J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 DOI 10.1007/s12111-010-9123-4 ARTICLES

Brotherly Love: Homosociality and Black Masculinity in Music

Matthew Oware

Published online: 20 March 2010 # Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2010

Abstract , specifically gangsta rap music, reflects a stereotypical black masculine aesthetic. The notion of a strong black male—irreverent, angry, defiant and many times violent—is pervasive in gangsta rap music. This badman trope, as characterized by Robin Kelley (1996), oftentimes encompasses hypermasculinity, misogyny, and homophobia. It should come as no surprise that this genre of rap music is rife with sexist themes and lyrics. Yet, what has not been fully explored are the progressive ways that male rappers express themselves towards others considered comrades or “homies.” Homosociality (Bird 1996; Sedgwick 1995), non-sexual positive social bonds, exists in gangsta rap music between men. This study explores the notion of homosociality in this genre of music, analyzing the lyrics of male rap artists who have sold one million or more of their compact discs, for a of 478 songs. I attempt to further unpack the idea of hegemonic black masculinity, presenting an alternative understanding of its deployment and manifestation in this music.

Keywords Black masculinity . Hip hop . Rap . Homosociality

Gangsta rap music, the most popular selling subgenre of rap music, is predicated on an essentialized and limited construction of black masculinity. Various scholars have discussed the notion of black male authenticity within rap music (Kitwana 2002; Ogbar 2007; Rose 2008). Many rappers construct a black male subjectivity that incorporates the notion that masculinity means exhibiting extreme toughness, invulnerability, violence and domination (Anderson 1990, 1999; Collins 2005; Majors and Billson 1992; Neal 2006). Moreover, the cornerstones of gangsta rap music—hypermasculinity, misogyny, and homophobia—pervade the genre. Howev- er, what has received scant attention are the instances where black male rappers express their humanity towards other men they consider their friends. This research

