Skip to main content

Still Howling: Ten Years of Shakira's "She Wolf"


"The image of the she wolf just came to my head, and when I least expected it I was howling and panting." — Shakira

"You don't think for one note that she's trying to speak to any issue other than her libido, and she creates a world where not only is this acceptable, but it makes perfect sense." — Consequence of Sound

"And for as sexy as Shakira is—crucially, her music is sexy too—what really gives She Wolf its bite is her inspired nuttiness." — Billboard

"I know what I'm doing even when I'm wearing a pencil skirt." — Shakira




*****


Werewolves have been on my mind a lot lately, or, even more so than usual. It is Halloween, after all. I recently revisited the movie Silver Bullet—it's even better than I remembered!—followed immediately by a first-time watch of the total stinker Bad Moon. To cleanse myself of that film's lingering disappointment, I started ruminating (as I do often) about another favorite, Mike Nichols's Wolf, featuring one of my favorite man-as-wolf metaphors in all of werewolf cinema. This, of course, led me to further rumination, this time on a favorite subject—namely, Michelle Pfeiffer's exquisite performance as Laura Alden (which I've written about several times previously, and discussed on a podcast), and how the film's finale evinces a notable shift in power from the decidedly male perspective to the female, thanks to—spoilers!—Laura ending the film cursed with the wolf's blood. A stunning final shot composed of a zooming close up of her glowing eyes cements Laura's transformation into a supernatural being. The she wolf is born.



Naturally, then, Pfeiffer's she wolf led my brain straight to Shakira's 2009 single from the album of the same name, "She Wolf." What's that, you ask? Seems like quite the pop culture leap, no? Not really. Like Laura in Wolf, Shakira's narrator in "She Wolf" has her eyes "wide open" and rebels against societal norms that want to keep her "domesticated." Check out a sampling of lyrics from the song:

A domesticated girl that's all you ask of me
Darling it is no joke, this is lycanthropy
Moon's awake now, with eyes wide open
My body is craving, so feed the hungry

And how about:

There's a she wolf in the closet
Open up and set her free (ahoo)
There's a she wolf in the closet
Let it out so it can breath
Sitting across the bar, staring right at her prey
It's going well so far, she's gonna get her way
Nocturnal creatures are not so prudent,
The moon's my teacher, and I'm her student

These overt references to werewolf mythology serve as metaphors for female desire, which in my mind slots "She Wolf" alongside Wolf and other werewolf-themed movies that similarly contend with she wolf lore, especially Joe Dante's The Howling and John Fawcett's Ginger Snaps. The she wolf is central to Roman foundation mythology, yet in more modern times the moniker has regularly been used as a pejorative for predatory women. The she wolf trope is often rife with pointed commentary on male fear of female sexuality. Shakira's "She Wolf" and the films mentioned earlier are good examples of this.



"She Wolf"—both in the song and its visually stunning video—explores a feminine yearning to break free from the literal and figurative cages (often constructed by men) that confine women's explosive femininity. Shakira has said the song was her way of processing feeling lonely and unloved within a relationship. While she doesn't actually transform into a hairy wolf in the video, using the she wolf metaphor to express pent-up desires adds a supernatural element to the song that positions it perfectly within the realm of she wolf literature and film.



In the video, directed by Jake Nava, Shakira's patented, jaw-dropping body contortions only enhance the metaphoric concept, as she grooves to the ridiculously catchy and oh-so-glossy, Italo-disco sound. Shakira's moves have always been mesmerizing, and with the "She Wolf" video she elevated these mythic powers of astonishing body undulation to all new, dizzying heights. 



Trapped in a cage, she writhes, slinks, back-bends, and swings from the bars—a caged wolf/woman (she wolf) aching to break free. If the way she moves—with a ferocious, rhythmic sensuality—doesn't qualify as supernatural, I don't know what does. Her dancing is the very definition of something beyond both scientific understanding and the laws of nature. She is She Wolf, hear her roar.



This excerpt from Slant Magazine's 2009 review of the She Wolf album notes the song's camp appeal being central to its success:

The song’s lyrics walk a fine line between campy and really campy (“I’m starting to feel just a little abused like a coffee machine in an office”), but Shakira’s ability to make likening oneself to a kitchen appliance sexy with just a simple moan is unrivaled.
Shakira certainly does have a way of making that coffee machine metaphor sexy. "She Wolf"'s willingness to be campy is another reason it's a worthy addition to the werewolf cannon, as the song's camp aesthetic lends a cult movie feel to it all. Werewolf films and pulp novels were always flirting with elements of camp—for example, watch Jack Nicholson and James Spader, in partial-wolf transformation mode, clawing and pawing at each other in the climax of Wolf and try not to snicker.


