The Unlocking*: Joining the Conversation Around Lupe’s ‘Bitch Bad’

The Unlocking*: Joining the conversation around Lupe’s ‘Bitch Bad’

by Ádìsá Ájámú | special to NewBlackMan (in Exile)

I admire Lupe Fiasco for offering us another contemporary example of what conscious artistry merged with rooted activism looks like. I respect his unwillingness to use black pathology as a scaffold to climb to success. Trafficking in Black pain and sorrow and then using some miniscule portion of the profits for uplift has been used so often by everyone from politicians to drug dealers to preachers to aspiring media moguls and rappers that I wouldn’t be surprised if it was used as case study at Harvard Business school. But if you gotta bleed me to feed me, I’ll pass on the meal.  I appreciate that his music asks more of us than to just bob and weave as if high from the last hit of a bangin bass line, that it asks us to join him in a conversation. Which is what I think his song “Bitch Bad” is: an invitation to a conversation.

I love the message in “Bitch Bad” more than the song. And I applaud any brother or sister trying to illuminate the ills that hide in the shadows of white supremacy that reside in regions of our minds especially with so much negativity clouding the airwaves. But here’s my discomfort: With so much work for brothers to do on themselves within this patriarchal order I am still a bit uncomfortable with men instructing sisters on the finer points of womanhood, no matter how well intended.

Is the tradition of brothers challenging other brothers on and off wax around patriarchy so storied and grounded in our ethos that we are now free to instruct women? Because I haven’t seen very many brothers correct each other about what their sons listen to? Nor have I seen very many brothers challenge each other around respecting women with the same alacrity they seem to have received this song. Nor have I seen brothers challenge one another about listening to songs that are clearly misogynistic. I hear an awful lot of brothers talk about the artistry of Hip Hop while equivocating on the misogyny of Hip Hop: “Well, that track about rape and murder, that’s just one track”…”he aint talkin about all women and you know some women really are bitches.” And was it not brothers who elevated the word bitch to damn near a synonym for Black woman, and managed to go platinum doing it? That’s not a critique of Lupe's efforts. I’m simply a participating in the conversation and sharing my discomfort and concern about who is best positioned to give certain messages, and the ways in which patriarchy empowers men to speak forcefully on women’s behavior—to excoriate and correct them—and the ways in which men and women are conditioned to accept that as progressive. Just ask Congressmen Akin and Ryan; just ask folks who want to hold forth on women reproductive liberty.

Patriarchy is premised upon women being told by men who they should be and how they should act: It’s about situating them in the world according to men's whims. Sometimes who brings the message is as important as the message because it conditions how we receive it and examine it for its quality of truth. Don’t believe me: How well do you think Black folks would receive a white rapper doing a song instructing Black folks on the ills of using the N word, especially given that Europeans introduced the word in the first place.

I love Hip Hop and in many ways it is our Rorschach test. It was the first art form in which I grew up and the first art form that grew up in me. I'm of that generation of brothers that grew up celebrating in hip hop even as it gradually morphed into a more materialistically grotesque misogynistic apparition, only to later challenge it without really changing or challenging our participation in the patriarchy that created it. The very patriarchy that created the foundation for our manhood—this ain’t aqua boogie, you cant swim in the water of patriarchy not get wet. Funny thing about foundations is if you destroy them, then everything you built upon them also falls. Which is why a lot of men (and a whole lot of women) have a vested interest in retrofitting patriarchy rather than demolishing it. And because the demolishing of a foundation, no matter how unstable, is too uncertain, our equivocations on patriarchy are what allow us to sleep in house built on faulty foundation standing on a white supremacist fault line. And in this society when it comes to meaningful manhood and womanhood: We are in collusion with our confusion.

