Mixtape Magazine Spring 2019

ISSUE VII

SPRING 2019

ACTIVISM

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Mixtape Magazine Issue VII Spring 2019 Editor in Chief: Maia Wilson Executive Editor: Kyliah Almeida Executive Designer: Darcy Feeley Photo Executive: Siyaka Taylor-Lewis Fashion Director: Punya Sidhu Community Engagement: Kemet High Secretary: Taylor Epps Multimedia Chair: Aru Banks Social Media Chair: Josiah Kabemba Illustration Chair: Jojo Herrera Writers Kyliah Almeida, Cydney Lee, Kemet High, Jennifer Bancamper, Ayaa Mesbah, Punya Sidhu, Patrick Shanahan, Kenny Buckner, Fawaz Okoya, Paul Stec, Bobby Manning Illustrators Joleyne Herrera, Aiden Taylor Photographers Siyaka Taylor-Lewis, Akeem Models Eddy Gomez, David Gilstrap, Andre Santibanez, Evan Asante, Julio Burgos, Sophia Ogot, Vicky Rose, Chelsea Clements, Ebhani Blackwood, Milan Johnson

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Siyaka Taylor-Lewis Photo Executive

Jojo Herre ra Illustration Chair Punya Sidhu Fashion Director

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Darcy Feeley Executive De signer

Kyliah Almeda r Executive Edito Ke m e t H igh C ommu nit y Eng ag emen t

a emb er h K ab ag J o s ia e dia M a n al M S o ci Taylor Epps Secretar y

ks Aru Ban tor ia Direc d e im lt Mu

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Maia Wilson EICecretary

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They thought it wasn’t going to happen, but here we are, back at it again with another mag. (By “they” I mean me, but like I said, here we are.)

Hip-hop is a form of activism, through lyricism, sound, and visuals. It’s a form of activism in how artists use their platforms, or their capital to make change outside of their music. Jay and Bey were in the hood yelling ‘Free Meek’ on Top Off, at the same time Jay Z and Meek are using their money to make change for prison reform.

Hip Hop is political in many aspects, and people who reduce it down to just flexing don’t really understand it’s holistic impact. Even flexing can be a political statement.

No one does it like us, our culture is overcoming adversity and making something beautiful out of difficulty.

We’ve heard it said many different ways, hip-hop is a tool to fight struggle. It was an outlet for the early rap gods to get ahead in life, and share their experience.

While times change, the soul of hip-hop perseveres. Rappers, artists, have different consciousness now and use their work to really exemplify the diversity within Black culture. Hip Hop has expanded beyond what it was known to be in the past.

Looking at hip-hop as a form of protest, as a battle cry for awareness about Black culture, beyond iced out wrists.

That’s the essence of this art form.

As I write this I think about Lil Nas X blending trap and country, and how there was push back for the song to be considered a country track. There’s a recognition there, and a fear. A fear that this young black boy will bring the flavor of trap into a predominately white space, that rap will infiltrate a predominately white space.

The same was done when Beyoncé sang Daddy Lessons with the Dixie Chicks at the CMAs. The work of Hip-Hop artists is political, even when they don’t intend it to be, and to see them understand this and use their work to have impact is the spirit of Hip Hop. It’s so hard to say goodbye, but Mixtape is someone else’s baby now. This mag is very near and dear to me, and to serve as the 2nd EIC for the last year has been more than a privilege. Mixtape is my heart, my family. Mixtape, thank you for showing me my passion, and thank you for being an outlet for me and other students. To my team, y’all are a headache but you’re talented and hardworking people. I’m so lucky to have worked with you and to make these last works.

To the future of Mixtape, you all are amazing beings. You will carry on this magazine to greatness, I believe in each and every one of you.

Alexa, play Before I Let Go ~ Pax et Amor, Mj

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10 GANGSTA RAP 12 REFORM ALLIANCE: ON MEEK MILL’S PUSH FOR CRIMINAL JUSTICE REFORM 14 THE GLAMORIZATION AND DEVALUATION OF GANG CULTURE 16 THERE’S LEVEL TO THE REALNESS 18 BARK AND BITE: UNDERGROUND RAP AND SOCIAL AWARENESS 20 CULTURE OF THE COMMUNITY 22 HOOD POLITICS

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24 CULTURE AU NATUREL: PHOTO GALLERY

34 AFRO-LATINX ADVOCACY AND PRIDE 36 GANGSTA BITCH POLTICS: CARDI B AFTER FAME 38 STIMULATE THE VISION WITH A VISION 40 21 SAVAGE STRUCK A NERVE WITH POWER LIKE ARTISTS BEFORE HIM 44 IF COLORED SKIN HAD A SOUND

46 STUDENT SPOTLIGHTS

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gangsta rap Reporting Live from the Front Lines

By Kyliah Almeda The narrative that the last great rebellion and fight for civil rights occurred in the 1960s can be debunked with just one term: gangsta rap.

Those that classify this art as “violent” have no knowledge of the exigencies surrounding the artists that produced some of the greatest works Hip-Hop has ever seen. The rise of gangsta rap was not only a musical revolution, but also redefined what we previously knew as activism. Using similar solidification tactics as those used in the Civil Rights Movement, this music was hood storytelling- it united those who knew these

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stories as realities, and soon spread to white suburbia. This infiltration dubbed the most infamous gangstas/artists/ activists, N.W.A., “the world’s most dangerous group.”

“Fuck tha Police” is now part of our everyday discourse, but prior to N.W.A.’s 1988 release of the song, one would never utter those words in public.

Before hearing the song’s lyrics, the title was a collective exhale for the community, specifically those in South Central L.A. It was a verbal expression of repressed anger that could not be physically exuded. The significance of the terms lies in that an educated Black man is a threat to white society. Ice Cube played with this and, in the Netflix

documentary Hip-Hop Evolution: The Birth of Gangsta Rap, he discusses “using our voice as a weapon against oppression.” The threat to the establishment wasn’t just the words that N.W.A. was spewing, it was their platform. What they were saying wouldn’t have meant a damn thing if they didn’t have that platform; they had a following, not just in Compton, not just in California, not just on the West Coast, but in mainstream society. The microphone was as lethal of a weapon as a gun.

The 1980s Reagan-era politics and sense of Neoliberalism perpetuated a society of strict “crime and punishment.”

Whether it be from Reaganomics or the so-called “war on

drugs,” people of color were the victims of a decade filled with rising poverty levels, crime rates, and harsh drug laws. People of color saw their communities ravaged as a result. Tired of seeing brothers, fathers, friends, and cousins swallowed up by the prison industrial complex, Ice Cube took to pen and paper to let his anger out. More specifically, tired of seeing Dr. Dre arrested and bailed out of jail every weekend, Cube sat down and wrote “Fuck tha Police.”

The fight for prison and sentencing reform that we see today is a direct result of the Reagan administration’s war on communities of color. But before it was a mainstream issue, the only ones fighting for these reforms were those directly affected by it, such as N.W.A. and areas like Compton. Cube had no idea what an impact his song would make, as his inspirations, Ice-T’s “Colors” and Schoolly D’s “P.S.K.,” didn’t have nearly the same effect, being that they were popularized mainly in the hood. Never before had the world outside of South Central LA had a picture this vivid painted for them. Long before the area was making headlines due to the Rodney King trial and subsequent LA riots, N.W.A. was making strides toward prison reform, simply by telling their story, and I think that’s what makes it so groundbreaking. The gang

wasn’t doing anything more than speaking about their reality. This is the reason I say gangsta rap was an act of rebellion. Not for suburban white kids whose parents couldn’t stand the thought of their kids reciting lyrics about violence and police brutality, but for the affected communities and victims who felt like their hands were tied, like there was nothing left to do but to succumb to these injustices. Driving while Black, shopping while Black, hell, breathing while Black could and still can get you got.

Speaking while Black? There’s hell to pay for that one. The fact that this group of men made the voices and cries of their seemingly invisible and disposable communities heard was a valiant act that would change the way the new generation mobilizes.

Perceived threats to the establishment aside, what’s just as important as the self-proclaimed “gang’s” activism, is the suppression that they received from the establishment. If you’ve seen Straight Outta Compton, you know how the story goes: the group received a letter from the FBI, condemning the lyrics to the song and claiming that they incited violence against police. Furthermore, the group was warned by police not to perform the song at a show in Detroit in 1989. While N.W.A.

did end up disregarding police threats and performing the song, their arrest was a bit dramatized in the movie; they were arrested in their hotel lobby later that night, according to XXL. Nonetheless, the suppression they faced was nothing to be taken lightly.

The FBI doesn’t get involved in just anything, they strategically target those that have the power to really fuck up the status quo, look at the Panthers and what happened with COINTELPRO. You get the point. “Fuck tha Police” was not just a song, and N.W.A. was not just a rap group; it was an anthem, a song of worship, and they were a gang of ruthless mfs armed with microphones, the voice of a generation.

“Fuck tha Police” has not lost its essence. 30 years later, and with the presence of the internet and social media, we have a constant stream of surveillance of police brutality. While the culture keeps changing, the framework has not. The power of a mic still stands, and activism presents itself on a variety of frontsmusic being just one of them.