M. Oware (*) DePauw University, 306 Asbury Hall, Greencastle, IN 46135, USA e-mail: [email protected] J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 23 explores and highlights this little analyzed aspect of the medium via content analysis of rap lyrics. , black male rappers exhibit more than the staples of gangsta rap, forcing a re-examination of this group and black masculinity overall. Rappers routinely engage in hyperbolic masculinity, rhyming about their virility and strength, flaunting their muscles or pumping their chests on their covers and music videos. An element of rapper discourse is the invincibility of the rap artist. No rapper encounters defeat by his competitors. Indeed, according to many gangsta rap artists, it would take an army of soldiers to even hurt them. One of the reasons that these individuals are seemingly impenetrable rests in their brandishing of weapons from small hand guns to large semiautomatic weapons that are aimed at their opponents. Moreover, rapper etiquette dictates a propensity for violence towards those who show disrespect. The imagined or real death of a competitor or rival engenders no remorse or sorrow. Taken together, these characteristics personify what it means to be black and male in gangsta rap—a “real nigga.” Ogbar (2007) writes: Subsequent rappers Tupac and Jay-Z have celebrated the thug while underscoring their real nigga status. Within this framework, rappers who extol ghettoized pathology (drug selling, banging, violence, pimping, etc.) affirm their realness. All other groups become peripheral and must conform to the standard established by this group. So lyrically and stylistically all artists place themselves within this contextual framework and to varying degrees appropriate [apparent] young African American male styles and markers (p. 43). This embodiment or performance of supposed black manhood manifests itself by male rappers engaging in “beefs” or battles (and sometimes physical disputes) with challengers who feel that they have been disrespected. The most famous and tragic of these feuds happened between gangsta rappers and B.I.G. and their record labels, Death Row and . Unfortunately, both rappers were murdered by unknown assailants. More recently we witness the tensions between rappers and , as well as Jay-Z and —all exhibiting hypermasculinity. In their works, Neal (2006), Majors and Billson (1992), and Collins (2005) discuss how hypermasculinity constructs a kind of “strong black man,”“cool pose,” and “real man” demeanor among black men, respectively. Specifically, a particular presentation of self (Goffman 1959) emerges due to the limited opportunities that many black males face in their daily lives. In discussing the masculine aesthetic he identifies as the “Strong Black Man,” Neal (2006) claims its genesis began 400 years ago due to the enslavement, violence, and continued economic exploitation of this group. As a result, black males created a “functional myth” to help them handle their plight (p. 21). Majors and Billson (1992) write that although black males defined their manhood similarly to white males—provider, breadwinner, procreator, and protector—they did not have the necessary resources to fulfill these roles. Consequently, they created the “cool pose,” understood as “[u]nique patterns of speech, walk, and demeanor...it is a ritualized form of masculinity that entails scripts, physical posturing, impression management, and carefully crafted performances that deliver a single, critical message: pride, strength, and control” (p. 2–4). Concurring 24 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 with Neal (2006) and Majors and Billson (1992), Collins (2005) writes “because so many African American men lack access to forms of political and economic power that are available to elite White men, the use of their bodies, physicality, and a form of masculine aggressiveness become more important. Black men experience violence, often at the hands of other Black men” (p. 190). This type of masculinity informs the “code of the street,” whereby black males who in predominately urban and poor environments comport themselves in a manner deterring any sort of altercation with other individuals; thus, males must come off as aggressive or inclined to violence in order to prevent violent confrontations from ensuing (Anderson 1999). This behavior is reinforced and magnified when concentrated poverty, high crime and joblessness exist in these settings (Anderson 1999; Massey and Denton 1993; Wilson 1996). Popular gangsta rapper 50 Cent presents an example of this violent hypermasculine stance when he states, “You see me in the hood, I got at least two guns/I carry the glock, Tony car my M-1s.” (2003). These aspects of black manhood present concomitant weaknesses, namely a “stunted, conservative, one-dimensional, and stridently heterosexual vision of black masculinity” (Neal 2006, p. 24). This constricted masculinity leads to blatant misogyny and homophobia in rap. Misogyny abounds in gangsta rap. More than any other aspect of this musical genre, misogyny has been the focal point of hip hop research (see Perry 2004 and Sharpley-Whiting 2007 for detailed analyses). The excessive deployment of demeaning and denigrating language towards women, especially black women, permeates the music (Adams and Fuller 2006). For example, using lyrics analyzed in this work, on their compact disc World (2004), the group D12 has a song entitled “Bitch” with lyrics stating, “Wiggle that ass, bitch...Yeah, I called you a bitch, bitch.” In addition to degrading language, the objectification of women occurs in the portrayal of them in skimpy clothing, vacuously gyrating around fully-clothed males, epitomizing current rap videos. Tricia Rose (2008), the foremost authority on hip hop, writes “Hip hop’s sexism is visible, vulgar, aggressive and popular...clearly, the issue isn’t if [emphasis mine] hip hop—as it has evolved in the commercial arena over the past dozen years or so—promotes sexist and demeaning images of black women as its bread-and-butter” (p. 114). Agreeing, Perry (2004) writes that rap music often presents women as hypersexualized “gold diggers” who attempt to take advantage of men (p. 128). Kelley (1996) contends the denigration of women arises from the fear of female sexuality—black males’ failure of meeting the wants or desires of black women. Other scholars argue that the images in videos and messages in the music are reflective of the real tensions between black males and females. Black females making advancements beyond black males in the workplace and in school necessitates a need for said males to regain their footing by “putting women in their place” (Cole and Guy-Sheftall 2003; Collins 2005; Kitwana 2002). Collins (2005) states that one of the benchmarks of current “real man” black masculinity includes control of black women (p. 189). Consequently, a hegemonic form of masculinity develops in the medium of rap wherein black males attempt to dominate black women aurally (in the music) and visually (in music videos) (Sharpley- Whiting 2007). Indeed, Collins writes, “Black men’s visibility within basketball, rap, J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 25 and hip-hop culture has provided a new and highly visible cultural arena for reasserting an adult Black masculinity...” (p. 191). Another pervasive aspect of gangsta rap that is directly connected to misogyny and hypermasculinity is homophobia. Male rappers routinely embrace pejorative language with an anti-gay stance. Hill (2009) writes “...hip hop’s most popular artists over the past five years have consistently deployed antigay rhetoric within their music. For example, top selling rappers like , Jay-Z, , 50 Cent, , Ja Rule, and DMX have all used terms like ‘faggot’ and ‘homo’ to disparage gay and lesbian people, as well as emasculate real and imagined enemies” (p. 32). For example, DMX, in his song “Where the Hood At,” from his compact disc (2003) rhymes: “Last I heard, y’all niggas was havin sex, with the same sex/I show to homo thugs/how you gonna explain fuckin’ a man.” Lamenting this trend, gay rapper Tim’m in his interview with Chang (2006) states that hip hop is the last self-congratulatory arena for homophobia (p. 200). Although homophobic references are employed to demean and belittle male rivals and gays and lesbians, gay and lesbian sexual identities are indispensible to promoting a heteronormative masculinity. Tim’m, in his interview with Chang (2006), continues: “Hip hop heteros rely heavily on the inappropriate faggot in order to even exist. In a really twisted sort of way, they rely on the verbal bashing of fags in order to substantiate their manhood... Sadly hard edge and masculinity almost always means you hate fags” (p. 203). Collins (2005) contends that some heterosexual black men may resort to violence against gay men who threaten their heterosexuality (p. 192). This point is easily recognizable in many gangsta rap songs when rappers rhyme about “beating up” or “killing” gay men. An even more perverse type of homophobia perpetuating black male control targets lesbians, especially lesbians of color, a group rarely discussed when anti-gay conversations occur in rap (Pritchard and Bibbs 2007). In this realm, alles- heterosexual male rappers not only conquer male competitors and heterosexual women, they also sexually dominate lesbians. In essence, as Sharpley-Whiting (2007) cogently writes: “Viewed through the prism of the hypermasculine culture of hip hop, lesbians and lesbianism are in some respects the final frontier of conquest. The prevailing mentality is that all lesbians need a ‘good stiff one’ to set them on a ‘straight’...course” (p. 15). Thus, a lesbian identity vanishes with a heterosexual encounter with a dominant and domineering male rapper. Albeit sexist and ostensibly hateful, the aforementioned aspects of commercial black male rap draw on the “badman” trope (Kelley 1996; Perry 2004; Ogbar 2007). The badman originated in the fables of Stagolee and Shine and continued in the 1970s black exploitation movie characters of Dolomite, the Mack, and , as well as in the sports arena with athletes like Muhammed or . Partly a creation of racism and classism, the badman is feared by whites and middle- class black society for his non-conformity, eschewing established rules, norms, or laws of society. Rather, he moves to his own tune and “...is an outlaw, challenging a societal order antithetical to the expression of African American humanity. He is a rebel to society, living on the margins of a black community that at once regards him as a hero and a threat” (Perry 2004, p.128). Drug dealers, hustlers, pimps, and players adhere and abide by badman behavior. All emphasize their sexual and physical prowess, fully embracing misogyny and homophobia as part of their 26 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 character. Under the guise of “strong black men” or “real men” (Neal 2006; Collins 2005) gangsta rap artists uphold and perpetuate this aspect of masculinity. Unlike homophobia, misogyny, and hypermasculinity, another dimension of masculinity within rap has received little attention—homosociality. Homosociality is defined as individuals of the same-sex exihibiting strong social bonds toward one another in a non-sexual manner (Bird 1996; Sedgwick 1985; Flood 2008). Previous research has found that homosociality plays a critical role in perpetuating hegemonic masculinity and mediating heterosexual male-female relationships. Bird (1996) interviewed predominately white college educated males finding three criteria for manhood: an emotional detachment from women; engaging in competition (whether in sports or for women) with other men; and sexually objectifying women. All of these aspects are exhibited in front of and must meet the approval of other heterosexual males. Similarly, among his all English-speaking Australian male respondents, Flood (2008) found that homosocial male relationships were supposed to be prioritized over male-female types of relationships (platonic or sexual). Moreover, the purpose of male-female relationships was solely for sexual intercourse. Finally, male bonding occurs by heterosexual sex talk, specifically, men telling each other stories of their sexual conquests (p. 6). This hegemonic masculinity proliferates because men seek the approval of other men in homosocial relationships (Kimmel 1994). Thus according to this research, homosocial male spaces encompass homophobia, sexism, and hyper-competitiveness (Bird 1996; Kimmel 1994). Previous research on homosociality among males primarily depicts the adverse and negative aspects of masculinity, or boys-behaving-badly. Perhaps this lies in the fact that those who have been interviewed are predominately white males, individuals who are “closest” to the dominant form of white masculinity; for example, only two of the 11 males that Bird (1996) interviewed were black. However, because many black males are marginalized in American society, possessing higher rates of prison incarceration, mortality, joblessness, and lower rates of educational attainment, middle-class status, and quality healthcare in comparison to elite white males, they face a different relationship to hegemonic masculinity (Collins 2005; Kimmel 1994). Both Kimmel (1994) and Collins (2005) discuss how non-hegemonic males (for example, minority or gay men) are routinely “othered” by white, elite, heterosexual males. Collins (2005) specifically states that a three-tiered hierarchy of masculinity exists with white males at the top and black males at the bottom, possessing the perceived least desirable form of manhood. Black masculinity, while drawing on various negative components of white hegemonic masculinity (i.e. hypermasculinity, sexism and homophobia), especially in rap music, may be more dynamic and complex than at first glance. Since prior research on hip hop has documented the aforementioned harmful aspects of black masculinity in rap music, this study explores how blacks interact with other black males in potentially empowering and caring ways. What do rappers who engage in homosocial rhetoric say about their “homies” or those that they consider friends? How does this inform black masculinity? Are there instances where black male rappers deliberately and intentionally express affection, gratitude, and even vulnerability towards other black males? The answers to these questions expand and enhance our understanding of black masculinity within rap, particularly J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 27 male-male relationships, by presenting instances where males express a broader and more complex range of emotions and feelings than typically discussed and analyzed in rap music. The results demonstrate that black gangsta rappers, as expressed through their lyrics, are more humane than initially thought.

