Unraveling Emotions through Erykah Badu’s MAMA’S GUN

By Erika Sowah, Art by Geena San Diego

Music is an avenue for healing, and oftentimes I swear I can feel my soul dancing. When I listen to Mama’s Gun by Erykah Badu, I feel my anxieties and emotions unravel until I am left with just myself. Badu has a unique talent that allows her to manipulate the music in order to amplify her lyrics, and this skill presents itself throughout the album. There are four songs on the album that have the divine ability to ground me after I’ve let my mind float too far: “Didn’t Cha Know” “...& On” “In Love With You” and “Green Eyes” 

“Didn’t Cha Know” is your classic neo soul song. The drums sound, marking the beginning of the song, then there is a sudden and dramatic pull; I am being dragged into the music. The drums continue to underline the entire song, highlighting the afrocentric sound. A choir jumps in with angelic-like vocals, then Badu’s sultry voice takes over. Just like the beat in the beginning felt like a sort of pull into the music, Badu’s voice draws me in deeper. She shares her experience making a wrong turn and finding herself lost, reflecting on the mistakes she’s made in her life. Despite this confusion and disorientation, she says she still, “stopped to watch [her] emotions sway.” To me, this line serves as a reminder to pause, close my eyes, and sit with myself. She goes on to sing:

Love is life and life is free

Take a ride fo life with me

Free your mind and find your way

There will be a better day

These are not lyrics, but direct instructions to heal. This song serves as Badu’s acceptance of her mistakes, and her acknowledgement of failure as a fundamental aspect of the human condition. 

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Next is “...& On,” which found its unique place in my heart because of the gorgeous imagery within the song and its ‘prequel’ “On & On.” After Erykah Badu’s debut album Baduizm (1997), Badu received heavy criticism for her alleged lack of clarity on the philosophical song “On & On.” This song, “...& On,” serves as a spiritually charged introspective response to the critics. The track begins with what sounds like a deconstructed version of the “On & On” introduction, clearly informing the listener that the critics do not have the ability to assess Badu’s work then move on “ rather they opened up a discussion. This song sounds more whimsical and dynamic than “Didn’t Cha Know.” To me it sounds like a conversation between Badu and her friends brainstorming the central idea: is a message still meaningful even with an oblivious audience? Badu asks: 

What good do your words do

If they can’t understand you? 

Don’t go talkin’ that shit Badu, Badu. 

This question has continued to prove relevant since before this song was released. How can you enact change without a receptive audience? 

After introducing this challenge, Badu presents the duality of her star sign Pisces. The Pisces zodiac is typically represented by two fish swimming in opposite directions, representing the tension between fantasy and reality. The reference to the Pisces fish works to echo Badu’s relatable inner conflict. She sings, “Two fish, one swimmin’ upstream / One swimmin’ down livin in a dream.” Should she lean into her imaginative side and float downstream, disregarding the ears her message never reached, or should she push upstream and forge through reality? 

Clearly, she chooses reality as the song functions as a way to double down on her initial message. Right before Badu signs off, she begins speaking in a very clear and melodic rap. She recounts the times she realized her disadvantaged position in society based on her identity:

I remember when I went with

Momma to the Washateria

Remember how I felt the day I first started my period

Remember there in school one day I learned I was inferior

Water in my cereal.

Badu narrates her retrospective realization of how her low-income upbringing as a Black woman informed her childhood and her external perception from others. Trips to the laundromat with her mother, getting her period, likely being teased in school, and eating cereal with water rather than milk are all experiences that inform her beliefs, thus they are experiences that inform the messages she shares in her songs. She does not speak about accepting her mistakes and failures in “Didn’t Cha Know” as a privileged person, but rather shares her acceptance of her failures as someone who has been forced to climb mountains her entire life. This distinction is precisely the reason her music resonates with so many, including myself; despite these hindrances she remains triumphant.  

Finally, before entering her last verse, she references “On & On” once again saying, “Wrap ya head with this material / ‘Cause you did not do your math.” This line offers a nod to one of the more complicated lines of “On & On” in which she uses a metaphor to equate being born with three dollars and six dimes to being born 360°, or, complete. In making this reference she is effectively condemning those who critiqued the unclear nature of her symbolism. With this line she is insisting her audience finally do the math and understand the truths she aims to convey. 

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In “In Love With You” featuring Stephen Marley, the two worked together to weave the mystifying feeling of being desperately in love into a singular track. As a neo soul and afrofuturist artist, most of Badu’s other songs have some sort of electric component. In this song, however, the only apparent instruments are an acoustic guitar and snapping fingers. The track is bare, naked, and vulnerable, which clearly reflects the exposed nature of being in love. Marley’s reggae style enhances the already spiritual nature of the song given Badu’s typical sound. This song is a conversation between Marley and Badu, both denying their love for each other, then subsequently thrusting themselves into their love. This track portrays the anxiety of falling in love, the warmth of being loved, and finally, melting into the feeling. Badu sings:

He said he's really diggin' me

I don't know what to say

I can't imagine why I feel so weak,

That's when he took my heart in his hands

And kissed it gently

He opened up his lips then said this poetry

I'm in love with you, love with you

I absolutely love the imagery of holding someone’s heart; in love, we are entirely unarmed with our heart out of our chests, but the beauty of love is that we entrust another person with our sole lifeline. Furthermore, I feel there is no other word to describe the aesthetic of the phrase “I’m in love with you” besides poetry. These few lines are deeply gut-wrenching, yet soul-feeding and in listening to this song I cannot help but bask in the appreciation of our ability as human beings to love. 

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Finally, “Green Eyes.” There are around five sections in this track, and I prefer to interpret these sections as reflecting the five stages of grief. The first is very retro and jazzy. Badu’s voice is muffled and grainy and there are jazz piano chords played in staccato. This section begins with Badu denying her envy of an ex-lover moving on as she desperately tries to convince herself this means nothing to her. 

Then, the second section serves as a somber back-and-forth between Badu and herself. After trying to gaslight herself into apathy, this second section begins with her saying, “I’m insecure.” The bluntness of this line connects back to her metaphor with the Pisces fish; despite her consistent attempts to remain within her fantasy and convince herself she does not love this man, she cannot run away from reality. As it turns out, her eyes are, in fact, green with envy. She says, “My mind says move on / My heart lags behind it.” She knows this other person has moved on, but she cannot change her feelings. This imagery of her heart lagging behind is beautifully phrased and deeply relatable. She continues to go back and forth on the status of her love when her rushed internal dialogue is abruptly halted by smooth harmonized vocals. 

These vocals feel like a resolution, until the sudden drums and an, “I’m so confused.” This is when it becomes clear the song is about to take a sharp turn. After this pause, the next section is far more upbeat, loud, and passionate. This section almost feels like a reflection of mania or extreme emotion, and she begins poking fun at her experience with love, “Silly me I thought your love was true / Change my name to silly E Badu.” She is annoyed to have found herself in this position, swearing against love forever. Badu comically relates to the universal feeling of embarrassment and silliness when in love. Finally, the song quickly transitions into a jazzy outro where she speaks directly to this person who broke her heart. She acknowledges how this person showed her how to love and how they have now grown apart, ending the track with, “I know our love will never be the same / But I can’t stand these growing pains.” These five sections adequately reflect how healing is far from linear, as she goes back and forth between stages of grief for the duration of the track.

Erykah Badu’s Mama’s Gun is intoxicating and remedial. Within this album lies the shared experiences of women in love, in adversity, and in growth. I implore you to listen to the entire album, or these tracks at the very least. I promise you your soul will thank you for it.