These communities are not invisible, and these voices cannot be silenced. We have Hip-Hop, gangsta rap and N.W.A. specifically, to thank for birthing the contemporary methods of activism. Oh, and, fuck the police.

OH, AND, FUCK THE POLICE. Spring 2019

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On Meek Mill’s Push for Criminal Justice Reform

By Cydney Lee “I used to pray for times like this, to rhyme like this So I had to, grind like that to shine like this In a matter of time I spent on some locked up shit In the back of the paddy wagon, cuffs locked on wrists” If this doesn’t describe the trials and tribulations of Meek Mill’s life thus far, then I don’t know what does. The Philly rapper’s relationship to the criminal “justice” system is eerily similar to that of many Black boys and men in America. Mass incarceration has plagued the Black community. Little Black children are growing up fatherless and brotherless by way of systematic racism. We know this oppression all too well, but this is the society we live in.

Robert Rihmeek Williams has lived both sides of this narrative. Growing up poor in North Philly, Meek lost his father to gun violence when he was young. From the start, he was destined for a troublesome life; however, his teenage-self found solace in battle rapping. Formerly known as

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“Meek Millz,” a nappy-headed, cornrowed Meek was no stranger to clapping niggas in the streets of Philly with his arrogant bars. (His 2015 beef with Drake may suggest otherwise, but they’re homies now so don’t come for me).

Meek’s hate-hate relationship with the law began when he was 18. Arrested on drug and gun charges, the dream-chaser was a young victim of police brutality as he was left with a concussion, stitches, and a few braids ripped out. He spent two years in a medium-security prison and later used the sullen mugshot from this arrest as the cover art to his 2016 mixtape, DC4.

This first interaction with the law marked the beginning of years in-and-out of jail for the then-emerging Philly voice.

Fast forward to approximately ten years later. August 2017.

Meek let his inner Philly nigga get the best of him, but this time, in the wrong city.

He was essentially arrested for popping wheelies in the streets of Upper Manhattan, an act deemed as “reckless endangerment” and a technical violation of his probation from the arrest aforementioned. Apparently, riding dirt bikes in the streets of New York City is illegal. It’s crazy

because I see niggas do this all the time in the summer back in Philly. It’s lowkey an art form if you ask me.

Having only ser ved five months out of the two to four years he was sentenced, this petty arrest sparked national outrage amongst Meek’s family, friends, fans, and the city of Philadelphia as a whole.

Two months after his re-imprisonment, livid patrons of my city gathered for a rally in Center City as people shouted and held signs that read, “#FreeMeekMill.” I remember going home for Thanksgiving break that year and seeing the hashtag plastered on billboards and bus stops all around the city.

Meek was released in April 2018. Upon this, he immediately boarded a helicopter and was flown to the Wells Fargo Center where he received a warm Philly welcome. He quickly changed from his prison uniform to a Sixers jersey for one of our playoff games, where he rung the ceremonial Liberty Bell to commence the game and essentially announce to the world his homecoming.

Meek spent a good amount of his sentence in solitary confinement and cites this

experience as taking a tremendous toll on his mental health. The truth is, prison workers don’t give a shit about those incarcerated, so they treat inmates inhumanely, often driving them to insanity.

This then hinders the ability for ex-cons to reintegrate back into society, while the leash and collar of probation is placed around their necks for what seems like forever.

Probation acts as a form of operant condition but with only positive punishment.

To see one of our own get snatched by the system, yet again, was unsettling to say the least. Meek Mill acts as a voice for many Black boys and men who live a similar truth.

His narrative is one that too many share and his celebrity status has allowed the issue of mass incarceration in America to be put on full display.

However, fame aside, this is a problem that can and will happen to any person of color

deemed a threat by whites.

Racial profiling, false accusations, police brutality, and petty crimes have all been and continue to be salient reasons for the roundup of Black men as a way for whites to keep the race oppressed.

Meek Mill is now an avid advocate for criminal justice and prison reform. In November 2018, he penned a candid opinion piece for The New York Times in which he detailed his frustration with being “a victim of a miscarriage of justice” and announced his plan for change. Meek has partnered with Jay-Z and numerous professional sports executives and CEOs to launch Reform Alliance. Under this initiative, the members involved pledged $50 million to reach their goal of freeing one million people trapped in the system within the next five years.

In his article, Meek noted that lawmakers should be held “accountable for supporting unfair or inhumane policies and all practices that perpetuate injustice.” He also mentioned that with Reform Alliance, he hopes to push for stronger prison rehabilitation programs and updated probation policies.

“Above all, we need to make sure punishments actually fit crimes,” he wrote. I second that, Meek.

The now 31-year-old rapper has been killing it since being free. In November 2018, he released his triumphant fourth studio album, Championships, and embarked on The Motivation Tour for a majority of February and March. Through his aggressive bars and ravenous but shrill tone, Meek’s music always tells a story. We must protect him at all costs.

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The Glamorization and Devaluation of Gang Culture

By Punya Sidhu

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rom hip-hop gang affiliates/members like Nipsey Hussle and YG, respectively, to rappers like Chief Keef, who introduced a problematic fascination with crime-ridden Chicago, gang culture and violence has continued to be part of the fabric of rap music and in turn, popular culture. Because of the popularization of gang culture through music, people who have no connections to gang life see it as a way to

role play a life that isn’t theirs.

It’s the same way we saw trap music become popular among the white, suburban American demographic – these kids can’t relate to the lyrics they hear, but they feel like they now have a window to see that lifestyle.

From people paying to take tours of South Central Los Angeles cities, like Compton and Watts, to Kendall Jenner wearing a “Bompton” shirt, the

fascination with gang culture has become so mainstream that it has become profitable.

However, underneath the obsession with violence is a lack of understanding of the severities and implications of actual gang life. In Long Island, after Trump had declared MS-13 a band of murderers who were a threat to public safety, police were eager to find and arrest member of the gang; Henry, a boy who came to the US from El Salvador to escape the grips of MS-13, found himself once again roped in; after he saw the senseless killing of his classmates, he tried to finally find a way out.

He wrote a confession of all the violence he saw, and left it with his teacher, who got him in contact with a police officer, who told him that if he helped supply information about his fellow gang members, he would be provided with a new identity and relocated so that he could have a new life. Henry did, but instead of being relocated as part of the witness protection program, he was detained by ICE, after they used the same information he gave them against him as evidence to deport him back to El Salvador, where he will face death by MS-13. I doubt that Kendall Jenner, or many of the people who tout gang knowledge and signs as a symbol of how cool they (supposedly) are, knows this story, or has any idea about the actual effects that gang life can have on people’s lives.

In an interview with Vlad TV, Chicago producer Young Chop described the fascination that suburban kids, particularly those from the Chicago suburbs, have with gang life after hearing about it from Chicago artists like Chief Keef, the late Fredo Santana,

and Lil Reese. “Everybody in this motherf***** gangbanging,” he said. “I don’t give a f*** if you’re from up north, suburbs. I get a lot of Snapchats of these preppy white kids want[ing] to gangbang.

They don’t know what the f*** they’re throwing up, but everyone wants to gangbang.”

Chicago rapper Montana of 300 also commented on the interest that people seemed to take in Chicago, and its perception in the media as a dangerous city filled with gun violence and murder on every corner. In reality, Chicago is not even near the top of the list of US cities with the highest murder rates, which belong to St. Louis, Baltimore, Detroit, New Orleans, and Baton Rouge. “Nobody’s going to buy something that they don’t believe,” he said in an interview with Vlad TV. “These kids from Chicago, they didn’t have to be super creative. They didn’t have to be as creative as Lil Wayne [with] his metaphors....It just had to be believable. So it’s like damn... that dude he was talking about really got killed!

Everybody was tuned in to what the f*** was really going on in Chicago...sadly that type of shit is entertaining to some people. When Soulja Boy did a song with Chief Keef, that opened up a door for Chief Keef, which he opened up for a lot of other artists.” In truth, these artists are simply making music about their reality and the things that they have experienced; it’s authentic and real to them.

People who haven’t had these experiences and who are not even the slightest bit aware of what the gang signs they throw up mean, or what the principles and values behind these gangs are, supposedly want to bang. OK.

There are various works that break down the origins and essence of gangs across the US, including the Crips and Bloods. One of them is The Bandana Republic, edited

by Bruce George and Louis Reyes Rivera, is a collection of poems, essays, and other writing by gang members and affiliates from nearly every gang in the United States, meant to show readers the realities, emotions of gang life and the communities it exists in. It takes into account the influence and social power that many gangs have in political movements and in their communities, including offering protection to community residents.

The fact that people who are so far removed from the actual consequences and actualities of gang life, somehow feel a need to be a part of it, while simultaneously failing to educate themselves on the very real issues that affect real people’s lives.

