Dear Hip-Hop

Dear Hip Hop,

The beautiful thing about memories is that they choose us. We all have memories that we try to hold onto that somehow slip through our grasp. Yet, occasionally, there are times where a memory chooses us, and leaves an enduring mark on the way we see and respond to the world.

Music is central to all of my memories. I’m the son of musicians and the descendant of a bloodline of musically inclined people, so I like to think music is in my blood. Legend has it that my grandfather, John Sterling, sang like Sam Cooke. The sound of my Mom’s piano or my Dad practicing any number of instruments will forever be one of my most comforting memories. Of course, I could never forget those holidays where the Wilcoxson family, over 100 deep, crowded around said piano to form an ad hoc family choir. Between my Dad’s endless record collection of jazz, soul, funk (and an occasional folk album or two) my Mom’s gospel and classical taste, my siblings and I all developed very unique, distinct, and eclectic musical tastes. But for me, there was one genre that spoke uniquely to me that embodied the best of it all, hip hop.

The year was 1998. I was ten years old. I recall the world feeling so big at the time but for the first time feeling like I had the freedom to make my own decisions. This included starting to develop my own tastes in music and by spending more time outside of the house, I started to get exposed to more genres. My earliest memories of hip hop coincides with this time of exploration, running errands around Atlanta with my friends and their older siblings or hanging with my older cousins. Naturally, they are much cooler than we were, so you listen to what they like and start to get an affinity for the music they played. No matter where I was, Saturdays in East Atlanta with Kris and Kendrick, the songs my big cousins kept on repeat, or watching music videos at Torrin’s house all had one thing in common… Outkast and the Dungeon Family.

Dear Hip Hop,

Dr. Mark Baker, known as the "Hip Hop Politician," is one of the Founding Fathers of South Fulton, GA. The former two-term Mayor Pro Tem and District 7 Councilman is best known for bridging the gaps between politics and culture. The extreme Hip Hop advocate and former Congressional candidate was a catalyst for ending the long feud between Kanye West and Drake, as a ripple effect began from his creation of Larry Hoover and Prison Reform Day in South Fulton. When asked when he fell in love with hip hop, the Chicago native states his passion goes back to "The Message" by GrandMaster Flash and the Furious Five, culminating with G.O.D and Gaining One's Definition by Common and Cee-Lo. These two songs highlighted and acknowledged the circumstances of the culture and the method by which he would ultimately navigate through them.

"The Message" is a widely recognized classic song that explains, "It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder how I keep from going under." G.O.D. Gaining One's Definition is a less amplified yet profound classic on Common's 1996 album One Day It'll All Make Sense, where he states:

"As a child, given religion with no answer to why

I just told believe in Jesus cuz, for me, he did die Curiosity killed the catechism

Understanding and wisdom became the rhythm that I played to And became a slave to master self

A rich man is one with knowledge, happiness, and health

My mind had dealt with the books of Zen, Tao, the lessons Koran and the Bible, to me, they all vital

And got truth within 'em, gotta read them boys

You just can't skim 'em; different branches of belief

But one root that stem 'em, but people of the venom try to trim 'em

And use religion as an emblem

When it should be a natural way of life

Who am I or they to say to whom you pray ain't right

That's who got you doing right and got you this far

Whether you say "In Jesus' name" or Hum, does Allah

Long as you know it's a bein' that's supreme to you

You let that show towards others in the things you do."

Hip Hop has now merged with popular culture and is 50 years old, causing all walks of life to have gravitated towards it. Dr. Baker laughingly states that we live in a time when we have grandparents with neck tattoos who fear being spotted in Freaknik documentaries. This indicates that Hip Hop has fostered a paradigm shift that can't be denied. Dr. Baker is connecting generations and engaging all demographics to bridge the culture gap by using my Instagram to share hip-hop quotes on various posts and his social media platform. Most recently, his work has culminated with him leading a group of artists and historians in an exploratory commission to bring about the first of its kind Hip Hop and R&B Museum and Hall of Fame…all for the love of the culture!

Mark Baker

Former South Fulton Council Member, Candidate for Congress

I was too young to watch the 1995 Source awards when Andre Benjamin now notoriously put Atlanta on the world stage. But between those Source Awards and the ’96 Olympics, it felt like Atlanta, and hip hop, became the center of the universe, overnight. My family had an on-again, off-again relationship with cable (and a strict daily TV limit to boot), so I depended on local radio to get my hip hop fix and my favorite time to listen I tended to listen was while I did my homework, enjoying the golden era of Atlanta radio. As I sat at my desk, headphones on, I listened intently for whatever song spoke to me in the moment and waited all day for it to come back on to add it to one of my tape-recorded mixtapes. I always had a thing for the B-sides and found out early that while the songs on the radio were good, the ones that didn’t get played were that much better (this later became a mixtape obsession and a constant search for emerging artists, but I digress) and that is what makes what happened next so unique, especially for the times.

Occasionally, when my parents left, I would turn up the stereo system and blast music across the house, turning our living room into my own music studio. One rainy afternoon as I was immersed in my listening pleasure, a song came on that absolutely left me mesmerized. To this day, it remains one of my favorite beats. The pace of the drums and the trippy hypnotic melody seemingly conflict, slowing time in the middle of the progression. I was mesmerized. Lyrically, the lyrics could be seemingly confused and easily overlooked but when you take the time to listen, it made me realize that what I loved most about hip hop was literally, Da Art of Storytellin’ (Pt. 1) and the idea of songs as allegory. Da Art of Storytellin’ was hardly Outkast’s biggest hit. It charted was #67 on the hip-hop charts. To this day that is the only time I ever heard it on the radio. Nonetheless, I’ve been in love with hip hop ever since.

Sterling Johnson Director, Just Opportunity Portfolio Partnership for Southern Equity

Dear Hip Hop,

Being the youngest of five kids, I often flirted with hip-hop in elementary school, but my full-fledged love for it started in middle school with the Black Rabbeye. I’m pretty sure he was originally from New York. I got invited to a lot of Bar Mitzvahs back then, and this dude was the go-to DJ for all of them. We’d typically be the only Black guys in the room. In 1996, one of his go-to tracks was “ATLiens” by OutKast, and I always anticipated him playing that. I’d ask my crush for a dance, wait for the moment that spaceship sound effect would come over the speakers, and then proudly belt out the line from the chorus – “if you like fish n’ grits and all the pimp sh*t, everybody lemme hear ya oh yayer!” – like I was the third member of the group. I was an outsider in school, but I felt seen in those moments with the Black Rabbeye working his mixes, that song playing. Like the lyrics from Andre and Big Boi, hip-hop culture gave me visibility, purpose, and confidence, the kind of support and love you get from family. I’ll never forget how she made me feel then, now, and forever.

Gavin Godfrey Atlanta Culture Journalist