The Curious Transmogrify of Massa’: We Don’t Own Hip Hop, It Owns Us

By Angel Elliott

There’s a new majority in America. They can walk through, on top, under, over or beside you without noticing your even existence. They’re not openly menacing, well most of them, when you confront them face to face. No, they just seep under walls, pass through mail slots wreaking havoc in your home. First, the lights shut off, then, the furnace quits working – and worst of all? They eat all your food. When you go on a job interview, they’re right there beside you, whispering ignorance into the ears of your potential boss; coloring his thoughts on you before he can even conceptualize them. They walk beside you as you cross the streets, and happen into allies to take a short cut. They control what you hear on the radio, and who.

They’ve drowned out the sounds of Public Enemy and KRS-One. No longer is that “conscious” or “political” rap considered pop. And don’t be confused, usually when one calls music “pop” it conjures images of a school girl skirt-clad Britney Spears, or Backstreet Boys telling screaming hoards of young girls, “I Want It That Way.” Pop music in this context, simply means popular. They systemically turned hip-hop into a homogenized, moneymaking machine. Not only fattening their bank accounts, but the pockets of car dealerships, jewelers, clothing designers and repo men alike.

Funny thing is, as they stealthily slither and glide their way back towards the front door, you rush to open it for them, and say, “Come back soon, ya’ hear!” Never realizing that these phantoms are the ghost of Jim Crow transmogrified, or changed. Ever since Jim Crow laws were banded from acceptable American policy in 1965, they have figured out how to work their way into the work place, the education system and even worst – into your music.

Hip-hop was once the bullhorn for a voiceless, disenchanted community.  Hip-hop was a part of a new culture and history that black folks forged because our past was beset with slavery, tragedy and division. It empowered men through “The Message” and it empowered women through “U-N-I-T-Y.” As it’s popularity increased, the man saw this underground art-form emerging as a viable, moneymaker. Why let black people continue to be gatekeepers of this cultural phenomenon they thought? Why not use it as a tool to sell goods, and proliferate a message of instant gratification and reckless fiscal responsibility? And with that, “the man” (and you know who I’m referring to) figured out that there was more than one way to skin a cat, can’t do it legally? Let’s make it happen subliminally. So, not twenty years after Jim Crow laws were banned across the country, rapper Kurtis Blow became the first hip-hop artist to sign with a major label – and the first hip-hop artist to sign an endorsement deal. As Blow shucked an jived his way into hearts of million by singing for his supper on Budweiser commercials, we got a glimpse into the future of hip-hop, and that’s a future that we didn’t own.

Fast forward to now, hip-hop, rap and R&B have jumbled themselves into a huge conflagration of the same thing, lost are the messages of empowerment, ownership and self- awareness. Even though there had been politically motivated campaigns mounted by music moguls like Sean “Diddy” Combs 2004, “Vote or Die;” the sub-textual message was still lost on many young folks who just came of age to vote, or weren’t around for hip-hop’s inception. “Vote or Die” was a push for young voters to head to the polls, and get Bush out of office before he’d catalyze what we now know was an economic crisis, increased civilian and soldier death in Iraq, home foreclosures and the United States’ ultimate international loss in confidence. Vote or Die’s message was somehow watered down for ‘everybody.’ It didn’t express the dire immediacy for Black people to turn the government back into one that works for them.

Although Bush’s failures as president affected everyone, we couldn’t possibly be silly enough to believe that it didn’t disproportionately affect black folks. Instead of the blatant Jim Crowism’s and prejudice that our parents and grandparents felt, we experienced one that we couldn’t see immediately. They almost led us to believe that we were just like them, who needs affirmative action? Who needs specials programs to decrease recidivism? What’s white flight? You guys still have liquor stores in your neighborhoods!

And once again that phantom who crept in our homes, and gave our our kids a false security that would eventually turn into complacency; having them believing that they didn’t need to work harder to succeed because they’re black crept past our ears and whispered,  “Who needs hip-hop to voice the disparities and grievances of any community? Don’t you want to make money Ja Rule? Isn’t it more fun to rap about bling, bling and sing about thongs Sisqo?

You’ll make some money!”

And just when you thought the real voice of hip-hop had been drown out by tip drills, and dumps like a truck; Hurricane Katrina’s devastation brought its cry back with blaring immediacy and truth. Kanye West was co-hosting a telethon with actor Mike Myers when the passion he usually used for rap, welled up from a different motivation. The devastation in the NOLA caused by Hurricane Katrina was not only catastrophic, but seemed to magnify the racial disparities in the southern city. Black people scrambling for whatever food they could get were seen as looters. Families standing on top of homes drenched in water and mud grappled the air, as indifferent news choppers flew by, capturing their agony like it was a regular story for the five o’clock news.

