Hip-hop deserves richer discussion than a few lighthearted columns
To the Editor,
Lately, there have been a few columns posted about hip-hop. Most of them tend toward tongue-in-cheek, like Luke Furman’s piece on Wiz Khalifa and Led Zeppelin. There are also more serious analyses such as William Hoffman’s piece on Kendrick Lamar’s “The Blacker the Berry.” It is nice to see some pieces on hip-hop. Discussion of the genre tends toward negative in mainstream media platforms; that is, when those discussions happen at all. What The Post is missing is contextualization and a variety of voices.
These pieces talk about hip-hop as though it exists in a vacuum. Furman’s column on Wiz Khalifa and Led Zeppelin echoes one he wrote on rapping about coffee instead of marijuana. Talking about drug use is not the central component of hip-hop. It never has been. His analysis of hip-hop rests on a very narrow set of images provided by commercial rap. It is not bad to listen to Wiz Khalifa and other popular artists. What is bad is to believe that drug use, money, and partying are the central themes of an entire nuanced art form people devote their lives to. Commercial hip-hop is not a representative sampling of the countless artists who go unrecognized.
Hoffman’s piece attempted to place Kendrick Lamar in the line of artists who have spoken out in the face of injustice. He makes the argument that music has not openly questioned the status quo in a long time. Hoffman posits that “The Blacker the Berry” “promotes positivity among black communities to improve themselves while acknowledging the history of racism that leads to gang culture.” Yes, “The Blacker the Berry” promotes self-love and awareness, but it goes further than speaking on the history of racism. Kendrick is speaking to white listeners, too, and he is critiquing us straightforwardly. “You hate me don’t you? / You hate my people, your plan is to terminate my culture … you sabotage my community, makin’ a killin’ / You made me a killer.” It is difficult for many whites to really think about how we are implicated in songs like this, but we must acknowledge it. Ignoring messages like this is to be part of the problem, because we cannot make meaningful changes without considering what it means for whites to listen in on black artists and partake in a black art form.
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Also, hip-hop has been deeply political since the start. Kendrick and Run the Jewels are not resurrecting conversations that existed in other genres. The idea that hip-hop is all about partying, drugs and women is relatively new. Kendrick is following in a long line of emcees that have done the same, and continue to do so.
It is necessary we continue to be critical of how we think about hip-hop and what we take from it. Writing about hip-hop without understanding its history and thinking about what it means to be a white listener does not contribute anything new. Presenting pieces on hip-hop written exclusively by white kids has its limitations. Perspectives are naturally different, but it is even more difficult to present something commenting on hip-hop when there is minimal contact with it. Informative, wonderful discussions about hip-hop are happening. They happen in groups such as Hip Hop Congress and with the artists who are changing the art form. OU’s hip-hop community is full of amazing people who are often under-recognized by the larger university community. Publishing lighthearted columns on hip-hop is all well and good, but its innovators and devoted fans deserve way more than just opinions from the sidelines.
Sydney Joslin-Knapp is a student at Ohio University.