Even as we rush to pronounce ourselves progressive anti-patriarchalist (it is no longer cool for progressive brothers to overlook patriarchy under the guise of artistic expression one now has contextualize their complicity for proper cover before pressing play); even as we pat ourselves on the back for finally acknowledging what should have been as obvious as oxygen from the giddy up: that women deserve our respect; even as we celebrate those brothers in hip hop who have addressed misogyny in their records or in their writings as critics (despite the rhetorical distinction patriarchy is misogyny; it’s the velvet gloves over the fists of woman hatred): We often overlook that we, progressive brothers, didn’t so much arrive at this luxurious progressive space so much as we were brought here by sisters like dream hampton, Joan Morgan, Raquel Cepeda, Imani Perry, Tricia Rose and many others, who loved us and the music enough to expect both of us to reach for our higher vibrations. We may pride ourselves on the space we are in now, but we should remember the meter is still running and we have yet to pay the full fare to those sisters who brought us here. So much of how we receive and celebrate Lupe's message with regard to women is more a product of their efforts than that of progressive brothers.

It is one thing to celebrate and applaud a message that is long overdue; it is another to support it by putting our principles in practice in ways that do more than cheers from stands. What good does it do to applaud Lupe's efforts if our spotify/ ipod/pandora playlists could pass for the soundtrack for a Luther Campbell biopic; if our best moments are spent playing cumulonimbus clouds in a strip clubs— if your soul is attached to a pole; if our best idea of womanhood is shrinking them to fit into our most microscopic conceptions of ourselves; if our ideas of loving and partnership begin with the Bible, the Koran or Odu and put always end up in the adult movie section.

I’m not hating on folks choices or what folks legally do to keep their paper game strong. You do you. I am merely pointing at that we live in world of connections, that it’s all connected, that were all connected. We are all a part of the problem and a part of the solution. That everything we do says some things about us, about who we are, about what we value, about how we really feel. Our values are not given to us nor are they inherited (what we get from our parents are their values, not ours). Our values are earned in the Octagon of life, by what we are willing to sacrifice to preserve them, by how far we are willing to go to advance them, what we are willing to do to defend them and how consistently we live them.

Pushing yourself forward, while simultaneously pulling yourself back is an exercise in inanity. You see we, Black folks, want to be free, as long as we dont have to change the things we enjoy that also enslave us. We love sharing our religious faiths, just dont ask us to give up the things that undermine our spiritual growth. We love tolerance, just don’t ask us to give up our hard earned prejudices. We love judging, just don’t judge us. We love equality, just not for the folks whom we feel are unequal. We love our music, so what if it denigrates us, disrespects us, provides permission for others who don’t know us to do the same…That shit was mad disrespectful but yo I was feelin’ that joint…You see that’s the inanity of our insanity: We want to be free as long, as we don’t have leave the plantation.

Hip Hop has always been more than street journalism latticed over sixteen bars, we never needed MCs to tell us what we were living on the daily, no matter the weak-kneed excuse some rappers and their apparatchiks put forward for trafficking in black pain and sorrow for profit. At its higher vibrations hip hop, like jazz and the blues, is quintessential Blackness—celebration, cerebration, confrontation, improvisation, transformation and transcendence—disguised as sound waves reminding us that we “begin in earth and last”, as Neruda would say. True creative genius for a people at the bottom is about converting those sixteen bars into sixteen rungs on a ladder of liberation.

This is the beauty of Lupe’s artistry, here is an artist committed to using his sixteen bars as a GPS helping us locate himself-ourselves, to orient himself-ourselves and invite us to have a discussion about the best route to the reclamation of our best selves. As artist sometimes you have to follow your inspirations and seems to be following his—and I love him for it—but I just think this would have been a more forceful song if it had been directed to the brothers, who so often are producing the music that so many sisters self denigratingly vibe to.

I love Lupe and dig the weight he has decided to carry. Love the message, I’m just not sure brothers are the most effective ones to carry it forward to anyone other than other brothers. Some things are better left to be worked out in circles of women. I love hip-hop because is it for us, by us and about us. I just love Black folks more. And if you ask me to choose between something that sounds good but disrespects us, I’ll choose us every time, and look for my sixteen bars of bliss somewhere else.

*The Unlocking - Ursula Rucker's reminder.

***

Ádìsá Ájámú serves as the Executive Director of the Atunwa Collective Community Development Think Tank located in Los Angeles and is co-author of The Psychology of Blacks: An African Centered Perspective and the recently published fourth edition of The Psychology of Blacks: Centering Our Perspectives in the African Consciousness(2010).