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By Ayaa Mesbah Authenticity in hip-hop is becoming harder to identify, harder to pinpoint, harder to achieve (especially as a woman). There has never been a clear line where you magically become “real” but there’s a few discourses to discover.* *Aight so listen, and let’s be real, you either become recognized as a real nigga or you’re a woman who needs a male co-sign it seems huh? This is going to come from an educational lens so we’re going to try to break it down a little.

The Black community, aside from Hip-Hop, is on a constant playing field of proving their worth to both their own community and to their white counterparts. For white society, although there is no difference between the two terms “nigga” and n****r, they associate different emotions towards the two. There ends up being the commodification of the n****r but the celebration of the “nigga.” Can a commodified identity be authentic? Can something even be real if they making money off of us? Of course it can but, let’s talk about the use of the n****r as an object, as a mode to express that there are different levels to the realness.

To be a nigga is to be seen as lawless, it’s presenting a “Fuck You, Pay Me” attitude in relation to the struggles of the community (think Malcolm X); it is the most controversial level of being labeled as

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a nigga (rather than a n****r).

It is the most unapologetic display of what America stereotypically views as “Blackness,” but with the intention of proving the worth of the Black body. To be a nigga is to infiltrate white spaces with any form of Blackness but with the purpose of demanding respect and attention, to embody the term, nigga, in their own respective right. The authenticity of being a nigga correlates in Hip-Hop with what it means to be human.

To understand what being a real nigga is, think “Renegade”

by Jay-Z featuring Eminem: “-renegade! Never been afraid to say/ What’s on my mind at any given time of day/ ‘Cause I’m a renegade!/ Never been afraid to talk about anything.”

What Hov and Em are doing in this song is embodying the “renegade” as a role to prove their authenticity. They do this by depicting their rejection of lawful or conventional behavior to state that they will not be a product of objectification. In the objectification or, better yet, the “niggerization” of Black bodies lies the ultimate significance- Black culture is turned into an object that can be bought and sold and therefore makes us a sacrifice on the altar of whiteness.

“In this regressive thought, the hard-core nigga is an expression of angry, self-destructive violence, the armed and insatiable beast of capitalism that knows only exchange-value and the endless

pursuit of greater pressure.”

Erasing “hood politics” within Hip-Hop culture by white counterparts allows for the creation of “real niggas” (not just a nigga): those who feel the need to authenticate themselves through the discourse of adhering to a stereotype (being angry, or being hood). The potential reason for doing this is because they deem it fit to prove their status in White America as something feared (stereotype), but as something real. What authenticates this action is the mental growth and understanding which stemmed from their true experiences. Therefore, this erasure of “hood politics” by white counterparts also allows for the deletion of the respect of their hustle, an erasure of authenticity.

In the game, Black womxn struggle with authenticity because of how male-dominated Hip-Hop is. The line bet ween feminism and Hip-Hop is one in which many tread daily due to the opposing true love for Hip-Hop and its culture and the fact that Hip-Hop is deeply rooted in a patriarchal and misogynistic stance, which allows for the deletion of authenticity for womxn in Hip-Hop. When you are a womxn making rap music, you are forced to pick a standard to subject yourself to, limiting your multi-modality as an artist, compelling you to pick one fantasy to adhere to; you can be sensual or gangsta but to be both is seen as a threat to the feminism and toxic mas-

culinity that is initially taught to us. Black men emerging in Hip-Hop are almost never forced to sell their bodies to sell their tracks. Don’t get it twisted though, the times have changed. In the late 90’s and the early 00’s, these compartments were harsh and, regardless of which lane you wanted to enter, hustler or sexy (or risk trying the area of both), you most likely needed a male co-sign. In this modern flow of the music industry, the pockets still exist. The male co-sign aspect of the dilemma sometimes is not as prevalent, but is still present. Those that don’t have it could potentially see their career skyrocket if they did. For example, when rapper Kodie Shane started to gain clout from Lil Yachty, her popularity increased for a bit and even gained her a record deal during that time before it eventually dwindled back to her original fan base. Chicago artist Tink is another example of a womxn in Hip-Hop who has the talent, potential, and high quantity as well as quality of music, but struggles to get a spotlight. Although she has had popular male features, to actually get an upright co-sign from a figurehead of Hip-Hop could potentially boost her exposure and credibility/authenticity.

Missy Elliot, Foxy Brown, and Nicki Minaj are some of the best examples of womxn in Hip-Hop whose authenticity have been challenged numerous times. They explored the fluidity of being powerful Black women- hood yet sensual. Their authenticity shines through their tracks because it presents a standard of demanding respect from men, as women. They solidified their authenticity in self-expression. It is import-

ant to note that we are always seen by White America, but recognized and, better yet, respected when we present in a professional matter.

Some, however, go through a possible response of being a desired “nigga,” which is shedding your sense of community and now expressing your style ONLY for recognition by whites, making you a n****r, a commodified object (think Lil Kim after the excess need for European features), becoming an object of commerce. In “Hip-Hop Feminist”

by Joan Morgan, she states, “We need a feminism that possesses the same fundamental understanding held by any true student of Hip-Hop. Truth can’t be found in the voice of any one rapper but in the juxtaposition of many.”

Think about the music we have now, there isn’t one female artist that we can confidently say has not picked a pocket of a personality, and to not much

authenticate themselves.

They have to do one thing so good and that has to be their lane, leaving little room for experimentation with large possibility for harsh criticism.

The way White America perceives and utilizes the terms “nigga” and n****r differentiate in that they idolize, steal from, and essentially try to be like the first, while demonizing but gaining profit of the other.

Authenticity in the Black community and within Hip-Hop, relates to Blackness, gender and the boundaries we as a society place to define them.

Womxn in Hip-Hop then tend to walk the fine line of what it means to be a Black womxn and how that relates to their ability to authenticate themselves. The issue lies in who’s real and who’s faking? Who has the right to claim their validity? Can we even be real if the majority sees us a market to steal from and bodies to profit off of?

fault of their own it’s

the tiny crevice of a slot they have to try and Fall 2018

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more violent and confrontational scene developing in the underground that doesn’t shy away from touchier subjects.

These artists have started to achieve more mainstream popularity in recent years and are perhaps indicative of a growing trend towards more confrontational music in years to come.

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Underground Rap and Social Awareness

By Patrick Shanahan

Music is a truly amazing thing.

As an art form, music is unique in its accessibility, in that it doesn’t require a keen ear or outside experience in order to understand or appreciate it. Of course, those things can help inform how one is impacted by the music they listen to, but they aren’t entirely necessary.

Anyone can listen to music, and varying genres of music exist to be applied to different people’s tastes and sensibilities. That being said, music gives the artist a privileged position in the social sphere.

It gives a voice to the voiceless, both the artist and audience. Particularly, it offers the opportunity for artists to speak on issues important to them because they are also impacted as individuals. This has been especially true with Hip-Hop music, whose origins trace back to issues concerning the African-American experience and issues adjacent to that experience.

Hip-Hop artists have, historically, used their platform to discuss social issues plaguing their communities; artists like 2Pac, NWA, and Kendrick Lamar, to name a few. These

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are artists that use their influence to draw attention to things that concern not only them, but the greater society at large, covering issues such as socio-economic oppression, systemic racism, Black love, mental illness, or the prevalence of drugs and violence in the inner cities, all with tact and aplomb. But recently, as Hip-Hop has established itself as the most popular genre in music, attention has shifted from addressing social issues in favor of attention-grabbing flexing and clout chasing.

Whereas previous popular artists in the genre were concerned with addressing social issues, nowadays the conversation has shifted more towards flexing and stunting in one’s music. This is not necessarily a bad thing, as showing off one’s wealth and success has always been part of the genre, but it is often unfortunate when superstar artists with wide, impressionable audiences, like Drake, fail to address issues that relate to their audiences, especially when artists like Migos have explicitly stated that they have no intention of ever addressing political subjects in their work. This complacency in the upper echelon of Hip-Hop music has given way to a much

An artist that comes to mind immediately is Denzel Curry, a voice in the genre who has only recently received the kind of recognition he, respectfully, deserves. With his 2018 album TA1300, Curry launched a violent, in-your-face assault on the Hip-Hop zeitgeist with tracks like “THE BLACKEST BALLOON.” On this track, Curry addresses the over-glorification of drugs prevalent in the Hip-Hop scene. Lyrics such as “N****s on them Perc’s, they might just shoot a fuckin’ campus” and “Ain’t shit changed since Lil Peep died” are clear in intent, tackling the problem of drug abuse in the genre. Lil Peep was a socially conscious artist who only received mainstream popularity following his 2017 drug overdose. In acknowledging this, Denzel Curry also brings up the idea that Lil Peep’s death should’ve enacted change, but instead has been forgotten after his surge in popularity, with artists like Lil Xan and Lil Pump continuing to glorify the use of Xanax and Fentanyl in their lyrics and social media posts even after one of the genre’s biggest losses.

Denzel Curry is a Florida native and he, clearly, understood that this was negatively impacting the impressionable youth of the South Florida SoundCloud scene, evidenced by the opioid crisis plaguing suburbs and inner cities

throughout America. South Florida itself lost 1700 people to opioid-related deaths in 2016. Perhaps Curry’s words and the passing of Peep and the late Mac Miller have spurred some sort of change, as the opioid death rate plummeted 41% in South Florida county Palm Beach in 2018.

