Erykah Badu and Jill Scott’s #Verzuz Battle is Yet Another Addition to Black Women's Cultural Motif of Saviorhood

From the demise of our beloved stars like Kobe Bryant and Pop Smoke to a mysteriously fatal virus that has somehow escaped the MAIN target in office, 2020 is shaping up to be 365 days of utter mayhem. These last five months have been the most unsettling year in most of our lives. Millions of Americans have been forced into their homes with no source of income and no clear end date. Processing this pandemic has been a rollercoaster.

Like the resilient survivors we are, Black people chose to combat catastrophe by seeking shelter in the corners of life we thrive in: community, laughter, and culture. Timbaland and Swizz Beats’ Verzuz series is a combination of all three. Hundreds of thousands of Black men, women, and children gather on Instagram live in hopes for a piece of normality. Cult classics and hidden gems re-emerged by a healthy battle between Hip-Hop and R&B’s most prominent songwriters, producers, and artists: Swizz Beats v Timbaland, Hit-Boy v Boi-1da, The Dream v Sean Garrett, Ne-Yo v Johnta Austin, French Montana v Tory Lanez, Mannie Fresh v Scott Storch, Ryan Tedder v Benny Blanco, T-Pain v Lil Jon, Dj Premier v RZA, and Babyface v Teddy Riley. Their catalogues combined include hits from Beyoncé, Rihanna, Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, Jay-Z, Kanye West, and Lil Wayne just to name a few.

The entertainment industry is no stranger to limiting women’s impact, so you may or may not have picked up on the lack of female competitors. I do not fault you for subconsciously doing so. Most consistent watchers did not at first. But with the glaring omission rearing a head, Swizz and Timbaland were forced to enlist the help of FemmeForward to bring two women who would put us all at ease: Erykah Badu and Jill Scott.

The neo-soul singers had Black twitter buzzing for a week straight as we all suited up in eclectic fashions and re-upped on our favorite intoxicants in preparation. We arrived punctually to a performance that was meant to be advertised on CPT (colored people time that is, for the confused and uncultured). Jill Scott went live 25 minutes late with words from legendary poet Nikki Giovanni replaying. Erykah eventually joined her about seven minutes later. Twitter instantly cringed at her set-up when she appeared with a microphone and Jackie Chan projection that were a little too close to Teddy Riley for comfort.

Jill and Erykah began with friendly banter that immediately nipped all “feud” rumors in the bud – “a stink in the air that didn’t belong to either of us,” Jill called it. Jill even thanked Erykah for singing “You Got Me”, the first song she had ever written at 25. The livestream became a love fest as they spit words of affirmation and admiration to each other. About two songs in, it was evident no one cared about the score. This was an intimate conversation turned jam session between two friends that we were privy to attending.

Black women who are deemed similar are often pitted against each other in their field. But these women showed compassion is a far greater response than hate. Proud moments like these are few and far between. So when they do happen, it hits different. It’s another level of empowerment that only Jill and Erykah could create, and an indescribable feeling that only fellow Black women would understand. We witnessed the power of Black womanhood first-hand. I felt untouchable.

Both ladies’ discographies have aged like fine wine. Erykah Badu has mastered the art of unwarranted yet necessary humbling. Jill Scott somehow manages to turn the raunchiest desires into seductive song lyrics. Playing “Crown Royal” two glasses too late surely caused a few drunk texts that developed into sneaky quarantine links. “Work ain’t honest but it pays the bills” (Erykah Badu / “Other Side of the Game”) and “Damn, can I get that democracy and equality and privacy” (Jill Scott / “Watching Me”) hit a little too hard as unemployment skyrockets and Black men are murdered. Earlier that day, we rallied together for Ahmaud Arbery and Sean Read, then news of the sudden passing of musical pioneers Andre Harrell and Little Richard shattered the timeline. Loss after loss, trepidation at every turn, we needed this break from reality. Seeing these two women come together to genuinely enjoy each other’s art was like a nice, warm hug to the culture.

Jill and Erykah gave us an experience. Even non-black celebrities were tuned in as the live garnered over 750,000 viewers at one point, annihilating the 500,000 viewer-count record held by previous male guests. They took us to another realm that omitted any outside disturbance. Witty one-liners birthed steady Amens. Shared stories of baby daddies and love languages unlocked a new level of contentment. In those few hours, viewers were encouraged to lay their burdens and create space for happiness and healing.

It is undeniable that Black people are the most impactful and powerful forces in the world. Through oppression and systematic racism, we still had time to initiate, build, and blossom “American” popular culture. It gets no better than us, so stop playing with us. “I’m an artist and I’m sensitive about my shit.”