Methods

This exploratory study examines the themes that emerge when black rap artists rhyme about individuals who are not their competitors or adversaries, but their friends. It complements existing literature that discusses the cultural development of hip hop as a popular art form (see Chang 2005), as well as how rap music informs racial, gender, and class dynamics (see Morgan 1999; Rose 2008) by employing a content or lyrical analysis of popular selling rap . Through a systematic technique for obtaining and analyzing songs, I seek to evince generalizable findings based on an established sociological methodology. Such methods are employed in the works of Kubrin (2005a; 2005b) and Oware (2009) in reference to this medium. Specifically, after reading the lyrics and listening to songs in order to discern intonation and intention, I perform a lyrical analysis of top selling albums (25 in all) by black male rap artists whose individual compact discs sold at least one million copies or more (see Appendix). Hence, I analyze popular mainstream rap music for the messages conveyed about male-male friendships. This selection process yielded an overall sample of 478 songs. Sexism, misogyny, bravado, violence, or homophobia saturated all the albums and nearly every song. These topics permeate the music as expected by previous research. However, other subject matters surfaced in relation to black male camaraderie. These topics included rappers defining their male friends as family members (friends are family), rappers utilizing their personal achievements for the benefit of their male friends (success by association), and finally lamenting or mourning the incarceration or death of a companion (loss of friends). Specifically, coding was based on the presence of these themes in individual songs. Instances of “friends are family” were based on references wherein rappers equated friendship with familial ties, for example, “we are more than friends we are family,” or a similar sentiment. “Success by Association” entailed cases where rappers mentioned sharing their material wealth or other resources with their friends, an example being “my money is your money” or something to that affect. Finally, “loss of friends” referred to rappers lamenting the loss of their buddies to incarceration or death; for example, “I am sad he died” or a similar emotion (see Appendix). If a song had either one or multiple lyrics that expressed any of these topics then that song was coded once for that specific theme. Thus, if there are multiple lyrics that indicated loss of friends (or any of the other subject matters) in one song, then that song was only coded once for this theme. Although very few, there are some instances of entire songs devoted to one topical area. A minority of songs in the entire sample mentioned more than one theme (4%). Over a third (37%) of the songs of the entire sample made reference to at least one of these themes. Consequently, they constituted a much smaller focus of discussion. Nonetheless, their presence should encourage a nuanced understanding of these artists and their music. 28 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

Before examining the aforementioned aspects within the genre it is worth noting the varied ways that rappers referred to someone as a friend: “dog” or “dawg,” “partner” or “partna” and “homie,” short for homeboy. The most controversial, yet frequently iterated characterization was “.” In rap parlance this apparent racial slur also designates a term of endearment or a friendly appellation between black males (Kennedy 2003). Thus, when discussing examples of homosociality these phrases are mentioned.