Kevin Powell: Joe Paterno, Herman Cain, Men, Sex, and Power

Joe Paterno, Herman Cain, Men, Sex, and Power
by Kevin Powell | special to NewBlackMan

Joe Paterno. Herman Cain. Penn State football. Presidential campaigns. Men. Sex. Power. Women. Harassed. Children. Abused.

These are some of the hash tags that have tweeted through my mind nonstop, these past several days, as multiple sexual harassment charges have been hurled at Republican presidential candidate Herman Cain; as Jerry Sandusky, former defensive coordinator for Penn State's storied football program, was arrested on 40 counts related to allegations of sexual abuse of eight young boys over a 15-year period. Sandusky's alleged indiscretions have not only brought back very ugly and unsettling memories of the Catholic Church sexual abuse mania a few short years ago, but has led to the firing of legendary coach Joe Paterno and Penn State president Graham Spanier, plus the indictments of athletic director Tim Curley and a vice president, Gary Schultz, for failing to report a grad assistant's eyewitness account of Sandusky allegedly having anal sex with a ten-year-old boy in a shower on the university's campus in 2002.

In the matter of Mr. Herman Cain I cringed, to be blunt, as I watched his press conference this week denying accusations of sexual harassment against him, which has swelled to four different women, two identified and two anonymous, for now. I was not there, so I don't know, only he and the women know the truth. But what was telling in Mr. Cain's remarks is that he was visibly defensive and defiant, rambled quite a bit about the media's smear campaign and, most curious, only once mentioned sexual harassment as a major problem in America, and it was just one quick, passing sentence. Then he went back to discussing himself, which he is particularly adept at doing.

What Herman Cain and the disgraced male leaders of Penn State have in common is the issue of power and privilege we men not only wield like our birthright, but which has come to be so inextricably linked to our identities. So much so, in fact, that many of us, regardless of race, class, religion and, in some cases, even sexual orientation or physical abilities, don't even realize what a disaster manhood is when it is unapologetically invested in power, privilege, patriarchy, sexism, and a reckless disregard for the safety and sanity of others, especially women and children.

Every single year, it seems, some well-known man somewhere gets into trouble because of sex, money, drugs, or violence, or some combination thereof (and God only knows how many unknown males do likewise). It is always the same themes, just with a new cast of characters. Yesterday it was priests of the Catholic Church. Today it is the male leadership of Penn State. Yesterday it was Anthony Weiner and Charlie Sheen. Today it is Herman Cain. I remember earlier this year, in fact, in the wake of Mr. Weiner's sudden and rapid fall from grace, a report was published that said over 90 percent of sex scandals in America feature us men as the culprits. That very few women engage in that mode of self-destructive behavior.

The question begs itself: Why not? I feel it has to do with how we construct manhood from birth. Most of us boys are taught, basically from the time we can talk and walk, to be strong, tough, loud, dominating, aggressive, and, yes, even violent, even if that violence is masked in tales of war or Saturday afternoon college football games. Without anything to counteract that mindset like, say, that it is okay for boys and men to tell the truth, to show raw emotions and vulnerability, to cry, to view girls and women as our equals on every level, we are left with so many of us, far into adulthood, as fully formed physically but incredibly undeveloped emotionally. And if you are a male who happens to have been sexually assaulted or abused yourself, and never got any real help in any form, highly likely you will at some point become a sexual predator yourself. And if you are a man who still thinks we are in pre-feminist movement America where it was once okay to, well, touch, massage, or caress a female colleague inappropriately, to talk sex to her, as she is either working for you or attempting to secure a job (and has not given you permission to do so), then you are also likely to be the kind of male who will deny any of it ever happened. Again and again and again-

The bottom line is that our notions of manhood are totally and embarrassingly out of control, and some of us have got to stand up and say enough, that we've got to redefine what it is to be a man, even as we, myself included, are unfailingly forthright about our shortcomings and our failures as men, and how some of us have even engaged in the behaviors splashed across the national news this year alone.
 