Perhaps Denzel Curry’s best contribution to the community and the greater conversation around mental health comes in the form of the song “CLOUT COBAIN,” a song all about how the excessive flexing contributes to a growing sense of isolation and strain on his mental health. “I just wanna feel myself, you want me to kill myself / Man I been on my own, Lord, Imma need some help,” he raps on the song’s intentionally catchy hook, masking a deep inner pain and concern under a veil of pop sensibility. Curry understands why “the flex” is important to artists, but he recognizes that it becomes inherently meaningless if they don’t have anything else to say, and thus feels frustrated that he isn’t receiving recognition when compared to other artists “People sleeping on me hard, and I’m the hardest in the bay.”

Another artist, and collaborator with Curry, who doesn’t shy away from addressing serious issues is Baltimore rapper JPEGMAFIA, who has seen his career skyrocket from small house shows to selling out concerts alongside Vince Staples in a period of just over a year. JPEGMAFIA, known as Peggy to his fans, made a name for himself for his off-the-wall, experimental production and emphasis on extreme confrontation in his 2018 album Veteran. Peggy, a veteran of the war in Afghan-

istan, targets everyone from his fellow military officials “Oh you ain’t got the flag now, n***a what / No badge no gun you is not tough,” in “1488” as well as alt-right conservatives “Look it’s the young alt-right menace / What’s the pistol to a pennant?” in “Rainbow Six.” He engages moderate liberals “Word on the street you’re a libtard / heard rape makes you get hard … word on the street you Bill Maher / Word on the street you fucked Tomi Lahren” in his track “Libtard Anthem,” and hipster music bloggers that dare try to criticize or unpack his music “Say they wanna be a critic, but can’t take no criticism” again in, “Rainbow Six” (don’t worry, the irony is not lost on me). He has expressed his disdain for commercial rappers and their lack of realness in their music and in person. “When you pull up on them, they call the cops.

That’s not what punks do. I’m punk; these n****s are bitch– made,” he said to 34st.com, decrying his frustration with artists who claim to actually do the violent actions they talk about in their music, but are unable to back it up in real life.

Peggy has said in his music and in interviews that he used to do the things he refers to in his music, including briefly living as homeless, so it is understandable why he values authenticity so much in his peers.

Arguably the most popular act of these three underground artists is BROCKHAMPTON. The self-described boyband has made enormous leaps in popularity since releasing the Saturation trilogy in 2017.

They, too, are frustrated with the state of the music industry and its ingenuity in the mainstream, evidenced by numerous bars on the track

“FAKE” from the first Saturation album. “Flex too hard and your casket close” and “It’s a machine, that’s why we work inside the factory” pointedly reference their “disenthusiasm” towards an industry that rewards flexers like Lil Pump or Migos, while keeping other artists down. The group has also tackled serious subjects like rape culture in the Saturation 2 cut “JUNKY,” “And, yeah, you mad 'cause she ain't fuck, mad 'cause she ain't suck / Beat your ass before you got time to say ‘why not?’” Matt Champion, the rapper who wrote these bars, is addressing the way men unjustifiably expect sex from women, and subsequently get upset when women choose to have autonomy over their own bodies and decline said advances. The band has also discussed the plights of gay youth experiences on the track “WEIGHT” off their 2018 record iridescence “And every time I took her bra off, my dick would get soft / I thought I had a problem, kept my inside a pillow screaming,” as a couple of members of the band identify as LGBTQ. Artists like Denzel Curry, JPEGMAFIA and BROCKHAMPTON are clearly very frustrated with the current state of the industry, and it’s evident by the confrontational music that they’re making. If artists at the height of popularity continue to fail to tackle social issues correctly, they will be replaced; the next wave of artists is already demonstrative of that. Smaller artists like these make cutting and conscious Hip-Hop that not only bangs, but possesses a level of social awareness uncommon in recent popular Hip-Hop, and we might be better off for it.

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CULTURE OF THE COMMUNITY

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By Kenny Buckner The culture of Hip Hop has always been one rooted in the community behind it. Without community, there is no culture. From its origins, Hip-Hop has revolved around community interaction, issues being expressed in songs, and artists servicing and advocating for the communities that they live in. As people, the environments that we grow up in have a lot to do with our journey and destination in life because it is the experiences that we have there that help make us who we are. Growing up in Black neighborhoods and just due to systemic instruments such as racism and capitalism, Black people have always been at a disadvantage when it comes to upward mobility. As Hip-Hop has moved to become the number one consumed genre, it’s vital that artists use their voices and their actions to provide service and advocacy for their communities.

From Public Enemy to N.W.A. to Tupac, Hip-Hop has been utilized as a social instrument to discuss and promote issues and conflicts that Back communities experience across the country and across the world. Public Enemy is well known for their song “Fight the Power,” where rappers Chuck D and Flavor Flav address issues such as civic engagement and activism.

Syracuse University students saw Flavor Flav spread this message once again in April, through a video clip advocating for students to vote in the Student Association election.

Songs continued to reflect the everyday strifes of Black people as N.W.A. displayed with their single “Fuck the Police” during a time where

racial profiling and police violence was on the rise.

In 1991, Tupac released his first single “Brenda’s Got A Baby” which told the dark story of a 12 year old girl who was molested and impregnated by her family and eventually turned to drugs. He explored a darker side of the community which wasn’t as common at the time. Pac was also known to be one to support those within the community by giving back.

When we look Hip-Hop culture from past to present, there are artists who have given back and put in work with the purpose of helping and uplifting the community. We’ve witnessed artists like Drake be philanthropic in his video for “God’s Plan” as he spent money on people’s groceries, homeless shelters, and building public education.

Since his passing, Nipsey Hussle’s dedication to his community has become much more publicized. Nipsey took his love for STEM and developed Vector90, a co-working space that connects youth in South Central, Los Angeles with access to opportunities in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics, particularly in Silicon Valley.

His work ethic that earned him a Grammy nomination for his debut album Victory Lap is just as strong as his work ethic to build and support the community. He was known to help homeless men and women find jobs to support themselves, restructure and renovate playgrounds for elementary school students, among various other acts of service Part of the community includes those incarcerated who are sometimes are due to an unjust criminal justice system. After spending 5

months in prison, Meek Mill being involved with prison reform is important for the community. Recently, Meek Mill and Jay-Z collaborated to create the REFORM alliance, which has since proposed a bill to reform the Pennsylvania probation and parole system.

At the end of the day, the backbone of Hip-Hop is the people in the community it services, inspires, and Where would Hip Hop be without the community that supports it.

Noble rapper and philanthropist Jay-Z said, “Over here we measure success by how many people successful next to you.” It is important that as Hip-Hop continues to evolve, it stays rooted in the community, and that artists use their platforms and music to vocalize issues that are impacting Black people on a daily. Speaking out against said issues plaguing the communities around us and, in turn, taking action to find solutions to these problems, uplifts and paves the way for success.

If that’s not for the culture, then I don’t know what is.

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HOOD POLITICS

By Fawaz Okoya

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The LAPD gamblin’, scramblin’, football numbers slanderin’ Niggas name on paper, you snitched all summer The streets don’t fail me now, they tell me it’s a new gang in town From Compton to Congress, it’s set trippin’ all around Ain’t nothin’ new but a flow of new DemoCrips and ReBloodlicans Red state versus a blue state, which one you governin’?

They give us guns and drugs, call us thugs Make it they promise to fuck with you No condom they fuck with you, Obama say, “What it do?”

One of Kendrick Lamar’s songs on the highly recognized album To Pimp A Butterfly, Hood Politics draws a parallel between Compton and Congress. Kung Fu Kenny is trying to show the divide in the Nation’s political parties and how certain territories are now marked by a political color similar to that of Bloods and Crips. This similarity is used to tear down the sanctimony of some of the government officials who continue to put negative connotations street gangs when they are essentially doing the same on a larger scale. Lamar then continues to critique the government while also bring light to former president Barack Obama who although being a politician attempts to speak on the black experience as a respected member and not

another white politician who Lamar describes as “ fucking with with you, without a condom,” or in other words keeping the black population down doing us dirty. Lamar then suggests that Obama isn’t completely exempt from the “fucking,” and goes on to rap about this distrust in people in leadership positions including himself.

Blacker the Berry You hate me don’t you?

You hate my people, your plan is to terminate my culture You’re fuckin’ evil I want you to recognize that I’m a proud monkey You vandalize my perception but can’t take style from me…

So why did I weep when Trayvon Martin was in the street When gang banging make me kill a nigga blacker than me?

Hypocrite!

In the wake of police brutality in America and the birth of the Black Lives Matter Movement, Lamar is speaking of on hate towards black culture and our underlying success and creativity that is often envied because it didn’t stem from white America. On a more

personal level, Lamar questioning his own hypocrisy as he fights for justice for young black men but has also been the cause of serveal deaths of young black men in Compton.