Analysis

Friends Are Family

For several rappers, friend is synonymous with family. From his song “Family Business” on the compact disc College Dropout (2004), explains: “All my niggas from the Chi, that’s my family dog/And my niggas ain’t my guys, they my family dog/I feel like one day you’ll understand me dog/ You can still love your man and be manly dog.” Kanye asserts that his connection with other males goes beyond mere friendship, something more than just having his “guys.” Rather, his friends comprise his family, an intimately closer and personal tie for an associate. Contrary to the blatant homophobia in most rap music, Kanye presents an ostensibly anti-homophobic stance wherein he fully embraces the idea of demonstrating affection for another male, yet maintaining “manliness.” Similarly to Kanye, the transgression of heteronormative masculinity surfaces in the lyrics of Young ’s song “Dreamin” on his compact disc Inspiration (2007). The artist says: “One thing about it, I got love for you homie/ Two things about it, I’ll take a slug for you homie/ Look at you now, you’se a business man/ I’m proud of you dog, handle your business man/You like the brother I never ever had.” Jeezy’s robust fondness for his friend engenders putting himself in harm’s way—“tak[ing] a slug”—for this person. This sort of behavior typifies parents’ attitudes towards their children or lovers’ outlooks towards their significant other. Yet, this rapper illustrates these views when referring to another male in a platonic manner. Indeed, Jeezy claims a familial bond stronger than simple camaraderie towards his “homie,”or in this case, a fictitious brother. member articulates how biological ties extend into the realm of companionship when he raps: “Marcus, Jason, my James/ All my brothers from my momma but Andre is just the same/Ain’tno uno, we a duo, dos to a pair.” These ostensibly sincere words suggest a deeper connection to his fellow rap mate Andre. The last example for this category comes from the song “Loyalty” by the group D12 on their compact disc D12 World (2004). In the song, several artists in the group rhyme about the importance of loyalty in their constructed family. Swifty McVay explodes: “Why would I give a fuck about you if we ain’t family?/ I roll with a chosen few and those of you that’s behind me.” Revealing bravado and a certain level of vulnerability, Swifty’s statement seems intent on expressing how important he takes friendship. Conveying the literal meaning of the song another member of the group, Kon Artist, states in the chorus: “See I’m a man, and a man gon’ do what he gotta do/ And if they was really soldiers then they would do what we do/And be J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 29 loyal to crew and crew was loyal to you.” Clearly, the primacy of solidarity to fellow members or “crew,” dominates. This maxim epitomizes manhood, according to Kon Artist. Moreover, he admonishes other male groups to incorporate this principle in their own friendships. Even though friends as family is a small theme in the sample (found in less than 5% of songs) when discussed it reveals an alternative view of black masculinity. This aspect challenges the prevailing narrowly defined notions about black male rap artists. The nuance becomes even more apparent when analyzing how rap artists share their success with companions.

Success by Association

Practically every rap artist analyzed who achieved success monetarily or otherwise imparted those resources to their friends. An example of this comes from “Do You Wanna Ride” by Jay-Z from his album Kingdom Come (2007): Yeah nigga I we was kids and had dreams of bein here/ I said ‘we’ cause I’m here, you here!/ Yeah, ride with me, your spot is reserved family/ Cigarette boats, yachts, ain’t nowhere we can’t go/ We in South Beach and the Hamptons too baby/ In the name of those who ain’t made it, my progress/ Show success, please live through me/ I put my niggaz on, my niggaz put they niggaz on/ In this verse, Jay-Z makes it abundantly clear that he will provide material resources to those considered friends, whether that entails trips to expensive locations (the Hamptons or South Beach) or rides on luxurious boats. Moreover, he incorporates the previous theme of friends-are-family with his felt obligation to share his wealth with these individuals. He ends by discussing how his actions are communal in nature, the resources given to his buddies should be shared with their friends, and so on. This behavior exhibits the principal of “what is mine is thine,” wherein those who have the means share their resources with those who do not. Similarly to Jay-Z, rapper , in his song “Large Amount” from the compact disc Red Light District (2005) rhymes: “My goal is to set my friends up to make some paper like me/ Put’em in position to make they wishes come-true/ So they can have multiple accounts that gain interest overnight/ Given a million dollars what you gon’ do?” Contradicting the narcissistic and ego-centric attitude that most artists exhibit in their lyrics, Ludacris queries the listener: what is a millionaire’s obligation to his friends? He responds by saying that he must “set” them “up” and create opportunities where they can earn money themselves. In his guest appearance on the rapper T.I.’s “On Top of the World” (2008), Ludacris declares: “Put one of my partners right through culinary school/Now he my personal chef so that bread, he get it/Put’em all in houses, cleaned up all my friends’ credit /And now they witnessed all the glitz and the glamour.” Ludacris’s munificence ranges from covering the full tuition of a friend through school to restoring the credit of those who needed it, presumably through paying their bills. While Ludacris demonstrates his generosity, for some other rappers sharing wealth and fame are mandates. 30 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

In his song “Drugs” from his compact disc U Gotta (2004) Lil Flip says: “And since Will my nigga, I gotta help him out/ So I’ma put him out (so nigga kick ya feet up)/ And when the stores sell-out (then it’s time to re-up)/So keep yo D-up, cuz we comin’ with the heat man/And if you get a deal make sure yo niggaz eat man.” Lil Flip’s message to the listener verges on reprimand—material wealth or fame gained by one requires its redistribution to close associates. Such action becomes mandatory, not only done out of the kindness of one’s heart. Overall, implicit in the lyrics of the aforementioned rappers, individual achievements cannot stand alone, especially when buddies need help, monetarily or otherwise. When male friends face even greater troubles such as imprisonment, or even death, then some rappers verbalize their grief and sorrow.

