Where Did The 2000s Video Vixen Go?
As Y2K aesthetics make a comeback, TikTok creators are channeling the video vixen energy of the 2000s, sparking a conversation about representation and femininity in hip-hop culture.
By now, we’re all aware of Y2K making a serious comeback in the mainstream. Its resurgence (so palpable you can almost taste the bucket hats and butterfly clips) continues to influence fashion, music, and aesthetics today. While everyone’s reverting to Baby Phat and Ed Hardy, Black creators on TikTok are reviving another crucial element of that beloved era: the video vixen.
But who is the video vixen? According to Wikipedia, she’s “a woman who models and appears in hip hop-oriented music videos.” Tuh! A video vixen is much more than a woman who simply shows up on set. These women played a pivotal role as the “eye candy” that drew attention to a music video. Their presence added a layer of flirty, lively energy that balanced out tough masculinity with cool feminity.
Now, Black creators are channeling that same video vixen energy on TikTok, by dressing up in their best Y2K fits and dancing to the beat of Nas and Ginuwine’s 1999 single, “You Owe Me.” The key ingredients? Fierce chest pops, vigorous hip shakes, and carefree arm movements that accentuate each body roll. The dance is easy yet sexy, allowing one to perform with high energy or with just enough cool-girl subtlety to give your momma flashbacks. But what happened to the actual video vixens? Why has Y2K culture influenced us to start dancing like the women of that era, and what does that say about today’s society?
As hip-hop’s popularity soared in the early 2000s, so did the fame of the women who danced beside the biggest artists. Icons like KD Aubert, Lola Monroe, and Karrine Steffans became household names, using their video vixen status to build careers beyond modeling. Aubert, who appeared in multiple videos—including Fabolous and Tamia’s 2003 hit “Into You”—later starred in the Black cult classic Soul Plane, which launched her long-standing acting career. These women were respected, even earning sizeable wages. Monroe once revealed in an interview that she was paid $11,000 for her role in Kanye West’s “Good Life” video.
Fast forward to today, and video vixens don’t enjoy the same spotlight. Many now go unnamed in music videos, leading to the question: What changed? According to a video essay by Khadija Mbowe, one factor in the decline of the video vixen’s star power was the rise of music piracy. As CD sales plummeted, so did the funds available for music videos, leaving record labels with less money to pay models. Instead, producers turned to strippers who were willing to work for less and comfortable with more risqué roles on camera.
Over the years, video models have remained a fixture in music videos but without the same respect or fame. It's easy to blame models who get involved with artists for tarnishing the profession's reputation, but the real issue is with the powerful moguls who exploited them.
The entertainment industry has long been a purveyor of sex, leading to the objectification and over-sexualization of women in music videos. Today, it’s almost standard to see women twerking in nearly every frame. Now, don’t get me wrong—I love twerking and am always down to throw it back. But I can’t help but wonder why I don’t feel the same excitement when I see women twerking today as I do watching Petey Pablo’s “Freek-A-Leek” music video.
These days, video vixens seem more confined to being one-dimensional objects. Compare Young Nudy’s 2023 video for “Peaches & Eggplants” to LL Cool J’s 2003 hit “Fatty Girl,” and you’ll notice a stark difference in the energy and imagery. Once celebrated as muses, these women now appear as mere objects.
The video vixen TikTok trend suggests I’m not alone in sensing this shift. After diving into some research (a.k.a watching way too many music videos in my free time), it became clear that the portrayal of women has changed. This resurgence of the video vixen archetype on TikTok speaks to a collective desire to reclaim a more playful, free-spirited form of female expression.
With the knowledge we have today and the resources available to protect women from sexual misconduct, I believe there’s a strong opportunity for a resurgence of the video vixen. A revival of the vibrant energy that defined 2000s video vixens could remind women that there’s more than one way to embody sexiness and success. We don’t have to conform to a single narrative when it comes to our self-expression. So, the next time you’re feeling bored or self-conscious at the club, tap into your inner video vixen—it might just give you the energy you need.