Читать книгу A Guest in the House of Hip-Hop - Mickey Hess - Страница 7

FOREWORD

I have a good friend named John. Like me, he grew up in the heyday of hip-hop when biting wasn’t allowed, anything good was either “FRESH” or “FLY,” and every kid in the neighborhood was an aspiring DJ, rapper, break dancer, or graffiti artist. Some of us did, or attempted to do, all of the above. John gravitated toward DJing when he was young and to this day has a turntable setup in his basement, where he retreats after a long day to decompress over two copies of a classic breakbeat. He dated his share of “around the way girls,” with their big door-knocker earrings and brightly colored 54/11 Reebok Aerobic sneakers, and was fully immersed in the culture like most of us were back then. He even dabbled in the drug game as a young man and found himself behind bars for a short stint. His Cocaine Cowboy days are behind him now.

With his fiftieth birthday on the horizon, I’m sure he looks back and wonders what happened to that bright-eyed kid that spun records for local parties for little to no money. Life is very different now. He’s a husband with children. He and his attractive, dark brown-skinned wife, who he’s known since high school, have been married for over a decade. His participation in hip-hop culture, which went from turntablist and party DJ to independent label owner and tour DJ, has now given way to working a “regular” job while he remains a fan of the music from a distance. But he still loves hip-hop. His love for his favorite rapper, Rakim, is only rivaled by his enthusiasm for his favorite rock band, The Grateful Dead. He considers himself a true “Dead Head” and he sometimes flies to other states to meet like-minded buddies for concerts and festivals.

Hip-hop has always been, with limitations, a culture celebrated in the spirit of inclusion. A twenty-something-year-old German kid from Berlin can feel the same urge to bob his head and make “the ugly face” when he hears the undeniable boom bap of a DJ Premier beat blasting through refrigerator-sized speakers as a black kid who was born and raised in the Mecca, New York City. When Rakim uttered the phrase, “It ain’t where ya from, it’s where ya at,” that rule of inclusion was cemented into the unwritten Constitution of Hip-Hop. All are welcome; just come correct. From what John tells me, Rock & Roll doesn’t share that same spirit.

I’m guessing, based on the above description of my friend John, you were picturing a certain person in your mind, right up to the part about him being a Dead Head. You may have even gone back to read the previous paragraphs to see if you missed something. If you were picturing my friend as the only tie-dye-shirt-wearing black guy at the Grateful Dead Concert with a bunch of his white buddies, you’d be wrong. His buddies are white, but so is John. And yes, his wife is black. I have always considered John one of the white guys who “gets it.” Not because of that old “Once you go black …” cliché, or because he’s a Rakim fan who owns DJ equipment, but because despite the color of his skin he understands what the struggle is all about.

From the point John’s wife gave birth to their son, that comprehension of the struggle became much more profound for him. He is no longer able to be a spectator to the black experience in America. He is on the field and in the game. As his child gets through his teenage years, John feels the target growing on his son’s back. Each time a new report of an unarmed black person being shot by police goes viral, John’s concerns for his own son grow. The conversations he hears among his rock friends when these stories hit the news has made him see some of those friends in a different light. He’s had to become the only voice in those circles who sees the plight of Black and Brown Americans. It’s frustrating … infuriating even. He’s had quite a few arguments with good friends over these issues, especially the NFL player protests. Eventually he made the decision to drop out of his 2017 Fantasy Football Leagues and Pools because of these issues. When looking at his friends, he can’t help but think, “What if this were my son? Would these guys be saying the same things? Would these buddies of mine look for ways to justify his murder by police?”

John admits he has had to stop associating with a few of the guys in his group, but others have been more open to seeing things from someplace other than their own perspective. Because of John, some of them have developed a different opinion of these issues, even entertaining feelings of empathy. This conversion of views came about through careful dialogue. Having those difficult conversations with his friends was important to John, if for no other reason than, in his mind, defending his children. You don’t need to be married to a black woman/man or have half-black children to “get it,” but sometimes it takes someone in your circle to lead you to the conversation. Getting a person to look at an issue introspectively helps them see things as they really are. The challenge is getting them to come down from the stands and get in the game.

This book looks to offer strategies and a framework for how those conversations can be initiated. The idea of being a “white ally” boldly challenges mainstream Americans to take a look into a broken mirror and see the shattered pieces for what they are. I believe that by picking up this book you are making the decision to try to see things differently. I’m hopeful that these writings will have you falling into one of two categories: recruiter or recruit. Our author, you will see, is clearly a recruiter. I believe his goal is to actively recruit more white allies into our society because he knows that having more people that are able to relate to and appreciate the plight of people of color, the better our world can become. Is that you? Will you take on the role of recruiter, bringing more friends and associates into a different way of thinking and being? Or will you become a recruit, one who after absorbing all his book has to offer, is now more sensitive to the very different path that people who “don’t look like you” walk every day? Either are noble and honorable classifications and if you become either, society should applaud your bravery. My friend John started out as a spectator watching the world from the proverbial bleachers, but soon found himself right in the middle of the game.

MASTA ACE