Week 2: The Relationship Between Hip-Hop and Academia

I found Robin D. G. Kelley’s essay, “Looking for the ‘Real’ N****: Social Scientists Construct the Ghetto,” both troubling and inspiring. While reading it, I began viewing black culture and cultural studies through a different lens.
Kelley articulates a justification for the sense of discomfort I sometimes feel when reading academic literature about black and hip-hop culture. To me, it seems inauthentic to view hip-hop from such an “uptight” scholarly standpoint, especially when rap music revolves around distorting, reenergizing, and playing with language. An academic tone in hip-hop studies can sound hollow and contrived. However, I understand the importance of employing critical thinking and social science in studying any culture, and I think Kelley finds an excellent balance between writing professionally and staying true to the subject.
So often in the Western world, especially the academic Western world, we want to elevate ourselves so we can “study” another group of people—but sometimes there is a fine line between observation and judgment. As Kelley says, in attempting to justify the criminality that sometimes pervades rap lyrics and poverty-stricken areas, through the use of terms like “pathology” and “adaptation,” we make the fundamental assumption that our own values and lifestyles are superior. I also agree that both the media and the academic community tend to emphasize and magnify the crime and the abounding “gangster” stereotypes attached to hip-hop, perhaps because of the sensational value. Little attention is given to the more typical members of the black community who enjoy fulfilling, educated, crime-free lives.
I especially like what Kelley says about overanalyzing the cultural “ritual” called “playing the dozens.” I have encountered this term in literature classes before, and I had the same reaction. Many of my white and black friends and I engage in a similar type of verbal play, simply as a source of entertainment or stress relief, and I never think about it in terms of cultural significance. In fact, it comes to me so naturally that I hardly notice it at all.
I think that, sometimes, the emphasis on research and discovery causes academics to attribute too much importance to an everyday practice. We are all human beings, and many of our actions, verbal play among them, are unconscious. I believe that when we can get past the assumption that every aspect of a culture is loaded with double meanings, we can begin to acquire more authentic knowledge about black and hip hop history.

Week 1: What's hip-hop all about? What does the word "hip-hop" mean?

Disclaimer: As a white girl with a primarily suburban middle-class background, living in the year 2010, I am starting a hip-hop blog with a little trepidation. I don’t feel entirely qualified to form judgments about the hip-hop world. However, as a music fan, I am fascinated by this movement, especially its translation and transformation into present-day hip-hop and rap culture. I will try to tackle the issues as thoroughly and respectfully as possible.

After reading this week’s material, I’ve been thinking about hip-hop’s beginnings—how it gained such cultural momentum, the type of people who established and refined it, the basic values and ideals underlying its foundation, and the changes it has undergone since the 1970s. I was interested to find so much positivity and optimism at the roots of hip-hop.

Today, many people associate hip-hop culture with rap artists who glorify materialism, violence, misogyny, ego battles, jail time, “street credibility,” and other vices. This may not be a correct representation, but the media frequently upholds it. However, in the readings, hip-hop founding fathers like DJ Kool Herc and Afrika Bambaataa spoke about being role models and giving troubled youths a constructive outlet for their boredom and frustration. Hip-hop was borne out of a sense of community, of people coming together for a common cause and turning their backs on gangs and violence. Early hip-hop lovers shared a mutual respect for one another that they incorporated into their dancing, DJ-ing, and party hosting. In a setting full of tension and unrest, hip-hop provided a common bond for many different types of people.

Especially in the case of the Zulu nation, the hip-hop community revolved around unity. In several of the interviews I read, the DJs and artists refer to black women as their “sisters” and discuss the importance of eradicating gang violence and treating each other like family members—being “warriors for the community.” These are certainly different values from the ones upheld by many popular black rap artists who currently sell millions of records each year.

This brings me to another question: in today’s culture, what exactly qualifies as hip-hop? Has the definition of hip-hop music and culture changed and expanded over the years? Does the term apply to mainstream rappers like T.I. and Lil Wayne, or to more underground DJs, artists, and dancers whose names I wouldn’t recognize? Or is this incorrect labeling? Early hip-hop seemed to revolve more around actions—drawing graffiti, DJ-ing, b-boy dancing, and so on. Today, the word “hip-hop” seems rather broadly applied to most of the music and images created by black artists. I’m sure we will explore the range and definition of modern hip-hop culture in class, but I am interested to understand the implications of the word “hip-hop” in the year 2010 and beyond.