Lament of Lost Friends

On every compact disc, with multiple references in some songs, rap artists poignantly discuss the loss of a friend to incarceration or death. The rapper T.I. dedicates an entire song, “You Ain’t Missing Nothing” to an imprisoned companion on his compact disc (2008). He bemoans: My nigga Cap right now servin’ a life sentence/ For a murder he committed in self-defense/ And in such good spirits, shawty ain’t even trippin’/ And I could be right there with him, no bullshittin’/ He on his ninth year now, just waitin’ to get out/ Got me thinkin’ my shit ain’t even worth complainin about/ Cuz it can still be worse, fa sho’/ T.I. expresses his sadness for the long term confinement of his friend for what he considers an unjust . Moreover, in a moment of reflection T.I. recognizes his own good fortune of freedom. The subject of loss pervades T.I.’s music, especially towards those who have passed away. In several songs he pays particular homage to his close associate Philant Jones, shot to death during an altercation with another individual (2007; 2008). Sorrow expressed over death also appears in the lyrics of The Game’ssong “Start from Scratch” on his album (2005). Plaintively, he rhymes “I got too many dead homies, fuck a rap career/ I’dgiveanythinginthe world to bring back my nigga Tear/ Seem like we was just in Magic City yesterday/ If I could bring back my homeboy, Charles he would say/ (leads into chorus of song).” The Game claims to forsake his current occupation if his friends lived. In another song on the album he discloses his membership in the notoriously violent Angeles gang known as the who wear red attire as their identifying characteristic. Yet, in two deeply moving lyrics he reveals, “Every time one of my niggaz gets shot, the more I suffer/Cause we trapped in a world where you forced to die for your colors.” Albeit a gang member, he comprehends the damage caused not only in his life but in the lives of other adherents of gang dogma. Homicide hurts everyone. Some rap artists courgeously express their vulnerability due to the passing of a beloved companion. In his song “A’Yo Kato” on his compact disc Grand Champ J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 31

(2003) DMX wails: “There was things left unsaid, dog, we wasn’t finished/Never got to say thank you for being a friend/Dogs for life, and you rode to the end/Now I come back to Phoniex and like ‘damn it’s hard’/To accept the fact, that you won’tbe coming back.” DMX sincerely opens up, exposing heartfelt emotions to the listener, unexpected from the archetypal gangstar rapper. He is not the only one, heartbreakingly rhymes on the song “Get Over” from his compact disc Carter II (2006): “We gettin’ ready now, bitch, my nigga dead now/And all the things I never said, I gotta say it now/I shoulda said it then, now I gotta talk to clouds/Now I gotta walk around, brim down.” Filled with overwhelming grief, Lil Wayne hides his face, covering it with his hat.

