dontdiedontkillanyon
New member
In Jay-Z’s Decoded, he recounts his days at Marcy Homes, a New York City project housing complex. Exploring the relationship between poverty and public displays of affluence, Jay-Z writes:
Rappers rap about their money for the same reasons cultural critics write about rappers rapping about their money: they are driven to assert themselves. Assertion is what all writers, including rappers, do. The difference between hip-hop and other forms, though, is that hip-hop uniquely exists at the intersection of ambition and insecurity.
Hip-hop assertion, as an authentic and authoritative act, often hinges on braggadocio and blackismo. Most rappers are rapping and speaking from the position of where they’re from and where they started (from the bottom). And even when they reach the pinnacle, their perspectives don’t seem to shift that much. In fact, the brags become more deeply entrenched in their past experiences. This lack of a shift opens up the space for assertion fueled by a noxious mix of insecurity and ambition. This is where most of the "new black" discourse permeates.
Status anxiety, as coined by Alain de Botton, is defined as "an almost universal anxiety... about what others think of us; about whether we’re judged a success or a failure, a winner or a loser." It’s clear, based on the interactions that have happened between rappers and rapper-adjacent figures in 2014, that some rappers are experiencing status anxiety now more than ever. This anxiety plays out on black public spaces like hip-hop radio stations and Twitter, as well as outside of those spaces. When Kanye compares himself to Steve Jobs, Walt Disney and other white men—as if Kanye as Kanye isn’t enough—it’s an insecurity that rests on this notion that breaking whatever glass ceiling there is for black men, placing oneself at the top of the game, doesn’t cut it. It’s understandable, considering the fact that not many rappers are comfortable being #2, but except for the Michael Jordan comparison every now and then, Kanye rarely says he’s the [insert black person] of said genre. Why? Because that would be redundant, yes, but also: he’s trying to live up to a standard that says white is right. A standard quite different from Pharrell’s, which leans more on black status.
Black status anxiety looks no different on Kanye than it does on Childish Gambino. In a Breakfast Club interview, Childish Gambino elaborated on his tweets about the "bigness" and "whiteness" that he wants for himself, for his career, saying, "It was a poem about freedom…I do wanna be big and white. Like, Will Smith is big and white." Childish Gambino is almost saying what Pharrell is saying, except he’s not couching it in any kind of a mentality. He’s saying what Kanye is saying without making it explicitly about white people, even though it is when whiteness is the default and standard. Charlamagne the God pushes back in the conversation, asking Childish Gambino why he doesn’t simply say "human," but their opinions aren’t too far off when the issue harkens back to emulating and acquiring wealth, success and fame in the white power structure.
The tiny differences between Childish Gambino, Charlamagne, Pharrell and others are just that—tiny. They hinge on outmoded capitalistic ideas that uphold whiteness as aspirational. The blackness-affirming pushback from other artists like Azealia Banks and J. Cole is essential in 2015; while the dream of New Blackness—a life where we float free from everyday American racism, wholecloth spiritual re-invention—is a fun dream to entertain, it’s a dream that comes at the expense of Regular Old Blackness.
http://pitchfork.com/thepitch/631-n...nd-jay-z-and-the-spectre-of-white-aspiration/
Rappers rap about their money for the same reasons cultural critics write about rappers rapping about their money: they are driven to assert themselves. Assertion is what all writers, including rappers, do. The difference between hip-hop and other forms, though, is that hip-hop uniquely exists at the intersection of ambition and insecurity.
Hip-hop assertion, as an authentic and authoritative act, often hinges on braggadocio and blackismo. Most rappers are rapping and speaking from the position of where they’re from and where they started (from the bottom). And even when they reach the pinnacle, their perspectives don’t seem to shift that much. In fact, the brags become more deeply entrenched in their past experiences. This lack of a shift opens up the space for assertion fueled by a noxious mix of insecurity and ambition. This is where most of the "new black" discourse permeates.
Status anxiety, as coined by Alain de Botton, is defined as "an almost universal anxiety... about what others think of us; about whether we’re judged a success or a failure, a winner or a loser." It’s clear, based on the interactions that have happened between rappers and rapper-adjacent figures in 2014, that some rappers are experiencing status anxiety now more than ever. This anxiety plays out on black public spaces like hip-hop radio stations and Twitter, as well as outside of those spaces. When Kanye compares himself to Steve Jobs, Walt Disney and other white men—as if Kanye as Kanye isn’t enough—it’s an insecurity that rests on this notion that breaking whatever glass ceiling there is for black men, placing oneself at the top of the game, doesn’t cut it. It’s understandable, considering the fact that not many rappers are comfortable being #2, but except for the Michael Jordan comparison every now and then, Kanye rarely says he’s the [insert black person] of said genre. Why? Because that would be redundant, yes, but also: he’s trying to live up to a standard that says white is right. A standard quite different from Pharrell’s, which leans more on black status.
Black status anxiety looks no different on Kanye than it does on Childish Gambino. In a Breakfast Club interview, Childish Gambino elaborated on his tweets about the "bigness" and "whiteness" that he wants for himself, for his career, saying, "It was a poem about freedom…I do wanna be big and white. Like, Will Smith is big and white." Childish Gambino is almost saying what Pharrell is saying, except he’s not couching it in any kind of a mentality. He’s saying what Kanye is saying without making it explicitly about white people, even though it is when whiteness is the default and standard. Charlamagne the God pushes back in the conversation, asking Childish Gambino why he doesn’t simply say "human," but their opinions aren’t too far off when the issue harkens back to emulating and acquiring wealth, success and fame in the white power structure.
The tiny differences between Childish Gambino, Charlamagne, Pharrell and others are just that—tiny. They hinge on outmoded capitalistic ideas that uphold whiteness as aspirational. The blackness-affirming pushback from other artists like Azealia Banks and J. Cole is essential in 2015; while the dream of New Blackness—a life where we float free from everyday American racism, wholecloth spiritual re-invention—is a fun dream to entertain, it’s a dream that comes at the expense of Regular Old Blackness.
http://pitchfork.com/thepitch/631-n...nd-jay-z-and-the-spectre-of-white-aspiration/
