...are told in rap music...Ghostface Killah's All That I Got Is You (featuring Mary J Blige) is a personal account of life growing up and the struggles that they faced as a family...a touching reminder of the reality of life ...
I saw life for what it's really worth and took a step back
Family ain't family no more, we used to play ball
Eggs after school, eat grits cause we was poor
Grab the pliers for the channel, fix the hanger on the TV
Rockin each others pants to school wasn't easy
We survived winters, snotty nosed with no coats
We kept it real, but the older brother still had jokes
Sadly, daddy left me at the age of six
I didn't know nuttin but mommy neatly packed his shit
She cried, and grandma held the family down
I guess mommy wasn't strong enough, she just went down
Check it, fifteen of us in a three bedroom apartment
Roaches everywhere, cousins and aunts was there
Four in the bed, two at the foot, two at the head
I didn't like to sleep with Jon-Jon he peed the bed
Seven o'clock, pluckin roaches out the cereal box
Some shared the same spoon, watchin saturday cartoons
Sugar water was our thing, every meal was no thrill
In the summer, free lunch held us down like steel
And there was days I had to go to Tex house with a note
Stating "Gloria can I borrow some food I'm dead broke"
So embarrasin I couldn't stand to knock on they door
My friends might be laughin, I spent stamps in stores
Mommy where's the toilet paper, use the newspaper
Look Ms. Rose gave us a couch, she's the neighbor
Things was deep, my whole youth was sharper than cleats
Two brothers with muscular dystrophy, it killed me
But I remember this, mom's would lick her finger tips
To wipe the cold out my eye before school wit her spit
Case worker had her runnin back to face to face
I caught a case, housin tried to throw us out of our place
Sometimes I look up at the stars and analyze the sky
And ask myself was I meant to be here... why?
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Monday, August 13, 2007
Let's Talk About It!!!
The July 2007 issue of Ebony Magazine which has an unusual and imaginative cover...takes an indepth look at the issue of the widespread use of profane language especially in the build-up that occured as a result of the furor over the remarks made by Don Imus to the Women's Basketball team of Rutgers University. In her editorial review called- A Serious Look at Ourselves - President and CEO, Linda Johnson Rice writes -There are at least two sides to this debate: Those who view the language as pure artistic and creative expression, tightly wrapped in the context that "it's just music, a way of keepin' it real": and the other side who sees it as demeaning, degrading and hurtful portrayals that incorrectly paint a picture for the world to shape its concept of Black women.
This is a situation that has no easy answers, no easy approaches, no diagrams for an easy solution. In fact, this is a complex social issue that requires some deep internal evaluation, especially since there are many Black women who embrace the language - and even use it themselve, reveling in the derogatory descriptions to the point that they accept them as a badge of distinction.
Ms Johnson-Rice goes on to say that -
...it is by no means only about rap and hip-hop, TV and movies...it's about some everyday language that is inappropriate but has become an acceptable part of the lexicon. It has gotten to the point that even grade schoolers who still pay with Barney and Elmo are spewing adult-sized offensive words - using them with the same cadence, purpose and intent as adults!
The latter part of the editorial which appears above is what I find very uncomfortable. The fact that it profane language has become so widespread in its use to the point that generations to come might find that it is not unusual to use language profanely...is this the sort of legacy we want to leave for our children...is this the legacy that was left for us...let's talk about it!!!
Friday, August 3, 2007
Keeping It Real
When I first read the mail from S.O.A.P and decided to send this article, I decided I will try and play the devil's advocate. It is easy to write off people who indulge in the habit of using coarse language or engaging in lewd talk. But I will rather not take the easy walk. I will rather ask, "why the habit?"
Well, you could blame it on the Americans. Nay, the western way of life. Their music, films and literature do not just regularly depict obscenity and lewdness, it sometimes actually glorifies it. But that can only be correct to an extent. Actually, you can be lewd in any language. Obesere and some other fuji musicians have all proved that to a fault.
