Falling Out of Love With Rap

When I was five years old, I memorized all of the words to Slick Rick’s “Children’s Story.” That's when I fell in love with rap. My sister was in high school, and I got to tag along when she borrowed our mom's car. We listened to Doug E. Fresh, Heavy D, Big Daddy Kane, and MC Lyte. I wanted to be MC Lyte when I grew up. I can remember exactly where I was when I heard Bone Thugs N Harmony’s debut single “Thuggish Ruggish Bone.” I used to tear up when I heard Eve’s “Love is Blind” because the lyrics were so moving and poignant. “Hard Knock Life” was the soundtrack to my sophomore year in high school and Jay-Z became my favorite rapper. I have written countless papers listening to the Blueprint 2. When College Dropout was released, I felt like Kanye had been reading my journal. My first year as a teacher, I listened to Three Six Mafia’s Most Known Unkowns every morning on my way to work. I LOVE RAP!!

I don’t call it hip-hop because when I was introduced to it, it was rap. Years later, there was a distinction made between rap, which had the negative, street, gangsta, connotation and hip-hop, which was more positive, socially uplifting. Then, the music industry blurred that distinction and it all became hip-hop. I would like to say that as an educated, intellectual woman, I only listened to socially conscious music. I would love to be that person. I am not. If C-Murder’s “F*** Them Other N******” came on right now, I would stop typing, slide my chair back from the desk, and start dancing and rapping because I know every single word. Although I have never done any of the acts portrayed in the song, the lyrics are delivered with such conviction and power. C-Murder eloquently and rhythmically “rides the beat.” This song is his Mona Lisa. Whether you call it rap, or hip-hop, as a genre, I love it. At least I used to.

Maybe it’s because I have gotten older. Maybe it’s because I am a writer and I can tell when another writer takes his/her time to craft a phrase or when he/she just writes down the first thing that comes to his/her mind. Perhaps it’s because, as a teacher, I see how literally young people take the songs they hear. I am not sure of the cause, but I have a hard time finding rap music that I actually like. As I previously stated, I am not above bumping some hard core club only music, but even the club songs are so … well… ignorant. Not in the message, but in the delivery. I am not saying that every song that comes on the radio has to be some deep, cognitively aware form of poetry, but at least make the words rhyme and stay consistent.

Let’s compare apples to apples. The Ying Yang Twins were not deep and their music did not evoke reflection, but at least they painted a picture with their lyrics.  

From “Say I Yi Yi:”

She got her hands up on her knees and her bows on her thighs 
She got the twerkin and the servin so I know that she fly 
She got me hype, I wanna bite her right now yi yi 
Say I yi yi yi yi.

 Not intellectually stimulating, but an attempt. Now, Two Chainz just says random stuff that doesn’t go together, make logical sense, or tell a story. He’s like Waka Flocka minus the colorful sounds. Two Chainz is thirty-six years old and he went to college. Clearly, he can try harder, but why would he? The listeners just want something to get _______(high, drunk, wasted) to.

From “Birthday Song”

They ask me what I do and who I do it for

And how I come up with this shit up in the studio

All I want for my birthday is a big booty hoe

All I want for my birthday is a big booty hoe

When I die, bury me inside the Gucci store

When I die, bury me inside the Louis store

All I want for my birthday is a big booty hoe

All I want for my birthday is a big booty hoe

So what is my point. If the lowest form of rap is sliding into the abyss, what can we say about the rest of it. Nothing. Mr. College Dropout is actually on this record talking about threesomes. There was a time when even the club records had a modicum of literary merit. Now, even that is gone out of the window. What can be said for the rest of the genre? If you’re like me, and you love rap music, stop supporting the crap they’re calling rap and demand better. 

I want to know how you feel about this. Please leave a comment below.

What's Your Story?

        This weekend, I had the opportunity to participate in the Handmade & Bound Book Festival. This festival was a book nerd’s dream. There were self-published authors like myself. People selling zines, which are mini books that often have hand drawn illustrations. Other vendors sold handmade paper and other scrap-booking supplies. The Nashville Origami Club also had a table. Basically, if the activity involved paper, pen, and self-sufficient creativity, there was representation at Handmade & Bound.

My table was located across from Blue Marigold Press, a company that creates handmade books. That’s right. Handmade books. I watched in amazement as a middle-aged man with ear length, brunette hair and librarian eyeglasses sewed linen pages together with needle and thread. He meticulously separated bunches of sewn pages with a tool I can only describe as a flat, plastic handle of sorts. At another point, he fed silk ribbon through slits in the sewn bunches. It was so fascinating that I found myself often distracted from my own potential customers because I wanted to watch the birth of a book.  

