The Hood comes first
The tragic death of TakeOff adds more fuel to the fire of respectability politics in Hip-Hop
The noted sage, Yasin Bey, formerly known as Mos Def, once wrote,
“21st century is comin'
20th century almost done
A lot of things have changed
A lot of things have not, mainly us
We gon' get it together right? I believe that
Listen—people be askin' me all the time
"Yo Mos, what's gettin' ready to happen with hip-hop?"
(Where do you think hip-hop is goin'?)
I tell em, "You know what's gonna happen with hip-hop?
On November 1st, in the early morning hours outside of a bowling alley in Houston, Texas, Kirshnik Khari Ball, better known as TakeOff of the Migos, was fatally wounded by a stray bullet that resulted from an argument in a dice game that he was a spectator of. What’s most tragic about this, his uncle, Quavo, allegedly was the instigator of the argument, and it was one of his entourage who fired the fatal shot during the altercation. While the details are still relatively fuzzy as to how the whole incident came about as of this writing, judgment was swift as to the real culprit to lay blame for this, Hip-Hop. Rap music has always been an easy target since its inception to pin the ills of the black community on. Young, brash, aggressive, often Black men flaunting their power and attitude without any care to who accepted it or not, the pullback of the curtain to the underbelly of the toxicity that exists in the “hoods” of America.
Black politicians, from Jesse Jackson to C. Delores Tucker, had a convenient shield in the entertainment industry to hide behind their own professional failings to address systemic oppression that, by design, left black communities poor and in stark inhumane conditions. They had willing allies in “community voices,” such as Rev. Calvin Butts and Stanley Crouch stirring the pot. The residue of those critiques survived decades later, spawning their contemporaries such as Winton Marsalis and John McWhorter to continue the vitriol. One of the most insidious and largely undiscussed parts of anti-blackness is the need to reduce our experiences to binary good and bad. This is also a facet of hyper-capitalism, where one set of values is deemed virtuous without nuance, while another set of values is villainous without nuance.
As Hip-Hop’s power and influence have increased commercially, culturally, and communally it has become even more open to critique. It’s also been pigeonholed as a monolith. And there is absolutely room to question why the industry favors certain narratives over others to promote. There absolutely is room to wonder why as generations of rap artists and Hip-Hop tastemakers emerge, so few of them make or see the connections to the pioneers and icons who paved the way before. There is even room to explore the effects of dangerous, violent, misogynist images and lyrics in our music that normalize and justify that behavior towards others and one another in everyday life.
However, where the critiques become lazy, dangerous even to a degree anti-black is when it looks to lay tragedy at the feet of art. There is definitely a discussion to be had around personal judgment and responsibility. We can talk about basic hood instincts, such as playing dice with locals; not in your hood (allegedly) might not be the wisest idea. We can discuss thinking about having a cooler head in those circumstances or why someone who is a multi-millionaire would get heated for losing a little bit of money, in a dice game (allegedly, it might have been five or six zeroes they were playing for). Oftentimes in the face of shock and tragedy, in moments of grief, we all search to make sense of the nonsensical. Takeoff’s death feels avoidable, feels senseless, and that is because it is.
Now, in a society that removes personal responsibility from most equations and also politicizes things along identity lines, a discussion around systemic oppression and what were the conditions and circumstances that would result in young men who no longer need to take such risks continuing to do so isn’t one that many want to have. The lazy answer is Hip-Hop. It promotes it; it is a lifestyle they are forced to uphold. Look at drill music promoting violence and gangs! Look at trap music with its misogyny and drugs! That’s the reason! But are rap and hip-hop the illness or the symptom? Is it the cause or the effect? Does hip-hop cause violence, or is it the effect of it? Depending on your political leanings, you think the former or the latter, and that analysis, frankly, leaves years of divestment in black communities, redlining, police brutality, poverty, and mass incarceration incredibly off the hook.
The truth is, hip-hop was as much a spectator to this tragedy as Takeoff was the victim. These vices, those circumstances, and that mentality were in the community long before hip-hop had anything to do with us. So why isn’t the conversation around the lack of mentorship and guidance for young people in the hood? Or around the very real conditions that, by design, strain the humanity of Black people that even lead to this type of decision-making or even feeling the need to be armed at all times? Music had nothing to do with that. Culture has nothing to do with that. But, pointing the fingers at systemic oppression or even putting pressure on “community leaders” to do more to improve the conditions beyond mere charity and philanthropy (the tools of hypercapitalism to hide its lack of empathy, but that’s another blog) isn’t sexy, and to do that requires work and sacrifice that over decades of corruption and self-interest amongst black leaders and elites are not equip to or have the stomach to do.
No matter how much the internet screams otherwise, and no matter how many pundits attempt to pseudo-analyze the hood, Art imitates life; it’s not the other way around.