So you see, there was already an air of resentment when Kanye West said during the live telethon, “I hate the way they portray us in the media. When you see a black family, it says they’re looting, when you see a white family, it says they’re looking for food… The way America is set up to help the poor, the black people, the less well off is as slow as possible.”

Mike Myers expressionless face gave way to a brief moment of shock, followed by a robotic reading of his last lines on the teleprompter. Then, ‘Ye dropped the bomb. He told viewers:

“George Bush doesn’t care about black people.”

That statement was hip-hop personified. In this culture, where hip-hop and rap have inevitably been assimilated to appeal to the masses, Kanye divorcing himself from the constraints of his fan demographic couldn’t have been calculated. It was real. A college dropout and rapper, a person seemingly least likely to make such a perceptive statement on a national stage did it. You could hear jaws dropping around the country, including our Presidents. Polls taken during and after the response showed his popularity among African Americans was at an all-time low. Not to jump to the conclusion that Kanye’s statement dropped Bush’s ratings, but it sure got to a younger Black audience – and perhaps helped them make the connection between our then governments seeming racial apathy, and the quality of their lives.

In November 2010, as Bush went on a tour selling his new book, “Decision Points” he marked the moment as, “the worst in my presidency.” America was once again shocked to say the least.

A rapper, that made a simple political statement pertinent to the time, gave former President George W. Bush the very worst moment in his presidency. Kanye West didn’t realize that this was only a testament to how much power he could really hold; and really, how much power hip-hop could hold. We were let down as soon as we excited ourselves for ‘Ye’s response. He went on the Today Show, the very morning news show that aired Bush’s first response to the statement back in 2005, and basically said he felt bad for calling him a racist, and had learned from Taylor-gate how bad it felt to be called such.

But ‘Ye! For all of your dope, creative genius, you couldn’t see how those two events were as different as apples and oranges. Had the public, corporations, publicist and media trainers sufficiently beat Kanye into submission? Seemed like it.

The very corporations that institutionalized the racism that you believed didn’t exist anymore are running radio stations, and telling some hip hop artist what to write about. Don’t think its true? Listen to Lupe Fiasco’s “Dumb it Down” from is second EP, “The Cool.” Fiasco is probably one of the most prolific, socially conscious rappers who unsurprisingly doesn’t get the mainstream airplay or success that you’d expect based off of the quality of his music. And while he enjoys a diverse fan-base, perhaps they don’t even understand the message of his music. Case and point, on November 12, Lupe Fiasco was pretty much flabbergasted by Kanye West’s back pedaling on his George Bush statement, and went on a diatribe about the oppression and injustices of this country all at the hands of corporations and government on Twitter.

“Maaaaaaaaaan… f*ck Bush! That n*gga was a tyrant and a menace! American Imperialist and terrorist! Supported financial chicanery and illegal wars…f*ck him! Till Kanye West is responsible for the deaths of Hundreds Of Thousands of people he’s good in my book. The Tea Party Don’t Like Black People!!”

Remember that thing you learned in school about covert racism? Oh you didn’t learn it because they teach a month of black history and that’s it right? Well this is a prime example. As soon as Lupe Fiasco expressed his thoughts about corporate greed and our government on Twitter, those Jim Crow phantoms crept their way into the minds of many of his white fans, possessing their fingers – forcing them to tell Fiasco things like, “I love you dogs but if you don’t like America get the f*ck out of here move it the f*ck along.” To which he hilariously responded, “Didn’t ask to come.” They didn’t understand that this is who Lupe Fiasco has always been as an artist, did that realization shock them into remembering that he is a black man?

The last blow came when Lupe re-tweeted a fan that said, “My favorite rapper Lupe Fiasco is pulling a Kanye and blaming everything on white people #disappointing.”

Pulling a ‘Kanye’ you say? And does that newly created noun mean expressing your opinions despite popular thought? Does it mean taking ownership of who you are as a person? Does it mean sometimes throwing caution to the wind because your passionate about something and apologizing later because you are human? Or does pulling a ‘Kanye’ encompass all of those things? Because guess what? That’s hip-hop.

As amazing as it is to see every race and culture embrace hip-hop, it seems as if we’ve forgotten what it means for us to be the authors of such a movement.

Hip-hop artist, this time in history, when your president is black, your Attorney General of the United States is black, and your Secretary of State is a woman, I’d ask that you take back ownership of your music. I’d ask that you use your notoriety to expose the social injustices in this country. I’d ask that you remember our past – as not to make the same mistakes in the future. I’d ask that you own your image, and once again become the leaders that you were meant to be. Whether it’s God, Buddha, Krishna or whoever you believe in, they didn’t bless you with the gift of gab to put money in someones pockets, it’s for us. So use it, and bring down the phantom.