But to get to that new kind of manhood means we've got to really dig into our souls and admit the old ways are not only not working, but they are so painfully hurtful to women, to children, to communities, businesses, institutions, and government, to sport and play, and to ourselves. Looking in the mirror is never easy but if not now, when? And if not us in these times, then we can surely expect the vicious cycles of manhood gone mad to continue for generations to come, as evidenced by a recent report in the New York Times of a steadily climbing number of American teen boys already engaging in lewd sexual conduct toward girls. Where are these boys learning these attitudes if not from the men around them, in person, in the media, on television and in film, in video games, or from their fathers, grandfathers, uncles, older brothers, teachers, and, yes, coaches?

For sure, nothing sadder and more tragic than to see 84-year-old Coach Joe Paterno, who I've admired since I was a child, throwing away 46 years of coaching heroism and worship (and 62 total years on the school's football staff) because the power, glory, and symbolism of Penn State football was above protecting the boys allegedly touched and molested by Sandusky. Equally sad and tragic when Mr. Cain's supporters are quick to call what is happening to him a lynching when this man, this Black man, has never been tarred and feathered, never been hung from a tree, never had his testicles cut from his body, never been set on fire, as many Black men were, in America, in the days when lynching was as big a national sport as college football is today. Anything, it seems, to refute the very graphic and detailed stories of the women accusing Mr. Cain of profoundly wrong, unprofessional, and inhuman conduct.

But, as I stated, when our sense of manhood has gone mad, completely mad, anything goes, and anything will be said (or nothing said at all), or done, to protect the guilty, at the expense of the innocent. We've got to do better than this, gentlemen, brothers, boys, for the sake of ourselves, for the sake of our nation and our world. It was Albert Einstein who famously stated that insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. Then insanity may also mean men and boys doing the same things over and over again, for the sake of warped and damaged manhood, and expecting forward progress to happen, but then it all crumbles, once more, in a heap of facts, finger-pointing, and forgetful memories when convenient.

If any good can come of the Cain and Penn State disasters it is my sincere hope that spaces and movements are created, finally, where we men can really begin to rethink what manhood can be, what manhood might be. Manhood that is not about power, privilege, and the almighty penis, but instead rooted in a sense of humanity, in peace, in love, in nonviolence, in honesty and transparency, in constant self-criticism and self-reflection, and in respect and honor of women and girls, again, as our equals; in spaces and movements where men and boys who might not be hyper-macho and sports fanatics like some us are not treated as outcasts, as freaks, as less than men or boys. A manhood where if we see something bad happening, we say something, and not simply stick our heads in the sand and pretend that something did not happen. Or worse, yet, do something wrong ourselves, and when confronted with that wrongness, rather than confess, acknowledge, grow, heal, evolve, we instead dig in our heels and imagine ourselves in an all-out war, proclaiming our innocence to any who will listen, even as truth grows, like tall and daunting trees in a distant and darkened woods, about us.

A manhood, alas, where we men and boys understand that we must be allies to women and girls, allies to all children, and be much louder, visible, and outspoken about sexual harassment, rape, domestic violence, sexual abuse and molestation. Knowing that if we are on the frontlines of these human tragedies then we can surely help to make them end once and for all, for the good of us all.

That means time for some of us to grow, and to grow up. Time for some of us to let go of the ego trips and the pissing contests to protect bruised and battered egos of boys masquerading as men. Before it is too late, before some of us hurt more women, more children, and more of ourselves, yet again-

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Kevin Powell is an activist, public speaker, and author or editor of 10 books. His 11th book, Barack Obama, Ronald Reagan, and The Ghost of Dr. King: And Other Blogs and Essays, will be published by lulu.com in January 2012. You can reach him at kevin@kevinpowell.net, or follow him on Twitter @kevin_powell

Seductive (Soft) Patriarchy and the “Problem” of Blackness

Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing?:

Seductive (Soft) Patriarchy and the “Problem” of Blackness

by Keon M. McGuire | special to NewBlackMan

Much attention has been (re)devoted to the Atlanta megachurch pastor of New Birth, Bishop Eddie Long, since his recent out of court settlement of an alleged $25million in his hopes to bring an end to a saga dating back to September 2010, in which he was accused of sexual improprieties with four young men – Anthony Flagg, Spencer LeGrande, Jamal Parris and Maurice Robinson. Long’s first sermon to his congregation post the allegations was at best a rhetorical “two-step” around the issue as he stated “I’ve never claimed to be a perfect man . . . but I’m certainly not the man they’re portraying in the media” (paraphrased). A casual listener may accurately surmise that while this was no admission of guilt, it was far from a declaration of innocence. Long concluded his sermon by likening himself to David – the young, pre-sex scandal David – facing Goliath and ready for battle; yet, he had yet to throw one stone.