Discussion

In her book “Prophets of the Hood,” Perry (2004) asks: “There is a great deal of discussion about the violent forces in hip hop, but what about the countervailing forces of love?”(p. 134). Perhaps academicians and pop culture scholars believe rappers incapable or unwilling to express this emotion. Reading the extant literature written on rap music corroborates this belief. Clearly, mainstream black male rap artists, employing the badman trope, place an inordinate amount of emphasis on hypermasculine themes—violence, machismo, and self-aggrandizement. Sexism, misogyny, and homophobia permeate the music. These points are irrefutable. However, the existence of these aspects in rap must not obscure the humanity of many black male rap artists. Although the themes of family-are-friends, success-by- association, and mourning of death and incarceration appear in a minority of the lyrics sampled, these findings call for a rethinking of conventional understandings of popular rap artists and black masculinity. A close analysis of the lyrics of top selling rap artists evince the counter- hegemonic “forces of love” at play. Same-sex affection peppers black male rappers’ lyrics. Not only do rappers express deep concern for their close friends, they also provide them material resources, whether money or a place to stay, when needed. They build and maintain community with their friends who are near or far. More important, several of the popular artists analyzed exhibit behaviors that undermine and overturn hegemonic masculine doctrine—they are vulnerable and emotional. They present their feelings of sorrow and loss; they express remorse for a comrade when he dies or becomes incarcerated. Some of the hardest artists display their deep- seated love and heartfelt sensitivity towards other men. Furthermore, the apparent manifestation of these emotions contradicts the idea of the cool pose—that one must be tough and aloof—especially towards other men (Majors and Billson 1992). Indeed, several rappers directly reject homophobic constructions of black male relationships; yet, they are homosocial. The intent here is not to depict rap artists as undercover or latent homosexuals; rather, rapper’s, like all human beings, possess a multifaceted range of emotions, and this work highlights those that lack adequate discussion in the literature. Yet, these sentiments do not merely emerge out of an altruistic or pure sense of love for fellow men. Rather, they reflect the realities of high levels of incarceration, homicide resulting in death, poverty, and joblessness faced by many black males in most 32 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 postindustrial urban cities (Anderson 1999; Massey and Denton 1993; Wilson 1996). Perhaps, the sub-standard conditions and constrained opportunities in these locations provoke sexism, homophobia, and hypermasculinity (Anderson 1999; Collins 2005; Kelley 1996; Kitwana 2002; Neal 2006), the visceral response, yet there exists a humane reaction, progressive thinking that may not dominate but does reverberate throughout rap music. The lack of primacy of these positive themes in the music may stem from the popularity of the aforementioned negative aspects. Several scholars assert that since white teenagers are the largest consumers of the music and mega corporations have overtaken small independent music labels targeted towards minority populations then many rap artists were limited in the sorts of topics that they could discuss for fear of being dropped from their record company (Rose 2008; Watkins 2006). Possibly, radical or empowering rap would not sell records; rather, rappers who essentially perpetuate denigrating and belittling stereotypes of blacks, especially black males, appeal to market forces (Rose 2008; Ogbar 2007). In this constrained and limited environment, there exists a symbiotic relationship between record companies and rap artists whereby, from the label’s perspective, only certain types of lyrics or imagery are believed profitable, thus the demand for that kind of music. Understanding this demand, artists offer songs that mainly consist of misogyny, violence, and homophobia. Therefore, there exists an over-representation of the thug or pimp motif in rap music targeted towards record labels who want the next multiplatinum selling artist and an audience that eagerly wants to consume such imagery. Moreover, violence and sexism sell in popular movies and television shows as well. Indeed, the media’s “if it bleeds it leads” approach to presenting news stories lends credence to this argument (Glassner 2000). Yet multiple rappers also deploy genuine and empowering messages in their lyrics. Some express their despair and grief over fallen comrades, similarly to the black males in the communities where many of these rappers originate. Indeed, the narratives articulated due to a companion’s passing or imprisonment may be more authentic than the hyperbole often heard in rap music. This is the other side of machismo and violence, the other reaction to sometimes cruel environments that carte blanche ends lives prematurely. Black males, as manifested through rap music, do posses positive and progressive homosocial relationships—a boldfaced example of brotherly love. In this instance, Black masculinity should be understood as increasingly complex with layered nuances. A legitimate critique of the above analysis posits that the artists analyzed may not actually mean, with heartfelt concern and genuine belief, what they rap about. The supposed expressed sadness, philanthropy, and fictive kinship may be mere facades. Indeed, when rappers say other rappers names in their rhymes, it could be a ploy to further the career of the acknowledged rappers. The feelings conveyed may not be “real,” truly experienced by those analyzed in this research, but “performed,” staged, or in this case communicated, actions and beliefs. Without actually interviewing each and every artist and questioning his true intent, how can we, the listeners, know truth from fabrication? The response to the above critique is multifaceted. First, methodologically speaking, it would be more appropriate to personally interview all artists and deliberately ask them their intent. Clearly, this would provide a stronger case for or J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 33 against my argument. Yet, even if this approach were used there still are concerns about interviewer bias, or the possibility that artists would tailor their answers to what they believe I, the interviewer, wanted to hear (Schutt 2004). Thus, “truth” remains elusive. In addition, this particular methodological approach is simply not feasible given the limited resources this researcher possesses (i.e., the ability to set- up interview schedules, offer remuneration for interviews, etc.). However, methodological approach aside, a direct response to the offered critique requires a discussion of the artists’ specific kind of performance. For the sake of argument, let us say that the artists are not being genuine and truthful. They have not lived what they rhymed. Then the more important questions become why articulate expressed mourning and generosity? Why talk about the (supposed) death of a friend and how it (supposedly) impacted them? Why rhyme about referring to another male as a family member? Why rap about how they (allegedly) helped other males? Thus, the question becomes why this type of performance, especially since it contradicts assumed black masculinity (i.e., hypermasculinity, homophobia, and misogyny). Indeed, this conveyed “vulnerability” is not a component of black manhood. Moreover, such an emotion can be detrimental in some social settings such as the inner-city (Anderson 1999). Thus, why express these feelings in the most hypermasculine sub-genre of rap music? To answer these questions requires that we expand and re-evaluate our notions of black masculinity. Gangsta rappers may not have really mourned the death of a friend, or actually monetarily helped out another, but they are communicating that this is their intention—to lament and assist. Put another way, they are expressing their versatile range of emotions through performance, whether lived or not. They are performing mourning, sorrow, regret, and outreach, not necessarily because it can sell records (indeed, expressing these emotions can work against them), but because, despite the market forces (the and fans) impinging on them, they articulate their humanity. This point is buttressed by the fact that these (hypothetical) emotions are presented in a small percentage of the overall sample. Perhaps, the artists realize that too much “touchy-feely” emotion does not sell records, yet they are not one-dimensional—they assert and project (perform) other feelings and beliefs that run counter to the archetypical black gangsta rapper and hegemonic masculinity, whether these sentiments are lived or not. Ironically, the query should be why are black male rappers expressing these specific kinds of emotions in gangsta rap, as opposed to whether they reveal are based in reality. The answer to the question: black men, even hardcore rappers, are humans with a wide range of feelings. Of course, there exists the possibility that some of these individuals are describing aspects of their realities (death or incarceration of friends, etc.), though this would only reinforce the aforementioned points. In general, more dialogue surrounding black males and rap music should include not only critiques of the detrimental aspects of this popular cultural medium, but also areas of empowering and encouraging messages. Lyrics that address the intimacy of close friends and the loss of said friends to prison or death exemplify these areas. Moreover, black masculinity, in general, must be understood to parallel and transgress hegemonic masculinity. Then a more nuanced and sophisticated discourse will take place around this musical genre and black masculinity as a whole. 34 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

