Hello Nation!
It is so exciting for me to get the opportunity to blog at the Nation for a month and thanks to all that have made this a possibility. The Nation was a pivotal publication in the formation of my political awareness, so to be asked to write here is pretty amazing.
In the summer of 1999, it was a Nation article that prompted me to write about a topic that went on to become one of my favorite issues to explore in the blogosphere. Hip-hop. I did a quick search at TheNation.com to find the article and found it was in fact online (isn't that fun!) and brought back nostalgia of my days in college, as an activist, feminist and hip-hop head, looking for words to express my new found political self. The article, "Rhyme and Resist: Organizing a Hip-Hop Generation," by Angela Ards delved into the need to connect to young people through hip-hop.
"When spirits got low, the people would sing," Brown explains: "The one thing we did right/Was the day we started to fight/Keep your eyes on the prize/Oh, Lord." Her rich contralto, all by itself, sounds like the blended harmonies of Sweet Honey in the Rock, but it's not stirring this crowd of 150 Southern youth. Two fresh-faced assistants bound on stage to join in like cheerleaders at a pep rally. Most of the others, however, take their cues from the older teens, slouched in their seats in an exaggerated posture of cool repose. Brown hits closer to their sensibilities when she resorts to funk. "Say it loud," she calls. "I'm black and I'm proud," they respond. But a brash cry from the back of the room speaks more to their hearts. "Can we sing some Tupac?" Another cracks, "Y'all wanna hear some Busta Rhymes?"
At this moment there were a handful of authors that had begun to talk about the possibility of organizing through hip-hop. It was already understood that hip-hop was political and it certainly gave many disenfranchised youth a vehicle through which to communicate the material conditions of their lives. There was no question that hip-hop was a movement, but whether it would ever be considered a "legitimate" political movement was yet to be seen.
At the time, I was enrolled at SUNY Albany in the undergraduate women's studies program, where a real woman of color feminism had yet to be adequately articulated. Most feminism about women of color was relegated to "international" issues rather than as an analysis of how women of color negotiate their identities in a culture of racism, imperialism, nationalism and media objectification. To be a feminist and a hip-hop head was a contradiction--feminists were assumed white and hip-hop heads black.
Influenced by Ards and a handful of other authors (Tricia Rose and Eisa Davis) that had started to talk about hip-hop and feminism, I began to write about the political power of hip hop, how it connected to feminism and the need for dialogue between these two worlds.
Ultimately, I was ambivalent, because I realized I would never be comfortable being called a "bitch" or a "ho" no matter how much I knew you didn't totally mean it, but I also realized I would forever love hip-hop. And here I am 10 years later, still working through the same questions, and continuing to function in a political climate that is hostile to youth and the hip-hop generation and a culture of misogyny and materialism that has drowned some of the most poignant and sharp criticism of oppression through words, beats and rhythms. Organizing the hip-hop generation and organizing young feminists is still a task for our current generation of activists. There are still tensions and splits between and within the communities, but through our words and our interventions, we can create space for the politics of women of color. As witnessed in the coverage of this upcoming election, the voices of women of color are still only heard marginally and it is on us to continually push ourselves into the forefront of political dialog.
It is through blogging that many of these discussions have continued and flourished, so thank you Nation for extending that audience ever so slightly more.
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