Monday, July 29, 2013

Racism, Resentment, and Renewal

I'm not sure if I ever made an official announcement, but I'm back in school in pursuit of a doctoral degree (specifically a DMin. - Doctor of Ministry), and as is made glaringly apparent by the nature of this blog, my research interest/focus is ministry to Hip-Hop culture. One of my recent courses was in ethics. My professor, Dr. Andrew Sung Park is also an author with quite a few books of his own in tow. At one point, the class was studying racism, and one of the required reading assignments was a chapter he wrote in a book Wading Through Many Voices - A compilation of essays by various multiethnic theology scholars on race, class, gender, etc.  Each essay contains a targeted response from a peer.

I highly recommend that you read the entire chapter written by Dr. Park here. However, if you're short on time, What follows is my response to his work.  There are a few points that I sought to respond directly to because I thought they were of prime significance. I post it here because one must know that racism (systematic, educational, institutional, and all the rest of its forms) are the bedrock of Hip-Hop culture.  There would be no Hip-Hop without racism.  Therefore it provides additional framework for the discussion in this blog. Here's a large portion of my response:


Dr. Park begins with a short survey of the approaches to multiculturalism in America.  It’s here that he questions, “All these models support either assimilation or pluralistic isolation, is it possible to appreciate diversity, yet improve the quality of diverse cultures without sacrificing our true unity?” In the simplest of terms, I would say that the answer is no; but I’d like to add another question. What unity? I assume that “our true unity” is meant to refer to the symbiotic bonds that naturally exist by God’s design and by the nature of our existence in the same geographical space. Yet, unity in the eyes of the normative group is assimilation…or nothing.  I have often argued that multiculturalism is often at best an agreement of middle class values. It’s economic, rather than ethnic. And that too is a framework built by euro-centered values of economy and democracy.  However, I propose that (at least for African-Americans, especially poor ones) the withdrawal approach actually involves escapism from the trauma of persistent systematic and institutional terror and abuse.

In Democracy Matters, Cornel West talks about the irony and the hypocrisy of the “American democratic experiment” in that the nation’s founders were trying to escape the empire while creating one of their own.[1]  They were seeking their own freedoms, yet simultaneously enslaving others.  It’s a deeply harrowing concept to me.  I’m inclined to suggest that the “experiment” had failed at it’s outset because it had compromised it’s own founding principles.  Historically speaking, the concept of “liberty and justice for all” has never been an American reality.  And so we continue to pledge our allegiance in the hopes that one day, someday, we will get it right.  But what is the pledge exactly? We are taught to approach it like a prayer, when it’s actually a pronouncement and a promise—a promise that often seems to have been terribly, irreparably broken.

Dr. Park prescribes that “we need to accept each culture as it is.”  This is an extremely tall order for dominant, normative culture.  Blacks can relate to and appreciate Native Americans, Latino peoples (and others), because we each have been systematically terrorized and marginalized by the dominant group.  Yet, normative culture lives in constant willful ignorance and denial of the realities that exist at their own hands. African-American culture is the house that oppression built. 

To accept and appreciate the field songs and spirituals is to accept and admit the legacy of forced labor and slavery that made them find solace in songs.  To accept the blues is to accept the bruises of Jim Crow. To embrace the black church is to confront the religious and hermeneutical manipulation that sought to sanctify and spiritualize oppression and injustice. To celebrate black intellect, innovation and achievement is to own the segregation and the glass ceiling that made such ground-breaking, record-shattering progress necessary.  

Rap music forces us to hear the heart, the hurt,
the pathos and the pain of the projects. 
To appreciate the beauty and power of Hip-Hop and contemporary black urban cultures is to unveil the institutional and systematic degradation and denigration of black communities with the concrete quarantine silos of the Cabrini Greens, Marcy Projects, Magnolia Projects, and Jordan Downs of the US. I’m not certain that the dominant group has enough acres or mules, or that they even desire to actually care.  Accept each culture as it is?  The normative culture was forced on blacks, but do they accept us is a more relevant question.

