There’s a difference between criticism and fixation. What Adin Ross has been doing to Doechii isn’t music discourse, fandom banter, or even hot-take culture—it’s the same tired, ugly playbook Black women face the second we win too loudly, too visibly, and without asking permission.

After Doechii addressed the “industry plant” dogwhistle on “Girl, Get Up”—a track featuring SZA—Ross decided the song was about him. That alone tells you everything. Centering himself in a Black woman’s clapback about systemic doubt isn’t confidence; it’s insecurity wrapped in entitlement. And the response? Slurs, demeaning language, conspiracy math about listeners, and the kind of sexualized insults that always show up when Black women don’t perform gratitude.

Let’s call the tactic what it is: misogynoir. The reflexive move to label a successful Black woman an “industry plant” isn’t about evidence—it’s about comfort. It reassures people that nothing we earn is real, that proximity (to men, to labels, to features) must explain our success. Ross didn’t critique bars, cadence, or craft. He reached for degradation. That’s not analysis—that’s contempt.

What makes this worse is the chorus of men—especially Black men—who nod along or laugh it off. When someone like Cuffem, who appeared on his recent stream, pushes back and gets mocked for admiration, the message is loud: respect for Black women is “simping,” while public disrespect is somehow neutral. That’s backwards. If your response to a Black woman thriving is to question how she “got there,” ask yourself why her excellence feels like an attack.

And let’s talk about the “numbers” argument. Streams fluctuate. Virality moves. None of that erases the fact that Doechii has a Grammy, critical acclaim, and a growing body of work that resonates. Reducing her career to listener screenshots is a convenient way to dodge the real conversation: talent plus vision plus work equals momentum. Period.

The studio diss didn’t help either. Dragging her name alongside everyone from Joe Budden to Lil Tjay and Lil Durk, with a cameo energy from 6ix9ine, just underscored the spectacle. It wasn’t a response; it was a tantrum dressed up as content.

What’s telling is Doechii’s reaction—or lack of one. Posting about success, sunsets, and staying focused is grown behavior. It’s also strategic. Black women are constantly pressured to “prove” we deserve peace while others profit from provoking us. Refusing to perform rage doesn’t mean silence; it means discernment.

Here’s the bottom line: no one is owed access to Black women’s bodies, gratitude, or humility—and certainly not our names as props for engagement farming. If you’re a Black man agreeing with Ross, pause. Ask why you’re comfortable when disrespect is the punchline. Ask why you’re louder about imagined shortcuts than you are about real work. Ask why defending Black women still feels optional.

And to Adin Ross: critique the music if you can. If you can’t, keep Black women’s names out of your mouth.