'Dirty Computer: The Emotion Picture,' Queer Freedom In The Dark Times of Metropolis

Dirty Computer: An Emotion Picture poster.

Nine years ago, from June to August, I house sat for an old friend in Denver, Colorado and got turned on to Janelle Monaè's The ArchAndroid. My friend and my visiting younger sister had both been to Monaè's concerts and squealed with delight over her impressive onstage performance. I finally experienced her some years later, front row-- she was coincidentally promoting Electric Lady at Electric Factory. In the five foot, dark brown skinned woman with 4C hair, decked in black and white, hitting note after note and dancing with vivacious energy, I saw myself mingling alongside a kindred spirit.

Captured Jane 57821 (Janelle Monaè) is given the traumatic "Nevermind" treatment.

This sheer gas helps in purifying the "dirty" mind.

Last year, Dirty Computer, Monaè's fourth album (if counting the unlabeled release of hard-to-find The Audition), arrived with a special musical "emotion picture" debut, unveiling journalistic confessional as opposed to the unique third person feeling of earlier albums. Monaè is now embedded in the contemporary world, frankly speaking on sexuality, racism, and gender. Monaè has always created great, revolutionary music videos. Cold War, Many Moons, and Q.U.E.E.N. are iconic.

"....you were dirty if you showed any opposition at all." 

Despite what naysayers entail, Monaè's Jane 57621 has not departed.

Jane (Janelle Monaè) performing rituals on gold girls in Crazy, Classic, Life.

Jane is feeling Zen's vibe.

Dirty Computer begins inside a cold, sterile facility straight out of pseudo science fiction. Droids are systematically cleaned, rid of their "dirt," brainwashed into Stepford monstrosities. The taken Jane is air floated in, prepared to be wiped. The first "memory" is Crazy, Classic, Life, a funky upbeat jam featuring Jane in bantu knots, studded black jacket, white tutu dress, and killer rainbow eye shadow. Her and her massive posse party hard in the desert, free spirited and alive, thriving and pulsing as romantic ceremonies take place. Jane's two loves are introduced-- Chè and Zen. Of course, the joy is interrupted by policing droids and people are ruthlessly captured-- captured for cleaning.

Heartbroken Jane (Janelle Monaè) is told by a brainwashed Zen (Tessa Thompson) that she doesn't remember her.

At the compound, Zen and Jane reunite. Unfortunately, Zen is now an Apple bot-- seemingly relieved of any memory. Behind the glass, two white men are in charge of cleaning Jane-- one of them appears new and reluctant in deleting these bright, daring "memories" tinged in beautiful vocals, profound lyrics, and intelligent raps. The Queen Mother, the dynamic commanding force of the whole operation, is also white. Although a woman is in power, she is abusing it to keep the society unadulterated, hurting Jane and others to usurp their agency and personal beliefs.

Take a Byte starts up and yes that hypnotic beat makes one want to dance. The snippet shows Jane upside down suspended in neon ties that change color. In the dichotomous Screwed, Jane and her pals invade artsy spaces. She wears a "Subject Not Object," clearly a Guerilla Girls reference (most art museums across the globe have more works by men with women as content than women artists in these actual spaces). They race down abandoned escalators, race past graffiti walls, and watch avant-garde videos. The free and wild crew are once again hunted down and Zen is taken. However, the white men are not wiping Jane's memories in sequential order (Zen is in later "memories").

Django Jane weaves in next, a snippet of Screwed fading before and after the track. In warm enchanted rooms, defiant women surrounding her as a protective she-tribe, Jane raps this entire song, exchanging the signature tailored black and white suits for fitted turquoise, bright red, and mauve suits, jewels on her fingers, wearing gold crowned caps like Queen Latifah.

Jane and her Black Girl Magic dancers in Pynk directed by Emma Westenberg.

Make Me Feel and Pynk are visually stimulating liberation anthems. Make Me Feel is an energetic number that has various style changes-- Jane in a jacket, the sequin headpiece that serves as Dirty Computer's album cover, sheer flower pants, polka dot lipstick. Jane dances with both Zen and Chè, continually illustrating the immense fluidity emerging between her fervor for both. Monaè's Pynk vocals are high pitched, like the sounds of candy coated sweetness superseding the sporadic images flowing between romance and middle fingers straight up. Jane addresses feminine empowerment and poetically professes her love for Zen here. Jane and Zen's moments define a tender and affectionate intimacy, demonstrated mostly by those yearning soap opera stares and subtle touches. Meanwhile, Jane candidly slaps the current tyrant in chief with messages on her underwear. Both define women's control over her own body and her own desire--often systematically controlled by men. She seeks her pleasure wherever and whenever she wants and with whomever she chooses.

Still from Diango Jane directed by Andrew Donoho and Chuck Lightning.

A mighty leader of the table-- still from Django Jane directed by Andrew Donoho and Chuck Lightning. 

I Like That, my personal favorite, is a self-love confidence manifesto. With giant black and white twists and a crisp white shirt, Jane is in lecture hall with replicas of herself, not giving a chuck about how anyone sees her past or present. Later, images aesthetically nod to Mickalene Thomas setups and African artist photography and sculpture. Again, Jane is solely in the presence of Black women, situating with those who will uplift and guide her. Simultaneously, alone, she is assured and powerful.

A class of Janes to let them all know that is girl should be rated higher than a six.

For all the girls who were ever called "weird," you're the shizz.

Back at the compound, Jane's memories appear fully erased. She mirrors the behavior of Apple-- all sugary sweet and squeaky clean. Dre is brought in, recognizing Jane once he comes to. Everything ends in a surprising yet liberating exclamation point.

A trio of lovers hit the beach: Chè (Jayson Aaron), Jane (Janelle Monaè), and Zen (Tessa Thompson).

Chè (Jayson Aaron) and Jane (Janelle Monaè).

A stolen tender kiss between Zen (Tessa Thompson) and Jane (Janelle Monaè). 

Dirty Computer is an impressive pictorial dystopia remarking on the blatant sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and racism. The triad of Janelle Monaè, Tessa Thompson, and Jayson Aaron are convincing unity. Monaè has acting chops indeed-- her expressive doe eyes and trembling voice among the compelling components of her talent. Plus, her chemistry with Thompson and Aaron are ripe with vulnerability, devotion, passion, and need. Each music video defies the current political climate harming countless vulnerable communities. While excellently showcasing the unlimited creative range of Black culture through uniquely diverse hair styles, epic clothing choices, and expertly designed makeup, afrofuturistic Dirty Computer intertwines wounds Black people carry in society, the situations that haunt and trigger, the policing and gaslighting. It expresses Black love and joy, the safe places to discover and keep hold. Furthermore, this visual masterpiece brilliantly expresses the validity of our individual selves. We must retain control of our minds in a world that continuously damages our psyches in ways that are not minimal.

If she is the G.O.A.T., would anyone doubt it? If it is Janelle Monaè, the answer is no.