“I do feel like there's something special about hip-hop, though, that I'm always trying to get at in my music. And it's not about a sound. To me it's about how honestly and vulnerably I'm willing to tell my story in the music itself and what telling that story could do for people with similar stories, for people who have never heard of such a story, for the whole world.”
- DoNormaal

This is a love letter to hip-hop.

If you are not a hip-hop fan, I implore you to hear me out. Hip-hop is the perfect subject for this seasonal transition between spring and summer. Spring is characterized by creative energy, reaching up like the growing plants, transforming anger into creativity and empowerment. Summer is the fire element season, it’s about community, reaching out to others, connecting and lifting each other up. And then we have hip-hop, a genre that does ALL of that.

Hip-hop has its share of controversy over misogyny, glorifying violence and drugs, homophobia, posturing and money-praising. I don’t deny that these themes show up, even in some of my favorite songs. But so many hip-hop songs have commentary about those very things cleverly woven into the lyrics. And so I request this: if you are going to judge hip-hop, know it for all it has to offer and judge it on its own terms. These criticisms, however true they may be, don’t take away from the lifeline hip-hop dangles to so many. Hip-hop offers an education to listeners who have lived very different lives because it doesn’t shy away from the deep, dark places artists are willing to plunge into and illuminate.

It may well be coincidence, but I’m amused to observe the number of well-loved hip-hop artists born this time of year — as the fire and wood elements combine — like Princess Nokia (born June 14th) calls out in her song “Gemini.” From Tupac Shakur to Biggie, to Ice Cube (in fact 4 of the 7 members of NWA are Geminis), to Lauryn Hill, Andre 3000, Kanye West, Macklemore, Kendrick Lamar — there are numerous artists born this time of year who embody the creative, community-oriented nature of hip-hop.

Hip-hop knows its history, with rappers’ lyrics including references and shout outs to the artists that came before. Tupac Shakur, who was killed in 1996, is still prominently featured in hip-hop tracks. His personal narrative, socially aware themes and vast knowledge of literature, religion, philosophy, music and political and social movements come through in his music and inspire many to this day. And he himself was often shouting out to the voices that inspired and taught him, like in his hits “Old School” and “Representin’ 93” where he names tons of artists including early hip-hop icons Grandmaster Flash, Doug E. Fresh, Big Daddy Kane, A Tribe Called Quest and Melle Mel to his contemporaries like Queen Latifah, Too Short, E-40, and Scarface.

“I'm not saying I'm gonna rule the world or I'm gonna change the world, but I guarantee you that I will spark the brain that will change the world.”
–Tupac Shakur

Inspired by Tupac, Kanye West and other artists that took lyrics in a more personal direction, mainstream hip-hop itself has become more personal and artists have felt more at liberty to open up about their own lives and struggles. They’ve used music as a platform to lift up their communities, to communicate their people’s history through storytelling, and to elevate Black music in all its genres through sampling.

“My teachers told me we was slaves
My mama told me we was kings
I don't know who to listen to
I guess we somewhere in between
My feelings told me love is real
But feelings known to get you killed
I feel as if I'm misconstrued
I spend my moments missin' you
I'm searchin' for atonement, do I blame my darker tone?
I know somethings are better left unsaid and people left alone
Pick up the phone
Don't leave me alone in this cruel, cruel world”
-Vince Staples, Summertime

Hip-hop is a place where Black men can publicly talk about their feelings. That in itself feels revolutionary. Through rapped narrative Kendrick Lamar tells of his personal evolution through his albums; his friends, family and guest artists accompanying him on the journey through skits, lyrics and voicemail messages. At the end of “Sing About Me, I’m Dying of Thirst,” Maya Angelou appears as a benevolent stranger come to shake Kendrick and his friends out of a violent, anger-fueled plan to avenge the death of a friend on his autobiographical album “good kid, m.A.A.d city”.