Potentially most troublesome is that most of the media attention surrounding Long’s fall from (some) grace has, in many ways, ignored the serious trauma experienced by the four young men. The most recent dismissal and downplaying of their experiences came from Bishop Long’s friend, Creflo Dollar. Also himself an Atlanta megachurch pastor, Dollar  recently addressed “his” congregation explicitly about Long’s incident. Dollar’s constant referral to Long’s wreck (re: sexual indiscretion) seems to be the closest we will get to an actual confession of some guilt. Yet, the term wreck in itself exemplifies the negligent care and concern offered these young men. Unless we agree that emotional and psychological damage and coerced sexual interactions constitutes just a “wreck”. I disagree. As a friend pointed out, such bully tactics used to keep the people quiet only serves to perpetuate the predator’s – yes, Eddie Long’s – power.  Tamura Lomax offers an exceptional critique of the violence that surrounds this incident and how the church has pattern of condoning clergy’s abuse of power.

Dollar’s defense of Long’s “wreck” went viral, primarily because of his rant in which he told anyone who was a member of Long’s church that they could not join “his” congregation. He did not want them at “his” church! Why? Because according to Dollar, Long was still anointed for his position and he was still going to heaven. Since when did Dollar become St. Peter at the pearly gates eludes me? But then again, we might have missed that while we were all awaiting the rapture. While several have pointed to the faux theological grounding for Dollar’s claims, it is his justifications of Long’s actions and his critique of BOTH his and Long’s parishioners that demonstrate the seductive (and dangerous) nature of soft patriarchy. 

At some point Dollar pauses and states: “That pastor [Long] has loved ‘em, taken care of ‘em, and given to ‘em and done that” and later “taught them how to tie their shoes.” One is left wondering: so does that make everything ok? Does the benevolent father (or soft patriarch) get a pass because he delivered gifts and presents? I borrow the term soft patriarch from Christian Feminist Mary Stewart Van Leeuwen to describe the ways in which modern Christianity has created a theologically justified and sociopolitical “necessary” masculinity that does not rely on the brute (physical) force typically associated with (destructive) hypermasculinity. Nonetheless it comes with the same privileges. Often offered as a male servant, it never challenges or disrupts the (heterosexual) male’s right to leadership and authority. 

Long’s service to those young men, thus, excuses his wreck. I mean after all, he did fulfill his responsibility of soft patriarch by not “physically” abusing them or neglecting them financially. Considering the constant critique of absentee fathers in the Black community, the soft patriarch is (re)presented as the antithesis of the negligent Black male who is never physically present in the home, absolves himself of all financial responsibility and neglects the mentoring of his children – particularly his Black son(s). Thus, Long receives a pass as, according to Dollar, he did teach them to tie their shoes. 

Although soft patriarchy may purport to be the better of the two, we must remember – it is still patriarchy. Meaning, among other things, Long’s authority and position does not require him to be equitably accountable to these young men, his congregation, or the broader faith community we are apart of, beyond the terms established by him and his lawyers. And if his parishioners dare decide – as critical, conscious human beings – to choose another worship community, they are publicly chastised for being disloyal, spiritually immature (Black) Christians. I emphasize Black because Dollar, in one instance, tells the congregation “You clap your hands now, but let me have a wreck, I wonder how many of you Negroes will still be here . . . I mean precious saints of God”. Dollar, in that one statement, effectively rehearses a racist trope of Black cultural relations; essentially stating, “You all know Black folks don’t know how to be loyal and unify. You say one thing and do another”. Dollar’s odd, but not surprising, rhetorical gesture left me thinking – well dag, I guess I need God to help me fight my flawed humanity AND fix and cleanse me of my Blackness!