The vendor on my right was Thistle Farms, an organization for women with a history of violence, addiction, and/or prostitution. Thistle Farms gives these women a second chance at life by allowing them to create and sell soaps, perfumes, skin creams, candles, and paper products. The women also receive housing, medical and dental treatment, therapy, and educational training for no cost for two years in the Magdalene Program. The Magdalene Program at Thistle Farms was named for the biblical character whose life changed after she had an encounter with her Creator. Mary Magdalene was a known prostitute, but Jesus changed her story.

As the festival came to a close, I thought about the old adage “Never judge a book by its cover.” I contemplated the tables that surrounded me. To my left, I noticed how lovingly the man from Blue Marigold Press operated. Each stitch, pull, and tug meant something that would have an effect on the end product. His love and dedication reminded me of how God must see each human as He creates us. God is the faithful creator lovingly crafting each book, each person, to be a work of art.  To my right, wonderful women who had the courage to change their stories. Life may have left lasting effects on their covers, but God has allowed them to change the text of what would be.

As humans, we have little control over our covers, but we can change the story at any time. God has made us fearfully and wonderfully, but we can make the story of our lives tragic, romantic, or inspirational. The pen is in our own hands.  So what’s your story?

War of the Worlds

 There are a bazillion different theories on the relationship between men and women. For every human that can speak, you will find some variant on the roles of the sexes. In our modern society, we have declared war on the opposite sex, but most have no idea what we are fighting for, or if we are even still fighting. As a married woman, this "war" situation puts me in a bit of a pickle. I am eating, living, and sleeping with the enemy. I'm not the only one. This begs to question, is there still a war of the sexes?

Recently, I watched the movie Crazy Stupid Love. The ladies man character, Jacob, played by Ryan Gosling, proclaims, "The war between the sexes is over. We won the second women started pole dancing for exercise." Interesting. Many women go to these pole dance classes because feeling sexy is empowering for women. I've been to a couple of these classes and men are hardly part of the equation. Each woman is watching herself in the mirror, admiring, critiquing, learning herself. Although, men reap a few benefits, pole dance classes are not about men. 

I thought about all of this while watching movies with the enemy. Then, I realized the cause of this "war." Miscommunication. Men see one thing (pole dance class), think something (strippers, hot sex, SCORE!), and formulate an opinion (woman wants to please her man). Women see one thing (pole dance class), think something (that'll be fun and sexy), and formulate an opinion (my friends will love this). How do we fix it?

War is not the answer. Constantly criticizing, complaining, and bickering about the other sex doesn't work. We've already tried that. Contrary to what people may say, all men are NOT dogs, and all women are NOT bitches. Both men and women have capacities for right and wrong. It all depends on the person. My humble suggestion is that we see each other as equals. Realize that where women may be weak in an area, men are strong in that area. Simultaneously, an area of weakness for men, is an area of strength for women. We need each other because that's the way God planned it. Who are we to question it? 

Make Lemonade

We have all heard the addage that when life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade. This is meant to to be both inspirational and sobering. Sometimes, life sucks. Get over it. But, the practice of making lemonade is easier said than done. Your  tire blows out on your way to work, lemon. While waiting for the tow truck, you catch up on some reading, lemonade. Smaller lemons are easier to deal with than bigger lemons like, say, cancer. 

In October of last year, I found out that my best friend of twelve years was diagnosed with breast cancer. Major lemon. Huge, huge lemon. Quite hard to swallow. First there was the heart-rending diagnosis, then the ravaging chemotherapy, followed by the traumatic surgery, and then more ravaging by radiation. Finally, she is cancer free, but the fight is far from over. 

This past Tuesday, I had the pleasure of watching my best friend rip the runway at the Heroes in Heels Fashion Show in Cool Springs Mall in Franklin, Tennessee. Heroes in Heels is a fashion show that raises awareness and funds for the After Breast Cancer Program through the Middle Tennessee YMCA. I was so proud of my friend for not only surviving breast cancer, but continually making the best out each round of bad news she received.  She, like the other women who strutted down that runway, are master lemonade makers. They inspire me. 

When life gives you lemons, no matter the size, use the following recipe:

1. Cut each lemon in half. God is bigger than all of your problems, especially, if you dissect them into smaller parts. 

2. Squeeze your lemons. Remember, you cannot control everything that happens, but you can control your reaction. Show those lemons who's boss!

3. Add water. Embrace the love and support of your family and friends. Let their kind words water your heart. 

4. Sweeten to taste. God will never put more on you than you can bear. This test will only make you stronger and more dependent on Him. 

5. Serve. Once you have passed your test, share your story with others. You never know who you may inspire.     



  

Who You Callin A Bitch?

 It is a sad, but true fact that rappers typically throw the word bitch around like confetti at a parade. This trend is not new. It's not even a trend. It has become the new normal. Certainly there are exceptions to the rule, however, in the rap world, the rule is that women are bitches and men are niggas. I remember Queen Latifah's anthem "U.N.I.T.Y." As a respected female artist, she proudly proclaimed that not only was she not a bitch, but that NO woman deserved to be called that name.  Both men and women united around this song and its message. Be respectful.