Lamar has been dealing with a inner moral complex and he tries to advocate more for the black community. Kendrick’s self-questioning has been both his drive and downfall as he tries to escape who he once was but still be true to himself.

Kung Fu Kenny’s album To Pimp a Butterfly is intelligent, soulful, political and is in touch with tradition but also very modern. Lamar speaks directly directly to the modern day black experience in America and helps to continue the conversation on race though his socially and politically engaged art. As for the cover art, the White House, while being the home of the president is also a landmark of black oppression. From the streets of Compton to the steps of the White House, the cover is used to represent the long-traveled road of black representation in a society that has only been institutionalized and oppressed.

At a time like this in society when innocent kids are still being gunned down and the current president is just as corrupt as the streets, it seems prevalent that we take to mind the words of TPAB as we stomp on white capitalism and seek liberation. I think Lamar poses a good question for all the black artists of this generation “how is my music, power, identity, and leadership going to provide a path that leads to the advancement of our people and our country.

If we can’t use our music as a platform for change why use it at all.”

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AFRO-LATINX ADVOCACY AND PRIDE

By Ayaa Mesbah How New York Brujas Can Change the Political AND the Rap Game “I think safe spaces are very important. It’s unfortunate that the sordid reality of the experience of our community is literally apprehended by people who base it off no experience at all.”

— Princess Nokia 7/12/16 Twent y-Six-year- old Afro-Latina Rapper, Destiny Frasqueri, better known by her stage name, Princess Nokia, is a constant advocate for racial, sexual and social justice for all. She has constantly been acknowledged and praised for her feminist remarks and the actions she takes to adhere to her agenda of social reform.

Princess Nokia is sadly underrated as an artist and as an activist and, because of

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this, she requires far more exposure.

Most people would know her in the activism regard because of the 2017 incident on the L-Train where a seemingly tipsy/drunk passenger, who claimed to be a lawyer, was spewing racial slurs. He then got hot soup dumped on him, pushed out of the train and then later kicked in the face.

The heroine who did this was none other than Princess Nokia. Soon after this event she tweeted: “And yes I threw hot soup in this man’s face and kicked him off of the train and kicked in the face.

Any other racists wanna try us again? https://t.co/T6BpDMENIj” — Princess Nokia (@princessnokia) October 11, 2017

Acts like such, and her constant displays of unapologetic resistance depict something this generation of famous and upcoming artists alike are either fully submerged in or choose to ignore. She uses her brand as an individual and as a creator to uphold a standard of speaking for the scared and voiceless.

She is constantly an advocate for her upbringing in East Harlem and for her proud Afro-Latina Heritage. The two songs she has released to fully encapsulate both of these identities are, “ABCs of New York” and “Brujas.” In the former track, she proudly represents the city that raised her and pays homage to how the nitty and gritty streets of New York City that showed her how to thrive: you need to be full of yourself and proud of yourself.

In the latter track, “Brujas,” her

lyrics, paired with the video, give ample focus to Orishas, which are deities from the Yoruba religion (which Princess Nokia comes from) that are worshipped because of their special characteristics and powers. She is not only able to seemingly shape-shift between feminine and masculine voices and flows, but she also channels her ancestry in this track, intermixing her song with lyrics in Taíno and Yoruba.

Princess Nokia uses her narrative to highlight the struggle of Black womxn in relation to the systematic world they are placed in. Black womxn are consistently viewed in all forms of media as either overly-emotional and aggressive/ angry or they are hyper-sexualized. When discussing culture and identity there needs to be an understanding that the definition of “self “that many Black womxn carry begins to warps over time due to societal pressure to be more Eurocentric and “white.”

Black womxn, however are not made and manufactured to fall victim to toxic masculinity, and that is what Princess Nokia is all about.

This stigma of personality and beauty placed on Black womxn compartmentalizes us as two-dimensional beings who can either be one way or the other. Every systemic strife that can possibly occur to an individual tends to occur to Black womxn (especially dark-skinned womxn). The biggest perpetrators of this erasure used to be white men but more recently this also includes Black men as well.

Many Black men tend to disregard the tribulations of Black womxn and have aided in the placement of many labels and stigmas upon them. Most of

This degradation potentially comes from a place of insecurity and self-hate that the Black man himself has been conditioned to carry. This causes a significant divide within the Black community, one in which we cannot afford to have. Nokia’s inclusion of female suffering is important because of this concept of representation that tends to get lost in translation.

“Black activism has always been apart of my life” — Princess Nokia She is an artist who adamantly uses her musical outreach and platform to discuss “taboo” topics of gender, race, class and misogyny. Throughout the lives of every Black individual, one will experience some form of violence whether it be as miniscule as a micro aggression or as grand as

when we are able to fight back because we are finally fighting for our freedom and our rights.

We are never free to rest until we achieve our equality, until we finally reach that mountaintop. The country we are born into and expected to live and die for, does not love us, let alone want us. We are strangers looking in faces of those who see us as inferior, as less than, as “other.” We choose our own path in how we handle the situations we are placed in and we cannot be blamed for how we defend our rights. Princess Nokia would agree that sometimes, you just do what you gotta do to get shit heard and done.

murder.

We are free Spring 2019

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GANGSTA BITCH POLITICS CARDI B AFTER FAME

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By Paul Stec Cardi B has been able to reach so many different groups that listen to rap and use music to relate to how life can really be for young females trying to enter the game and to move through everyday life. It can be really inspiring to all the girls out there that think that you can’t do it, but with the time, patience and dedication, it will happen.

Starting as an Instagram-famous stripper, and commonly known for being a cast member of VH1’s Love and Hip Hop, she was expected to remain a cast member and be “Cardi B from the Bronx,” that she was known to be. America fell in love with her New York style and she ended up becoming better than just some reality television star.

While she did have some music released before fame, she was able to use her social media platform, where she shared her videos of her at the strip club, her aggressive yet hysterical personality to reach different audiences that were able to connect with the fun social media presence that she entertained.

While there were many people that did act and have strong personalities on the show, Cardi B was the only one that was able to make it out and become one the most successful female rappers in such a short span of time, in this generation. In 2017, it was proved that she made it, with passing Beyoncé in having 5 singles in top 10 charts.

With the fame though, it does come a change in which any type of celebrity has to tune

and define themselves in what they want their audience and their fans to believe of said celebrity.

Cardi B was able to use her forward ways in many aspects, across Instagram mainly, but her more notable posts were the ones that would have her talking “facts.” From relationships and not dealing with men and the drama that surrounds that, to the essence of making money and not stressing over anyone or anything that doesn’t involve that type of timing. People gravitated and enjoyed that sense of “wow, if she can do it, so can I. Be stress free and focus on the bag? Count me in!”

We notice a change though now, and it might be because of on and off again relationship with Offset, or the perks of being a mother and enjoying motherhood. But her posts are more censored when it comes to the in which we used to see her. Fame really can take a toll on someone and have them change the way that they live their life after they make it.

We want to see crazy but not too much. That is one of the ways that can truly say that Cardi B has shifted from in her old life to her new, glamorous one. The ways in which she used to talk, and act, like fighting, it’s not what people want to see. We saw when Nicki Minaj, not used as any type of anecdote other than to prove a point, go off on an all out banger for everyone that was industry. People laughed at the comedy of it, but I saw a decline in the amount of the support she would get going forward. People now think that she is real life crazy, and think that she has always been like this but she had to wait to

become the top female rapper for a while to then be able to expose her true self and how she felt about the industry that she’s in.

Cardi was also one of the people that had to change her outlook and the way she moved on social media when she became more known.

For social media, and using her platform she is able to connect to her fans directly and let them know what is on her mind. She also took a major stance in politics addressing the government shutdown, and specifically talking about not needing a wall, but a better government system. We hear you Cardi!

In essence, we are able to see Cardi B influence media through music as she has become successful from first being a stripper, and then taking the charts by storm with hit “Bodak Yellow” and using the media platforms to express how she feels. Even though some of it may be manipulated, I see that she is still a boss and will try to freely express herself and her thoughts no matter what fame has to say.

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STIMULATE THE

VISION VISION

WITH A

By Jennifer Bancamper Everything starts with an image.

The first thing our eyes meet determines our immediate reaction to it. Is it something we identify with, something we hate, something that we can’t make sense of?

Sometimes, the images that don’t make sense are the ones that strike the hardest. It’s always the unusual sights that dance in our minds hours after we’ve encountered them. That sort of lasting effect is the same thing we should seek in our trek for social change.

We have to make people remember. The point of activism is to encourage the mainstream to think beyond what they know; to step away from the conventional. And that message becomes clearer when activism in itself does just that – breaks apart from what’s expected of it.

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Music has evolved far beyond sound – our reception of what we hear is greatly influenced by external factors, whether we intend it to or not. Take an artist’s aesthetic, their use of their platform, and their work outside of music and you get one cohesive image of who they are. That’s what we’ve come to recognize as a brand, and it’s becoming more and more relevant to how we form opinions on artists, old or new.