"She Wolf" turned ten this year, and for my money it's still an excellent musical distillation of the she wolf in contemporary pop culture, and especially on its implications on the power of female sexuality and desire to overcome male suppression. With her performance in the video, Shakira makes it abundantly clear that this power is hers to wield, and no one can keep it, or her, caged for long.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Blowing in the Wind: Marilyn Monroe and That Iconic White Dress

This month marks sixty-five years since one of the most iconic moments in twentieth-century popular culture: Marilyn Monroe’s angelic white dress being blown sky high by wind rushing up from a subway grate beneath her feet in the film  The Seven Year Itch . Billy Wilder shot multiple takes, while Sam Shaw snapped photo after photo for what had to be the biggest publicity stunt ever staged at the time. Marilyn wore two pairs of underwear for the shot, yet, as noted in Lois Banner's critical biography Marilyn: The Passion and the Paradox  (2012), "a dark blotch of pubic hair" remained visible to the 100 male photographers and over 1,500 male spectators, all of whom crowded eagerly around the set to gawk and drool.  Due to strict 1950s movie censorship laws, photos had to be doctored to white out the offending blotch, but those in attendance saw it, over and over, shot after shot. Marilyn's husband at the time, the extremely old fashioned Joe DiMaggio, stormed off th

All I Want For Christmas: Phoebe Cates's Monologue in Gremlins

Joe Dante's 1980s classic Gremlins will always be a subversive Christmas favorite. From Spike exploding in the microwave to Mrs. Daigle's "stairlift to hell", the movie is packed with deliciously transgressive moments that turn the holly jolly season right on its ear. None are more memorable, though, than Phoebe Cates delivering her legendary "worst thing that ever happened to me on Christmas" monologue. It's a jaw-dropping, tour-de-force moment, a truly horrific story that's also one of the most darkly comic moments in Christmas movie history. Cates really shines during this scene. There's no denying just how seminal that scene of hers in Fast Times at Ridgemont High was for a generation of young people, but her speech in Gremlins is equally important and a wonderful showcase for her serious and comedic acting skills.  Here's the speech, in its entirety. No Christmas season is complete without at least one viewing

It Came From the '90s: Kelly Bundy and the Alternative Family Ideal

This series looks back at the 1990s and its influence on the generation of people who came of age during the decade. Very few television series in the 1990s were as polarizing as Married...with Children . People either loved it or they loathed it. TV critics and good upstanding Catholic families like mine fell into the latter category. Soon after it debuted during my first year of junior high in 1987 (not quite the '90s, but on the brink), my parents made it clear that we would not be watching. I believe the words they used were "vulgar," "unfunny," and, one of their perennial favorites, "risque." Of course, this meant it immediately took on a prurient appeal for me. Parents can never win, honestly. Kelly Bundy—the talented Christina Applegate, who never gets enough credit for elevating the blonde airhead trope into an art form—only further piqued my interest. She was like the girls in school with the absurdly voluminous hair and ridiculously sh

"That girl looks just like Pat Benatar"

Linda, that girl looks just like Pat Benatar. I know. Wait, there are three girls here at Ridgemont who have cultivated the Pat Benatar look. I was just a kid when Fast Times at Ridgemont High opened in 1982. Still though, even at the tender young age of seven, I knew who Pat Benatar was, because a.) her music was all over the radio and even then I recognized the utter awesomeness of her vocal talent in songs like "Hit Me With Your Best Shot", and b.) some of the older girls around town were obviously cribbing their looks—clothes, hair, makeup, strut—from Benatar's own style. Benatar was ubiquitous. So, when I see or hear vintage-era Benatar now, I think of Fast Times , but mostly I remember that ubiquity—of both the performer and her legion of young imitators. I know it's not true, but when I recollect those years I swear every older girl looked like either Benatar, Juice Newton, or Joan Jett. It's easy to forget, years later, that

