Read Online It's Bigger Than Hip Hop: The Rise of the Post-Hip-Hop Generation by M.K. Asante Jr - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: M.K. Asante Jr
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elsewhere and, sadly, those who reside in me, that their poverty is their fault. That they are lazy, addicted, sexually promiscuous, and so on and so forth, and that this is the reason for the poverty, when the reality, as I’ve touched upon, is completely different. To give you a quick example, most people who live in me are not addicted to drugs or alcohol, don’t engage in criminal activity, and are not on welfare. This would come as a shock to those who absorb the images on TV and in movies and the rhymes of mainstream rappers.
America is a very individualistic society. So, as a result, poor people are blamed for their poverty and the rich are credited with their wealth, disregarding inheritance, class privilege, resources, et cetera. I mean, Bush is as responsible for his wealth as most of my residents are for their poverty.
Yeah. So do you think this has political ramifications?
Definitely. If the majority of Americans think that the poor are poor because of their own faults, then they’ll also believe that the poor should get out of it on their own. They believe the poor are undeserving.All of this is reinforced by popular culture, which literally makes fun of poor people. Their lack of education is laughed at, their squalor glorified, their struggle criminalized. People certainly don’t want to change the policies.
There’s this big thing about “pulling yourself up by the bootstraps.”
You can’t pull yourself up by the bootstraps if you don’t have any damn shoes!
What about the violence in you?
Violence? [shrugs]
Well?
Was Nat Turner violent?
Uh, I’m not —
Reminds me of Nat Turner, because he was not violent, he was responding to slavery, which was violent. The conditions in which my residents live are violent. There’s always been this attempt to demonize my residents. They call survival after a hurricane “looting.” They call protests against a system that keeps them poor “riots.”
Look, man, as long as I’m around, there will be desperation. What do you expect if you put the poorest folks together in one area, take away jobs, destroy social networks, police the hell out of them, harass them—I mean, seriously, what do you expect?
Is there anything else that you’d like to tell the post-hip-hop generation?
Organize, organize, organize. The time is now.
Thanks for your time.
Peace.
We were born into an unjust system;
we are not prepared to grow old in it.
— BERNADETTE DEVLIN
“And finally , how does it feel to be just twenty-three years old—and a
professor?”
asked the energetic host of the Pacifica radio program on which I was being phone interviewed.
“I haven’t started yet, however, the thing—”
“I’m sorry, brother Asante, I’m afraid that’s our time,” she informed me.
“Oh,” I grunted, feeling cheated.
“It was nice talking to you. Good luck to you this semester at Morgan State University.”
“A’ight, thanks, peace,” I said as I disappointedly hung up the phone.
I wanted to answer the question. I wanted to say that I truly was excited about the position; however, just as our interview wasprematurely amputated, I was convinced that my professorship would be, too.
A few years before I was hired, artivist Amiri Baraka was offered the position of poet laureate of New Jersey by then-governor Jim McGreevey. Baraka—perplexed that he, given his highly publicized radical politics—would be offered a state gig, warned McGreevey, “You’re gonna get in trouble,” as he accepted the job. Sure enough, within a few months, after Baraka wrote and recited his book-length post-9/11 poem, “Somebody Blew Up America,” there was trouble. The poem asks: “Who have the colonies / Who stole the most land / Who rule the world / Who say they good but only do evil / Who the biggest executioner / Who made Bush president? / Who believe the confederate flag need to be flying? / Who talk about democracy and be lying?” When Baraka refused
America is a very individualistic society. So, as a result, poor people are blamed for their poverty and the rich are credited with their wealth, disregarding inheritance, class privilege, resources, et cetera. I mean, Bush is as responsible for his wealth as most of my residents are for their poverty.
Yeah. So do you think this has political ramifications?
Definitely. If the majority of Americans think that the poor are poor because of their own faults, then they’ll also believe that the poor should get out of it on their own. They believe the poor are undeserving.All of this is reinforced by popular culture, which literally makes fun of poor people. Their lack of education is laughed at, their squalor glorified, their struggle criminalized. People certainly don’t want to change the policies.
There’s this big thing about “pulling yourself up by the bootstraps.”
You can’t pull yourself up by the bootstraps if you don’t have any damn shoes!
What about the violence in you?
Violence? [shrugs]
Well?
Was Nat Turner violent?
Uh, I’m not —
Reminds me of Nat Turner, because he was not violent, he was responding to slavery, which was violent. The conditions in which my residents live are violent. There’s always been this attempt to demonize my residents. They call survival after a hurricane “looting.” They call protests against a system that keeps them poor “riots.”
Look, man, as long as I’m around, there will be desperation. What do you expect if you put the poorest folks together in one area, take away jobs, destroy social networks, police the hell out of them, harass them—I mean, seriously, what do you expect?
Is there anything else that you’d like to tell the post-hip-hop generation?
Organize, organize, organize. The time is now.
Thanks for your time.
Peace.
We were born into an unjust system;
we are not prepared to grow old in it.
— BERNADETTE DEVLIN
“And finally , how does it feel to be just twenty-three years old—and a
professor?”
asked the energetic host of the Pacifica radio program on which I was being phone interviewed.
“I haven’t started yet, however, the thing—”
“I’m sorry, brother Asante, I’m afraid that’s our time,” she informed me.
“Oh,” I grunted, feeling cheated.
“It was nice talking to you. Good luck to you this semester at Morgan State University.”
“A’ight, thanks, peace,” I said as I disappointedly hung up the phone.
I wanted to answer the question. I wanted to say that I truly was excited about the position; however, just as our interview wasprematurely amputated, I was convinced that my professorship would be, too.
A few years before I was hired, artivist Amiri Baraka was offered the position of poet laureate of New Jersey by then-governor Jim McGreevey. Baraka—perplexed that he, given his highly publicized radical politics—would be offered a state gig, warned McGreevey, “You’re gonna get in trouble,” as he accepted the job. Sure enough, within a few months, after Baraka wrote and recited his book-length post-9/11 poem, “Somebody Blew Up America,” there was trouble. The poem asks: “Who have the colonies / Who stole the most land / Who rule the world / Who say they good but only do evil / Who the biggest executioner / Who made Bush president? / Who believe the confederate flag need to be flying? / Who talk about democracy and be lying?” When Baraka refused
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