Beef just got sanctified. Philly rapper Meek
Mill’s hit song “Amen” was called out as blasphemous by Philly based pastor
Jomo Johnson. Johnson called Philly radio stations to boycott Mill’s song
because of its vulgarity and distortion of church and religion. Meek Mill’s
response? The ever ready, “I’m out here feeding my family.” To (seemingly) add
insult to injury, Mill also ‘comes out’ as an atheist. His spiritual coming out
parallels that of Frank Ocean’s own admittance to bisexuality, refusing the
limiting (hetero)normative discourses organized religion impedes on society,
especially the African American community. Intersecting discourses of race and
religion in rap is not new. When receiving an award or interviewing, rappers
nearly always make sure Jesus makes an appearance right after mama in their
acceptance speech. KRS-One’s Hip Hop manifesto The Gospel of Hip Hop (2009) borrows style from the Christian bible
and likens hip hop culture to religious faith and practice. I’m intrigued, however, by the increasingly prevalent role of
enterprise in which these discourses currently exist. To borrow from Jay and
‘Ye, is hip hop religion’s latest manifestation of a church in the (capitalistic)
wild?
It’s important to note that organized religion plays a dual role in establishing hip hop’s image as a ‘black thang’ and authenticating its narrative as marginalized, oppositional, and representative of (working class) blacks. Felicia Miyakawa’s work Five Percenter Rap (2005) and Ebony Utley’s just released Rap and Religion (2012) are great references that examine the shifting ideals of religion in hip hop. My current interests, however, exist at the intersection of black liberation theory, rap, and capitalism. Commercial rap exists there as well. I’d argue that the treatment of organized religion, especially Christianity, in rap music offer an outlet of redefining black liberatory discourse. The challenge, however, is identifying similarly shifting representations of what black liberation means in a historical moment where blacks are believed to be free from racial angst and discrimination. This is where the black church’s iconography settles.
The intentions of using religion in rap,
however, are starting to quake.
Of particular interest for this discussion is
the antithetical treatment of Christian iconography that currently saturates
much of commercial rap music. Nicki Minaj’s “exorcism” of her alter ego Roman
during her performance of “Roman’s Holiday” at the 2012 Grammys turned an eye
towards secularizing the Catholic Church. Jay-Z and Kanye West question
organized religion in “No Church in the Wild.” Much of commercial raps’
antithetical response is in an attempt to establish an individualism and
acknowledgement of money that Christianity frowns upon. The title of Rick Ross’
soon-to-be-released album God Forgives I
Don’t, for example, subverts Christ’s indoctrination. One ad on the back of
XXL magazine shows the torso of Ross
covered in diamond encrusted Jesus pieces. This ad suggests Ross’ punning of
Christ as the sacrificial lamb for the world’s sins, opting instead to take
care of only himself. Ross, however, is not the first to subvert the Christ
figure in rap. Nas and Diddy crucified themselves in “Hate Me Now” (1999). Tupac
Shakur puns and visualizes the crucifixtion of Jesus Christ in the cover art of
his last record Don Killuminati: the 7 Day Theory (1997). Shakur’s sacrifice visualizes his struggles with
his success as a commercial artist and obligations of racial responsibility
rooted in his black nationalist background. Where Christ resurrected from the
dead in three days, Shakur promises resurrection in seven days and the immortality
of his soul lasting in his music. Shakur’s music stands as his gospel, his
(sonic) imprint of confronting his own mortality and the commercialization of
his blackness.
This most recent outburst of (sac)religious
offense by Meek Mill and Jomo Johnson only further registers the distemperment
of a shifting post-Civil Rights black experience. There are definite
connections between the religious anxieties displayed in hip hop and this
current social-cultural landscape. Much of that anxiety is rooted in American
capitalist discourse. Further complicating this shifty social-religious agenda,
however, is the profitability of complicit black rappers and consumers in
sliding dichotomies of sacredness and secularity. How does black complicity
contribute to this current state of race and religion in the popular
imagination?
Is hip hop a church in
the (non)religious wild?
A number of good reflections in this post. We can probably point to Kanye's line "Is Hip-Hop just a euphemism for the new religion?" and the rest of his second verse on Gorgeous (from the 2010 album MBDTF) as explicitly bringing to pop culture and commercial media the post civil rights/"new Black liberation"/hip-hop discourse. Hip-hop culture is at its brightest when it tests boundaries and social norms, forcing society at-large to consider the premise and function of its structure and "order of operations." And in this way, it has presented a 15 year sustained attack on the Black church's social conservativism and program for youth engagement. When the Black Church fails to respond adequately enough in effort, and
ReplyDeletewhen it fails to incorporate these contemporary ethos and realities, hip hop reappropriates the church and religiosity into its own folkways, logics, artistic repertoires, and critical thinking apparatuses. I.e. Meek's "Amen," or Ye and Jay's "Church In The Wild." But Hip-Hop, at the commercial level and at the medium of pop culture, does not provide the same challenges to capitalism. In fact, it attempts to perfect capitalism. Your piece indeed leads me to propose that hip-hop is the most prevalent institution, in the capitalistic wild. It functions in capitalism, as the Black church once did.
DeleteHey Michael,
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading. Well stated points, particularly about commercial rap as the "cog in the machine." I think the other challenge is not only trying to 'perfect' capitalism as you suggest but acknowledging the face that blacks are consumers (some of the BIGGEST consumers) and are often times complicit and INVEST in the imagery that a capitalized American popular imagination imposes upon contemporary black identity.
The enterprises of Black Church and of Hip Hop culture do indeed shape the present backdrop of Black liberation theory in a capitalistic wild. R.N. Bradley, your assertions not only evidence the commercialization of blackness, but they also problematize any connections between Christianity and rap music as both operate within applied capitalistic ideals. I enjoy the ways in which you draw attention to these issues. If Hip Hop is a new religion, in this case making the institution of Black church virtually synonymous with rappers’ movements, then your article leads me to believe that Black liberation theory must be imbued with post-colonial thought in order for it to truly be potent in spite of pop culture’s social imaginary.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your post.
ReplyDeleteInteresting. That hip hop's minions are not only black and its biggest commercial artists hold sway over a multicultural audience can help us look at the dichotomy or recent split in a different way. pop-culture and the church have always been in battle over the hearts and minds of our young. however, so much of the the black music continuum, comes out of the church that this departure is that much more rupturous, but speaks to the uniqueness of the genre which does not tie itself to one source, but many- freeing it for further explorations and domination in this capitalist paradigm. i wonder if we will see the tail begin to wag the dog and the church re-imagining itself in the wake of the backlash as it is increasingly driven by the market..
ReplyDeleteI think every effort which hurts the religious it's must be removed. But hip pop is not only famous in Black guys in fact it's growing day by day. We shouldn't share such things that create problem for all.
ReplyDelete