Yet, that’s the beauty of African-American culture. We took lashes, and developed thick skin.  We bent over to pick up cotton, and picked up an even stronger work ethic and resolve. We took the scraps that the slave master gave us, and made soul-food.  We took those tattered and torn textbooks and dilapidated school-houses, and built brilliant scholars and HBCUs.  We took the brick buildings, vacant lots, abandoned buildings and poor-excuse-for-playgrounds of the projects, and turned them into fortresses to incubate the next generation of overachievers, canvasses for urban art, dance floors for community parties and arenas for rap battles with perfect natural acoustics.

But one must not remain angry. Dr. Park presents a powerful hermeneutic of the cross and suggests that the dying to self demands “forsaking our outmoded identity means negotiating a new boundary by negating our old self that was negated by various oppressors.” He goes on to recommend that, “As long as we have racial prejudice within, we cannot fight against racism without.” I am convicted again that the cross renews us and demands that we like Christ would, despite the abuse, by the power of the resurrection, rise to walk in the newness of life—a life that is guided by grace.  The grace of God has been so freely given to me.  I must give it to those around me.  This is hard, but God is love.




[1] Cornel West, Democracy Matters (New York: Penguin, 2004), 42-45.  In the very first line of the book West addresses the “legacy of white supremacy” and the threat that it poses to authentic democracy. It’s in the second chapter that he explores the tension of a free society built by slave labor.  He argues that American Democracy is at risk because of remixed modes of imperialism. 

Monday, July 22, 2013

Why We Need Hip-Hop (Pt. 3)



I am proud to present the long-awaited third installment in the Why We Need Hip-Hop series. This time we welcome guest columnist, Lester R. Collins Jr. Lester is originally from St. Paul, MN. As a child, he spent his summers in the projects of N. Philly. He attended Morehouse College and graduated from Oakwood University with a BS in Counseling Psychology. He holds masters degrees in both Divinity and Social Work. A published author, he wrote a devotional for teens titled, Going Green for God. He and his family live in the DFW area where he pursues a PhD in Social Work.