Lil Wayne talks about his suicide attempt at the age of 12 in “Let It All Work Out”:

“I found my momma's pistol where she always hide it
I cry, put it to my head, then thought about it
Nobody was home to stop me, so I called my auntie
Hung up, then put the gun up to my heart and pondered
Too much was on my conscious to be smart about it
Too torn apart about it, I aim where my heart was pounding
I shot it, and I woke up with blood all around me
It's mine, I didn't die, but as I was dying
God came to my side and we talked about it
He sold me another life and he made a prophet”

Through listening to hip-hop I have come to understand the Black American experience better. It has been a huge part of my self-education as a white person who believes in racial justice. And while listening to hip-hop I have come to better understand and admire hip-hop itself. There are deep metaphors, double entendres and moral lessons that loop back on themselves if you take the time to listen for them.

Hip-hop is its own best promotion in more ways than one. For instance, I can listen to one of my favorite artists, A$AP Rocky’s song “A$AP Forever Remix” and hear guest artists like T.I and Kid Cudi and background vocals by Khloe Anna. The song begins and ends with Moby’s 2000 electro hit “Porcelain,” it gives a shout out to Frank Ocean and his stellar (although technically more along the lines of R&B) album “Blonde,” it pledges loyalty to Rocky’s hip-hop collective A$AP Mob, shouts out “R.I.P.” to some fallen friends and even mentions a couple fashion designers. I have discovered many of my favorite rappers when they have performed guest verses or gotten shout outs from artists I already admire. It’s one of the many ways hip-hop artists lift each other up, promoting lesser known artists by featuring them on a song or showing up on their album.

A$AP Rocky, whose given name is Rakim after seminal rap duo Erik B. and Rakim, spent most of his youth living in homeless shelters with his mom and older sister after his father was jailed and his brother killed. He sold weed and crack to get by, doubling down on his hip-hop career as his way out. Now he is a legendary rapper and producer, but he speaks of his past and his transition from poverty to wealth and fame with lyrics like “I remember I was pooring, I was young and living homeless, Now I rock the Ricky Owens ($700 shoes), eyes looking like he rolling.”

And when I say hip-hop promotes Black music, I don’t just mean it promotes hip-hop. Soul group the Isley Brothers have been sampled 912 times in some of the most well known and loved hip-hop songs. Soul, Rock, Electric, Jazz, Classical, Doo-Wop, R&B and Reggae are just some of the genres frequently used and sampled on hip-hop tracks.

J. Cole (Jermaine Lamarr Cole) starts out with something akin to posturing in his hit song G.O.M.D., rapping about money, guns and bitches. But then you start to think maybe it’s a parody when he breaks down, lamenting the two people fame has divided him into:

“Lord will you tell me if I changed, I won't tell nobody
I wanna go back to Jermaine, and I won't tell nobody.”

Then he continues, “This is the part that the thugs skip.” Breaking the song in two and perhaps distinguishing this song from gangsta rap, he then plunges into a verse about relationship struggles and feelings. I loved this song (indeed it was my most listened-to song of 2020, beloved for its geministic two-part nature) long before I watched the award-winning music video made to go with it, where Cole takes it to the next level with a narrative of a slave uprising and the unity of Black people it promotes. Hip-hop takes ownership and transforms language, parody and stereotypes that have been used to harm Black people and keep them down.

Kendrick Lamar speaks of imposter syndrome and inner-conflict in his skit-like song “u”, where he locks himself in a hotel room with a bottle of liquor and battles it out, screaming, calling himself a sell-out for leaving his community in Compton in pursuit of hip-hop fame. He comes back again and again to the line “loving you is complicated” about self-love despite all his feelings of failure and guilt. This is indeed the theme of his entire album “To Pimp A Butterfly,” as he figures out how to show up for his community in a new way.

But of course hip-hop isn’t just a voice for men. Female, Queer and gender-non-conforming hip-hop artists have been there since the very start, molding and evolving hip-hop into the brilliant genre-bending entity it is today. These voices, and especially those of Black and Brown-identified women, queer and GNC folks have been pushed to the margins of music since long before Nina Simone was denied a place at the Curtis Institute of Music. The reclamation through hip-hop is a glory for the ears and the mind.

