People talk about hip hop like its one, definable thing that can be clearly articulated in a single sentence, and that this is undeniable truth. Those people are wrong. To put it simply hip hop is like an apple - there isn’t just one kind of apple and some fruit that we label as apple’s don’t even look like what is grown in the West and also referred to as “apple”. Thus, depending on where you find it, who is practicing it, and many other factors hip hop can take on many different forms and traits. But, like the apple again, hip hop no matter where or how you find it has a few things in common universally. One of these universal traits is the African aesthetic, hip hop’s relationship to Blackness - and it was this that was at once my greatest attraction to and also my greatest rejection of the culture.
I was born and spent a great number of my developmental years in the small city of Sierra Vista, nestled close to the border of Mexico in a predominately Conservative, White, Republican Arizona, USA. Until I was six years old, I had no idea what “being Black” meant or that it meant anything other than I was phenotypically different from the other kids I played with. But after moving back to Arizona for the second time and beginning elementary school, I was told that as a Black girl I wasn’t supposed to be able to speak anything other than English (I spoke German and mashed the two languages together at the time), I wasn’t supposed to blush or wear sunscreen (because only White people can get skin cancer or burn, duh), and that as a Black girl had “bad” hair, was more likely to act out or become violent, was more likely to have trouble with math and science, and was inherently inferior overall. Let me point out here that I did have a childhood in spite of all these negative messages - I consistently proved the stereotypes to be false, I had friends and we all had fun together (many of them weren’t as much colorblind as much as it simply made no difference to them), I was loved and well looked after. But none of that ever took away the pain of being told that I had to special to be worth anything simply because I was Black. And so I started to resent being called that and rejected anything associated to the title - including hip hop and dance. Racial politics increasingly became an important topic in our area and little things like what music you listened to and what sports you played (or at least feigned interest in) mattered. The color of your skin mattered. Your blood quantum mattered - I had one girl tell me in 2008 that because a great-great-great-great grandmother MIGHT have been a freed slave, she was entitled to her opinion that no one should care whether Obama was Black or not and that we were all the same. It was outrageous. And I was encouraged more and more to stay out of the sun for long stretches of time so that I wouldn’t get dark, straighten my hair, and do whatever I could to play up my European and Native American heritage. As I got older everyone started saying things like I was “exotic” and I noticed that it opened up many more doors for me. I couldn’t let that go. So I listened to Rock and Pop and Top 40 exclusively, securing my place as “one of us”. Because the kids who listened to hip hop and rap were “tar babies” who no one trusted in the stores and obviously weren’t going anywhere in life. The snide remarks made by others were warnings made to keep the “good” POCs in line - act White and everything will be alright!
Until our older brothers and sisters got into hip hop and made it cool. Then being “Black” - or playing out the stereotypes perpetuated - was cool. So, by default, I was cool. But I had to prove my “Blackness” to keep my status. Ironically, it was my White auntie Tammy who taught me how to perform my Blackness while also performing enough “Whiteness” to remain a “good girl” who teachers and parents would like their kids to be around. On the dance floor I had to be bootylicious babe who could freak and trick like no other, but as soon as the DJ quit I could flirt and bat my eyelashes but make it clear that no one was going home with me and I wouldn’t be going home with any other. Not only was I struggling to perform an acceptable racial and ethnic identity, but suddenly there was only one proper way to be a lady too - another seemingly universal trait of hip hop, delineating what is masculine and feminine for us all. Our poor unfortunate souls. It wasn’t until high school when the absurdity of this finally struck me, and not until my third year of college (this year) that I finally came to terms with it and all facets of myself. Yes, I was (and still am) of mixed heritage and people will always have their own opinions about that - but I am also Black and proud of the immense legacy that comes with it. Do I still struggle with that sometimes - for sure, but I refuse to let those movements of doubt or insecurity last. My people - all of my people - came to far for too long for my benefit for me to drop the ball and send the next generation back to square one. And am I a lady - yes, I am. But that in no way means that I am dainty or partial to pink all the time, that in no way makes me fragile or irrational , nor does it mean I’m allergic to sports, nature, or dirt. And if I were any of these things its because those are my personal quirks and should never be written off as a natural effect of my status as a female.
And I came to all of this through hip hop. It is true that there are a lot of commercial messages propagated through rap and other genres mislabeled as hip hop, and that these messages are in direct opposition to what I’ve just written here. But at it’s heart hip hop has always been a spiritual message of good, the voice for the countless voiceless being oppressed and misunderstood. Even now, old school heads and wannabes talk trash about artists like Jay-Z and how he’s defeating the purpose - but I argue that his mere presence is a beacon of light and a necessity because without a figure like Jay-Z who would the young, impoverished, hopeless boys who are where Jay-Z used to be look up to? What model or standard would they have to say - this is possible? Today, I can critically consume and reflect on my media choices and more because I was first introduced to the larger culture by songs like Chingy’s “Right Thurr”. Even what were scholarly would like to frown upon and deem “unworthy” has its place, because without its introduction I would have never come to find myself or understand where I could fit in. I still listen to that kind of rap, and then I reflect on it and talk about why it sounds good but it still problematic for individuals and society and what we can do to make it better - because that’s my place in hip hop. In closing, the final trait of hip hop that has been noted as universal - the tendency for lost, frustrated, and fed up souls to find it and then themselves through its transformation. If we go back to defining hip hop we can say this: It is a) recognized as a commercially viable genre of music, b) a successful independent and often underground form of art, c) a choice in clothing that varies from location to location c) a learning tool and form of education, d) a form of protest and political activism e) a spiritual journey, and f (for finally)) a state of mind and a lifestyle.
Yours truly,
Veney vidi vici
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