Everyone has struggled at times to find the right words to express themselves. People often say, “I know what I want to say, but I can’t find the right words.” Ever since 1973, Hip-Hop artists have been masters of the art of finding the right words. Hip-Hop showcases an array of artists who possess the aim and unique ability to uplift people and express themselves with authenticity and excellence.
Authenticity
            Despite frequent use of the expressions “keepin’ it real” and “real talk”, the world is craving authenticity. The first example that comes to mind is Milli Vanilli. The infamous duo fell from the heights of Grammy-winning success when it was revealed that all of their songs were lip-synced. Ironically, their first album was entitled Girl You Know It’s True. It wasn’t. Authenticity means being true, sincere, genuine, transparent, honest.
Authenticity could pose a challenge for artists with humble beginnings of poverty, crime, violence, and struggle. Who would want to readily and openly share the despicable details of a deprived life? Not most people. Then there must be some level of tension within those artists who continue to sing about those things after achieving super net worth and living in gated communities. I wonder how an artist who is no longer struggling to pay bills can sing about struggling to pay bills? I often wonder what makes a gangster who is now a multi-millionaire rap about gang-banging as if it were his present reality. Wouldn’t it be easy to just walk away from that life; forget it all, and never look back on all that pain and suffering? But then, that would be considered “sellin’ out.” Nobody wants to be a “sell-out.” Everybody wants to stay true to where they came from and “keep it real.”
Rapper Rick Ross (William Roberts) has been heckled
by the Hip-Hop community for posing as a gangster.
Conversely, there are artists who haven’t had challenging beginnings; who vie for credibility when they express their reflections on topics that have never been associated with their backgrounds. The list is long of various artists who presented a hardcore persona on stage but were later found to be as soft as cotton swabs. One glaring example of this is when Miami-based rapper Rick Ross invoked the name of infamous drug kingpin Manuel Noriega, when he said, “I know Pablo, Noriega. The real Noriega, he owe me a hundred favors.” A crafty rap line, but an obviously dishonest one nonetheless. The entire Hip-Hop world had already been put on notice about his past life as a correctional officer, but these remarks and other related gangster name-dropping lines began to pile up fast. Soon thereafter, word got around that he was receiving actual threats from real gangs, which resulted in cancelled concerts and tour dates. Who knows whether or not that's true, but what we do know is that he still gets clowned for name-dropping people he's never met, and stealing the personas of legendary gangsters.
The truth is, there is a long list of these sort of rap music posers; posturing and profiling like thugs in an effort to garner mainstream success. Just google fake rappers. However, the story of Rick Ross is also a case study in the internal checks and balances of the Hip-Hop community. Hip-Hop culture (in general) and rap music (specifically) demands authenticity.  One of the longstanding rules of rap is to be yourself. Back in the early years of rap, artists who tried to sound like other artists were maligned, lambasted, and even blackballed from the industry. These days, whatever gimmick one can use to raise YouTube views and record sales is often celebrated. However, the old guard of Hip-Hop remains steadfast in its demand for authenticity. Phrases like, “Come correct” and, “Keep it 100” are perpetual pronouncements of an artist’s responsibility to be authentic. And despite the blind fandom of the masses, the keepers of the culture may have already quietly revoked your hood hall pass for swagga-jackin. A true Hip-Hopper would never want that to happen.
Closely related to this issue is a budding trend in which it seems some artists were actually making good on threats and getting into real legal trouble in order to bolster their “street cred.” Now with that said, it’s obvious that there are some rappers that actually do have criminal records and numerous street war stories to tell. However, it’s also true that there are many who are simply trying to make a name for themselves. This is not the type of keepin’ it real that society needs. None of us wants or needs to see more violence, crime, or negativity to help us believe you are a credible artist. Creativity does not require crime. And negativity does not have a monopoly on reality. Now that’s real talk!
On the other hand, sincerity does not equal truth. A person can actually be sincerely wrong. However, sincerity does equal truthfulness as far as the conveyer is concerned. If a person is being sincere what can be said to argue or gainsay against their expressions? However, it is not enough to be sincere and transparent. The challenges facing society are too great to be merely articulated. These challenges need to be addressed in constructive ways. And Hip-Hop has had a long tradition of constructively addressing difficult issues.
In 1989, KRS-One of Boogie Down Productions assembled an all-star cast to record the Hip-Hop classic “Self Destruction.” The song was part of attempts to stem the tide of violence in the urban African-American community. The following year, the west coast followed suit when Dr. Dre and a cast of about 20 rap stars formed the West Coast All-Stars and produced the track entitled “We’re All in the Same Gang.” Similar efforts were repeated in 2008 and 2009. And just this week, a group of legendary rap personalities came together to constructively discuss positive ways and means of moving forward after the controversial George Zimmerman verdict. One rapper even gave a live performance of the song he wrote in honor of Trayvon Martin. Others were also referenced and played during the show to show the solidarity and the heart of the Hip-Hop community. The song (Self Destruction) and its fruit are examples of the positive affects that Hip-Hop can have. Speaking of positive affects, this brings us to the issue of excellence.
Excellence
            Excellence means aiming for and maintaining a high standard. Excellent speech--word selection, mental rigor, excellent aims--bring glory to God and bring people to God’s glory, so they can have God’s glory restored in them (Colossians 1:7). When speaking of excellence in Hip-Hop, the first thing that comes to mind is the fairly-recent album by unstoppable rap duo Kanye West and Jay-Z entitled “Watch The Throne.” The title itself speaks to the level of excellence they command and aspire to. Yet there are several tracks on the album that bespeak a rare type of musical genius and creative production.  Although there are some challenging theological issues interlaced in the songs, one can’t help but have thoughts of greatness when listening to tracks like “Otis” and “No Church in the Wild.” The former pays homage to an R&B - Soul luminary, Otis Redding, while meshing it with some of the best of what Hip-Hop production and engineering has to offer.
Rappers are exceptional artists. They combine literary
genius with charismatic flair in stage performances.
Then there are some Hip-Hop artists who often combine authenticity and creativity and score “perfect 10s” with their feats of lyrical gymnastics while using the art form to teach. Take for instance “Hey Young World” by rap great Slick Rick, or “Mathematics” by Mos Def or even Lauryn Hill’s “Doo-Wop.”  The list is too long to include here, but rappers have long sought to communicate life lessons with lyrical genius to spur their listeners on to personal development and growth. This takes the most careful and painstaking skill and ability.
Some innovative classrooms have built on this tradition and even utilized rap and Hip-Hop to help students learn. Take for instance the work of Dr. Christopher Emdin; Associate Professor at Columbia University Teacher’s College. His extensive research asserts that Hip-Hop is the perfect vehicle to utilize for science instruction. His work has led to city-wide rap battles where New York high schoolers can showcase their science knowledge and rhyme skills at the same time.