Misspent Youth: Joanne Whalley

Looking back at the pop culture mainstays of this Gen-Xer's gloriously misspent youth. One of the most famous and oft-quoted Seinfeld scenes involves Bobka and Jerry's discovery of the existence of Cinnamon Bobka. After Elaine scoffs at the notion of such a thing, even calling it a "lesser Bobka," Jerry unleashes one of the great defenses of a freshly ground spice ever delivered: People love cinnamon. It should be on tables at restaurants along with salt and pepper. Anytime anyone says, "Oh This is so good. What's in it?" The answer invariably comes back, Cinnamon. Cinnamon. Again and again.  Joanne Whalley is like Cinnamon. Yes, I just compulsively double-checked my DVD copy and it's the unrated version, thank you very much. Let me explain. You see, during the formative years of my misspent youth, if I stumbled on a movie featuring the doe-eyed, petite, beautiful English actress, invariably I'd feel like Jerry does about Cin

Misspent Youth: Randi Brooks

Looking back at the pop culture mainstays of this Gen-Xer's gloriously misspent youth. ***** A note on the series and this site: This might be the final post in the "Misspent Youth" series - at least here. Maybe it'll eventually move with me. Oh, right, I buried the lede: I've moved, and would love for you to come visit me at my new site, The Starfire Lounge ! Moving forward, this site will likely cease to be updated, but will remain around for posterity and your continued reading pleasure. I have a few more things to post here over the coming days or weeks as a sort of "everything must go" send-off to the old girl. I also plan to write a final farewell post to my main online home for the last five years. Stay tuned and, as always, thanks for reading. ***** It's no surprise that the talented but now mostly forgotten Randi Brooks would make an appearance in the Misspent Youth series. She may not be a household name, but her resume

Margot Kidder and the Childhood Crush That Will Never Die

"I dream about sex, flying, and being chased by Nazis." — Margot Kidder,  Rolling Stone , "The Education of Margot Kidder", 1981 ***** File that quote under, "Reasons why I love Margot Kidder." Last month, Margot hopped a one-way flight with old pal Chris Reeve off into the stars and beyond, where they could reenact their iconic moment from  Superman  (1978), for all eternity. I wrote a little about Margot, here and here , trying to explain why this particular actress meant so much to me as a kid growing up in the 1980s. I thought that would be enough. It wasn't.* Those posts were my fumbling attempts to sort out just how large an impact Margot had on my young life, and, to my present-day surprise, how much she still means to me now. Before news of her death, I hadn't thought of her in ages. I assumed the early childhood crush I harbored for my Lois Lane had dwindled and faded. Ha! I was a fool. My crush on Margot was very

It Came From the '90s: My Secret Crush on The Nanny

This series looks back at the 1990s and its influence on the generation of people who came of age during the decade. For six seasons in the 1990s, The Nanny made many of us laugh. At times, it could be downright hilarious . At others, well, not so much . This isn't a review of a '90s sitcom staple, though. No. This is simply an excuse to come clean about something I've kept buried deep inside for over two decades now: I had a secret crush on The Nanny herself, Fran Drescher. The unadulterated nineties-ness of this is practically blinding. And I love it. While The Nanny was sometimes quite funny, thanks largely to Drescher's spunky charisma and wholehearted commitment, the show was never considered hip. People my parents age seemed to love it, but my friends preferred, well, Friends . That smile! Those legs! That dress! It's all overloading my circuits. I watched Friends with my friends, but I also thoroughly enjoyed The Nanny , to

"Opium Wars" by Zoe Lund

She wants there to be more of her. More space taken by her body, More decibels conquered by her voice, More time by her wakefulness, More equations by her addition. She wants more, I want less. Her blade is rusty, musty, sweaty and vain. I like it clean and sharp and dark-bright. She traffics in surplus, I bare my essentials. Her world is elastic but brittle. Mine is bony but moonlit. Hers flows, she ebbs. Mine ebbs, I flow. She dies in life, I live in death. —Zoe Lund, “Opium Wars”

Misspent Youth: Morgan Fairchild

Looking back at the movies, music, television, and other pop culture mainstays of this Gen-Xer's gloriously misspent youth. Once I decided that Morgan Fairchild would be the subject of the next installment in this series, I did what I usually do and researched online for a bit, just to refresh my memory on details that might've previously been lost to time. Morgan Fairchild was legitimately one of the most potent sex symbols of the 1970s and '80s. Not that I needed much refresher when it came to Fairchild. Born Patsy Ann McClenny in Dallas, Texas, February 3, 1950, the American actress was everywhere during those oh-so-crucial formative years of my pop culture obsession. She loomed large in the growing ranks of proto-haughty glamour queens, a trope that was hot on prime time TV in the 1980s. The characters she was most well-known for were drop-dead gorgeous and didn't suffer fools lightly. Really, few ever did it better than Fairchild. The shirt do