Then you could try and blame it on commercialism in the arts. It is not easy to achieve renown as an artiste; you need to stand out. Some try unconventional dressing, body marks and hairdo. Many try to shock us by spitting out four letter words, singing lewd lyrics and cracking lousy jokes. But, as the saying goes, it is only kinky the first time. A lewd artiste will only attract a lewd audience and soon fall out of favor. Rarely can you reach the peak, even in Hollywood, by starting out with porn. So you find that with time the showmanship of true professional must mature to leave lewdness behind.
And then there are those that say they are just trying to Keep It Real . They come from the ghetto and the language of the street is coarse, just like the life of its brow beaten, wretched inhabitants. That almost had me, if not for the lack of village roots of the speaker. Being vulgar might be representing alright, but it represents nothing but the shallowness of the mind of the speaker. As a native of a culture where respect, in all its ramifications, is a valued attribute, you certainly can't convince me that you're keeping it real by using slang that refers to men by their color, two hundred years after slavery was officially abolished. Or calling our mothers and sisters whores. Crudeness isn't cool; it is just verbal terrorism.
Now am all for free speech and abhor censorship. We still thank God for our God granted freedoms everyday. The prevalence of obscenity is a threat to that freedom. Freedom of speech should engender cross fertilization of ideas. Obscenity on the other hand kills creativity, since it seizes the attention of its captive audience by appealing to our lowest common denominator, that which is base and demeaning. It is a threat to true freedom because its popularity is the best argument for censorship.
For the vast majority of people who resign to the interruption of profanity in our daily communication, it is just something we have learnt to ignore. That silence is not social proof. Unfortunately, that silence encourages the easily influenced to accept the use of profanity as part of the attributes of a free society.
In my view, using vulgar language is really nothing more than the outwardly vocal a sign of an unstable ego and poorly developed personality. It is like wearing a T shirt with " Despise Me" written on it. Now, why would anyone do that?
© Kiibaati
Kiibaatimania
12 Lies
Kiibaati Verse
Well, you could blame it on the Americans. Nay, the western way of life. Their music, films and literature do not just regularly depict obscenity and lewdness, it sometimes actually glorifies it. But that can only be correct to an extent. Actually, you can be lewd in any language. Obesere and some other fuji musicians have all proved that to a fault.
Then you could try and blame it on commercialism in the arts. It is not easy to achieve renown as an artiste; you need to stand out. Some try unconventional dressing, body marks and hairdo. Many try to shock us by spitting out four letter words, singing lewd lyrics and cracking lousy jokes. But, as the saying goes, it is only kinky the first time. A lewd artiste will only attract a lewd audience and soon fall out of favor. Rarely can you reach the peak, even in Hollywood, by starting out with porn. So you find that with time the showmanship of true professional must mature to leave lewdness behind.
And then there are those that say they are just trying to Keep It Real . They come from the ghetto and the language of the street is coarse, just like the life of its brow beaten, wretched inhabitants. That almost had me, if not for the lack of village roots of the speaker. Being vulgar might be representing alright, but it represents nothing but the shallowness of the mind of the speaker. As a native of a culture where respect, in all its ramifications, is a valued attribute, you certainly can't convince me that you're keeping it real by using slang that refers to men by their color, two hundred years after slavery was officially abolished. Or calling our mothers and sisters whores. Crudeness isn't cool; it is just verbal terrorism.
Now am all for free speech and abhor censorship. We still thank God for our God granted freedoms everyday. The prevalence of obscenity is a threat to that freedom. Freedom of speech should engender cross fertilization of ideas. Obscenity on the other hand kills creativity, since it seizes the attention of its captive audience by appealing to our lowest common denominator, that which is base and demeaning. It is a threat to true freedom because its popularity is the best argument for censorship.
For the vast majority of people who resign to the interruption of profanity in our daily communication, it is just something we have learnt to ignore. That silence is not social proof. Unfortunately, that silence encourages the easily influenced to accept the use of profanity as part of the attributes of a free society.
In my view, using vulgar language is really nothing more than the outwardly vocal a sign of an unstable ego and poorly developed personality. It is like wearing a T shirt with " Despise Me" written on it. Now, why would anyone do that?
