / Strip-to-pay-the-bills me / Be-
fore I fixed my teeth / Man, those comments
used to kill me.”
She has risen through rap’s ranks with
every part of herself out front: her past as
a stripper and reality-TV star, her ethnic
roots, her Bronx-hood upbringing. No
part of her life is off-limits for her own
creative expression, and she has thereby be-
come a beacon for all the brown and black
girls whose hardships are often considered
moral shortcomings and who have spent
their lives shape-shifting to meet impos-
sible standards.“I Like It,” which features an immediate-
ly recognizable sample of Pete Rodriguez’s
“I Like It Like That,” puts a spotlight on
her Latina heritage. The trapped-out salsa
beat provides the perfect backdrop, as Latin
pop stars J Balvin, who is Colombian, and
Bad Bunny, who is Puerto Rican, deliver
verses in Spanish. The display of pride only
adds to the many layers of being Cardi B.
In a recent GQ interview, she admitted
that her accent—English is her second
language—is one of her insecurities and
that she tries hard to suppress it. To many
listeners, though, her drawl, the way her
vowels elongate and her consonants cut
off, is a signature that gives her music more
character. And isn’t it often the case that the
things we consider flaws are the things that
others cherish most in us?
Elsewhere, her adoration for her fi-
ancé, the Migos rapper Offset, suffuses the
hook of the album’s second single, “Bartier
Cardi.” But some of Invasion’s best moments
come when Cardi is playing the role of the
woman scorned. With her sights fixed on
men who can’t ever seem to get their act to-
gether, she unleashes her most memorable
lines yet. “Leave his texts on read, leave
his balls on blue / Put it on airplane mode
so none of those calls come through,” she
declares on the ruthless “I Do.” The subject
of her ire doesn’t fare as well on the sear-
ing “Thru Your Phone.” But by her own
admission, Cardi is an “emotional gangsta,”
so the aggression finds balance in the vul-
nerability captured in “Be Careful,” which
samples Lauryn Hill’s “Ex Factor”: “You
even got me trippin’, you got me lookin’ in
the mirror different / Thinkin’ I’m flawed
because you inconsistent.”
Two weekends after Invasion’s release,
Cardi graced the Coachella stage, dressed
in all white and wearing her pregnancy
proudly. Like a reminder to those observ-
ers who still speak of her as a flash in the
pan—and a middle finger to those who have
sought to shame her—images from her past
flashed across the screen behind her: pho-
tos from her dancing days, old Instagram
posts, clips from Love & Hip Hop. Taking it
a step further, acrobatic pole dancers swung
themselves around as she ran through most
of her album. (Imagine the breath control it
takes to rap a full set in the desert heat while
pregnant—to say nothing of dropping it low
and twerking.) It felt like the big red bow on
a career that has only been propelled by the
fuel of naysayers. As Cardi raps on “I Do,”
the album’s final song, “They said by now
that I’ll be finished—hard to tell / My little
15 minutes lasting long as hell, huh?” Q