I’m sure this will not be the last hooray we hear from Long, Dollar or others in their positions. However, I’m sadly disappointed as I’m not sure those who share the same Christian capital and public platforms similar to Long and Dollar will publicly push back against these bully tactics. In addition, I’m not sure we, as a faith community, will demand and require a critical redefining of Christian masculinity. One that is more accountable to the people served and one that does not receive passes because of its perceived distance from the “Other” Black guy.

Long may have compared himself to David, but he may be more like his predecessor Saul. The same Saul who didn’t follow God’s instructions and instead of coming clean, attempted to offer a sacrifice instead. From Saul’s mishaps we learned that God honors obedience over sacrifice. As a result, God chose David to replace him because he was no longer fit to lead. While I’m not saying Bishop Long will leave his pastoral post, I do believe it gives us another Biblical figure through which we can think through this fiasco.

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Keon McGuire a third year doctoral student in Higher Education and Africana Studies at the University of Pennsylvania. His research focuses on issues of race and gender among Black college students. You can follow him on Twitter @YngBlkScholar

The Return of Black Moses Barbie

Pierre Bennu: This mock commercial for a Black Moses Barbie toy is the 2nd in a series of 3 celebrating the legacy of Harriet Tubman. It is part of Pierre Bennu's larger series of paintings and films deconstructing and re-envisioning images of people of color in commercial & pop culture.

The Million Man March 15 years later: A movement or a moment?

The Million Man March 15 years later:
A movement or a moment?

by Mychal Denzel Smith

It has since been romanticized, revered, criticized, satirized, and emulated, but 15 years ago the Million Man March represented for many an all too rare moment of solidarity among black men from across America. On October 16, 1995, the Million Man March, organized by Minister Louis Farrakhan and the Nation of Islam, was held in Washington, D.C. on the National Mall, site of the 1963 March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. The goal of the march was to call forth "a million sober, disciplined, committed, dedicated, inspired black men to meet in Washington on a day of atonement."

The all-day affair featured performances and speeches from various community and national leaders, including Dick Gregory, Rev. Benjamin Chavis, Rosa Parks, Rev. Jesse Jackson, Maya Angelou, Marion Barry, Dr. Betty Shabazz, Cornel West, Dorothy Height, and Farrakhan himself. Each of the speakers stressed the call for a "day of atonement," a phrase that has since become a second name for the march, emphasizing the desire for black men to abandon destructive behaviors and re-dedicate themselves to being stalwarts and leaders in their communities.

This sentiment was eloquently echoed in the speech of then 14-year-old Ayinde Jean-Baptiste (who went on to become a community organizer and motivational speaker) who said at the time: "You must change today so that tomorrow may dare to be different, and when you have fought back, and regained your pride, when you have won some battles, when you are able to tell the stories of your heroism, when you can pass on to your young the tradition of struggle through examples of your having stood up for a better tomorrow."

At the culmination of the day's events, Farrakhan asked all those in attendance to join him in taking a pledge which included vows to "strive to love my brother as I love myself" and "never again use the 'b-word' to describe any female. But particularly my own black sister."

The day, for those men who partook in the march, was an electrifying experience. "There was just excitement in the air," David Hannah, a Vietnam veteran who attended after being persuaded to do so by a group of friends, says, "It was just amazing to see so many black guys coming together for a cause." "All the speakers were great," according to Hannah but it was "the one-on-one conversations" among the men in the crowd that allowed for sharing of stories and moments of bonding that stuck with him the most.

Marcus Smith, a student at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond, Virginia, who was a second grader at the time of the march, recalls being impacted by the enormous outpouring and sheer number of attendees. "Even then I knew it was something special seeing all the people," Smith says, "Me, my brothers and our father got to see it together. It was a great moment to see as a child." For him, it was an event that showed what was possible for black people. "It was that moment of black solidarity that is rare in modern times," according to Smith who feels that the visual beauty of the march has had a lasting impact on him.

Read the Full Essay @ theGrio