© Kiibaati
Kiibaatimania
12 Lies
Kiibaati Verse
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Set Adrift on Memory Bliss
Sampling Spandau Ballet's True and Eric B and Rakim's Paid in Full...PM Dawn released this memorable hit in 1991 taken off the album - Of the Heart, of the Soul and the Cross: The Utopian Experience
Monday, July 9, 2007
Speaking Out Against Profanity (S.O.A.P)
The following which appeared on What a Colorful World! on July 6, 2007 was the inspiration for the creation of the S.O.A.P blog. It made me realize that one single post was not enough in the efforts to Speak Out Against Profanity
I am usually quite vocal when a situation arises where I feel a violation or an injustice is being done. Lately, I have found that living in the US, when it comes to speaking out in public against profanity, it becomes a situation of when in Rome do as the Romans do, when elsewhere do as they do elsewhere. I remember riding the subway from MD to VA, when a group of youths - there must have been three or four of them - boarded the car I was in. It was during rush hour so it was full to capacity and ordinarily I would not have noticed them since I was in the middle of good book, but they came in so noisily it was impossible to ignore them. There was a central character among them who was giving them a play by play account of his experience the previous night and they were cheering him on. Within seconds of them getting on the train, the whole car was silent with the exception of this young man who was very loudly and very graphically describing how he got busy with some girl the night before. I wish I could say he left out any of the details and I wish I could say that I managed to tune him out by reading my book. He was standing inches away from where I sat and at one point I looked at his face and actually felt pity for him, since it seemed to me that his story seemed to validate him in some way with his peers who at every dazzling turn would cheer him on as if he had scored some winning goal. More than anything, I wished someone would have told him to shut up…to say it was disgusting was an understatement. I scanned the faces of my fellow passengers and I saw a mixture of horror, bemusement and indifference in their faces. I would have said something but I was weeks-old in the country a Johnny Just Come (JJC). All I could do was look and listen.
When the train pulled up at their stop, the boys stumbled out as noisily as they had entered, the storyteller’s voice echoed back to us through the station and it was as the train doors shut that the drama started on the train. It seemed suddenly everyone had something to say about it. From behind me I heard a female voice say – None of y’all had no soap to wash that mouth out. Another person said ‘To think that that is someone’s son’ The lady next to me clapped her hands together and said she was thankful that she raised her daughter right and no boy would be talking trash about her kid like that in no train. A few people were narrating the experience to the other passengers who had boarded the train at the stop where the boys disembarked.
I found the reaction just as bad as the experience and when I shared this with people who had been in the country longer than I had, one of the many reactions I received was most people would never say anything for many reasons, some said that freedom of speech allows you to speak your mind. I ask - Is there any freedom of hearing which allows you to censor those things that are unpalatable to you? Another person actually told me that in situations like that one needs to be careful because any one of those boys could be a member of a gang and carrying a pistol which led me to believe that no one on the train dared say anything because they were afraid they would be shot at. Better to listen to gory details of an adolescent having unsafe sex than tell him to zip it and risk getting shot at? This is Rome, we do as the Romans do, elsewhere, even before I said anything, there would have been someone who would have said something. A simple – Come...you no get mama for house would have been enough.
Another time, more recently and still on the train, a group of youths stumbled on the train while I was again minding my business trying to read my book. I gathered from their noisy exchange that one of them was a rapper who had just released a demo album and they were all listening to this on their various music devices and passing comments as well as sharing the lyrics loudly with the rest of the passengers on the train. Lyrics which consisted of using derogatory words to describe women and parts of their anatomy….again no one said anything to hush them up. I glanced at the woman seated next to me who was also pretending to read but from her body language I could tell that she was finding this whole experience irritating. That episode came and went and no one spoke out against the profanity
A lot of people blame rap music for the promotion of this language…in some ways they are right but the people to blame are not the rappers but the music companies who think it is okay to churn out records with tasteless lyrics and for the most part, the blame goes to the consumer. If they did not have a market, they would not be in business.
In the April 2007 edition of National Geographic Magazine, James McBride admits his own initial myopic perception of rap music as he traces the root of rap/hiphop music to West Africa. The author tells the story of a young man called Assane N’Diaye who comes from a fishing village in Senegal called Toubab Dialaw and who along with his cousin and brother- meditate, pray and compose rap lyrics about life in their village, the humiliation of poverty, and the vagaries of life and death at the mercy of the sea- We watch our mothers boil water to cook and have nothing to put in the pot.
