

But JT - who sometimes hides her braces by keeping her glossed lips closed, but slips into big grins easily - quickly assessed that their personalities complemented each other’s: JT was outspoken, with a gift for talking her way into things, while Miami was more guarded, using her pageant-contestant good looks as a form of diplomacy. They’ve been friends since childhood, starting City Girls just months ago, when JT wanted to make “a regular diss track about girls in the neighborhood” and decided Miami would be the ideal person to record with, even though she had never rapped before. Yung Miami and JT grew up together around Opa-Locka and Liberty City, landlocked neighborhoods about a half-hour drive from South Beach. Have you questioned your worth while seeking validation? Attempted to scrape a life together while keeping up appearances? Then the City Girls story may be recognizable to you, too.

Wages are low and job security is scarce, though there’s the possibility of finding safety by developing a following online. They’re becoming adults at a time when young people can’t count on ending up financially better off than their parents. But like Insecure’s main characters and target audience, City Girls are ambitious, not just trying to survive but striving to unlock success.

It might not seem like City Girls, raised in poverty in Miami, have much in common with Rae, a Stanford graduate who spent her formative years in Los Angeles’s Windsor Hills, one of the country’s wealthiest black neighborhoods. Like: Even if things are tough in a lot of ways, I can still enjoy moments in my life.” “In season three, Issa is trying to support herself and make the best of her situation, and trying to have fun,” said Insecure’s music supervisor Kier Lehman. In August, Issa Rae, the creator and star of HBO’s Insecure, wrote that the group’s music, which appears prominently in the show’s third season, had come to “ really define” its latest episodes. Period.Ī little over a month after their mixtape was released, City Girls annexed a piece of rap’s most coveted real estate, appearing on Drake’s “In My Feelings,” this summer’s single- best-performing song. Saying “Period” communicates that they expect to have to painstakingly punctuate their points in order to be heard. The debut City Girls mixtape, named Period, was released in May, and Miami and JT have made it their signature to say “Period” at the end of their statements, to emphasize that they mean what they’ve said, and also as a way to show wisdom. “We do what the fuck we want to do,” she declares, after emerging victorious in the dispute with security. In New York, she’s the imperturbable center of the short, energetic set, passively nailing the simple choreography and barely moving her face, which makes her appear unbothered - but not unhappy. Since June, JT has been in federal prison, locked up on credit-card-fraud charges, which is why Miami has been performing solo on the group’s first tour. This year they’ve experienced a remarkable, Cinderella-type come up, and have faced considerable difficulty. Together with Jatavia Johnson, 25, who goes by JT, Miami is one half of City Girls, a Florida-based rap duo. Why not one more volunteer? The audience starts to boo eventually, security relents. She’s been allowed to bring several other fans onstage, and caused no trouble. Miami shifts her weight to the other hip, her thigh-length iron-straight hair falling to the other side of her shoulder, down her bell-sleeved peanut-butter-colored latex leotard. “Why not?” she says into the microphone, negotiating on behalf of a woman she’s invited to the stage who is being denied access. Yung Miami, squats down on the stage at New York’s Irving Plaza earlier this month to ask the security guard what he’s doing.