Artist branding is accomplished primarily through social media, where fans are most accessible and images are easily circulated. Social platforms are convenient for immediate virality, so much so that artists have neglected other forms of visual art for saying what they want to say.

The evolution of music videos is a prime example of that.

Once being recorded performances or scene-by-scene playouts of a song’s “story,” music videos have virtually become extensions of what

we see on artists’ social feeds.

Now, we see this strange disconnect between what songs say and what videos show. But those visuals still match perfectly with the artists’ brand.

Think of The Weeknd’s video for “Call Out My Name” –– not once do we see an image correlating to the relationship he sings so passionately about.

And yet, its graphics and color patterns fully adhere to the mysterious, shadowy aura that we know and love him for. Although some songs and their respective videos seem to have zero correlation to each other nowadays, their ability to support an artist’s brand lies in the limitless possibilities of visual creation.

Visuals, in our age dominated by digital media, are incredibly impactful in determining how we perceive members of the music industry.

Like really, can you imagine living in a world where music videos don’t exist, album

covers have no meaning, and artists never reveal their identity? Whewww. While music can be powerful enough to stand alone, our experience as listeners intensifies when we recognize the person we’re listening to. Our vision of them says so much more about the messages they share in their art.

Versatility in visual presence does a lot for breaking boundaries. It serves as a method of showcasing the unconventional and reminding people that the contradicting qualities of a person are still equal elements of their identity. Take an artist like Kehlani––who, face tats and all, embraces the ultimate feminine experience of maternity. She is redefining the image of motherhood, all while softening the stigma around being excessively tatted. *A special side note here: get you a girl who can do both.

Along with the content of their music, artists have the ability to bolster their sound with visuals. In his music video for “Caro,” newcomer Bad Bunny shatters ideals of the Latinx community. Hailing from Puerto Rico and swimming into the Latin trap universe, Bad Bunny has encountered his fair share of traditionalist critiques. Hyper-machismo plagues nearly all nationalities within the Latinx umbrella. It is the Hispanic counterpart of toxic masculinity, though it is enforced harsher through familial structures and deeply ingrained cultural values.

Many genres struggle with gender expectations, but Latin trap’s infancy in American culture makes strides towards changing that so much harder.

But somehow, Bad Bunny is managing to do it. With an

opening scene of the Puerto Rican star in a white robe getting his nails painted, we know off rip that he’s about to contradict all our expectations of masculinity. He even replaces himself with a female look-alike. Not only is this Bad Bunny stand-in surrounded by pink decor, but she stands tall before a massive bubblegum-colored crib. Who said pink only belongs to girls?

Spreading images like this is significantly groundbreaking in the Latin trap community.

Too often, the genre endorses the oversexualization and fetishization of Latinas, as well as reinforces the grimy, hypermasculine persona that Latinos are often expected to

possess. Yeah, the shit bumps and the videos look cool, but the introduction of someone so far from what feels like a concrete identity is undeniably refreshing.

Aside from his music, Bad Bunny’s style and fashion choices speak volumes about his identity. Often rocking playfully colorful suits and changing his nail color on the reg, he proudly represents a new wave of non-conformists. We see artists like A$AP Rocky and Janelle Monae do the same with fashion. Rocky is known for his aversion to the standard male wardrobe (that headscarf look was actually fire). Janelle has blessed red carpets with her androgynous glam since her emergence in the 2000s. And let’s not forget

the whimsical Young Thug who wore a whole ass dress on the cover of his 2016 mixtape, Jeffery. Legendary.

Bold choices like these are opportunities in themselves.

The attention that these artists receive by refusing to conform to gender ex pectations opens their message up to more listeners. With that wider audience comes the opportunity for artists to support other groups trying to break the molds they have been confined to. In Bad Bunny’s “Caro” video, several shots feature models of forgotten identities flaunting down a runway, stunting under divine white lights. “Forgotten,” in this sense, refers to the exclusion of these identities from the mainstream understanding of beauty. We get stunning images of individuals embracing pregnancy, down syndrome, drag, and old age. The video isn’t just about Bad Bunny dismantling what it means to be a masculine Latino, it’s a call for attention to all who need support in the advancement of social justice.

This conversation goes beyond femininity and masculinity. Everything these artists do extends past the single frame of gender. It seeps into their culture, their genre, and the music industry as a whole.

It’s especially important that these discussions are had within cultures that are too deeply embedded in their traditional values, like the Latinx community. Given the convenience of social media and its ability to ingrain images into millions of eyes, visual activism is a key component in stimulating conversation.

If the industry wants to see change and advocate a vision, artists must exploit their platforms and be the vision.

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21 Savage Struck a Nerve with Power like Artists Before Him

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came to the U.S. from the U.K. as a teen and overstayed his visa.” 21 Savage didn’t just break the law, he’s inauthentic. ICE hit a rapper with one of the chief insults in hip-hop – fraudulence – and the public complied.

By Bobby Manning Ta-Nehisi Coates wrote about the countless criminal charges that the government can utilize to take someone down. The ginormous US penal code grants the country the same ability that police use while trailing a car, waiting for the most minor of violations to pull over their suspect .

ICE arrested 21 Savage on Feb. 3 in Atlanta on the eve of Super Bowl LIII for being a “unlawfully present United Kingdom national,” per a statement from the organization. He entered the country legally in 2005, they said, before overextending his stay beyond the year he was granted.

Proving that the federal government used his status – which they long knew, according to his team – to score a political victory is nearly impossible. That would require direct connection between his critique of Trump’s separation of families at the border and the government’s attempt to deport him. Racism isn’t always explicit.

In a statement to CNN’s Nick Valencia, ICE extended further condemnation of the rapper, atypical of a procedural arrest.

“His whole public persona is false,” they said. “He actually

Twitter rang out in laughter, 21 Savage appeared in photo-shopped British garbs, his lyrics reworked in British accents. The implicit timing of the arrest was impeccable, one month after 21 Savage’s second album, I Am; I Was, topped the billboards for two weeks. Its single, the J. Cole-assisted mega-hit “a lot,” released inconspicuously online at first. Then 21 Savage’s manager laughed when he realized the physical albums didn’t sound the same.

Cole’s verse about making millions and memes is missing on it, in favor of an inspired third verse by 21, capped with the bar that likely struck a nerve.

“Went through some things, but I couldn’t imagine my kids stuck at the border (Straight up) Flint still need water (Straight up), niggas was innocent, couldn’t get lawyers (On God).”

21 hit at the heart of the Trump administration – and global right-wing politics today – curbing migration. 10.7 million people that resided in the US in 2016 technically did so illegally, according to Pew Research Center. Though some of them, like 21 Savage, grew up for so long under those circumstances as Americans that there is no home to be deported to – the chief complication of an unfiltered deportation policy.

“Damn, I love my house,” he told the NYT. “I ain’t gonna be able to go in my house no

more? I ain’t gonna be able to go to my favorite restaurant that I been going to for 20 years straight?

That’s the most important thing. If you tell me, ‘I’ll give you 20 million to go stay somewhere you ain’t never stayed,’ I’d rather be broke.”

Immigration policy took a turn after the height of illegal immigration in the 1990s, with George Bush, Barack Obama and now Donald Trump’s administrations deporting people in massive numbers.

21 Savage, a Grammy-nominated rapper, held such prominent status since his breakout 2016 that he couldn’t possibly have resided in the shadows beyond the view of authorities.

In 2018, he left the country to perform in Canada with Post Malone. He applied for a visa that victims of crimes can receive in 2017, after his presence in a shooting, according to the Daily Mail. Jay Z stepped up to call his arrest a “travesty” for how long his visa application stayed in review, then hired attorney Alex Spiro to assist him. 21’s legal team said they never hid his status, and argued his lack of threat to society should grant him reprieve from deportation.

ICE’s personal and legal attack put him on the defensive, forced to account for past run-ins with the law and affirm his moral standing in society. To stay at home, 21 had to prove he’s worthy of being an American.

His birth in England, when today’s immigration discussion centers on the Mexican border, prevented him from gaining much solidarity for Spring 2019

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To stay at home, 21 had to prove he’s worthy of being an American.

that. He became the government’s example that they are not strictly deporting Mexicans.

To undermine his rap credibility, the government attacked his attachment to Atlanta. If he’s inauthentic, his verse about the border carries less weight. Despite 21’s worst fears, deportation may never have been their end. ICE knew it could disrupt his life and image even without it after he slighted them at their most vulnerable point of public criticism – child separation.

That bar drew national attention during a Jan. 28 performance on The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon, one of 21’s final appearances before his arrest. He rapped the border verse while sitting down and in his monotone style, dragging behind the beat. The faint trio of backing singers resonated nearly as loudly as him, rounding out a performance powerful in its simplicity.

21 Savage is even-keeled, never high, never low, and the only emphasis he placed on his social commentary was standing up for the verse.

In an era filled with strippedback instrumentals, mumbled deliveries and simple rhymes, 21 occasionally goes as far

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as to whisper his verse. His accent and liberal use of the ad-lib “21” are distinguishable. Little else flashes loudly around him. Perhaps Hip-Hop’s most discrete voice, his violent, jabbing lyrics still resonate.