Mr McBride's article confirms that rap music can be a poetic outlet for an artiste and like the music you'll listen to below, it does not have to be laced with profanity to make an impact.
I am usually quite vocal when a situation arises where I feel a violation or an injustice is being done. Lately, I have found that living in the US, when it comes to speaking out in public against profanity, it becomes a situation of when in Rome do as the Romans do, when elsewhere do as they do elsewhere. I remember riding the subway from MD to VA, when a group of youths - there must have been three or four of them - boarded the car I was in. It was during rush hour so it was full to capacity and ordinarily I would not have noticed them since I was in the middle of good book, but they came in so noisily it was impossible to ignore them. There was a central character among them who was giving them a play by play account of his experience the previous night and they were cheering him on. Within seconds of them getting on the train, the whole car was silent with the exception of this young man who was very loudly and very graphically describing how he got busy with some girl the night before. I wish I could say he left out any of the details and I wish I could say that I managed to tune him out by reading my book. He was standing inches away from where I sat and at one point I looked at his face and actually felt pity for him, since it seemed to me that his story seemed to validate him in some way with his peers who at every dazzling turn would cheer him on as if he had scored some winning goal. More than anything, I wished someone would have told him to shut up…to say it was disgusting was an understatement. I scanned the faces of my fellow passengers and I saw a mixture of horror, bemusement and indifference in their faces. I would have said something but I was weeks-old in the country a Johnny Just Come (JJC). All I could do was look and listen.
When the train pulled up at their stop, the boys stumbled out as noisily as they had entered, the storyteller’s voice echoed back to us through the station and it was as the train doors shut that the drama started on the train. It seemed suddenly everyone had something to say about it. From behind me I heard a female voice say – None of y’all had no soap to wash that mouth out. Another person said ‘To think that that is someone’s son’ The lady next to me clapped her hands together and said she was thankful that she raised her daughter right and no boy would be talking trash about her kid like that in no train. A few people were narrating the experience to the other passengers who had boarded the train at the stop where the boys disembarked.
I found the reaction just as bad as the experience and when I shared this with people who had been in the country longer than I had, one of the many reactions I received was most people would never say anything for many reasons, some said that freedom of speech allows you to speak your mind. I ask - Is there any freedom of hearing which allows you to censor those things that are unpalatable to you? Another person actually told me that in situations like that one needs to be careful because any one of those boys could be a member of a gang and carrying a pistol which led me to believe that no one on the train dared say anything because they were afraid they would be shot at. Better to listen to gory details of an adolescent having unsafe sex than tell him to zip it and risk getting shot at? This is Rome, we do as the Romans do, elsewhere, even before I said anything, there would have been someone who would have said something. A simple – Come...you no get mama for house would have been enough.
Another time, more recently and still on the train, a group of youths stumbled on the train while I was again minding my business trying to read my book. I gathered from their noisy exchange that one of them was a rapper who had just released a demo album and they were all listening to this on their various music devices and passing comments as well as sharing the lyrics loudly with the rest of the passengers on the train. Lyrics which consisted of using derogatory words to describe women and parts of their anatomy….again no one said anything to hush them up. I glanced at the woman seated next to me who was also pretending to read but from her body language I could tell that she was finding this whole experience irritating. That episode came and went and no one spoke out against the profanity
A lot of people blame rap music for the promotion of this language…in some ways they are right but the people to blame are not the rappers but the music companies who think it is okay to churn out records with tasteless lyrics and for the most part, the blame goes to the consumer. If they did not have a market, they would not be in business.
In the April 2007 edition of National Geographic Magazine, James McBride admits his own initial myopic perception of rap music as he traces the root of rap/hiphop music to West Africa. The author tells the story of a young man called Assane N’Diaye who comes from a fishing village in Senegal called Toubab Dialaw and who along with his cousin and brother- meditate, pray and compose rap lyrics about life in their village, the humiliation of poverty, and the vagaries of life and death at the mercy of the sea- We watch our mothers boil water to cook and have nothing to put in the pot.
Mr McBride's article confirms that rap music can be a poetic outlet for an artiste and like the music you'll listen to below, it does not have to be laced with profanity to make an impact.
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