But it is the very art of rap that embodies excellence. People often forget that rapping is poetry, one must be a skilled writer to compose good rhymes. Rapping demands lyrical skill and a strong command of language. It is imperative that one know how to use words, how to construct rhymes, the various rhyme schemes, styles and types of composition and so much more. And all of that is just for the sake of writing raps. The art of performance demands a whole new set of skills. One must be adept in delivery: diction, breath control, timing, observation, and on and on. Then, on top of all of that, a rapper must mesh all of the technical work of writing and performing into their own personal style and voice. The number one fear of most people is speaking in public. Rappers have mastered the art of addressing a crowd, and those who do it best are excellence personified.
It’s one thing to be able to put together words with deep meaning, another to be able to assemble rhyming words; but it is ingenious to put together in-depth words that rhyme. Hip-Hop is full of potential to uplift a people and spur many towards excellence. It is my hope that when artists use vocabulary, or make allusions to political, historical, geographical, sociological, or scientific themes that are unfamiliar to their hearers – that the hearers make it a point to research those concepts and thus increase their knowledge, power, and progress. And this is why we need Hip-Hop. It spurs us toward those great divine virtues...authenticity and excellence. 



Thursday, July 18, 2013

Bi-lingual: Balancing Hip-Hop & The Church (#GodLovesHipHop #4)

Here we go again with the 4th installation in the God Loves Hip-Hop discussion series. 


We're gonna continue our series next month and every third Thursday until November so stay tuned for more conversations. Be sure to keep the feed going on twitter #GodLovesHipHop

Sunday, July 14, 2013

No More Cheesecake (Reflections on the George Zimmerman Verdict)


We got home late after a really long day of ministry. I was kinda zoned out and only thinking about one thing...relaxation. I was sitting on the couch with my son watching the movie Antz while we shared a leftover piece of cheesecake. He begged for a piece, and I gave a him a sharp, gruff, "No!" I'm trying to teach him not to beg and whine for what he wants. I felt good because he took it like a man. I know he wanted to keep asking. I could see it almost spilling out of him. But he held it in. I was proud.

Thing is, I had every intention to share it with him in the first place. There is no way on earth that I could sit on my couch with my son next to me and not share this small slice of sweetness. Plus, I'm also trying to teach him how to share. It gives me leverage for me to share something so desirable with him. So it makes me happy to make him happy by sharing my cake with him. Truth is, he is what makes the cake so sweet. We killed that cake. He got the last bite. Don't you just hate that feeling when you're really enjoying something and then you realize it's all gone. I hate that feeling. No more cheesecake.

I hugged him tight and we watched one little Ant take action against an oppressive force in his colony. Funny thing, kid's movies be kinda deep.

