It’s been a couple of years now since the word “rachet” became part of our conversational and prosaic language. Presently, the Oxford Dictionary describes it as an action, look, or situation that has a level of ignorance that every person is capable of. The Urban dictionary says the term is derived from the mispronunciation of “wretched,” and connotes something with no redeeming qualities. If the “ghetto” had a baby out of wedlock with the “hood,” they’d name it “ratchet.”

Anything can be ratchet. A club can be pretty ratchet. You might swing by a joint and here statements like, “We need some more Mad Dog so we can ratchet it up in here”. Or “This club is wack. Where are the ratchets when you need them?” or Two Keys or Gold Blend and Fizzi is a ratchet drink.

And then there is ratchet music. I know what you’re thinking right now, but I don’t care how sophisticated your musical tastes are. There are moments when ratchet music is the only thing that hits the spot. I don’t want to hear Oliver Tuku Mutukudzi and Thomas Mapfumo (of course Nyoka Musango is exempted) at the strip club. There is space for that in all of our lives, but there are also times when we need to shake our asses. Sometimes the cure for our malaise is to pop our butts.

There is a certain verse that the wise folks who wrote (or curate) the Bible either forgot to write or discarded in the final compilation that reads:

“Make a joyful noise unto him. Praise him with the ratchet music of thine heart. And My people, who are called by my name shalt throw thine hands in the air and know that he who resides above is the one that doth care.”

While I would like to dig through the Apocrypha to back up my claim, it is not the point. The point is, rachet music has come to define what litty, vibey or wildin’ is for our generation. I think that everyone can agree that Zimdancehall and members of the music industry are taking some part of that to another level, commercialising the “ratchet culture” into something that is aspirational.

The glorification of ratchet tells youngsters that it is OK to be scantily-clad and twerking somewhere to get attention. It tells the youth that loud weaves, flashy grills, being hood-rich, and being overly aggressive towards your peers equates to real success. It shows the youth that following the crowd into the bottom of the social hole removing couth, morals and healthy self-respect is acceptable.

Calling someone or something ratchet can entail a level of elitism by the one giving the label, especially coming from someone who does not embrace their own “inner-ratchet.” Sometimes it’s just calling a spade a spade — debased in its entirety.

Get me right; I’m not advocating for a sense of elitism or creating a division against the culture ratchet came from. A man or woman can be ratchet in a way that emphasises their authenticity, their realness, or their fierceness. The term is sometimes used in a complimentary context, something akin to “hot mess.” While we recognise that the expression, when used to describe a person, is often pejorative, we have also seen women embracing ratchet as an attempt to de-pathologise it and to celebrate both its edginess and its roots in the working class.

However, ratchet culture shouldn’t be one of the defining cultures in Zimbabwe that is celebrated. There will be much relief from the community when the commercialisation of ratchetness loses its value, and we, as a culture, are able to lift up a more positive image of who we are and who we’d like our youth to look up to.

But until that flimsy happens, we are going to take every opportunity we find to express the rachet in all of us. It’s healthy to turn up and shake your tail-feather with your friends, and it’s natural to have a heated conversation but having your butt cheeks hanging out or causing physical harm to another is not a positive reflection of self, family or community.

On that note, we share with you 20 songs we think arouses the rachet in all of us. Enjoy.