Appendix: Coded Rap Songs, 2003–2008

Artist Album title Song Themes

Friends are Success by Loss of family association friend

2003 Compact Discs DMX Grand Champ (N=20) Where the Hood X 0 0 Dogs Out X 0 0 Untouchable 0 X X We Bout to Blow X 0 0 A ‘Yo Kato X 0 X Jackpot (N=13) Chingy Jackpot 0 X 0 We Getting It 0 X 0 Represent 0 X 0 Outcast Speakerboxx/ Love Bust 0 X 0 Below (N=16) Tomb of Boom X X 0 Flip Flop Rock X 0 0 Reset 0 0 X 50 Cent Get Rich or Die Tryin’ 0 0 X (N=18) High All the Time 0 X 0 Don’t Push Me 0 0 X to Heaven 0 0 X G-Unit (N=18) Betta Ask Somebody X X X G’dUp 0 0 X 2004 Compact Discs D12 D12 World (N=18) Loyalty X 0 X How Come X X 0 40 . 0 X 0 American Psycho X 0 X Kamikaze (N=16) Hope X 0 X Sunshine 0 X 0 Lil’ Flip U Gotta Feel Me All I Know 0 X 0 (N=20) Bounce X 0 0 Check (Let’s Ride) 0 X 0 Dem Boyz 0 X 0 Dem Boyz () 0 X 0 Drugs (screwed) 0 X 0 Rags to Riches 0 X 0 Sun Don’t Shine 0 0 X Throw up Yo’ Hood 0 X 0 Y’all Don’t Want It 0 X 0 Kanye West College Dropout Get’em High 0 X 0 (N=16) Family Business X 0 0 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 35

(continued)

Artist Album title Song Themes

Friends are Success by Loss of family association friend

Nelly Sweat/Suit (N=24) American X 0 0 Getcha Getcha X 0 0 Another One 0 X 0 2005 Compact Discs 50 Cent (N=21) Outta Control 0 X 0 Ski Mask Way 0 X 0 My Toy Soldier X X 0 0 0 X The Game Documentary (N=17) Runnin’ 00X The Documentary 0 0 X Start from Scratch 0 0 X Church of Thugs 0 X X Hate It or Love It 0 0 X Don’t Need Your Love X 0 X (N=13) Grand Finale X 0 0 Stick That Thang Out 0 X 0 What You Gon’ Do 0 X 0 Ludacris Get Back 0 X 0 (N=15) Spur of the Moment 0 X 0 Large Amounts 0 X 0 Two Miles an Hour 0 X 0 Kanye West X 0 0 (N=17) Diamonds from Sierra XX0 Leone (remix) Gone X 0 X 2006 Compact Disc T.I. King (N=16) I’m Talkin’ to You X 0 0 0 0 X 0 X 0 Under Taker 0 0 X Good Life 0 0 X Told You So 0 X 0 Lil Wayne Carter II (N=19) Fly In 0 X 0 Money On My Mind X 0 0 Lock and Load X 0 0 Hustle Music 0 X 0 Shooter 0 X 0 Get Over 0 0 X Feel Me X 0 0 36 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

(continued)

Artist Album title Song Themes

Friends are Success by Loss of family association friend

B.I.G. (N=19) It Has Been Said 0 X X 0 X X Get Your Grind On 0 X 0 Whateva 0 0 X Beef 0 0 X Hustler’s Story 0 0 X Breakin’ Old Habits 0 X X Mi Casa 0 X 0 Want That Old 0X0 Thing Back Sound of Revenge Intro X 0 0 (N=18) Picture Perfect 0 X 0 Void My Life 0 0 X Sound of Revenge Rider 0 X 0 Young Joc City Hear Me Coming 0 X X (N=13) Picture Perfect 0 0 X 2007 Compact Discs Jay-Z Kingdom Come Prelude X 0 0 (N=14) X X 0 Do You Wanna Ride X X X 30 Something 0 X 0 Minority Report 0 0 X Kanye West Graduation (N=15) Good Morning 0 X 0 Champion 0 X 0 Big Brother X X Glory 0 X 0 Young Jeezy Inspiration (N=16) It Is 0 X X I Luv It 0 X 0 0 X X Bury Me A G 0 X 0 Dreamin X X 0 Keep It Gangsta X X 0 T.I. T.I. VS. T.I.P. (N=19) Act 1: T.I.P. 0 0 X Big Shot Poppin 0 X X Hurt 0 0 X Row 0 X 0 We Do This 0 X 0 Show It To Me 0 X 0 Hustlin’ 0X0 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 37

(continued)

