I didn’t start listening to rap until I was in college. Like many strange black children who grew up in the closet, I longed to be myself, as protected by pure Christianity from the beauty of a diverse world. But the positive references I could pull on were in theatre and pop music, in moments of loneliness, separated from the anger and disdain of family and friends.
My soundtrack to teens was an endless playlist of pop divas like Lady Gaga and Beyoncé.
I was also obsessed with the presence of powerful singer consumption such as Patty Label, Whitney Houston, and Chaka Khan. My childhood, Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, Sunday extrapolation, church groups, choir practices, and Sundays spent on worship, I was a fan of Throat and needed to sing from Stomach. But something about the way these artists gave themselves a gift warmed my strange little heart. Labelle wore an avant-garde geometric hairstyle paired with a shoulder-covered blazer. Houston loved elegant thin gowns. And Karn? It was the enormous red mane that gently loved her hips for me.
Listening to rap music in college was a political experience. My sociology classes made me political, so it was natural to hear rap music that expressed trauma, joy and hope in the Black experience. However, due to the lack of odd expression in this genre, I felt detached from the music.
Nevertheless, I felt nostalgic for groups like Outkast. Half of the rap duo (half of the rap duo) avoided the lightning bolt 3000 while still captivating the style that could be translated by slow shoulder length silk hair and colorful flowing shirts and trousers. Despite the patriarchal presentation that ramps into rap and hip hop, Andre 30,000 was represented to me.
My Outkast discovery was calm as it reminded me that queerness is also frequently used as a hip-hop aesthetic while actual queer people are avoided, rebuked and chuckled. The queer hip hop people are like behind the scenes wingmen, essential to the development of the show, but not important enough to make curtain calls.
I am filled with joy as hip-hop celebrates 50 years since its launch in New York City. Because it’s because half a century of black people own stories and drive culture. But it’s fair to ask: at whose cost?
The Viral 2020 video features rapper Boozy Badaz, famous for hits such as “Set It Off” and “Wipe Me Down,” as well as NBA star Dwyane Wade and award-winning actress Gabriel, who have been praised for publicly supporting her 12-year-old daughter after she came out as a transgender person.
“Don’t cut off his penis, mate,” Badaz said with a glare revealing his discolored diamond stud, with a grooved brow and a grooved eyebrow and a discolored diamond stud. “Don’t take him as a female daug, he’s 12. He’s not there yet.”
The responses from both Wade and Union Wade were quick, ironic, easygoing, hopeful and quick mixture.
“Sorry,” Union Wade told the audience during a live podcast appearance at Live Talks Los Angeles. “He’s so crazy, it’s like, ‘You’re protesting too much, and a little boo.’ You have lots of penis in your heart. ”
Wade also appeared in an episode of the podcast “I Am Athlete,” looking directly into the camera.
“Boogie, all the people who got something to say, J-Boogie came out together. [something] All the people who have had something to say about my kids recently,” he said. You may not have the answer today, I may not have the answer, but we are growing out of all these conversations. ”
This exchange between Wades and Badazz highlights the complex relationships between black LGBTQ individuals and allies and the larger hip-hop and rap genres and communities. Black Queer’s aesthetic has long been providing information in hip hop, but rappers lightly parade the oddity outside the recording studio through song lyrics, interviews, or online rants like Badazz.
And despite LGBTQ rappers like Queen Latifah, Dablat, Lilunas X and the cheeky Santana, many tasks come first to heal the trauma that lasts from hip-hop patriarchy and homophobic history, despite achieving mainstream success.
“The “progress” will always be relative and subjective based on your position,” Dr. Melvin Williams said in an email. Williams is an associate professor of communication and media studies at Pace University. “Hip hop traditionally has had conversations with strange and non-normative sexualities, and has included LGBTQ+ people in the formation of behind-the-scenes cultural symbols as roles such as choreographers, songwriters, makeup artists, set designers and other roles.”
“Hip-hop incorporates oddities, ideas and trends, but it does not privilege the outlook for LGBTQ+ rappers. Such reservations are not just labour in the backstage of hip-hop cultivation, nor as rap performers of major distribution,” he added.
This is especially true of Queen Latifah and Dablat, who have been in the genre for decades but have not been published until 2021.
Lil Nas X faces backlash from his music video “Montero”, including a demonic reference. Conservatives such as South Dakota Governor Christy Noem have accused him of trying to scandalize his child.
“This is very scary for me, people will be angry. They will say I’m pushing the agenda. But the truth is, I am,” Nas X said in a note accompanying “Montero.” An agenda to keep people fucking from other people’s lives and stop deciding who they should be. ”
Anyway, “Montero” made its debut on the Billboard 100.
In an article published in “Souls: A Critical Journal of Black Politics, Culture, and Society,” scholar C. Riley Snorton hypothesized that celebrating odd vision in mainstream media could be problematic as this type of praise is dependent on artists who present in acceptable forms of expressions of gender and sexuality, and encourages “even reading of Hip-hop” expressions.
For Frank Ocean, released in 2012 before the release of the album Channel Orange, his reception was warmer than most queer hip hop artists, as the musical style sings in contrast to rap. For this reason, his music was considered r’n’b or pop.
“Frank Ocean isn’t a rapper. He’s a singer. He’s accepted in the singing world, but in the rap world, rap is so masculine that I don’t know if it’s acceptable. You know, that’s going to be difficult.”
So, what is the solution for the strange people of hip hop? Digital media.
Williams, a professor at Pace University, says his divorce from record labels will allow queer artists to independently and globally distribute music on their own terms.
“We have described this fact as a legacy with artists like Azealia Banks, Cakes da Killa, Fly Young Red, Kevin Abstract, Ilovemakonnen, Lil Nas X, Mykki Blanco, and Saucy Santana, as well as acts like Big Frida, Deep Deck Corent like Lgbtq Hip-Hop, and legacy like Le1f. “The music industry is experiencing an increasingly mobilized market due to the rise of digital media, social networking platforms and streaming services.”
“More importantly, black queer hip hop artists have historical LGBTQ+ contributions and perspectives on documentaries, films, news specials, public forums and podcasts. Ultimately, queer people engaged in hip hop are innovative acts and are essential for LGBTQ+ hip hoppers to emphasize history and build history.”
(Hip-hop pioneers Public Ainna and ICE-T will be heading headings for the national hip-hop celebrations and free concerts at West Potomac Park, DC’s National Mall on October 6th and 7th.)