Yet he was not manufactured to be a voice of social change.

At least not the same way Vic Mensa’s activist spirit and Meek Mill’s life in front of the camera put them in position to do so. He waded into political waters anyway and struck a nerve, thrusting him into the national spotlight.

“I feel like me putting it into music got me in this situation,” he told The New York Times, lamenting yet aware of his role. “I represent poor black Americans and I represent poor immigrant Americans.

You gotta think about all the millions of people that ain’t 21 Savage that’s in 21 Savage shoes.”

The potential silencing of 21 Savage would be the latest in a long line of examples of the government utilizing criminal action to silence a hip-hop artist. In the 1980s, 2 Live Crew, a Miami hip-hop group, assumed one of the largest battles of their era, profanity.

They produced the raunchiest music while the industry and government butted heads over the balance of explicit content and freedom of speech. 21 Savage’s status – in an era defined by immigration debates – similarly transformed him into a figurehead.

2 Live Crew’s sexually-driven music is evident in the title of one of their greatest hits, “Me So Horny,” one of their array of tracks that brushed against obscenity codes at the time.

A judge ruled that As Nasty As They Wanna Be had “probable cause” to be deemed obscene and banned it in public. Under Florida law, members of the group were arrested for performing their songs in public.

Attorney Jack Thompson led the effort to set up stores to sell the album to teenagers, leading an owner to be jailed.

He provoked various judges to make similar rulings, sparking a freedom of speech movement across the country. A jury eventually acquitted 2 Live Crew of obscenity.

Speaking about their victory in the Hip Hop Evolution documentary, they credited their efforts with saving hip-hop as a means of expression.

The parental warning sticker

emerged in that era as a compromise, but did not veil hip-hop from the law when it incited the rage of those in power. The government targeted 2 Live Crew’s lyrics explicitly and failed to silence them. Now, an implicit battle over 21 Savage’s legitimacy seeks to silence him.

Dina LaPolt noted in the New York Times that 21 Savage struck his nerve with the Fallon performance: “There was scuttlebutt after the Jimmy Fallon show” coming from “some very high levels in Washington,” LaPolt added. What she heard suggested that 21 Savage had ruffled feathers.”

His legal team moved him to California under threat of recourse. Then Atlanta’s celebration of its Hip-Hop scene drew him home. Upon arrival, the state arrested him, calling him an alien in his city of over one decade. With access to his papers, or lack thereof, they waited to apprehend him until the world’s eyes rested on Atlanta.

But like Vince Carter – born in Daytona Beach – birthed basketball fandom across Canada, 21 – born English – advanced Atlanta rap regardless of where he originated.

For now, the low-key rapper will fight his case in the manner that he protested in — discretely.

He’s hesitant to lead his cause forward vocally, but opened the door for more people to hear what he had to say in the first place. That decision by power to pursue him may create long-term staying power for this controversy.

Even as its lead figure says little.

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If Colored Skin Had a Sound

Blacker than the nighttime sky of Bed-Stuy in July/ Blacker than the seed in the blackberry pie/ Blacker than the middle of my eye/ Black like Fela man cry, some man wanna ask, who am I?” “Astronomy” by Talib Kweli & Mos Def

By Kemet High Everybody wants to be a nigga, until it’s time to be a nigga, right? As a young, Black man in America, I’ve found that the country is set up to make us kill ourselves faster than any violence or sickness. Society does a great job of consciously and subconsciously shattering our morale from the second we leave the womb, leaving us with an inferior mindset that makes us ultimately feel powerless. To all my kings and queens, you have the power to shake the room with no words, and shift a crowd with no presence. Your power is that of the Avengers, but the country will tell you otherwise. People are caught up on fixing the problem without acknowledging where they are and how they think about themselves internally. It takes time to get your mind right, but when you feel lost, you can start with these tracks:

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“We young, Black, some strapped/ Them whites got they lunch pack for school, we had our guns packed/ And all a nigga wanna do is take his momma from that/ But they'd rather lock us up and make sure we don't come back” “Lil Ghetto Nigga” by J. Cole

“Before we came to this country/ We were kings and queens, never porch monkeys/ There was empires in Africa called Kush/ Timbuktu, where every race came to get books” “I Can” by Nas

“I see no changes, wake up in the morning and I ask myself / Is life worth livin’?

Should I blast myself? / I’m tired of bein’ poor and, even worse, I’m Black / My stomach hurts so I’m lookin’ for a purse to snatch” “Changes” by Tupac

“Let's get back to IG, open the DM, I think he like me / Asiatic Black man, affinity with lap dance / The walls is caving, the laws is changing / Bill Cosby ain't the god we made him, they all forgave him” “Freedom Interlude” by Noname Gypsy

“We making bitches and hoes out our women too much / We can't trust ourselves, and we don't know who to trust / It ain't enough for police to wear body cams / 'Cause niggas still gettin' tazed and body slammed”

This shit is stubborn, selfish, bullheaded, even for you / You wore a dusty-ass hat to represent the same views / As white supremacy, man, we expect better from you” “Ye vs. The People” by Kanye West

“Old perverted white man who told me, ‘Jermaine/ It's all pink on the inside, fuck what color they face is’ / Wise words from an indecent man / Made me reflect on the times when we was three-fifths of them” “Runaway” by J. Cole

“We commute to computers / Spirits stay mute while you egos spread rumors / We're survivalists turned to consumers” “Just To Get Back” by Talib Kweli

“Shades of Blue” by Vic Mensa

“Alls my life I had to fight, nigga” “Alright” by Kendrick Lamar

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Interview by Kemet High JShep - Rapper Reppin’: Franklin, Massachusetts Major: Marketing Management Class of 2021 When and how did you fall in love with hiphop?

I fell in love with hip-hop as a kid. Growing up my parents would play R&B and soul music , artists such as Earth Wind & Fire, Temptations, Al Green, and New Edition, and I eventually started listening to hip-hop as well because they are two closely related genres. I fell in love with the self-expression of hip-hop and it’s flexibility; the different way artists blend genres and vibes that bring us into their worlds and their minds.

It’s an outlet. I love the beauty behind it all.

Describe the music scene in Boston to me…

Most people outside of Massachusetts wouldn’t even know we had a music scene. It is quiet, but we are building. Our biggest star today is Joyner Lucas, and I would put Cousin Stizz second. The best of all-time from Mass has got to be New Edition, so don’t forget what city gave y’all... Poison slaps when it plays at parties. We are very much overshadowed by other areas such as NYC and ATL. There is a boston hip-hip platform that is growing stronger, and I hope to continue to grow and become a part of the movement and help put our city on the map.

Who is JShep?

JShep as an artist is someone who does not want to be like the rest. JShep is somebody who aims to be remembered. I hate conformity with a passion. There are too many aspiring artists that try too hard to be something they’re not. I stay true to myself because i know my audience will connect more with authenticity. I always try to stand out through my music and appearance. You won’t catch me with face tats or colored hair, and you won’t find me acting up on Instagram for clout. The fact is, I’m just a short, gap-toothed kid from the suburbs with a passion. Can’t change it, can’t hide it. Remember me as the man that always gives 110% on the stage regardless of if I’m performing for a crowd of 1 or 1000.

What’s something that people wouldn’t know about you from listening to your music?

I try to make music that gives my listeners an insight on my world, but people don’t really know how big my personality truly is. People

can make assumptions about me based off my music, but when you sit down have a conversation with me, you may discover that I have a lot of energy and enjoy sharing this energy with those around me. I always try to look out for those in my community, check in on people, and uplift fellow creatives. I strive to be a reason people lay down at night and say to themselves, “I had a good day today”.

What non-physical thing is your biggest source of inspiration?

My biggest inspiration is the feeling of invincibility I get once I step in front of a mic. I’ve come a long way from being the kid that would be so nervous that you could see me shaking in front of the crowd. Now, when I’m on stage, I feel like I’m on top of the world. I feel as if nobody could stop me in my moment. The stage is where I feel like I truly belong. Whenever I feel like I’m not enough, I remember how great it feels to have my hard work pay off and be able to put on a memorable show for those around me. I put a lot of focus into the performing aspects of music, and will continue to work to be one of the best performers on campus.

Alright, let’s say you had deals on the table.

Who would you sign to?

Right now I would want to stay unsigned.

Watching all the disputes that superstars such as Lil Wayne and Lil Uzi have had with their labels makes me want to take my time with signing a deal. I still have so much to learn about the music industry and what’s best for me. I hope to learn more about the marketing aspect of it all as I continue my studies and gain more knowledge through research. Being signed is still an end goal of mine, I just need some more time to grow.

What’s the idea behind THAT MOOD? The story of my latest project, THAT MOOD, is about love and heartbreak. Every song has a meaning and a purpose. I could lie and write songs about getting hoes, but that’s not authentic. That’s not me at all, and people would see right through it. All these songs are about my failed attempts of looking for love, overcoming heartbreak, and finding where I belong in society. THAT MOOD is a look into the emotions inside the mind of an overthinking individual, and how I feel and react towards situations. I will continue to stay true to who I am as I work on my next planned project, “Shep Rally 2”.