Artist Album title Song Themes

Friends are Success by Loss of family association friend

T.I. VS. T.I.P. Touchdown 0 X 0 50 Cent Curtis (N=17) I’ll Still Kill 0 X 0 Come and Go 0 X 0 Move On Up 0 X 0 0 X 0 All of Me 0 X 0 2008 Compact Discs Lil Wayne III You Ain’t Got X (N=22) Nuthin On Me I’mMe 0 X 0 Kush 0 X 0 Love Me or Hate Me 0 X 0 T.I. Paper Trail (N=16) 56 Bars X 0 0 Ready For Whatever 0 0 X On Top of the World 0 X X No Matter What 0 0 X Swing Ya’ Rag 0 X 0 What’s Up, What’s 0X0 Happenin’ 0 X 0 Swagger Like Us 0 X 0 You Ain’t Missing 00X Nothing 0 0 X Rich Ross (N=13) Speedin’ 0X0 This is Life 0 0 X This Me 0 X 0 I’m Only Human X 0 0 Trilla 0 X 0 We Shinin’ 0X0 Billionaire 0 X 0 The Boss 0 X 0 Jay-Z American Gangsta American Dreamin’ 0X0 (N=14) No Hook 0 X 0 Roc Boyz 0 X 0 Sweet 0 X 0 Say Hello X 0 X Blue Magic 0 0 X American Gangster 0 0 X 38 J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39

(continued)

Artist Album title Song Themes

Friends are Success by Loss of family association friend

Young Jeezy (N=16) Crazy World X 0 0 What They Want 0 X 0 Hustlaz Ambition 0 X 0 Vacation 0 X 0 X 0 0 Get A Lot 0 0 X 0 X X

X means the theme is present in the song; 0 means the theme is not present in the song. N is the total number of songs on a compact disc.

References

Adams, T., & Fuller, D. (2006). The words have changed but the ideology remains the same: misogynistic lyrics in rap music. Journal of Black Studies, 36, 938–957. Anderson, E. (1990). Streetwise: race, class, and change in an urban community. University of Chicago Press. Anderson, E. (1999). Code of the street: Decency, violence, and the moral life of the inner city. New York: W.W. Norton & Company. Bird, B. (1996). Welcome to the men’s club: homosociality and the maintenance of hegemonic masculinity. Gender and Society, 10, 120–132. Chang, J. (2005). Can’t stop won’t stop: A history of the hip hop generation. New York: Picador. Chang, J. (2006). It’s all one. In J. Chang (Ed.), Total chaos (pp. 198–208). New York: Civitas Books. Cole, J., & Guy-Sheftall, B. (2003). Gender talk: The struggle for women’s equality in African American communities. New York: One World. Collins, P. H. (2005). Black sexual politics: , gender, and the new racism. New York: Routledge. Flood, M. (2008). Men, sex, and homosociality: how bonds between men shape their sexual relations with women. Men and Masculinities, 10, 339–359. Glassner, B. (2000). Culture of fear. New York: Basic Books. Goffman, E. (1959). The presentation of self in everyday life. New York: Doubleday/Anchor Books. Hill, M. (2009). Scared straight: hip-hop, outing, and the pedagogy of queerness. The Review of Education, Pedagogy, and Cultural Studies, 31,29–54. Kelley, R. (1996). Kickin’ reality, kickin’ ballistics: Gangsta rap and postindustrial . In W. Perkins (Ed.), Droppin’ science: Critical essays on rap music and hip hop culture (pp. 117–158). : Temple University Press. Kennedy, R. (2003). : The strange career of a troublesome word. New York: Vintage Books. Kimmel, M. (1994). Masculinity as homophobia: fear, shame, and silence in the construction of gender identity. In H. Brod & M. Kaufman (Eds.), Theorizing masculinities (pp. 119–163). Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications. Kitwana, B. (2002). The hip hop generation: Young blacks and the crisis in African American culture. New York: BasicCivitas Books. Kubrin, C. (2005a). Gangstas, thugs, and hustlas: identity and the code of the street in rap music. Social Problems, 52, 360–378. J Afr Am St (2011) 15:22–39 39

Kubrin, C. (2005b). I see death around the corner: nihilism in rap music. Sociological Perspectives, 48, 433–459. Majors, R., & Billson, J. (1992). Cool pose: The dilemmas of black manhood in America. New York: Lexington Books. Massey, D., & Denton, N. (1993). American apartheid: Segregation and the making of the underclass. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Morgan, J. (1999). When Chickenhead come home to roost: My life as a hip hop feminist. New York: Simon and Schuster. Neal, M. (2006). New black man. New York: Routledge. Ogbar, J. (2007). Hip hop revolution: The culture and politics of rap. Kansas: The University Press of Kansas. Oware, M. (2009). A “man’s woman”?: contradictory messages in the songs of female rappers, 1992- 2000. Journal of Black Studies, 39, 786–802. Perry, I. (2004). Prophets of the hood: Politics and poetics in hip hop. Durham: Duke University Press. Pritchard, D., & Bibbs, M. (2007). Sista’ outsider: Queer women of color and hip hop. In G. Pough, E. Richardson, A. Durham, & R. Raimist (Eds.), Home girls make some noise: Hip hop feminism anthology (pp. 19–40). Mira Loma: Parker Publishing, LLC. Rose, T. (2008). The hip hop wars: What we talk about when we talk about hip hop—and why it matters. New York: BasicCivitas Books. Schutt, R. (2004). Investigating the social world: The process and practice of research. Thousand Oaks: Pine Forge. Sedgwick, E. (1985). Between men: English literature and male homosocial desire. New York: Columbia University Press. Sharpley-Whiting, T. (2007). Pimp’s up, ho’s down. New York: New York University Press. Watkins, S. (2006). Hip hop matters: Politics, popular culture, and the struggle for the soul of a movement. Massachusetts: Beacon Press Books. Wilson, W. (1996). When work disappears: The world of the new urban poor. New York: Knopf. Copyright of Journal of African American Studies is the property of Springer Science & Business Media B.V. and its content may not be copied or emailed to multiple sites or posted to a listserv without the copyright holder's express written permission. However, users may print, download, or email articles for individual use.