By Tytianna Wells
Hip hop began in the late 1960s on New York City’s crowded sidewalks, alleys and subways. Inner city youth circled the flat cardboard boxes to begin what is now compared to traditional African dance, “break-dancing.”
These youth would “spit” their political rhymes of cultural expression and proclamations for justice or would widely show off their powerful break-dancing moves over a blasting boom box. Hip hop was a movement for intellectual consciousness and communalism. However, since the establishment of the schools of hip hop music, its message and imagery has spun national and local controversial dialogue.
On Oct. 5, “Catch Up Before You Get Caught Up, Volume 2” was held to discuss the manifestations of hip hop, the law and our community. Coordinated by Bani Hines-Hudson and organized by the Pan African Graduate Student Association and The Saturday Academy, this event featured not only a discussion panel, but also a documentary entitled “Beyond Beats and Rhymes,” a lecture from Brian Edwards, a defense attorney, and a Chore poetry performance by Chicago’s “AquaMoon.”
The event was open to high school and college students interested in the subliminal messages and images that linger behind the “tight beats” and “skimpy attire” that is presented in one of hip hop’s most influential schools of music, “gangsta rap.”
“Gangsta rap is a subculture for men,” said panelist Kehontas Rowe, a criminal justice student at ITT. “It is their way out.”
The “American frontier” created a space for men to reaffirm their masculinity through acts of genocidal violence, as well as submission of those who are deemed historically inferior by race, social stature and gender. The subjugation and exploitation of women is clearly visible in the images of “gangsta rap,” further developing a hypermasculine and American community that represents the historical accounts of gender roles. Essentially, “gangsta rap” is a “cultural phenomenon” that, instead of denouncing gun violence, poverty, alcohol/drug abuse and misogyny, it glamorizes, praises and condones communal disaster.
“Hip hop and the criminal justice system feed off each other,” said Edwards. “If these trends continue to increase, the black family as we know it will become obsolete.”
This has become a problem for many, such as Edwards. While rap artists understand their performance as an act rather than a true rendition of their lives, others, such as the juvenile community, understand it as a “blueprint for life.”
“You have to take responsibility for what is right as an artist,” said Kendre Macon, a sophomore international business marketing major.
Panelist/ rap artist T-Mac, a junior philosophy and pan African studies major, agreed that though it is the responsibility of the artist to influence, listeners “need someone to translate and articulate these messages,” if they are unable to decipher their meaning.
“You have to sift through the messages and filter out the garbage,” said Khalfani Obuya Herman, pan African studies Ph. D. student. “Do your history on hip hop and see how it impacts your life.”
According to panelist Adrienne Duke, a pan African studies graduate student, “There’s a conscious effort to be who you are and not what the mainstream wants you to be.”
According to intellectual, Sekou Toure, “To take part in the African revolution, it is not enough to write a revolutionary song; you must make the revolution with the people. If you make it with the people, the songs will come by themselves and of themselves.”