Soundcloud: JShep Spring 2019

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Interview by: Omari Romain GIANNI - Rapper Reppin: Queens, NY Major: Information Management & Technology Class of: 2020 What made you become an artist?

I think what made me become an artist was expression, learning from expression. I found a way to communicate with myself in high school when I was dealing with my insecurities. I would write it all down and let it out in room.

What inspired your flow?

While listening to Dom Kennedy, I learned about space. I learned about spacing and just letting words do their job. I began learning how to think about what I wanted to say but in a cool way that resonates with the beat. That’s the main goal. I feel like I’m just adding to the beat and complimenting it. I like taking you on a journey.

Where I tell you the way I feel through a situation or the way I feel about myself.

Why did you dye your hair pink?

My friend Ohema wanted me to do a Billionaire Boys Club photo shoot that highlighted artists.

I didn’t want to dye my hair at first but I guess over time, I just wanted to free myself and try to do something new. Dying my hair felt like I was freeing myself. I would dye it purple next.

What’s the story behind your song “‘CUSE”?

For that track, I just wanted to give my perception of Syracuse, my experience with the people I encounter and the things I go through.

I was realizing that we’re all in this small world and going through the same shit. Everyone is just lost. Looking back at the track I feel like I didn’t fully express what I wanted to and the energy was more of a “F*ck Syracuse“ kind of vibe.At the time I really didn’t like Syracuse, everything felt fake and whack. It also represented what the real world was like and that was a harsh reality. The beat switching up is random as hell but I wanted to show my two different vibes. I wanted to show the world around me but also who I am and how I move in this world. You reference drinking terrible and amazing wine on a few of your songs.

In your opinion what makes wine good?

Good wine is a good red wine, fruity but not too bitter. No white wine, white whine is trash.

My favorite types of wine are Merlot and Pinot Noir. I learned all about wine from my Dad. He

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would always drink wine around me and over time I started drinking with him.

How do you measure your growth as an artist?

I measure my growth as an artist on how well I can articulate myself. It’s about how well can I convey the emotions or the story that I am trying to tell. Did I convey a clear message and is my listener captivated the whole time? Making songs in which I do both is how I measure Growth.

What project are you working on?

I’m working on two tracks that are coming out soon. I’m just waiting to get them mixed and mastered. I’ve never mastered a song before but I’m learning now because I don’t want to keep paying people to do this shit.

Souncloud: GIANNI

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Interview by Kemet High Frankelly Sosa Reppin’: Harlem, NY Major: African American Studies Class of 2019 Take me back to the first time you were put onto hip-hop?

I grew up in a Spanish household. Both of my parents are Dominican. Up until ages ten or eleven, I did not listen to any hip-hop at all actually. My mom didn’t really let me listen to hip-hop. She would just be like, “no, you can’t because of the curses”, and everything that the people were talking about in hiphop. Even though she didn’t even understand English, she just didn’t like want me listening to that music. I remember vividly in eighth grade, there was a secret Santa. There was this girl and I don’t know why, but she got me a Chicken + Beer album by Ludacris. When I got it, I thought it was a book because it was a square.I went home and listened to that joint back to back, to back. I had a CD player I would listen to it at night because during the day my mom would see me and be like, “what is that?”. At night when everybody was sleeping, I would just put my headphones in and bump.

How did you start rapping?

I started rapping my freshman year of high school. Now I was trading CD’s with my friends so I could find new music. That was around the time where CDs were transitioning to mp3s. I first started wanting to rap was when I heard Cassidy, when man’s was doing his freestyles for like eight-six minutes straight. He showed me that there are different styles and ways to approach hip-hop. There was an afterschool program and there was an artistic teacher in it. He heard me bumping and told me I should write. I wrote a poem initially, and he was like “Wow, this is good. You want to recite this at an open mic in Washington Heights?” So I took the bus Deep to Washington Heights with my little sister. The poem had a lot of

Spanglish stuff in it. That was my writing style.

When I’m writing my bars, I feel like it gives it more. It gives things more emphasis. I’ve always been like artistically inclined. In the sixth grade I did a storytelling contest. I had to memorize a 5 page story and recite that shit. And I won my district, and my city.

You have a lot of music on your Soundcloud.

How would you describe it?

I wanna show artistic attributes at all times. I’ve only ever put out one real mixtape. My Soundcloud is just me and my friends expressing whatever we feel at the time. On my Soundcloud there are songs that I dropped two years after I made.

I have multiple sounds on my Soundcloud that I wanted to debut to the public. . I just want to create my own genre, fusing English and Spanish bars. There are some people in the industry who are doing it, but I’m fluid with mine. It’s fluid when I go from language to language.

What do you want to do once you make it?

I want to impact my community, positively. I want to show people that come from the projects and that there are ways to get out. There are are different ways to count to 10. I really want to represent what I’m from. I could have chose to go to street way early on, but I didn’t, I stayed with my school shit.

What do you want to tell the people?

You gotta believe in yourself. Art is very subjective. One group of people can be in love with it and another group of people could hate it.

So there’s not a gauge on how fire something really is or isn’t. If you’re going to make a piece of art, stand by it. If you put your soul into your art, don’t go off of other peoples justifications or interpretation of your art. Don’t stop. keep grinding even when you think your stuff isn’t going anywhere. You might have setbacks, you might lose friends but If you believe in yourself, it’s all going to be worth it in the long run.

Soundcloud: FrankellySosa

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Interview by Kemet High Chelly Reppin’: Queens, NY Major: Psychology Class of 2021 How did you get your start with music?

I was always musically inclined. When I was little, I would always write songs and stuff. Like, I was always good at writing songs, but I never took it serious. The summer before I started college I met these actual rappers. So they introduced me to like the studio. When I started going to the studio, that's when I kind of like fell in love with it. I love going in the booth. I love writing songs and making them come together. That’s when I started rapping and writing.

What artist do you think you could relate the most to?

I really love A-Boogie. I love that he’s from the city and you could just tell, he's so New York. He really understands. I feel like he just brings the culture from New York into every song. I really appreciate that. People pop and then they don't really talk about this anymore, they don't have the same lingo or the same type of vibe that they used to have. They just turned Hollywood.

Ok, rank all of Drake’s projects, just the first half…

Take Care is number one, that's really what made me a Drake fan. I think I was in the fifth grade when that came out. But I loved Drake after that.

He was the first guy rapper that I heard who was really in his bag. He was vulnerable and he made me have a crush on him. But also his music was good. Then Nothing Was The Same… Views; a lot of people didn’t like that but if you’re a real fan you know he had some hits on there. Scorpion, and then More Life. I loved all of them. Some of the songs weren’t even his, he wasn't even on “4422”. It felt more like a mixtape thing. I love how he switches it up. And last, If You’re Reading This It’s Too Late.

How would you describe the music scene right now?

Music is getting generic. I feel like everybody's coming out and doing the same thing. It's all these” littles”, little everything, and it's the same music. People’s music pop because it's catchy.

I'm not going to say that the music is bad, but people are just popping up out of nowhere. I feel like they do just music to get clout. They’re stupid with their money too. They don’t talk

about issues like we might want them to. They have this huge platform and they do nothing with it. That should really be more of the main factor in who gets to like become somebody.

How does the internet work in your favor as an artist?

I think it works in my favor but it works against me too because the internet gives you so much exposure. People outside of my circle wouldn’t be hearing my music if it wasn’t for the internet. But it is oversaturated. There are so many Souncloud rappers and people trying to get on now. If you look at anyone Instagram page, they’re probably a rapper. When I first started to take rap serious, I noticed how many people were doing it. I felt like people were just going to look at me and not take me serious. But talent is what separates people. That’s how you stand out on the internet.

Being an artist on campus, how do you feel about the caliber of artists here?

I don’t think it’s that competitive, but I’m not saying I’m better than anybody on campus.

People are putting in work, and people are always grinding. They’ve found their sound and their working with it so that’s fine. I respect it because I’m doing the same thing. I love the recognition I’m getting, now I feel like I can believe in myself. I feel like I’m talented and that’s the whole reason I’m putting stuff out and I’m confident. I'll be at work, sitting at the desk and people will be like, “oh my gosh, I love your music”. That goes to show that people I don’t even know are messing with my music.

People are recognizing me off of my talent alone. People are always telling me, “keep going, keep doing your thing”. I love my fan base. Syracuse really brings me confidence.

Where are you trying to take your music?

Well, I’m from Queens but I live in California now. I just need to get Atlanta on lock. I'm just trying to get my fan base bigger. I just want people to hear my music, appreciate my music, see my Instagram, see what I got going on, follow, share, all of that. I just want to become bigger as an artist right now. I just want to grow as an artist. Once I grow, I feel like all of that popularity will come 100%. I'm taking my time with it because I want to put out quality music. Everything I drop, I want to be able to say, “yeah, this is good”. I don't want to have anything out that I feel iffy about.

Soundcloud: Chelly Spring 2019

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Fall 2017

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YOUR STUDENT FEE

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