For a short time, bitch was seen as the trump card. The word you saved for a certain level of anger with a woman. It was the ultimate form of disrespect. If you wanted to start fight, call a girl a bitch. Earrings will be removed, Vaseline will be applied, a melee will ensue. That was then. Now, bitch is either a compliment of profound diva behavior, which is a good thing, or the previously stated ultimate form of respect resulting in a good old fashion beat down. So how do you know when to be offended or be proud? In a society that is increasingly politically correct, how did bitch get left off of the "Don't Say That" list?

Which brings me to Trey Songz. Women love him, go to his concerts, buy his CDs, and idolize his every utterance. His music is sensual, seductive, and down right sexy. Trey Songz is our generation's Marvin Gaye. He oozes sex and once proclaimed that he invented it. And we believed him. He's just that good. He takes his mother to all of the "it" events, and we love him even more. If you love men, you are infatuated with Trey Songz. So why does he use bitch gratuitously in his new single "Two Reasons?" On the radio version, he sings "I only came for the ladies and the drinks," but on the album version he sings "I only came for the bitches and the drinks." Why don't his 90% female fan base say or do something? Because its accepted. Trey Songz can call us bitches on one track and sing us out of our Victoria Secret's on the next track because we allow it.

As a society, we have decided that it is okay to disrespect a certain group without question. Women. I propose that we treat bitch the same way we treat nigga. If you don't have a vagina, you should not use the word. And ladies, if we want respect we must demonstrate and demand it.

Black Dynamite Is Out of Sight OR The Many Faces of Michael Jai White

If you came of age in the nineties, like me, then you remember things like VCR's, Sega Genesis, and the X-Men cartoons. The X-Men cartoons hold a special place in my heart because I wanted to be Storm. She was the only black, female superhero I knew of at the time. She was articulate, intelligent, and respected. Everything I wanted to be when I became an adult. In 1997, another moment in black superhero history took place. Michael Jai White starred as the title character of the movie Spawn. Thirteen year old me was thrilled. I was intrigued by this African American superhero who sacrificed his own mortality to save his family. It didn't hurt that Michael Jai White was athletically built and handsome.

Fast forward fifteen years. African American actors have come and gone, and Michael Jai White has kept busy. We've seen him in Tyler Perry's Why Did I Get Married? movies and the spin-off television show, For Better or Worse. I could end the blog here and say good for him. Way to go young brother, way to go. But there is more than meets the eye with Mr. White.


He and Byron Minns are voices, writers, and producers of the blacksploitation cartoon on Cartoon Network, Black Dynamite. The cartoon follows the movie version, which was released in 2009. Both the movie and the cartoon feature Michael Jai White as Black Dynamite, Kym Whitlee as Honey Bee, Tommy Davidson as Cream Corn, and Byron Minns as Bullhorn.

As previously stated, my blackness obligates me to investigate such matters. The cartoon is awesome. The movie is even awsomer. The humor is well timed and not at all trite. In some strange way, they have found a way to honor blacksploitation without being degrading or stereotypical. This seems impossible since part of blacksploitation is stock characters and racial stereotypes. It's a well-balanced dance between parody and reverence. I know. Strange.

If you woke up giddy on Saturday mornings to watch Storm save the X-Men just in time, or searched out other black heroic characters as positive images of African American culture, you MUST watch at least one episode of Black Dynamite. It airs on Cartoon Network on Sundays at 10:30 p.m. CST.

Black Dynamite Movie Trailer

Black Dynamite Cartoon Trailer

Watch Episodes Now







P.S. If you don't know what blacksplotation is, I suggest the following:

Super Fly
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AmZjD2UWoso
The Mack
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2e7VngeFbhE
Shaft (the original with Richard Roundtree)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T1ga1FgU10E
Foxy Brown
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zOnqC_acEuI

Early Nights, Late Mornings

In the last five years, I have discovered a startling fact about myself. I am a home body, and I am okay with that. In some respects, I am saddened by this fact. Judging by my age, I should at least miss getting dolled up and going out. On occasion, I do feel the urge to shake things up. Usually, my friends and I will get exceptionally fine, go to a social gathering, and talk to each other over loud music. On most nights, like this one, I sit at home with my husband and we watch television. If we're really adventurous, we may even go out to eat or to a movie, maybe both. Otherwise, we are perfectly happy to spend Friday night on the couch.

This is where the title for the blog comes in. Both of our jobs are very demanding. By the time Friday afternoon comes, we are both exhausted. Friday is like a cool breeze on a sweltering day. We both sigh. . .aaaah when we hit the door on Friday afternoons. Weekends are the best. The early nights and late mornings that we wish we could enjoy Monday through Sunday, but that's just not how life works. We have to rise and grind Monday through Friday. But Friday night, it's time to watch some Comedy Central, snack on popcorn, and doze off around 9 o'clock. For me, that's the best.
Late Nights Early Mornings by Masha Ambrosius