My wife was sitting behind us on the stairs scrolling through her phone and looked up to say, "We have a verdict: Not guilty." Everything just froze. I had every intention of going to bed early, but now I can't sleep. I poured over Facebook and twitter reactions to the verdict. Posting, tweeting, commenting, liking, retweeting, searching...for something...anything that would make sense out of the senseless failure to deliver justice to a hurting family and a reeling community.  I didn't go to bed till after 2:30. I hate going to bed on an empty stomach. There's that feeling again. Unsatisfied.  No more cheesecake.

When I woke up this morning I wondered would we be
hungry enough for justice that it led us to speak out more?
When I woke up this morning I just felt really off. Bad taste in my mouth. I wondered, "Is it just me? What are other people saying?" Then I noticed that several cities were wide awake with protests through the night: D.C., Miami, San Fran, and more. I noticed this link to a site where they were listing all the cities, rallies, and protests happening today and tomorrow around the country. I didn't eat breakfast, but I was hungry.

My family spent the day with friends at the zoo; a much needed distraction from the frustration that would've probably consumed the better part of my day. It still didn't feel right though. I took note that there weren't many black folks at the zoo today. My wife agreed. Somebody commented that maybe they were all at church. Well this was certainly a good day to be in church. I actually woke up wondering what a few pastors would have to say on this particular Sunday. Plus, they always have good cake at church potlucks; or at least they used to. As I said, the zoo didn't seem right. I thought a lot about how they often treat us like animals (or less than animals). I thought about how our young black men are getting hunted down in the street like animals (S/O to Trayvon Martin). I thought about how they lock our young black men up in cages in such a disproportionate number (S/O to Michelle Alexander). I thought about the one person I'd like to see locked up in a cage right now (S/O to George Zimmerman). But still, no cheesecake.

Some people take this ultra high and super sanctimonious road; suggesting that we ought to be more upset about black on black crime than we are about George Zimmerman. To them I say, "Stop changing the subject! We're talking about cake. You're talking about Kool-aid." In other words, There's a big difference between impoverished and oppressed people in desperate situations taking desperate measures with disastrous ends. But this was a innocent young brother walking through a nice neighbor who was shot by a stranger for little reason beyond suspicion. Nowadays we don't even have to be poor, ghetto, criminals. You could be innocent, in a nice neighborhood, with a sweet tooth and a penchant for canned soft drinks. This verdict says you're not safe no matter who you are, or where you are. And the law does not, will not, protect you. Too bad, no cheesecake for you.

I'm hoping that this makes some people hungry...like really hungry. I know a lot of people are asking why we're so angry. Maybe it's because they've never been harassed by the cops. I have. Multiple times.  Maybe they've never known anybody who was innocent and still got 15 years of hard prison time. I have. Numerous times. Maybe it's because black people keep coming up on the short end of the stick in these types of situations. Maybe it's because they don't have to teach their sons the same lessons that we have to teach our sons. But hey, maybe it's because you never find The Cheesecake Factory anywhere but the white neighborhood. I still want more cheesecake.
Mr. Martin and his family can no longer share precious
moments together. Trayvon is never coming back. 

Anybody else hungry? Will our hunger lead us to speak up and speak out? Will our hunger lead us to get out into the streets, march, and protest? Will our hunger drive us beyond marches and speeches? Will our hunger lead us to lobby for legislative change?  Will our hunger embolden us to organize in our communities and protect our youth from the forces that seek to destroy them? Will our hunger incite us to educate our sons and daughters for generational change? Anybody for some cheesecake?

Too bad for the Martin family. Especially, Mr. Tracy Martin. For them, for him, there's no more cheesecake. No more Saturday nights watching movies with his son. No more lessons to teach. No more sweet special moments to share. No more football games. No more justice; at least not right now. The cheesecake's all gone. The state of Florida killed that cake. George Zimmerman ate the last bite.