WITH ALL the distasteful racial caricatures making the news recently, the latest controversy over "Ghettopoly" came as scant surprise. Defenders of the board game, which parodies Monopoly with ghetto motifs and images of a black man waving an assault rifle and malt liquor, say it merely reflects racial stereotypes prevalent in society. Critics argue it reinforces them. Lost in all this debate is the outrage at modern pop culture, which, as Al Sharpton has said, suggests "there's something hip and black about being down, about acting like a thug and acting like a hood and calling women 'hos."
To fully appreciate culture's influence over the way we think about race, one need only contrast today's African-American pop icons with the artists of the "Harlem Renaissance," their contemporaries, and their immediate successors. Poets like Langston Hughes combined forceful advocacy with respectful expression; today, poets like Amiri Baraka denounce Colin Powell -- the highest-ranking African-American government official ever -- as a "colon"; Condoleeza Rice -- the highest-ranking African-American woman official -- is a "skeeza" (the equivalent of a wench).
In the field of music, jazz musicians had dignity, many dressing in tuxedos and top hats, and most whites in turn treated them with respect. African-American artists took on titles of nobility and gentry, like "Duke" Ellington, "Count" Basie, "Lady" Ella (Fitzgerald), and "Lady Day" (Billie Holiday). Lester Young was affectionately known as "the President," or "Pres," while Sarah Vaughan earned the distinction of "the Divine One." Through their positive and uplifting music, they exhorted and empowered African-Americans to aspire to something higher than the ghettos that slavery and segregation had forced on them.
Today, far too many people, black and white, equate African-American music with artists like 50 ("Fiddy") Cent, R-Kelly, Ja-Rule, Nelly, Jay-Z, and Lil' Kim. With self-denigrating and destructive hits like "P.I.M.P." and "Big Pimpin'," these artists' glamorization of the ghetto betrays the rich cultural legacy that black artists of previous generations worked so hard to create.
Some African Americans who are appalled by the violence and misogyny in this music blame mainstream white record labels and distributors for promoting it. Still, the outrage from African Americans at this vast body of noxious music hasn't even begun to approach the furor over a single board game.
Others have defended the mayhem depicted by many modern black artists as a form of social protest. Whether or not this is truly the artists' intent, one must question the effectiveness of their means when compared to those of their predecessors. Consider Duke Ellington's "Black, Brown and Beige" Suite -- the first black jazz performance at Carnegie Hall, or Charlie ("Bird") Parker's "Now Is the Time" -- a lyrical saxophone solo, or Billie Holiday's "Strange Fruit" -- a haunting song about lynching. These artists expressed their protest -- both musically and outwardly -- in a manner respectful to themselves and to their listeners. Thus, when they spoke out, they spoke with authority.
Granted, to be historically accurate, jazz was not immediately accepted by mainstream America, and even when it did dominate pop culture, it was often derided as "the devil's music" and associated with moral looseness. Still, it can hardly be said that modern hip-hoppers and gangsta rappers represent a high point in African-American culture, or that fifty years from now we can look back and say that this music had the empowering effect that jazz had for African Americans.
All this is not to suggest that violence and mayhem are unique to contemporary black artists; heavy metal and punk rock are just as virulent. But fair or not, the majority of Americans today associate black culture with ghetto culture, and many African-American artists who are in a unique position to rebut this canard are instead complicit in its perpetuation.
Still, many black artists today do express positive messages. In the song "I Can," Nasir ("Nas") Jones exhorts, "Ghetto children, do your thing / Hold your head up, little man, you're a king
Read More
PARTING SHOT: When it comes to art, it pays to pay attention
By Delaney Hammond | 2 hours agoEven among people who value the arts, carving out space for critical engagement with — rather than just passive consumption of — art has been an endeavor I have treasured.
PARTING SHOT: You only get what you give
By Delores Cyrus | 21 hours agoThe people at this place have taught me that letting others in, while not always easy, is always worth it.
PARTING SHOT: Life lessons
By Miriella Jiffar | YesterdayThroughout my time on the Life Desk, I’ve wondered what breathes life into this University.