Megan Thee Stallion lifts other Black women up with her lyrics and her whole vibe. She says: “We need to protect our Black women and love our Black women, 'cause at the end of the day, we need our Black women. We need to protect our Black men and stand up for our Black men, 'cause at the end of the day, we're tired of seeing hashtags about Black men.” But she sees how threatened men are by women’s sexuality.

Following in the footsteps of Boss, Lil’ Kim and Foxy Brown, she and fellow rapper Cardi B rocked the world with their number one billboard hit “WAP” about female sexual empowerment and sex-positivity. “I know this about me,” she says. “This is my pleasure, this is my vagina; I know this vagina bomb. Sometimes you just got to remind people that you're magical and everything about you down to your vagina and to your toes is magical.”

“Even if it's me rapping or if it's me having a conversation with somebody, I'm going to make you feel like you are that bitch. Because you're already that bitch—you somehow just need it stirred up for you. It's like, when you put the Kool-Aid in the water and it all fall to the bottom. But when you mix it up with the sugar, now it's Kool-Aid. You just need somebody to stir it up for you. That's me.”

- Megan Thee Stallion

At 26 Megan Thee Stallion has already lost both her parents. Her father, who she described as her best friend, passed away when she was 15; and her mother, also a hip-hop artist who brought Megan to recording studios instead of daycare and who was her number-one-fan, died of a brain tumor in 2019. These are real stories of American Black people and Black families and what a burden systemic racism and lack of opportunity adds to their lives. The courage and resilience to overcome all these obstacles (or be weighed down by them) is ever-present in hip-hop.

*Big Freedia headlines this year’s virtual Seattle Pride. Photo by Lee Kowarski*

Artists like Big Freedia and Katey Redd have received international acclaim and brought acceptance of gender non-conforming identity through New Orleans-based Sissy Bounce. Kevin Abstract speaks of the conflict he experiences being Black and gay in “Miserable America”:

“My best friend's racist
My mother's homophobic
I'm stuck in the closet
I'm so claustrophobic”

Hip-hop is arguably the most popular music in the United States today. It has such a powerful influence over American culture, especially in younger populations, that to understand it is to be let in on a secret that’s not very secret, but that you don’t want to miss. The more controversy a song has, the more attention it gets. Lil Nas X’s video for the song “Montero,” a sexy, gender-queer, Heaven to Hell stripper pole feast for the eyes has been viewed on YouTube over 250 million times since its release three weeks ago. The video is both a commentary on the power of fear and a reclaiming of it. It has given permission for other Queer young people to not be afraid.

What moves me about hip-hop is the universal truth in so many of the themes. Fear, loyalty, danger, violence, pain, conflicting emotions, complex identity. Although life circumstances and privileges vary greatly between people, we can all relate to the feelings at the root of so many hip-hop songs.

Queer hip-hop artist DoNormaal incorporates a number of genres and styles into her totally unique music and performance. She says of her brilliant album, “Third Daughter:” “I’m always in between things, because I'm a twin, and I'm a Libra, and I'm black in a white world, and I'm a woman who loves being a woman but sometimes feels the ways and does the things society says only a man feels and does. I feel the yin and yang within me strongly, and everything that comes from their union, and that's very hard in a world that at every corner is asking you to select an option. This album is my option.” To see her on stage is to be mesmerized by all these sides of her simultaneously through each song. She says “I could never be loyal to any one way of identifying because I've never come across one that's fully incorporated all that is me. That's why I write—to explain.”

As many of us attempt to make reparations for the racist origins of this country and the perpetuation of those values that have benefited some of us for generations and continue to, one of the steps is to stop talking and really listen. This past year with all its terrible, visceral examples of inequity has reminded many of us that to educate ourselves we must first try to understand. And not judge what we hear, but really take it in. In this regard hip-hop is an incredibly generous offering, should you choose to accept it.

I would love to share with you the very exciting history of hip-hop and how almost every other genre of music was involved in its creation, how it came out of an underground scene, a desire for justice and change and how it has sparked political and social uprising. But there are people much more qualified for that task. I’m just a fan who sees hip-hop and its important and educational role in societal healing through my own lens. Here are some resources for those of you wishing a more in-depth exploration of hip-hop and more about the music in the artists’ own words: