UNIVERSITY OF MIAMI

“SAY THEIR NAMES”: BLACK MUSIC-MAKING IN A TIME OF PROTEST

By

Marcus Randall Grant

A THESIS

Submitted to the Faculty of the University of Miami in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Music

Coral Gables, Florida

May 2021

©2021 Marcus Randall Grant All Rights Reserved

UNIVERSITY OF MIAMI

A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Master of Music

“SAY THEIR NAMES”: BLACK MUSIC-MAKING IN A TIME OF PROTEST

Marcus Randall Grant

Approved:

______Melvin L. Butler, Ph.D. David Ake, Ph.D. Associate Professor of Musicology Professor of Musicology

______Gabrielle Cornish, Ph.D. Guillermo Prado, Ph.D. Assistant Professor of Musicology Dean of the Graduate School

______M. Scott Heerman, Ph.D. Assistant Professor of History

GRANT, MARCUS RANDALL (M.M., Musicology) “Say Their Names”: Black Music-Making (May 2021) In a Time of Protest.

Abstract of a thesis at the University of Miami.

Thesis supervised by Dr. Melvin L. Butler. No. of pages in text. (100)

The spring and summer of 2020 saw a resurgence of Black Lives Matter protests following the murders of Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd—all unarmed Black people killed either at the hands of police or rogue vigilantes. Several artists subsequently released music in support of these protests, using their platforms to raise awareness of the ongoing struggles plaguing Black communities. This thesis focuses on the creative responses of a select few of those artists who included particular chants and slogans from BLM protests (“I Can’t Breathe” and “Arrest the killers of Breonna

Taylor”) in their music. I argue that while Black musical artists deploy narratives of protest to speak truth to power, their socially mediated music and imagery also plays a more complex role in addressing Black social trauma, often desensitizing consumers to

Black suffering and mortality.

Through analyses of composed music, song lyrics, and music videos, I outline a trend in Black artists’ expression following incidents of police violence and explore how these art forms are created and consumed through social media and other outlets. This ethnography incorporates my personal experience as a participant in a peaceful protest in

Miami in order to outline the dynamic soundscape of protests. It also touches on conversations with peers who problematize Black artists’ music. This thesis thus

contributes to ongoing discussions pertaining to the representation, commodification, and social “memeification” of Black tragedy, specifically that experienced by Black women in the United States (Halliday 2018, Vandagriff 2016).

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page

List of Examples ...... iv

List of Figures ...... v

List of Tables ...... vi

Introduction ...... 1

Chapter 1 The Sounds of Protest: Ethnography of Miami Protest, May 30, 2020 ... . 9

Chapter 2 Analysis of Miami Protest ...... 21 Recorded Music as Protest ...... 32

Chapter 3 Black Protest Music: From Civil Rights to Black Lives Matter ...... 37

Chapter 4 “I Can’t Breathe” - H.E.R...... 42 Lyrical Analysis ...... 44 Music Video Analysis ...... 50

Chapter 5 “The Bigger Picture” - Lil’ Baby ...... 55 Lyrical Analysis ...... 58 Music Video Analysis ...... 61

Chapter 6 “I Need You To (Breonna Taylor)” - Tobe Nwigwe ...... 66 Lyrical Analysis ...... 68 Music Video Analysis ...... 69

Chapter 7 The Memeification of Breonna Taylor: A Critical Look at Discursive Performative Activism in Digital Culture and Song ...... 75 #BreonnaTaylor ...... 76 Memes vs. Digital Memes ...... 79 The Semiotical Relationship of Memes ...... 82 A Case for the Memeification of Breonna Taylor ...... 87

Conclusion ...... 94

Bibliography …………… ...... 96

iii List of Examples

Example 2.1. Transcription of Table 3 Chant ...... 28 Example 5.1. Introduction Piano Sample ...... 56 Example 5.2. Flow Melody on Opening Verse ...... 57 Example 7.5. Transcription of Breonna Taylor Meme Message in 12/8 ...... 85

iv List of Figures

Figure 0.1. Meme of Tory Lanez and Megan Thee Stallion altercation ...... 5 Figure 1.1. My protest “uniform” ...... 12 Figure 1.2. Marching north on NW 3rd Ave. I-95 expressway to my left ...... 17 Figure 6.1. Performers make an “X” while singing “Arrest” (2020, 0:23) ...... 70 Figure 6.2. Performers hold imaginary gun while singing “Killers” (2020, 0:24) ...... 70 Figure 6.3. Performers “hit the woah” while singing “Breonna Taylor” (2020, 0:26) . 70 Figure 7.1. @zelliemani tweet on Breonna Taylor, June 23, 2020 ...... 77 Figure 7.2. @heatherbarmore tweet on Breonna Taylor, June 11, 2020 ...... 77 Figure 7.3. @theredcrayonstastethebest Instagram meme of Breonna Taylor hashtag, August 4, 2020 ...... 84 Figure 7.4. @haradasound Instagram meme on Breonna Taylor, August 7, 2020...... 84 Figure 7.5. ZZNinjaX’s comment on Nwigwe’s video, YouTube, 2020 ...... 89 Figure 7.6. Comment on Nwigwe’s video, YouTube, 2020...... 89 Figure 7.7. Texanii’s comment on Nwigwe’s video YouTube, 2020...... 89 Figure 7.8. OK OK’s comment on Nwigwe’s video,YouTube, 2020 ...... 89 Figure 7.9. Bih35822’s comment on Nwigwe’s video, YouTube, 2020...... 90 Figure 7.10. Google search suggestions for Breonna Taylor...... 92

v List of Tables

Table 1. Black Lives Matter protest, Chant #1 ...... 25 Table 2. Black Lives Matter protest, Chant #2 ...... 25 Table 3. Black Lives Matter protest, Chant #3 ...... 25 Table 4. Black Lives Matter protest, Chant #4 ...... 26 Table 5. Black Lives Matter protest, Chant #5 ...... 26 Table 6. Black Lives Matter protest, Chant #6 ...... 26 Table 7. Black Lives Matter protest, Chant #2 with Djembe ...... 31

vi Introduction

Since 2015, the Washington Post has been tracking deadly shootings by police officers in the United States, updating the database with each documented incident.1 In this time, there have been 6,139 people killed by police in the United States, 1,021 in 2020 alone.2

Because many police departments fail to publicly report each incident, the database relies heavily on social media and news outlets for information. Statistics show a consistent number of police shootings every year since 2015 with around 1,000 shootings annually.

The numbers also show that Black Americans are killed at a significantly higher rate than other racial groups. Although more White Americans have been shot by police, Black

Americans are victimized at a disproportionate rate.3 The majority of those shot are young Black men between the ages of twenty and forty years old. Women fall victim to police violence at an average rate of about one in every twenty-three shootings.

Of the 1,021 people killed by police in 2020, 241 were Black, and 54 were unarmed.

These statistics include emergency room technician Breonna Taylor, who was shot in her home on March 13 by Louisville Metro Police officers investigating a drug operation with a no-knock warrant. However, these numbers do not include George Floyd, an

1 Julie Tate, Jennifer Jenkins and Steven Rich,“Fatal Force,” The Washington Post, last modified 10/20/20, https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/investigations/police-shootings-database/.

2 This number is expected to rise given that the database is updated daily. I will continue to reflect the updated number in my research. Updated 3/17/21.

3 It is important to note that this ratio outlines the relative number of shootings to total population. These numbers only show those who have been shot by police and do not include victims of excessive force such as Eric Garner (2014), Sandra Bland (2015), and Freddie Gray (2015).

1 2 unarmed Black man killed on May 25 by police officers using excessive force, or

Ahmaud Arbery, a Black man killed at the hands of rogue citizens. These deaths in particular catalyzed protest demonstrations around the world, while prompting artists to release music in support of both the protests and the arrests of the officers involved.

These protest musics often include some references to Taylor and/or Floyd by incorporating slogans affiliated with protest chants.

In this thesis, I focus on protest music released by Black artists during or after the resurgence of Black Lives Matter protests in the summer months of 2020 as a result of unlawful killings of Black folks. I study this music in an effort to better understand how

Black artists express themselves during tragedy and how their expression plays a substantial role in social activism and engagement. In each chapter, I introduce relevant aspects of race, gender, and Black protest, while considering how these factors intersect in Black music-making. Exploring Black music through this frame allows for a more complete picture of the influences Black musical artists have on the various practices of protest.

My research methods make use of a variety of information and sources. In chapter

1, I draw on my experience as a participant in a Black Lives Matter protest in Miami,

Florida on May 30, 2020. I offer a detailed ethnography of a protest through an ethnomusicological lens, highlighting the soundscape of a major metropolitan city filled with thousands of protestors, along with the “music” performed by demonstrators. In chapter 2, I analyze aspects of the protest pertaining to presentational performance and participation, sound studies, and Africana studies. I include comparisons of chanting and

3 marching to convey how protests constitute acts of musical expression. Protests also reveal intersections of song and speech that are fundamental to the Black Christian church traditions of “lining out” hymns and emphasizing call-and-response techniques.4

By comparing musical practices of the Black church with collective protest practices, I bring to the forefront a trend in Black expression in large group settings. Chapter 3 draws connections between the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 60s and the more recent

Black Lives Matter movement, focusing on music as both a community builder and form of expression. I coin the terms “activism-influenced art” and “art-influenced activism” to explore how protests both precipitate and culminate musical expression. Chapters 4, 5, and 6 provide analyses of songs released by Black artists at the height of the 2020 Black

Lives Matter protests. In each chapter, I demonstrate how the creation of musical, lyrical, and visual content relates to internet memes in digital culture and to semiotic theory.

Based on this analysis, each song is categorized as “activism-influenced art” or “art- influenced activism.” Chapter 7 is an in-depth theoretical framing of what I refer to as the

“memeification” of Breonna Taylor through internet memes and song, drawing connections between the two forms of activism used to spread awareness and call for the arrests of the officers involved.5 Internet memes differ slightly from Richard Dawkins’ original definition of memes as “a unit of cultural transmission.” Memes, in this case, is

4 Shane White and Graham White, The Sounds of Slavery: Discovering African American History through Songs, Sermons, and Speech (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2005), 40.

5 Taylor Cross, “The Memeification of Breonna Taylor is Misogynoir at its finest,” The Mary Sue, Blog, August 20, 2020. https://www.themarysue.com/why-the-memeification-of-breonna-taylor-is- misogynoir-at-its-finest/.“Memeification” refers to the act of arranging someone or something in the form of an internet meme. Memes in this format are often used ironically or for satire. The memeification of Breonna Taylor only serves to disseminate and desecrate her name with no regard as to providing actionable ways to dismantle the system that led to Breonna’s Taylor’s death.

4 the umbrella term which includes digital and internet memes. I analyze internet memes with regard to Charles Sanders Peirce’s writings on semiotics to offer context in regard to how creators and consumers of digital culture meaning to viral content. Within this frame, I highlight how the discursive aspects of performative activism displayed in digital and memetic culture may induce desensitization to Black trauma, especially trauma experienced by Black women and girls. Further, this argument involving misogynoir is informed by the fact that virtually no memes were created for Arbery, Floyd or any other

Black man killed. A concern with the differences in how society views Black men and women informs much of my methodology. Although I position my work within the realm of ethnomusicology, I also draw from aspects of anthropology, sociology, and gender studies. Within these disciplines, my selected sources will focus on issues relating to

Black trauma and music-making.

My methodology is also informed by selected public domain websites, news articles, and social media posts that contribute to ongoing conversations about the portrayal of Black women in today’s society. By analyzing the social media trend and hashtag, “arrest the cops who killed Breonna Taylor” (or “arrest the killers of Breonna

Taylor”), I look to uncover the ways in which misogynoir in popular culture has helped to perpetuate the memeification of Breonna Taylor. While reflecting on memeification, I was reminded of a recent incident of misogynoir involving rapper Megan Thee Stallion.

In July 2020, Megan was shot during an altercation, allegedly by rapper Tory Lanez.

After announcing the incident on her social media channels, Megan was met with support and empathy, while also bearing the brunt of unflattering memes shared by the general

5

Figure 0.1. Meme of Tory Lanez and Megan Thee Stallion altercation. public and music industry celebrities (see figure 0.1). One meme depicted the photoshopped faces of Megan and Tory in the drive-by shooting scene from the 1991 film

Boyz n the Hood.6 In the wake of the memes and social media posts, Megan tweeted,

“Black women are so unprotected…I’m real life hurt and traumatized.” The act of minimizing Black trauma, especially that of Black women, is epitomized in the memeification of Breonna Taylor. I position a portion of my argument within the musical context of memeification by way of lyrics and imagery in music videos, using social

6 In the movie Boyz n the Hood, Ricky, one of the main characters, is ambushed in cross street and shot as he runs away by a gang member in a drive-by. Meghan The Stallion’s photo was photoshopped on the head of Ricky and Tory Lanez’s face was photoshopped on the head of the shooting gang member.

6 critiques of memeification by Taylor Cross and Zeba Blay to lay the groundwork for an analysis of Tobe Nwigwe’s song and other examples of memeification in music.7

I want to emphasize that this project is an organic result of two lived experiences: my participation in the Black Lives Matter protest in the summer of 2020, and conversations with a peer who questioned the misuse of Breonna Taylor’s name and image under the guise of social activism. My intention going into the protest was not to conduct an ethnography. As a Black man witnessing the deaths of people who look like me, I felt compelled to get involved and contribute my voice. While protesting, however,

I was inspired by the protest soundscape and its connection to musical performance.

Likewise, I did not engage in conversations about racism and discursive performative activism for the sake of this project. Rather, I was inspired by the responses and the direction of the discussion, which naturally evolved into this project.

There exists a wealth of literature on Black protest musics by historians and ethnomusicologists. Some scholars have focused on the traditional African elements found in the musical practices of enslaved Black folks. Authors of influential studies include: Shane White and Graham White (2005), and Burton W. Peretti (2013). Others, such as Ramsey (2003), and Orejuela and Shonekan (2018), take a more contemporary approach in detailing Black musical expressions including jazz, hip-hop, and soul music in their research. I also refer to Eric K. Arnold’s 2017 article on Black Lives Matter music and hashtags to better situate my thesis in relation to writings in the field of sociology.

Daphne A. Brooks (2016) positions the Black Lives Matter movement as a catalyst for a

7 Ibid.

7 musical revolution, placing Beyoncé, Kendrick Lamar, and D’Angelo on the front lines of contemporary protest music. Mariusz Kozak’s 2020 article in The Washington Post is a more recent account of music as a tool for collective participation in Black Lives Matter protests. These sources serve as a launching pad for my research on the historical context of Black protest musics. From this platform, I focus the theoretical framework of my ethnography on the intersection of current social media trends and social activism in popular music. In this regard, I refer to Aria Halliday’s work on viral memetic violence on the internet toward Black women. I also make use of Bradley Wiggins’s study which situates memes as genre and a potential discursive entity in digital culture.

I have gathered resources that inform my research on the basis of understanding

Black protest music and gender studies relating to misogynoir and memeification of

Black women. Several scholars and journalists have shaped my understanding of the ways in which the internet perpetuates oppression. Safiya Umoja Noble’s book,

Algorithms of Oppression (2018), gives an overview of how search engines contribute to the misrepresentation of Black girls and women in the age of information. Noble outlines how Black girls and women have been made into a commodity object. This research coincides with recent scholarship on the post-mortem memeification of Breonna Taylor.

Between social media and new articles, writers have critiqued those who use Breonna

Taylor as a “brand ambassador” in order to sell a product. Her memeification through social media has become evident in music released by artists in the wake of her death.

With these critiques, I gain a better understanding of the challenges facing Black women and the consequences of discursive performative activism.

8

I have recognized an opportunity to further study the effects of memeification of

Black women in digital culture and in music as a contributor to the desensitization to

Black trauma. With the recently released music in response to BLM protests, I look to continue scholarly conversation with this research topic and focus on the musical implications of memeification, performative activism, artistic expression, and Black music-making.

Chapter 1

The Sounds of Protest: Ethnography of Miami Protest, May 30, 2020

The unlawful killings of Black Americans have been a constant reminder for some— especially Black folks—that Black lives are not valued in society. These incidents continued to occur in 2020 with 199 unarmed or allegedly armed Black people killed by police as of October 2020.8 This number does not include victims such as Ahmaud

Arbery, a 25-year old killed February 23 by a father and son while jogging in Glynn

County, Georgia. Other police related shootings include Tony McDade (May 27),

Breonna Taylor (March 13), and George Floyd (May 25). These deaths became the leading catalysts for Black Lives Matter protests around the United States and the world.

The summer of 2020 saw a reemergence of protests in support of Black lives and in opposition to police brutality. Hundreds of thousands of people from all walks of life gathered in cities around the world, contributing to a collective effort to bring about long overdue fundamental change. I was living in Miami during this time and felt compelled to participate in an organized peaceful protest for the mere fact that I am a Black man who too could have fallen victim to racial violence. I learned through social media of two protest taking place on Saturday, May 30, 2020. One protest was located on Miracle Mile in Coral Gables and organized by @ProtestMiami; however, this protest was rumored to be organized by non-Black POC cooperating with local police. As this was indeed a protest opposing the police and widespread police brutality, I felt it more appropriate to

8 Julie Tate, Jennifer Jenkins and Steven Rich,“Fatal Force,” The Washington Post, last modified 10/20/20, https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/investigations/police-shootings-database/.

9 10 attend the Black-led peaceful protest in downtown Miami endorsed by the Miami Dream

Defenders, a non-profit social justice organization founded in 2012.

At noon on May 30, I began preparing myself both physically and mentally for the task ahead. As this was my first protest, I did not know what to expect. Friends warned me of facial recognition software being used to track down demonstrators at previous peaceful protests across the country. In light of this, I decided to put on a black t-shirt with the phrase “Hella Black” across the front, and carry an additional black shirt which would cover my neck and head. I wore that along with a dark face mask and black sunglasses. The t-shirt was designed and distributed by the Houston rapper, Tobe

Nwigwe, in reference to his song of the same title. In “Hella Black,” Nwigwe raps about the beautiful features of Black people, both superficial and intangible. The message on the shirt acted as a double-meaning simultaneously describing the literal color of the shirt and the color of my skin. To me, this shirt felt like a suit of armor both recognizing my

Blackness and referencing the song’s message of Black pride. Additionally, I purposely decided to wear long white socks to symbolize, in a sense, overcoming “oppressive

Whiteness” and police brutality, both of which took the lives of countless Black and

Brown folks.9 Dressed in this attire, I felt proud of my Blackness. I wanted to show that, despite the oppression of “law enforcement” and racism, I would embrace that which many often weaponize. In the chorus, Nwigwe says, “My hair is kinky, my nose is wide, my skin is technicolored, I won’t apologize.” My outfit was a literal embodiment of the lyrics and the meaning of the song and acted as a physical manifestation of protest.

9 I wore the white socks on my feet as a metaphorical representation of oppressive Whiteness being “beneath” Black pride or “Hella” Blackness.

11

I met up with my girlfriend and another friend; we made our signs during the car ride to Brickell, then made our way via public transportation to The Torch of Friendship in Downtown Miami. At 4:00 PM, we met up with the group of about one-hundred and fifty protestors who had already been there for nearly an hour. Demonstrators were gathered near the street holding up signs and talking amongst themselves. It was a smoldering day. Many protestors carried water bottles; some had large coolers with cold drinks to be handed out to fellow demonstrators. Given the progression of the Covid-19 pandemic, many of us were also wearing masks and practicing general social distancing.

The group demographic varied in terms of age, race, and gender but was made up of mostly young people between eighteen and thirty years old. We stood together on the sidewalk of Biscayne Boulevard holding signs reading, “Black Lives Matter,” “Justice for

George Floyd,” “I Can’t Breathe,” and various other messages against police brutality and racial violence. The message on my cardboard sign read “Stop Killing Us.” Passing drivers honked their horns in support of the movement. Some rolled down their windows and yelled out with raised fists cheering “woo!”, “yes!”, or making indiscernible noises while demonstrators on the sidewalk continued “Black Lives Matter” and other chants.

Being among the crowd felt positive and hopeful. Many demonstrators used their cameras or cell phones to document the surroundings by taking pictures and video of the group. As I stood on the corner, a gentlemen positioned himself a few feet in front of me to take a picture, being sure to capture both my sign and the message on my shirt. By this time, the group had grown to a few hundred people standing in front of the Torch of

12

Friendship. The heat of the day paired with the murmur of the growing crowd elevated a sense of anticipation and earnestness for we knew the day’s tasks had just begun.

Figure 1.1. My protest “uniform,” May 30, 2020. Torch of Friendship, Miami, Florida. 4:24 PM.

13

The group began to gather in the streets facing south. Suddenly as if a signal was given, we began to move, first marching south on Biscayne Boulevard. Group leaders on bicycles paved the way, directing traffic as the now hundreds of protesters filled the streets of Downtown Miami. Police officers on foot, bikes, and in cars stoically lined the streets as we passed, prompting some passing protesters to direct their “Fuck 12” chants, raised middle fingers, and other expletives at them.10 As we turned west on NE 1st Street, the rumble of a thousand footsteps and organized chants echoed between the high-rise buildings gaining the attention of residents who appeared in windows and on balconies.

Some onlookers clapped and cheered in support while others took photos and video with cell phone cameras. No matter their level of support for the protests, all were unmistakably roused by the spectacle.

We continued marching and turned north on NE 2nd Avenue; the time was now

4:39 PM. A woman with a megaphone called the chant:

Caller: No justice! Protestors: No peace!

Upon turning the corner, protest participants began running up NE 2nd Avenue toward another large group of protestors. My fellow participants confirmed that this was the early group that had started on the route a half hour before I arrived at the Torch of

Friendship. This group was larger and had already been marching for nearly an hour. The two groups merged forming one large army directly outside the Miami Dade College -

Wolfson Campus at the intersection of NE 2nd Avenue and NE 3rd Street. We cheered

10 “12” or spelled out as “Twelve” is a slang term meaning “police.”

14 and clapped as the now few thousand protestors joined forces. The call was lined out by a group leaders with megaphones, “No justice!,” to which the crowd responded, “No peace! No racist police!” We began an unrelenting rotation of various chants:

Call 1: Say his name! Response 1: George Floyd!

Call 2: Hands Up! Response 2: Don’t Shoot!

Call 3: Fuck the Police! Response 3: Fuck the Police!

Call 4: All hands on deck! Response 4: Get your knee off my neck!

Call 5: Whose streets? Response5: Our streets!

Call 6: What do we want? Response: Justice! Call 6 part 2: When do we want it? Response part 2: Now!

Chant: No Cops! No KKK! No racist USA!

I recall thinking, “When are we going to mention Breonna Taylor?” Right after that thought, I heard the call, “Say her name!” to which we all responded, “Breonna Taylor!”

We continued repeating Breonna Taylor’s name for a few minutes, but I couldn’t help but to question when we would begin vocalizing Breonna Taylor as a victim of police violence.11 Nonetheless, we continued chanting. The group began marching, heading east on NE 3rd Street back toward Biscayne Blvd. We arrived back at the Torch of Friendship at 4:50 PM and the group continued to swell. Many participants took a few minutes to sit and rest in the grass as passing clouds provided much needed shade. We drank water and

11 Tony McDade was a transgender man who was fatally shot by police on May 27, 2020 following an altercation in Tallahassee, Florida.

15 spoke briefly to other participants in our vicinity. The mood was positive and morale was high as the stream of protesters seemed to extend for many blocks. It wasn’t long before we began moving again. This time, however, it felt different. We had more people, therefore more power; more voices, more “boots on the ground.”

By around 5:00 PM, the crowd was flowing through the streets like a mighty river

—around street corners, over sidewalks, and beneath underpasses. We started along a similar route as we did an hour earlier; south on Biscayne Blvd, west on NE 1st Street, however, instead of turning back, we continued marching west. In addition to the chanting and low rumble of shoes on pavement, some participants carried Bluetooth speakers and played music, adding a recognizable soundtrack to the protest soundscape.

A group of young women marched passed me playing Beyoncé’s “Formation,” the final track on Beyoncé’s 2016 album Lemonade.12

As we marched westward and continued cycling through various chants, I noticed a percussive accompaniment within the crowd. A group of men carried medium sized

African djembes and other hand percussion, playing syncopated rhythms in time with the chants. As the leaders yelled, “Say his name!” or “Say her name!,” the drums played a three-note rhythm identical to the “three” side of the clave pattern found in African and

Afro-Cuban music, thus highlighting parallels between modern protest and practices of traditional African musical practices. Protests are reminiscent of the ways enslaved

Africans used forbidden instruments in order to express themselves and their culture.13

12 Beyoncé Knowles-Carter, Lemonade, April 23, 2016, Parkwood Entertainment, 88985 33682 2.

13 Shane White and Graham White,(2005): 44.

16

The combining of traditional instrumental expression and social protest practices with recorded music raises questions regarding the boundaries of protest and the extent to which music plays a role. I further analyze these practices in the following chapter.

As the protest march continued, I found myself positioned toward the front of the group which was being led by a handful of men on bicycles.14 Looking ahead, we saw demonstrators on the steps on the Miami-Dade County Courthouse located on the corner of NW 1st Street and NW Miami Court. We took to the steps of the courthouse, soon after which the protestors descended onto the courthouse grounds, with cheering and chanting aimed toward the institution of law and order. This show of force and social power was a pivotal moment in this protest. Certain chants for police reform, the abolishment of police, and justice for Black folks were heard and were apropos for the space we now occupied. The time was 5:39 PM. We stood on the courthouse grounds for a few minutes before continuing on to our next checkpoint. Group leaders on bicycles began calling for all to keep moving and carry on west on NE 1st St. Eventually, we reached a fork in the road as we crossed NW 2nd Ave. We then turned north on NW 3rd Ave. As we marched with the I-95 Northbound expressway directly over us, our focus shifted toward the

Miami Police Department just two blocks ahead. Participants in the front of the group held up fists and protest signs as we approached. About fifty officers dressed in light riot gear situated themselves behind interlocking steel barricades, looking as if they were prepared if the situation escalated. Many of the protestors walked by, while a few used their proximity to this many

14 As we crossed N Miami Ave, NE 1st St turned into NW 1st St.

17

Figure 1.2. Marching north on NW 3rd Ave. I-95 expressway to my left. Photo by: Alex Dixon @dix.jpg

18 officers as an opportunity to voice their opinions and launch them directly at the source of their discontent. At this time, that group broke off into its own protest while those of us near the front urged those behind us to keep moving forward with the leaders. A small group gathered in front of the police officers and began yelling protest chants and epitaphs or holding up the middle finger. Fellow protestors intervened with this group before things escalated, refocusing their efforts back to the group. At this time, a young photographer tapped me my shoulder and, amid the chaos, showed me a photograph he’d taken of me moments before. The photo shows me from behind, my left fist raised, as a local news helicopter flies in the center of the frame (see figure 1.2). We exchanged social media information and went our separate ways.

By now it was 5:51 PM and the group had reached the I-95 N on ramp at NW 8th

St and NW 3rd Ave. Looking up, I could see an additional group already on the expressway cheering and holding up signs and fists. The group leaders continued up the ramp and began calling the chant:

Call: “Say his name!” Response: “George Floyd!”

The sounds of thousands of protestors chanting nearly drowned out the news channel helicopters hovering overhead. We flooded the highway as traffic had already been stopped by the hundreds of demonstrators already on the expressway. A crowd of demonstrators stretched across both the northbound and southbound lanes halting traffic from either direction. A man with a pickup truck parked at the top of the onramp played energetic music through large speakers and handed out water bottles as protestors

19 marched by. The chanting receded as we reached the top of the ramp. Without the chants, the whirling blades of the helicopters above were all the more prominent, along with the consistent buzz of thousands of voices through face masks. We had reached the top, as it were. Three men stood atop a car parked in the center lane. One man yelled through a loudspeaker as protestors gathered around to listen. He spoke fervently on the consistent injustices and struggles of “living while Black.” People cheered and yelled in support as they spoke. As I roamed the crowded expressway, I was compelled by the new sounds that dominated the once busy highway. Cars horns and radios were replaced by organized chants. Tires were replaced by shoes. The thousands of vehicles that traveled that road everyday were replaced by bodies joining together to demand justice for Black lives.

The time was now 6:07 PM. We remained on the expressway for another fifteen minutes before walking down the on ramp to NW 3rd Ave. Protest supporters handed out water bottles to folks walking back. I received a one liter bottle of cold water from a young woman in a black tank top. I, along with my girlfriend and another friend, sat briefly and drank. While we sat, some friends and fellow students of the University of

Miami recognized us and came over to greet us. After being in quarantine for a few months, it was nice seeing friends we haven’t seen in person for some time. We conversed for a few minutes before heading back toward downtown Miami. We joined a small group of about eighty protestors that regrouped separate from those on the expressway. The group began walking east on NW 8th St. before turning south on NW

2nd Ave. A woman with a mega phone lead us by lining out various chants we had recited earlier that day. After marching a few blocks, we arrived at the east entrance to the

20

Miami-Dade Police Department. A number of officers dressed in dark blue riot gear lined the sidewalk behind steel barricades. Our group stood directly in front of them; some recited chants, while others simply stood in silence holding their signs or with their hands up.15 After few minutes, protestors from the I-95 expressway joined join this demonstration. It was around this time that I, along with my girlfriend and another friend, decided to head back to Brickell where we had parked the car. It was now 6:43 PM. A police officer at the Wilkie D Ferguson Metromover Station informed us that the trains had stopped running. We walked south on SE 2nd Ave, crossing the bridge when it becomes Brickell Ave and arrived at our parked car at the corner of Brickell Ave and SW

7th St.

15 The raised, open hands were a signal of the “hands up, don’t shoot” chant coined after the killing of Michael Brown in 2014, an unarmed black teenager shot by police in Ferguson, Missouri.

CHAPTER 2

Analysis of Miami Protest

My experience as a participant in a Black Lives Matter peaceful protest was not only gratifying, but also educational and insightful to the practice of protest as a whole. My perspectives as a young Black man, a musician, and a musicologist informed my analysis of the events of the day. Each perspective offered a different outlook on the ways in which different people participate in protest. In this portion, I supply rhythmic transcriptions and analysis of the aforementioned protest chants, describe the musical techniques used to perform protest chants in large groups, and highlight the significance of utilizing African drumming and selected recorded music as tools of protest expression.

Further, I uncover how these acts of protest contribute to the overall protest soundscape and emphasize important aspects of participatory performance (Turino 2008) and

“musicking” (Small 1998) to explain the indications of participation in large scale protest.

In a 2020 article published by the Washington Post, Mariusz Kozak explains the significance of music in protests. Kozak asserts that musical expression plays an important role in political and social action. He recognizes a difference between collective chanting and melodic content in song, but refers to both as “music,” for the

“use of sonic elements such as rhythm, pitch contour and timbre to convey meaning that goes beyond language.”16 To what extent, then, can a large collective protest, such as the one I attended, fall under the category of “music?” The musical elements heard in recordings of that event reveal evidence of rhythm, repetition, call and response, timbre

16 Mariusz Kozak, “How Music and Chants Bring Protestors Together,” The Washington Post, July 7, 2020, https://www.washingtonpost.com/outlook/2020/07/07/protest-chants-musicology-solidarity/.

21 22

and pitch inflections, and syncopation, including the choice to play recorded music and instruments as accompaniment to chants. If we are to recognize these musical elements in protest as “music,” and given the performative aspects of protest, to what extent are the practices of protest—like those seen at the May 30 Miami protest and countless others across the world—considered music?

Kozak argues that music creates a sense of emotional coherence and “functions as a social glue that binds the minds and bodies of those who create it.”17 I agree with this notion for much like music at a concert, music is the common element of those gathered.

Therefore, one does not need formal musical background or training to participate in protest. The “music”—chanting, clapping, marching—coordinates the mass movements in what Kozak refers to as “kinetic precision.” These musical elements and actions have the ability to organize the movements of a large group of participants through the process known as entrainment; using rhythm as a means to synchronize group activity. As with

“ the wave” at a sporting event or an applause after a concert performance, more participants performing these actions creates the greatest effect. Protest, therefore, is then embodied and then performed with a group of participants who have different backgrounds, but now contribute to the protest as one voice.

The amount of participation at a protest is important to observe as it is an indication of the protest’s—and further, the cause’s—effectiveness. According to Kozak, musical elements help bind the group together and organize group activity. Thomas

Turino discusses the significance of “participatory performance,” which coincides with

17 Kozak, 2020.

23 collective protest practices. As defined by Turino, participatory performance is a type of practice “in which there are no artist-audience distinctions, only participants and potential participants.”18 In protests, the roles of the participants often change throughout the event. Although there are usually clear calls and responses, it is not always clear who is

“calling.” Further, the “caller” is not always the leader. Roles are exchanged and passed on between individuals who possess either the technological means to amplify their voice for those around them (e.g., via megaphone or loudspeaker), or the physical means to raise their voice to a high volume. Like the example of “the wave” at a sporting event, it is unclear where it starts but all participants have equal stake in the performance. As more and more participants join in, potential participants feel more comfortable getting involved with those who have similar abilities or outlooks.19

Observing a large crowd of potential participants, it is reasonable to assume that the majority of the potential participants at a protest are not previously acquainted. As

Kozak argues that music is the glue which binds the group together, it is important to note that the majority of participants in public protests were strangers and will likely remain so after the event. It is the joining interactions of these strangers, through music that creates cohesive movements. Christopher Small writes on the idea of “musicking” as an action that blurs the lines between strangers. He defines musicking as “to take part, in any capacity, in a musical performance”; to provide any material for performance.20 Strangers

18 Thomas Turino, Music as Social Life : The Politics of Participation, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press 2008): 26.

19 Turino, Music as Social Life, 31.

20 Small, 9.

24 at a protest can, therefore, “music” without prior knowledge of music or protest practices.

It is unlikely that participants in a protest need reminding of why they are indeed participating in a protest; in the case of the May 30, 2020 protest in Miami, folks arrived with the prior knowledge and understanding that we were protesting for justice, Black lives, and widespread police reform. Because everyone at the protest took part in the chanting, marching, and performance of protest, it was often undistinguishable who was

“performing” for we all were active together. Further, it’s impossible that all the participants knew each other prior to the event, however, music and musicking through protest became the binding factor. Whether conscious or subconscious, everyone is contributing in some way to the soundscape of protest.

By performing chants, individual participants are connected as a large group. In the case of May 30, thousands of protestors chanting the names of individuals killed as a result of racism created a unified voice in which one cannot distinguish race, sex, age, gender, or musical experience. However, the rhythm of these chants is distinguishable and important to recognize. The chants were performed in duple sub-division, making them both easy to remember and natural to embodied marching practices. Within this frame of groupings of four (4/4) or groupings of two (2/4), I am able to transcribe the chants, distinguishing between the various call and response using both standard Western methods of counting rhythm and TUBS notation.!

25

Table 1. Black Lives Matter Protest, downtown Miami, May 30,2020. Chant #1 (George Floyd)

1 + 2 + 3 + 4 +

Call Say his name!

Response George Floyd

Call X X X - - - - -

Reponse - - - - X - X -

Table 2. Black Lives Matter protest, downtown Miami, May 30, 2020. Chant #2 (Breonna Taylor)

1 + 2 + a 3 + 4 +

Call Say her name!

Response Bre on na Tay lor

Call X X X ------

Reponse - - - - X X X X X

Table 3. Black Lives Matter protest, downtown Miami, May 30, 2020. Chant #3

+ 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 +

Call (No) Jus tice! No

Response No Peace!

Call (X) X X - - - - - X

Reponse - - - - X X - - -

26

Table 4. Black Lives Matter protest, downtown Miami, May 30, 2020. Chant #4

1 + 2 + 3 + 4 +

Call Hands Up!

Response Don"t Shoot! Call X - X - - - - -

Reponse - - - - X - X -

Table 5. Black Lives Matter protest, downtown Miami, May 30, 2020. Chant #5 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 +

Call All hands on deck!

Response Get your knee off my neck!

Call X - X - X - X ------Reponse ------X X X - X X X -

Table 6. Black Lives Matter protest, downtown Miami, May 30, 2020. Chant #6.

+ 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 +

Chant (No) cops! No K K K No Ra cist U S A! No

X X - - X X X X X X X X X X - - X

27

The George Floyd chant notated in table 1 was one of most frequently recited chants of the May 30 protest most likely because Floyd’s murder occurred only five days prior. Within the duple sub-division, the call, “Say his name,” is split up evenly by syllables falling on beats one, the “and” of one, and ending on beat 2. The response,

“George Floyd,” is again distributed by syllables falling on beats three and four respectively. This pattern and cadence is repeated until the group is signaled otherwise.

Generally, this chant was performed between 127-132 beats per minute depending on the cadence set by the caller(s).21 The same chant and cadence can be heard during protests in numerous cities across the country, including Portland (5/31/20), Minneapolis (6/1/20), and Oakland (6/3/20). In Miami, this chant was performed synchronously by both large groups and smaller sub-groups in between collective group chants.

Similarly, the Breonna Taylor chant notated in table 2 falls within the same duple subdivision. The cadence of the call, “Say her name,” is identical to that of “say his name” in reference to table 1. However, the number and organization of syllables in her name introduce levels of syncopation and anticipation in the response not heard with

George Floyd chants. Instead of the first syllable, “Bre,” entering on the down beat of beat three, it anticipates beat three entering on the “a” of beat two or the last sixteenth note within the four-note grouping. The remainder of the response falls evenly within the eighth-note grid and ends on the “and” of beat four, allowing the call to start again on

21 It is important to note that the tempo range is conducive to marching and synchronized group movements. Concert and marching band marches are generally performed in the range of 120-125 beats per minute.

28 beat one. The slight syncopation may have caused the tempo to vary slightly among the large group as this chant was typically performed between 123-125 beats per minute.

Another widely performed chant shown in table 3 introduces an element of music that differs from the others: a pick-up beat. The first word of the call, “no,” anticipates the down beat by beginning on the “and” of beat four. It is important to note that the word

“justice” in the call was typically tied over through beat two and cut off just prior to beat three. The elongation of this syllable adds weight and as a result brings emphasis to the entire word. Particular articulations and pitch inflections varied between participants, however, the word “justice” was performed with a rising inflection with the last syllable

“-tice” as the highest pitch (see example 2.1).

Example 2.1. Transcription of Table 3 chant.

The rising pitch inflection is comparable to high rising terminal, an inflection of speech occurring at the end of sentences in some accents of the English language. In this context, the declaration, “No justice,” can be interpreted as a question (read: “No Justice?”). The meaning of the phrase, taking into consideration the pitch inflections of high rising terminal, provide a more in-depth understanding of the call and response.

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Call: [We don’t have] no justice? Response: [Then we will have] no peace!22

Rhythmically, the response anticipates beat three with the first word “no” beginning on the “and’ of beat two, and “peace” falling on beat three. In general, the pitch remained relatively steady, but “peace” was often accentuated with a short, staccato articulation adding emphasis to the ultimatum.

The chant in table 4 is the most rhythmically simplistic as both the call, “Hands up,” and the response, “Don’t shoot,” fall on the down beats within a four-beat pattern— or four quarter notes. This chant is in reference to the police killing of teen Michael

Brown who was shot whilst his hands were raised. It was performed in protests following his murder and subsequently became common practice in protests against police shootings.

Chant #5 shown in table 5 combines two four-beat sections—or measures— creating an eighth beat phrase. Like the beat distribution of the call and response in chant

#4, the chant #5 call “All hands on deck” aligns vertically on four down beats in the first phrase. The six syllable response, “Get your knee off my neck,” is split into two rhythmically identical sub-phrases, (123-456). George Floyd died as a result of former

Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin pinning Floyd to the ground with his knee on

22 The “we don’t have no justice” is read as a double negative but is a common turn of phrase in African American Vernacular English, also known as Ebonics. Chi Luu, “Black English Matters,” in Lingua Obscura JSTOR Daily, 2020.

30

Floyds neck for eight minutes and forty-six seconds. As this was one of the more lengthy chants, it was not performed as often as other chants at the May 30 protest.

Table 6 shows a chant with no call or response, as participants performed this chant collectively. Similar to chant #5, this chant is phrased over eight total beats—or two four-beat measures. The longer chant features more complex phrasing split into three sub- phrases. The first phrases begins with an anticipation of the down beat by a pick-up on the “and” of beat 4, “No,” followed by a strong arrival on beat 1 “cops.” Phrase two begins with a pick-up to beat three on the “and of two, “No.” The rest of the phrase,

“KKK,” is distributed evenly within the eighth-note grid. Still within the same breath, the third phrase begins with a pick-up to the second measure on the “and” of four, “No,” and continues over the bar line with the five syllables of “Racist USA” within the eighth-note grid ending on beat three. Joining voices on this chant in particular creates a strong opposition to three oppressive constructs still present in America—corrupt cops, the Ku

Klux Klan or all white supremacist hate groups, and racism.

In addition to vocal chanting, some protest participants used African hand drums to accompany certain chants. On May 30, I heard this performed with chant #2 in Table 2, now showing the rhythm performed by the djembe in Table 2.1. Performing protest with

West African drums introduces additional layers to protest reminiscent of the times of slavery. During slavery, enslaved Africans from the same tribes were often separated upon arrival in the Americas in hopes to dismantle native traditions and prevent clandestine communication.23 Enslaved Africans were given the opportunity to recount

23 Mervyn Cooke, Jazz (London: Thames and Hudson, 1998) 9.

31 their musical traditions in supervised gatherings such as Place Congo in New Orleans. In

1740, following the Stono slave Rebellion, South Carolina Legislature passed an act banning the use of the “keeping of drums…or other loud instruments which may call together or give sign or notice to one another.” In a similar fashion, Louisiana placed restrictions on the use of drums in 1839.24 Although these laws and slavery has since been abolished, the use of drums as a modern protest tool recapitulates those strong musical traditions due to systemic oppression (see table 7).

Table 7, Black Lives Matter protest, Miami, May 30, 2020. Chant #2 with djembe accompaniment. 1 + a 2 + a 3 + 4 +

Call Say her name!

Response Bre on na Tay lor

Call X X X ------

Reponse - - - - X X X X X

Djembe X X X

At select stages of the protest, the drums play a syncopated rhythm at the same times as the call is given for the Breonna Taylor chant. The rhythm consists of three attacks, first on beat one, second on the “a” of beat two within the sixteenth-note grid, and the final hit on “and” of beat three. This pattern is identical to the “three” side of the clave rhythm essential to musical styles of Africa and the African diaspora, namely jazz,

24 White and White, 47.

32

Afro-Cuban, Afro-Caribbean, and Afro-Brazilian music. Clave and clave variations can be heard in salsa, Haitian kompa, reggaeton, and hip-hop, and other types of music popular to a multicultural environment such as Miami. Beate Kutschke states that urban environments are good cradles for protest; compact urban neighborhoods compress diverse, heterogenous lifestyles.25 I further assert this claim and submit that because of the culture of rhythmic based music, the urban environment of Miami facilitated a multifaceted protest soundscape incorporating both traditional African diasporic practices with modern protest chants.

Recorded Music as Protest

As rhythm is incorporated in protest practices in many ways, ranging from chants and clave patterns, recorded music also plays a pivotal role in the ways protestors participate.

A group of women amplifying the sounds of Beyoncé’s “Formation” while they marched through the streets of Miami demands our attention for two reasons: (1) Recorded music and media play a critical role in the ways we associate with and participate in social and political discourses. (2) Listeners find meaning in recorded music that relates to their experiences, these experiences then dictate how one creates a personal soundtrack for activism. In “Formation,” Beyoncé does not directly address the subject of activism or protest, but rather describes a relationship in which the woman is empowered.

“Formation” is the final track on Lemonade, Beyoncé Knowles-Carter’s sixth-studio

25 Beate Kutschke, “Protest Music, Urban Contexts and Global Perspectives,” International Review of the Aesthetics and Sociology of Music 46 no. 2, (2015): 321.

33 album accompanied by an hourlong film of the same title. The album features Knowles-

Carter expressing emotions and addressing rumors about her alleged martial issues with her husband, Shawn Carter, known as rapper, Jay-Z. What is significant about

“Formation” is it’s call to action for women to “get in formation,” contributing to ongoing conversations on social media about Black women’s involvements in social movements.

While Beyoncé confronts drama surrounding her relationship in the lyrics, an analysis of the music of “Formation” points toward narratives of feminism, activism, and

Black pride. As Beyoncé enters with the opening lyric, the timbre her voice is situated in the lower range, sounding almost in vocal fry. This lower register of the voice takes on a seemingly masculine character as Beyoncé navigates through the phrases in spoken word and rapping style. With each phrase, Beyoncé’s pitch begins to raise slightly. At 0:28, a rising chromatic synth bass lifts her to the top of verse one where she arrives at a singing range. As she sings F4 - Eb4, layered harmonies above and below create the effect of a choir of female voices as she sings about proud features associated with Black bodies and culture—hair texture, wide noses, hot sauce, and country roots.

Black studies scholar Angela Ards argues that Lemonade creates space for Black women in narratives which usually exclude them. This song effectively inputs Black women within protest spaces. Furthermore, “Formation” acts as a manifesto for Black female political formation and involvement.26 Following the unjust murders of Black men

26 Angela Ards, “Getting in Formation,” in The Women’s Review of Books 34, no. 2, April 2017, pp. 11-13.

34 and women, mothers and wives of victims have become increasingly active in social justice movements. From Mamie Till (Emmitt Till), Sybrina Fulton (Michael Brown), and

Alicia Garza, Patrisse Cullors, and Opal Tometri (#BLM), Black women have continued to get involved on the so-called front lines of social activism and racial justice. In 2016,

Knowles-Carter sparked public backlash when she performed “Formation” during the

Super Bowl Half-Time show. Knowles-Carter and her all-female band and backup dancers sang, danced, and performed with raised fists in front of over 167 million viewers worldwide, making it, at the time, the most-watched program in television history.27 The group was dressed in tight-fitting, black leather military-esc costumes and berets in celebration of the 50th year anniversary of the Black Panther Party. Public reaction to this performance was not one of celebration of fandom, but of ridicule and disgust as many took to social media to condemn Beyoncé and the entire performance as an anti-

American act of terrorism.28 Beyoncé’s use of “Formation” to celebrate Black American

Culture during Black History Month was not praised, but rather demonized and framed in a negative light. These reactions stem from deeper seated issues America has when Black artists use media, a technology designed to socialize the public eye away from

Africanness, for social advocacy. In return, those artists are met with ridicule and

27 Andie Hagemann, “Super Bowl 50 Most-Watched Program in TV History,” Around the NFL, February 8, 2016, https://www.nfl.com/news/super-bowl-50-most- watched-program-in-tv-history-0ap3000000634876.

28 Marquita Gammage, "Pop Culture Without Culture: Examining the Public Backlash to Beyoncé's Super Bowl 50 Performance,” Journal of Black Studies 48, no. 8 (2017): 716.

35 subjugation.29 As the group of ladies at the Miami protest walked by the hook, “Okay, ladies, now let’s get in formation,” amplified from Bluetooth speakers. Given the context of the protests and the imagery shown in Knowles-Carter’s 2016 performance, I recognized the additional layer of protest associated with recorded music.

In this chapter, I’ve highlighted the various forms of protest participation. From people demonstrating in the streets, to using instruments and recorded music as extensions of one’s personal connection to activism. The rhythm and pulse of protest chants facilitates embodied protest. The tempo range of the chants approximately

120-132 beats per minute on average is in a similar range as tempos associated with march music and parade cadences performed by military and scholastic marching bands.

Motions of the body—walking, marching, fist pumping—have a direct connection with the ways protest chants are paced among a large group. Instrumental protest in the form of West African drums indicates deeper meanings in the context of Black musical protest.

Understanding protest practices as music—or “musicking”—provides context into the ways people participate in collective activity. The protest on May 30 displayed many ways in which protest can be performed and analyzed. Musical artists who have responded to Black Lives Matter protests in the form of singles, music videos, or both have a direct impact on the soundtrack of protest. Their participation in protest may contribute to large-scale generation change. Such as in the case of Beyoncé’s

“Formation,” however, it may also lead to public ridicule and backlash. Nonetheless, in the wake of unlawful killings of Black folks, Black artists have continued to use music to

29 Gammage, "Pop Culture Without Culture,” 722.

36 participate in protest. And with the uprising of Black Lives Matter protests in the spring and summer of 2020, collective protest chants have directly influenced the ways in which these protests songs are performed.

Chapter 3

Black Protest Music: From Civil Rights to Black Lives Matter

During the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 60s, Black folks, fighting for their inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, used music to unify, mourn, move forward toward freedom, and heal broken hearts and spirits. The words of

Reverend Charles Albert Tindley’s gospel hymn resonated among thousands who truly believed that we shall indeed overcome someday. Freedom songs from the lips of men, women, and children pierced the hearts of thousands as they were sung by demonstrators across the nation. Rachel Vandagriff writes, “The act of singing a freedom song is premised upon the belief that music can be used as a tool to bind and bond a group into a collective voice.”30 The more people participating in these freedom songs, the greater the impact of the movement. Using music in the form of songs and chants with movements of the body such as marching and kneeling encourages greater participation among those present and facilitates opportunity for potential participation. Turino submits that, “The presence of other people with similar abilities as oneself makes joining in comfortable.”31

Freedom songs, either sung during group demonstrations or held within one’s heart, foster group identity, link disparate peoples in their fight, and provide solace during difficult times.32

30 Rachel Vandagriff S., “Talking about a Revolution: Protest Music and Popular Culture, from Selma, Alabama, to Ferguson, Missouri.” Lied Und Populäre Kultur / Song and Popular Culture 60/61 (2015): 335.

31 Turino, 31.

32 Vandagriff, 335.

37 38

Many of these freedom songs are still relevant in the twenty-first century as the fight for social justice, equality, and equity continues in the face of White supremacy, police violence, and racial violence against Black and Brown folks. In July 2013, George

Zimmerman was found not guilty of murdering 17 year-old Trayvon Martin. As tensions flared across the country, a hashtag gained traction on social media. Alicia Garza, a community organizer in Oakland, took to Facebook to share her thoughts and send a short message to fellow Black people in mourning. A friend of Garza’s then commented

“#BlackLivesMatter.” In the following months, #BlackLivesMater (BLM) evolved from its online platform to a global network with more than 40 chapters worldwide, and it is now known as one of the major modern civil rights movements.33 During BLM protests, music became a major tool for identity and collective participation. Black artists such as

Janelle Monáe and Kendrick Lamar gave vocal support for the movement. Lamar’s music has even become synonymous with the movement itself after the 2015 release of To Pimp a Butterfly. The album tells the story of Lamar coming to terms with material success, contemplating his relationship with the hood, reconnecting with his values, reaccepting himself with love, and assuming a leadership role in his community.34 The album’s concept revolves around a poem Lamar recites to deceased rapper Tupac Shakur, whose recorded voice is heard in the final song, “Mortal Man.” “Alright” emerges as the seventh track on the album, depicting the story of a rapper who has learned not to be pimped by

33 Eric K. Arnold, “The BLM Effect: Hashtags, History and Race,” Race, Poverty, and the Environment 21, no. 2 (2017): 10.

34 Noriko Manabe, #We Gon"$Be Alright? The Ambiguities of Kendrick Lamar"s Protest Anthem,” Society for Music Theory 25, no. 1 (2019): 3.

39 the system; “And when I wake up, I recognize you looking at me for the pay cut.”35 In the pre-chorus, Lamar paints a vivid picture of struggle in the Black community:

Wouldn’t you know We been hurt, been down before, nigga When our pride was low, Lookin’ at the world like, “Where do we go, nigga?” And we hate po-po When they kill us dead in the street for sure, nigga I’m at the preachers door My knees getting weak and my gun might blow but we gon’ be alright!36

Throughout this phrase, Lamar describes internal struggles of Black folks ranging from questioning the future and continuing to see the police (po-po) killing “us.” Having been to the “bottom,” and despite all these challenges, Pharrell Williams offers an uplifting mantra with the hook, “We gon’ be alright!” This message is repeated nine times in the chorus and became one of the most recognizable lyrics of the album. “We gon’ be alright” closely resembles, “We shall overcome,” the message directly associated with the Civil Rights Movement. The use of Lamar’s lyrics in BLM protests is a modern rendition of those words spoken by previous generations who also had hope for the positive changes to come. According to Mathew Schnipper, “Alright” has essentially soundtracked a movement becoming the unofficial anthem of Black Lives Matter.37

Black Lives Matter has increasingly gained support as the murders of innocent

Black folks at the hands of law enforcement continues. In 2020, highly publicized cases

35 Kendrick Lamar, To Pimp a Butterfly, “Alright,” track 7, Top Dawg Entertainment B0023464-01, 2015, CD.

36 Kendrick Lamar, “Alright,” pre-chorus.

37 Matthew Schnipper, “The 100 Best Tracks,” Pitchfork, 2015. https://pitchfork.com/features/ lists-and-guides/9765-the-100-best-tracks-of-2015/?page=10

40 of racial violence led to a resurgence of public protests and civil unrest across the United

States and worldwide. Two of the most publicized cases of 2020 were the murders of

Breonna Taylor, a 27 year-old woman shot in her home by police serving a no-knock warrant, and George Floyd, a 46 year-old man who died shortly after being pinned to the ground by his neck. The shooting death of 25 year-old man Ahmaud Arbery at the hands of local vigilantes also fueled widespread public outcry. As thousands began protesting in the streets and social media feeds, artists began releasing music in direct correlation with the movement. The music of protests, including chants and slogans used during collective demonstrations across the country, were inserted in songs and poems. These works were shared on social media becoming viral audio and visual aids to protest practices.

I recognize a shift in the production of protest songs which differs from those of the past. In contrast to songs being used for collective protests —Tindley’s “I’ll overcome someday” used in marches during the Civil Rights Movement, and “We gon’ be alright” used in early Black Lives Matter protest— recent artists have used chants and slogans from protests to give context to their music. Of the plethora of protests songs released in connection to Black Lives Matter protests of 2020, I will focus on the works of three artists who strategically used particular protest chants and slogans in their music—

H.E.R.’s “I Can’t Breathe,” Lil’ Baby’s “The Bigger Picture,” and Tobe Nwigwe’s “I

Need You To (Breonna Taylor).” All three artists are millennials and active on social media platforms. I chose these songs to highlight the complex ways in which young

Black artists are responding to political movements. Moreover, I recognize how these artists use imagery to situate themselves within the protest movement. Finally, I make use

41 of Rachel Vandagriff’s reconceptualization of “protest music” as I analyze these songs based on their role in protest and make a case for their efficacy.

According to Rachel Vandagriff, we must reexamine what we define as “protest music.” Vandagriff outlines a distinction between protest songs and freedom songs based on their use in protest activity. She situates songs in categories: songs about protest, songs that express protest, and songs that embody protest. However, freedom songs, in this context, are songs that are sung on the front lines of protests. I argue not in contrast but in addendum to Vandagriff here, that we should include a category of protest music that borrows directly from the front lines of protest—songs that are influenced by protest, and as a result, influence others to participate. In other words, my concern is with both how the song participates in protest, and how protest participates in the song. As artists continue to create music, we must consider how their art reflects upon protest, and consequently how protest practices are employed in their art. With this, I coin the terms art-influenced activism, and activism-influenced art (a sort of “chicken before the egg” comparison), and use this to inform the following reviews.

Chapter 4

“I Can’t Breathe” - H.E.R.

H.E.R., born Gabriella Sarmiento Wilson, collaborated with producer D’Mile and song- writer Tiara Thomas to write “I Can’t Breathe” which was released as a single on June

19, 2020.38 H.E.R. debuted the song on the IHEARTRADIO Living Room Concert series on June 10, 2020. Before her performance, H.E.R. introduces the song voicing her support for the ongoing peaceful protests saying, “I really want to recognize all the people across various communities that are promoting justice, and equality, and peace, and passion…we need that unity right now.” As the title indicates, this is a reference to

George Floyd. Floyd can be heard on cell phone video footage saying, “Please, I can’t breathe,” as the officer’s knee stay pinned on his neck. Users on social media platforms were outraged as, yet again, a Black man is pleading with officers stating that he cannot breathe.39 The hashtag “#ICan’tBreathe” emerged in 2014 following the killing of Eric

Garner. Gardner was apprehended by New York City police for selling loose cigarettes— he was restrained with a choke hold and later died. Garner is heard on cell phone video footage taken by a civilian pleading with officers saying, “I can’t breathe.” A painting of

H.E.R. is pictured as the album cover as she is shown standing in front of city buildings holding a sign which reads, “I can’t breathe.” A single tear is seen falling from her right

38 H.E.R., “I Can’t Breathe,” June 11, 2020.

39 After the news of Floyd"s death, I gathered with some friends in a zoom meeting to discuss and unpack in a safe space. During this meeting, a friend pointed out the gruesome irony of a man telling officers that he cannot breathe, meanwhile the world is still in the midst of a pandemic which directly attacks the lungs.

42 43

eye hidden behind dark sunglasses. With this imagery, H.E.R. positions herself within the protest movement while she contributes with her music as a reflection of her stance on social activism.

“I Can’t Breathe” is in the key of C# minor, cycling through a chord progression of C# minor, G# minor, and F# minor at a tempo of 69 beats per minute. Her choice of minor key and relatively slow tempo closely resembles a dirge typical of funeral processions in many parts of the world, specifically New Orleans and the African diaspora. Instrumentation is sparse, featuring only an acoustic guitar, electric bass, auxiliary percussion, and an orchestral strings sample. The opening seconds set the tone for a somber songs of remembrance. H.E.R. enters at 0:05 with a lamenting tone singing

“oh” and using notes from the C# natural minor scale (D#4 - C#4 - B3 - A3). During the verse, the melody borrows from the C# natural minor shape, predominately using notes from the C# minor pentatonic scale. The song has two verses which are separated by the chorus and interlude identical to the introduction section. At 2:22, H.E.R. begins reciting a spoken word poem as the instrumental continues over the verse form. As the poem intensifies, the timbre of H.E.R.’s voice changes from the singing, becoming increasingly distorted sounding as if it is heard over a megaphone and culminates at the final line. The poem ends at 4:10, meanwhile the introduction vocals reenter and repeat the melody on the “oh” syllable for the remaining thirty-seconds of the song. As the instrumental fades out, the vocals rise to prominence taking on an angelic tone with increased reverberation.

44

Lyrical Analysis

H.E.R.’s lyrics paint a picture consistent with conversations revolving around the Black

Lives Matter movement and social justice. She begins with “Starting a war, screaming

“Peace” at the same time. All the corruption, injustice, the same crimes. Always a problem if we do or don’t fight. And we die, we don’t have the same rights.” The opening describes the war many are fighting in the streets for peace and justice and outlines the continued injustices beset upon Black folks and people of color. The final line in the phrase is at the center for those in support of the Black Lives Matter movement; the right for Black folks to live without fear of being harassed or killed by folks who weaponize their skin color. The second stanza of the first verse asks three questions about gun violence and equality. She sings, “What’s it gonna take for someone to defend her?” By not naming a person directly and using the pronoun “her,” she included all women while indirectly referring Breonna Taylor and perhaps Sandra Bland, both victims of police brutality. This calls for “defending” and “fighting” mentioned in the first verse is recapitulated in the chorus: “I can’t breathe/ You’re taking my life from me/ I can’t breathe/ Will anyone fight for me?” H.E.R.’s choice of action words creates a blurred line in the methods used for calls for justice. The Black Lives Mater movement promotes mostly non-violent resistance to oppressive constructs. The word “fight” could be misconstrued as a call to violence, however, H.E.R.’s use of “fight” in this context calls people to get involved in the “fight”—synonyms include conflict, struggle, effort, and endeavor. The chorus itself is sung in a reflective tone, seemingly from the point of view of someone dying. She repeats “I can’t breathe,” twice—again reminding the

45 listener of both Floyd and Garner’s last words. Her plea for someone to “fight” aligns with recent calls on social media to “defend Black women” following the killing of

Breonna Taylor who was shot while her boyfriend was defending their home. Although deceptively simple, the short chorus addresses relevant instances of police violence, social anxiety regarding protests, Black women suffering, and the murders of George

Floyd and Eric Garner. More than this, the message is quite pointed, it is a call for law enforcement to hear the cries of those who cannot “breathe,” and a call to action for folks to get involved in the ongoing struggle for equality.

After the second chorus, H.E.R. begins a spoken word poem, taking the listener on an historical timeline of the Black experience in America from slavery, to civil rights, equality, and privilege. Her first stanza:

Trying times all the time. Destruction of minds, bodies, and human rights. Stripped of bloodlines, whipped and confined. This is American pride. It’s justifying a genocide, romanticizing the theft and bloodshed that made America the land of the free.

is a graphic depiction of how enslaved Africans were treated upon arrival in the

Americas, and subsequently how Black folks built the land of the free whilst being enslaved, having not the privilege to reap the benefits of freedom they helped establish.

In the second stanza, H.E.R. directly addresses those who unequally benefit from privilege saying, “Media perception is forced down the throats of closed minds. So its lies in the headlines and generations of supremacy resulting in your ignorant, privileged eyes.” She criticizes three aspects of society here—the consumption of false media, generational complacency, which manifest into a lens of privilege. Rhetoric such as this

46 was prominent among those who criticized people’s inaction and lack of empathy as

Black folks and people of color are continuously oppressed. Demonstrators at protests addressed this directly with signs reading, “Silence is violence,” abhorring those who refused to speak out against racism.

Throughout the spoken word verse, H.E.R. refers to two articles at the foundation of American identity, and two protests music recorded by Black Americans. H.E.R. recites the penultimate line in the American National Anthem, “The land of the free,” in lines seven and eight. The first reference follows the reference slavery emphasizing the irony of a country that prides itself as “the land of the free” while having enslaved millions of people during its birth. In line eight, she says, “To take a Black life, the land of the free,” which has multiple plausible interpretations. Historically, Black folks have been killed by police at a higher rate compared to other races, confirming that Black folks are not truly “free” from oppression.40 Additionally, the officers who allegedly contribute to the death of a Black person are rarely held accountable by the justice system.

Therefore, H.E.R.’s lyrics are congruent—officers may indeed take a Black life and still remain “free.”

H.E.R. references one of the main assertions of the Declaration of Independence in line thirty-three, saying, “[Because of your audacity] to say all men are created equal in the eyes of God but disparage a man based on the color of his skin.” Again, H.E.R. points out the irony central to the Black American experience, the very man who wrote that document and many of the men who signed it owned Enslaved Africans at the time.

40 Ibid.

47

This dichotomy of equality and American ideals has become the subject of debate especially during the recent conversations in politics about the “greatness” of our nation.41

About midway through the spoken word, H.E.R. quotes, #The Revolution Will

Not Be Televised,” a spoken word poem released by Gil Scott-Heron in 1971. The placement in line seventeen is of particular significance. She states this declaration in the middle of her criticism of media perceptions, white privilege, and close-mindedness. Gil

Scott-Heron’s words are a message to those who believe they will be able to avoid the revolution based on their status and privilege, or view the revolution from the comfort of their homes. At the end of the track, Scott-Heron reveals that the revolution will be live, meaning there will be no place to hide. H.E.R.’s strategic placement of this quote within this context revitalizes Scott-Heron’s words with the current social justice movement.

Lastly, in line thirty-one, H.E.R. inputs the eerie metaphor of lynchings depicted in Abel Meeropol’s “Strange Fruit,” famously recorded by Billie Holiday in 1939. The song protests the lynchings of Black Americans which had reached a peak in the Southern region of the United States in the early twentieth century. From line twenty-seven to thirty-one, H.E.R. speaks to White folks who display performative allyship saying,

“Because you think your so-called ‘Black friend’ validates your wokeness and erases your racism. That kind of uncomfortable conversation is too hard for your trust-fund pockets to swallow the strange fruit hanging from my family tree.” H.E.R. uses these

41 Brandi Hart, “The Irony Inherent in #Equality” Born from the American Revolution” National Institute of American History & Democracy, 2014, http://2014precolsession2civilwar.blogs.wm.edu/ 2014/07/20/the-irony-inherent-in-equality-born-from-the-american-revolution/.

48 metaphors to criticize harmful forms of activism seen on social media by White folks who use their proximity or relation to Black folks to vindicate their racist behavior, while also addressing notions of privilege and racial power structures present in American society as a result of the systemic oppression of Black folks and people of color.

H.E.R. finishes the poem by urging the public to pay attention to Black folks and saying, in peak distortion, “We can’t breathe,” before taking a deep breath in, and exhaling. The last breath feels like a sigh of relief as she finishes this powerful statement.

It can also be interpreted as a mindful reminder of the privilege we have to be breathing, and our subsequent responsibility to use every breath we have toward the dismantling of oppressive structures. “I can’t breathe” represents more than simply the breath, but also

[infers/implies] the pressure Black folks and people of color feel under these oppressive structures. This phrase, although representing a loss of life has become a central theme of the Black Lives Matter movement and, like the sign pictured on the album cover, is used for signs in numerous protest and protests chants. H.E.R. uses imagery to describe the tensions surrounding protest and social unrest. Perhaps more important, she captures the pain and grief felt by Black folks seeing yet another innocent life taken by those who are meant to keep us safe. On her YouTube channel, H.E.R. announced that all proceeds of the song will be donated to Black Lives Matter. On March 14, 2021, “I Can’t Breathe” won a Grammy award for Song of the Year.42 She has been awarded two MTV Video

Music Awards for #I Can"t Breathe” under the category #Video For Good,” and three

NAACP Image Award nominations. and a Grammy “I Can’t Breathe” is a musical

42 Originally, the Grammys were scheduled for January 31, 2021, but was rescheduled to March 14 due to the status of the Covid-19 pandemic in Los Angeles County.

49 representation of H.E.R.’s support for the fight for social justice and Black lives and urges the listener to question their own privilege and proximity to racist ideologies.

H.E.R.’s choice to participate in protest by way of song and the use of protest rhetoric in her art highlights a connection between social life and artistic expressions in the mainstream.

H.E.R. uses the chant “I Can’t Breathe” as a device to raise awareness and encourage people to listen. However, it can be argued that the title is, to an extent, “click bait” given the phrase and its association with the death of Black folks.43 She is quoted in her introduction of the song on IHEARTRADIO saying, “Just by the title, you know that it means something very painful and revealing.”44 To release a song with this theme is, in and of itself, an act of protest and, given the context, those who listen can assume, to a degree, how the song will develop. H.E.R. employs the concept of “activism-influenced art” in this song through her theme, language, and the use of protest chants as an association with protest. In this sense, the phrase “I can’t breathe” can be understood as a semiotic index according to the theory of semiotics coined by Charles Sanders Peirce.

The index is experiencing the sign and object together.45 Surely Eric Garner and George

Floyd weren’t the first people to say those words, however, our understanding of that phrase has changed significantly since we experienced the phrase in connection to

43 Click bait is defined as content strategically created to attract attention or encourage visitors to engage in a web page.

44 Rikki H.E.R. BLASIANA, #H.E.R. - IHEARTRADIO set live performance,” YouTube Video, 23:02, 6/18/2020, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5uJ-x4ELfNI&t=47s.

45 Thomas Turino, Music as Social Life : The Politics of Participation, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press 2008): 8.

50 trauma. The significance of “I can’t breathe” as an index now reveals how this song is

“activism-influenced art.” H.E.R.’s effectively displays her solidarity with the Black

Lives Matter Movement by using an index associated with activism in her art and depicting herself within the protest frame.

Music Video Analysis

H.E.R. released the “I Can’t Breathe’ music video on YouTube on June 26, 2020. This video shows images of various peoples from around the world protesting in memory of

George Floyd. All of the images in the video are shown in black and white. There are three important themes in this video: (1) images of peaceful protest, specifically global protests in memory of George Floyd, (2) images of police violence and abuse of power, and (3) intentional use of color. The only color shown is of George Floyds name projected in a light purple, then again in red, and the three messages toward the very end projected in yellow. The striking aspect of this video is the evidential impact George

Floyd’s death has had and the spread of Black Lives Matter throughout the world. As

H.E.R. pleads for someone to #fight” for her, we are shown clips of people doing just that, from a sign reading “Latinos against police brutality and systematic racism because Black lives matter” (1:57), to marching protestors in Syria, Belgium, Auckland, London, and

Berlin. Additional images of makeshift memorials for George Floyd, communities banding together, and Black empowerment. With this, H.E.R. provides us with a glimpse of cultural differences in regard to protest practices. It is also important to note that no images of H.E.R. are seen in the video. Although she is singing, she does not directly

51 position herself in the field of protest, rather her singing seems to be commentating the events laid out in the video. This detachment from physical protest may cause some to question her full and authentic engagement with the movement. However, with that considered, I raise these questions: Does an artists’ work speak for itself? Does “proof” of physical protest provide the artist with more credibility? And finally, who is to judge one’s level of authenticity? I will consider these questions in this chapter and those that follow.

As the introduction vocals and instrumental enters, we are shown drone footage of marching protestors in the streets of Los Angeles and the United Kingdom. When the first verse begins at 0:18, we now see footage from within a group of protestors. They are lined up in front of vehicles with their hands raised as one protestor shouts fervently in the direction of the camera. The protestors are silhouetted by rapidly flashing lights, the source of the lights is unclear. On the lyric, “All the corruption, injustice, the same crimes,” we are shown two different groups of protestors running away from police, and an arial shot of group of about a half-dozen police subduing and holding down a protestor, followed by images of police in riot gear hitting non-violent protestors with batons and nightsticks. We see again the same clip of fervent protestors with raised hands and chanting as they are illuminated by flashing lights, however this time from a different angle. As the chorus starts, the video then cycles through a series of vigils and memorials dedicated to George Floyd. The audible lyrics, “I can’t breathe,” are accompanied by artist renditions of Floyd in Syria, and the phrase, “Please, I can’t breathe,” painted on a train in Belgium. Then at 1:03, we’re shown black and white silhouettes of Floyd,

52

Ahmaud Arbery, Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, Delrawn Small, and Walter Scott, just a few of the more publicized Black men who have died as a result of violence over the past five years. Clips of global protests are shown during the second verse and chorus until the beginning of the spoken word poem. The last image we see is a pair of Black hands outstretched toward the sky in the “hands up, don’t shoot” pose. The person then lowers the left hand and creates a raised fist with the right.

As the spoken word poem begins, we see our first glimpses of color. While

H.E.R. speaks the first stanza, George Floyd’s name is centered on the screen in a light purple. Names are then added on either side of Floyd’s, starting with Stephon Clark followed by Breonna Taylor. However, these names are shown in white lettering. More names added one by one in white, until 2:47 when many names are shown in a pale gray color. Names are then highlighted in no specific order, changing from the pale gray to white. (Floyd’s name is still centered in light purple.) The frame then pans out revealing even more names in white. At 3:44, six seconds before H.E.R. says #Strange fruit hanging from my family tree,” Floyd’s name changes from the pale purple to a dark red while other names remain in white.

The choice of color in this sequence is an important tool used to emphasize importance while also honoring those who have died. According to Richard M. Podhajny, the color purple is often associated with royalty and power dating back to ancient civilizations.46 To recognize Floyd as “royalty” establishes a narrative to counter any

46 Richard M. Podhajny, #History, Shellfish, Royalty, and the Color Purple,” Paper Film and Foil Converter 76, no. 7 (2002): 20.

53 negative aspects of his life which certain media outlets might focus on as others have following the death of a Black person at the hands of police. Additionally, it honors him as a martyr whose untimely death was a catalyst for a worldwide justice movement.

When Floyd’s name changes to red, it carries with it certain psychological and emotional implications. A 2008 study conducted by Tom Clarke and Alan Costall found that 75% of participants associated the color red with love, anger, and passion.47 Color, in this sense, is a tool used to illicit emotional response. Further, emotions such as these are an appropriate response when thinking about the death of George Floyd and the multitude of others whose names are projected alongside Floyd’s. This use of color, or lack thereof, evokes specific meaning in connection to the song’s structure; while in the first half, our emotional response was a result of the black and white images of protest, the contrasting use of color on names in second half creates meaning through intention and draws our attention to the words of H.E.R.’s poem. H.E.R. emphasizes this point further at 4:02 saying “Do not say you don’t see color. When you see us, see us.” She is indeed referencing the notion of people who claim “colorblindness” as a means of solving race issues, however this phrase is apropos given the strategic use of color throughout this portion of the video.

Finally, color is used again in the final seconds of the song. At 4:08, H.E.R. says,

“We can’t breathe,” those words are then projected on the screen in yellow. The message then changes to “silence is violence” at 4:14, and again to “Black Lives Matter” at 4:19, all in yellow. This shade of yellow is the same shade used by the Black Lives Matter

47 Tom Clarke and Alan Costall, #The Emotional Connotations of Color: A Qualitative Investigation,” Color Research and Application 33, no. 5 (2008): 407.

54 movement seen on their webpage.48 The use of yellow in this context further displays

H.E.R. alignment with the Black Lives Matter and, by doing so, H.E.R positions herself within the movement and acts to firmly substantiate a claim for “activism-influenced art.”

48 “Black Lives Matter Website,” accessed February 2, 2021, https://blacklivesmatter.com/.

Chapter 5

“The Bigger Picture”-Lil’ Baby

Rapper Lil’ Baby, born Dominique Armani Jones, released “The Bigger Picture” as a single on June 12, 2020, it is featured on the extended deluxe version of his second studio album My Turn.49 Throughout the song, he grapples with current events including the

Covid-19 pandemic, the criminal justice system, police violence, racism, and issues of mental health. His lyrics depict an effort to make a personal change from his turbulent past and use his platform to bring change to his community, also showing solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement and protests. Over the four minutes and twelve seconds, Lil’ Baby urges listeners to join him in his effort to create a better community regardless of race and differences. The artwork for this single is a picture of Lil’ Baby at a protest. Lil’ Baby centered, sitting stationary on a bicycle wearing a black t-shirt with the caption “Black Lives Matter” and a face mask reading “No justice, no peace.” The picture is from a protest in Atlanta on June 8 where Lil’ Baby was seen leading a crowd of protestors through the streets. There are a number of protestors behind him wearing masks and holding water bottles and signs. He’s not looking directly into the camera but rather appears to be looking just past the lens and ahead as he leads the other protestors.

In contrast to the painting of H.E.R., Lil’ Baby is actively participating in a collective protest. However, like H.E.R., Lil’ Baby announced on Instagram that all proceeds will be donated to a number of social justice initiatives—The National Association of Black

Journalists, Breonna Taylor’s attorney, The Bail Project, and Black

49 Lil’ Baby, “The Bigger Picture,” track 27, My Turn, Quality Control Music B003183202, June 12, 2020, CD.

55 56

Lives Matter.50 The song has already positive critical reviews making it to the top

3 on both the US Billboard and Rolling Stone music charts, also earning two Grammy

Award nominations for “Best Rap Performance” and “Best Rap Song.”51 Former

President Barack Obama included this song in a list of his favorite songs of 2020.52 The image of Lil’ Baby leading a protest connected with the release of this song is an important depiction of the role artists have—effectively using their platform to evoke positive change.

“The Bigger Picture” is in the key of C# minor and has a tempo of 138 beats per minute. The song loop features four main components—two melodic, and two rhythmic.

A piano sample opens the song with a descending line, starting on E5, to D#5 and ending on C#5 (see Example 5.1).

Example. 5.1. Introduction piano sample.

The sub 808 bassline sample consists of a cycle of four descending notes in order—C#1,

B0, A0, G#0. A clap snare drum sample strikes on beats two and four, while a high pitched hi-hat sample plays consistent triplets, opening and closing on occasion. This

50 Charles Holmes, “Lil Baby Always Had A Lot to Say—You Just Weren’t Paying Attention,” RollingStone, June 12, 2020, https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/lil-baby-the-bigger- picture-1014126/amp/.

51 Billboard “Top 100,” June 17, 2020, https://www.billboard.com/charts/hot-100/2020-06-27.

52 Barack Obama (@BarackObama), “Barack Obama’s Favorite Music of 2020,” Twitter, December 19, 2020, 3:01 PM, https://twitter.com/BarackObama/status/1340386687898312706/photo/1.

57 instrumentation, beat and rhythmic pattern are characteristics of “trap music,” a sub- genre of rap which began in the South of the United States in the 1990s.53 The production also includes samples of soundbites from news reports detailing protests in the aftermath of the murder of George Floyd and protesters chanting “I can’t breathe.” Lil’ Baby enters at 0:27 with a flow of even eighth-notes against the triplet feel of the hi-hat, creating a 2:3 polyrhythm. He then uses the swung triplet pattern (first and third partial of the triplet rhythm), and full triplets in his flow. Lil’ Baby’s use of melody in his flow is particularly important, choosing notes within the C# minor scale in no specific melodic pattern, the majority of his note choices are between E3-B3 diatonic to the C# minor scale. Lil’

Baby’s clear use of melody and vocal inflections implies meaning when paired with certain lyrics.(see Example 5.2).

Example 5.2. Flow melody on opening

The song ends with Lil’ Baby repeating the chorus white the group chants “I can’t breathe.” The timbre of Lil’ Baby’s voice is manipulated, sounding as if he is speaking the chorus through a megaphone.

53 Jernej Kaluža, #Reality of Trap Music and its Emancipatory Potential,” Journal of Media, Communication & Film 5, no. 1 (2018): 24.

58

Lyrical Analysis

In the lyrics, it becomes clear that Lil’ Baby realizes his elevated position and influence.

He decides to change from the ways of his past, and use his platform to draw attention to social issues within his community. He not only discusses police brutality and racism, but also calls for his community to come together to solve these problems in order to make a better world for our children. The opening lyric depict Lil’s Baby changing from his old destructive ways: “Trade my 4x4 for G63, ain’t no more Free Lil’ Steve.” Lil’ Baby mentions he’s trading a “4x4,” or a four-wheel motorcycle, for a “G63,” better known as a Mercedes-Benz G63. The 4x4 motorcycle and other motorcycles play a significant role in American hip-hop and rap culture.54 Lil’ Baby trades his 4x4 for a luxury vehicle which highlights two aspects of his current status: (1) he now has the monetary means to afford a luxury vehicle, and (2) he has made a significant change in his life choices. This is not to say he is now above his past, but rather understands his position. Lil’ Baby then references Lil’ Steve, an Atlanta rapper and affiliate of Lil’ Baby who was arrested in

January 2020 on felony charges. He was released in August and rearrested shortly after.

Lil’ Baby saying, “Ain’t no more free Lil’ Steve,” can be interpreted as a disassociation with people from his past who are not on the same path as he is striving for, further establishing the narrative of active change in his life. He makes more references to a shift in his life choices, citing his own brush with the law (Verse 1: “I went to court and they sent me to prison, my mama was crushed when they said I can’t leave. First I was drunk,

54 Philadelphia born rapper Meek Mill features 4-wheelers and motor cycles in many of his videos. He has been instrumental in cultivating the community of urban #BikeLife although it is highly illegal in cities. Mill was arrested in 2017 for reckless endangerment after riding a dirt bike through the streets of Manhattan.

59 then I sobered up quick when I heard all the time that they gave to Taleeb.”) Lil’ Baby was arrested on drug charges in 2012 and 2014, since then, he started his music career and rose to success. At the end of the first verse, Lil’ Baby professes his potential as a leader and calls for his community to band together creating power with numbers: “Fuck around, got my shot, I won’t let up. They know that we a problem together. They know that we can storm any weather.”

This narrative of personal and collective responsibility is shown as he places himself on the “front lines”: “Fuck it, I’m goin’ on the front line, He gon’ bust your ass if you come past the gun line.” This imagery of a “front line” is two-fold, he is pictured on the cover of the single literally on the front lines of protest, this is confirmed by the second part of that phrase which mentions the “gun line,” referring to the line of police officers facing protestors. But this “front line” also implies him stepping up to a more prominent position of leadership within his community and those who listen to his music.

He continues addressing his position of power stating, “Every video I see on my conscience, I got power, not I gotta say something.” Lil’ Baby also critiques the negative influence his music may have had on the youth: “I can't lie like I don't rap about killing and dope, but I'm telling my youngins to vote.” With this, he acknowledges where his words in the past have been harmful, but makes a change to encourage the youth to utilize their right to vote.

The chorus provides context into his outlook on society and the potential for positive change in his community.

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It's bigger than black and white It's a problem with the whole way of life It can't change overnight But we gotta start somewhere Might as well gon' 'head start here We done had a hell of a year I'ma make it count while I'm here God is the only man I fear

Lil’ Baby starts by proclaiming in lines one and two that the problems facing society are not just race, but rather with the way society operates. Realizing that this problem will take time, Lil’ Baby calls for people to come together with the purpose of working toward a collective goal. He mentions the turbulent year of 2020 implying police shootings, racial violence, the COVID-19 pandemic, political issues, and the ongoing struggle for social justice. In the final lines of the chorus, he commits to using his platform to contribute to changing these aspects of society for the better and confirms that

God is the only man he fears. “Fear” in this context does not refer to the definition of being afraid, but rather the Biblical definition of respect and hold reverent. This chorus is an important declaration of Lil’ Baby’s vision of community and the reparative efforts he’s taking both personally and socially.

What’s significant about the lyrics is how relatable a position Lil’ Baby is in. He speaks out against police brutality, racism, and even himself, while also admitting that It’s not all police who are the issue (“Corrupted police been the problem where I’m from, but

I’d be lying if I said it was all of them”), attempts to dismantle racist stereotypes on both sides (“Every colored person ain’t dumb, and all Whites not racist”), and is transparent with this personal issues (“I never been a fan of police, but my neighborhood know I try

61 to keep peace. So it's only right that I get in the streets, march for a reason, not just on

GP”).55 This position is understandable in that it’s not just “Black and White,” meaning

Black and White people, or any one issue that is clearly discerned, rather the issues facing our communities are complex and begs a similar self-reflection Lil’Baby projects throughout this song. The first line describes the early changes he made on a personal level, and his final stanza recognizes the potential of coming together and the power people have if they take the proper steps and look at “the bigger picture.” The lyrical content of “The Bigger Picture” paired with the chants sampled directly from protests confirms the songs as “activism-influenced art.” His pledge for unity and a change in community values will in turn develop into “art-influenced activism.”

Music Video Analysis

An analysis of the music video sheds light on Lil’ Baby’s level of involvement in his community. “The Bigger Picture” video focuses on three major scenes: (1) images of the

June 8 Atlanta peaceful protest, (2) supplemental images of “breaking news” coverage of protests from around the country, and (3) organized music video footage of Lil’ Baby rapping the lyrics in a small group of young people with raised fists. These three scenes are supported by three minor themes: positive and negative depictions of police, peaceful and violent protests, and a diverse group of people protesting for Black lives. This collection of images is a direct visual representation of the competing themes Lil’ Baby raps about in “The Bigger Picture.”

55 “GP” is internet slang for “general principle,” or “general purpose.” It is something done “just because” with no real reason or motive.

62

The video starts with images of a peaceful protest in which Lil’ Baby took part.

Directly after, the soundbites of breaking news coverage show violent protestors and looters alongside burning vehicles and building. In these opening seconds, the video positions the listener between a two-sided representation of protest. On one side, Lil’

Baby shows images of peaceful gatherings and community, while on the other side, news media shows violent protestors. As Lil’ Baby raps about using his platform for positive change, he shows that first hand by revealing positive images of protest from the perspective of the protestors and those marching on the front lines in support of Black

Lives Matter. Support for Black Lives Matter is seen throughout the video on t-shirts worn by many protestors including Lil"$Baby, face masks, and protests signs. In contrast to the violent images portrayed in the media, this music video shows images of peaceful protestors marching with signs calling for the end of racism, justice for George Floyd and

Breonna Taylor, along with powerful images of strong Black people taking up leadership roles, including Lil’ Baby himself who’s shown carrying a megaphone, speaking in front of groups, and leading the march on a bicycle. Images of protestors raising their fists together are seen throughout the video, this action is common amongst Black folks to embody unity and strength.56 Lil’ Baby arranges these images of Black power, pride, and unity in contrast to the images of violence often associated with the Black Lives Matter movement to promote his message of individual and communal responsibility.

56 Jon Kelly, #Breivik: What"s Behind Clenched-fist Salutes?,” BBC News, April, 12, 2021, https:// www.bbc.com/news/magazine-17739105. The raised fist is a symbol of solidarity usually associated with oppressed peoples. During the 1960s, the Black Panther Party used the raised fists as a salute. The raised fist has become a signifier of individual as well as collective defiance. Since the Black Panthers, it has largely been associated with Black power.

63

There are numerous “Easter eggs” throughout this video, lesser themes but some that contribute to the overall message.57 At 0:31, a small group of people hold signs reading “All Black Lives Matter” and wear shirts with the same message on a rainbow flag. As the rainbow colors and flag have been associated with the LGBTQ+ community, the connection between both marginalized communities is important to note. On May 27,

2020, Tony McDade, a transgender man, was fatally shot by police in Tallahassee,

Florida. Since then, people on social media and protestors at marches and have used the hashtag #BlackTransLivesMatter to raise awareness about McDade and other trans people who do not receive the same media coverage.58

At the 1:00 mark, a group of about a half-dozen Black folks armed with rifles are seen wearing all black, bullet proof vests, and black berets with a patch similar to the

Black Panther Party. This group calls themselves The Black Revolutionaries.59 The law in the state of Georgia allows for citizens to openly carry a “long gun” with a weapons carry license.60 The Black Revolutionaries promote peace and also educates the public on their rights while exercising their right to carry. As Black folks, like Philando Castile, fall victim to police violence for legally owning or carrying a weapon, the Black

57 An “Easter egg” is a term used to describe a hidden message or meaning within film, music, or other forms of media.

58 #Support Black Trans Lives,” June 2020, https://blacktranslivesmatter.carrd.co/.

59 Hope Ford, #The Black Revolutionaries, A Small Group of Armed Activists, Explains their Protest Goals,” Alive News, August, 29, 2020, https://www.11alive.com/article/news/local/protests/ protests-in-atlanta/85-9c7b3ed0-eca2-43eb-9869-9f9e298f0214.

60 “Open Carry in Georgia,” Giffords Law Center, last modified September 29, 2020, https:// giffords.org/lawcenter/state-laws/open-carry-in-georgia/.

64

Revolutionaries protest those injustices by exercising their right and, if needed, act as protection for their fellow protestor from agitators.

At 2:18, Lil’ Baby is shown wearing the Colin Kaepernick Nike Air Force 1s, a black and white sneaker inspired by Kaepernick and his commitment to activism.61

Features include the date Kaepernick first knelt during the National Anthem (August 14,

2016) printed as 08-14-16 on the soles, Kaepernick’s custom logo, and an image of

Kaepernick embroiled on the heel collar. Kaepernick’s protest of the National Anthem was a catalyst for a movement within the sports community encouraging athletes to use their platform to speak out on issues of race and oppression in the communities from which many of them came. In a press conference following a pre-season game,

Kaepernick commented on what he wants to come of his kneeling protest, he responded,

“To bring awareness and make people realize what’s going on in this country.”62 For Lil’

Baby to wear these sneakers adds an additional layer of protest in that he is following in the footsteps of a major public figure who used his platform to raise awareness.

While H.E.R. only showed images of protest, Lil’ Baby positions himself within the protest scope, showing his direct support for the movement. And instead of his playing over images of protest, he actually performs in the music video. At 0:28 he is shown rapping the lyrics while in the midst of a small group of men and women, all with fists raised. Most are standing while others kneel. As Lil’ Baby raps, the men and women,

61 Nike, #The Nike Air Force 1 x Colin Kaepernick,” December 21, 2019, https://news.nike.com/ footwear/nike-air-force-1-x-colin-kaepernick.

62 KTVU Fox 2 San Francisco, #Colin Kaepernick Explains Why He Wont Stand for the National Anthem” YouTube, August 29, 2016, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ka0446tibig&t=118s.

65 some with face masks and others without, look sternly into the camera and move with the beat. The majority of the group are wearing black t-shirts with “Black Lives Matter” printed in white lettering. Some members of the group are holding protest signs reading

“Defund the police,” “Fuck 12,” “Not here to start a war, here to end it,” and “If you kill me, someone stronger will rise.” These same signs are seen throughout the video in footage from the actual protest. Lil’ Baby not only places himself in the video but continues the theme of community by surrounding himself with people while he raps about coming together and making a positive change. These images along with his words create a powerful statement on his position and involvement in activism. With all these things consider, from the inclusion of protest chants, images of protest, and his direct involvement in the movement, I argue that Lil’ Baby’s “The Bigger Picture” is a clear example of “activism-influenced art.”

Chapter 6

“I Need You To (Breonna Taylor)” - Tobe Nwigwe

Tobechukwu Dubem Nwigwe, Nigerian-American rapper known as Tobe Nwigwe, released the single, “I NEED YOU TO (BREONNA TAYLOR),” on July 5 as an

Instagram video.63 The song is only forty-four seconds but is one part the album The

Pandemic Project released August 2. In this song, Nwigwe calls for the immediate arrest of the cops who killed Breonna Taylor and Elijah McClain.64 Nwigwe’s Instagram post and YouTube video went viral gaining well over one million views. Prior to this, Nwigwe had been advocating for justice for Breonna Taylor and others killed by police. On May

30, Nwigwe announced on Instagram that he would be selling limited edition t-shirts on his website. The t-shirts were black with the message “Stop Killing Black People” written in white across the front.65 He also announced that all of the proceeds from the shirt sales would be donated to the families of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Elijah McClain, and

Breonna Taylor. Nwigwe is pictured on the album cover with his wife, Martika Ivory

Nwigwe (known as Fat), and producer, LaNell Grant (known as Nell). The three are sitting on stools leaning on one another and looking sternly into the camera. Fat sits sideways with her fingers interlocked with Nwigwe’s, Nwigwe is centered pulling his bottom lip open to show off his grill jewelry (a popular pose among southern rap artists),

63 Tobe Nwigwe, “I Need You To (Breonna Taylor),” track 1 on The Pandemic Project, July 5, 2020.

64 Elijah McClain, 23, was an unarmed Black man killed by Aurora police in 2016 . Police were responding to a call about a man acting “sketchy” and believed to be unarmed. McClain was placed in a chokehold and sedated. He later died of his injuries.

65 Having just participated in the Miami protest earlier that day, I immediately ordered a shirt for myself in an effort to support Black business and a Black artist using his platform for change. The campaign ended up raising $100,000.

66 and Nell rests her right arm on Nwigwe’s shoulder and makes the “W” symbol with her left hand.66 The trio are wearing matching mint green outfits and long white socks and sit in front of a mint green wall.67 There is no explicit imagery of protest or connection to

Black Lives Matter, rather it is congruent with the general aesthetic of The Pandemic

Project as a whole. That being said, the title of this song, having Breonna Taylor's name in parentheses, carries a certain contextual weight given her recent death and the ongoing public cries for justice on social media. Similar to H.E.R.’s “I Can’t Breathe” semiotical relation to the killings of Eric Garner and George Floyd, using the name of a victim of police violence in the song title insinuates the mood of the song. Given the publicity surrounding Taylor’s death, it is highly unlikely that a listener would be unfamiliar with her name prior to hearing this song. Therefore the song title acts as a “trauma trigger” to potential listeners.68

“I Need You To (Breonna Taylor)” is performed at 120 beats per minute beginning with a low Db major chord in root position (Db3, F3, Ab3, Db4) played on a Fender

Rhodes piano patch. Db major then changes to Ab(add9)/Db creating a lush and angelic texture. Nwigwe then enters at 0:02 singing "I need you to" on F3 to Db3 as the chord changes briefly to Eb(add4) before resolving back to Db major. A rubato cymbal roll

66 The “W” sign made with the hand is a sign used by hip-hop artists to symbolize “the West.” Nwigwe is from the South West Alief neighborhood of Houston, Texas (The SWAT) and frequently uses the “W” sign in his videos and performances to signify his geographical pride.

67 Nwigwe and his band always wear long white socks while performing. In 2019, I commented on one of his Instagram posts asking why he and the band wear white socks to which he replied “I dig it and you should too.” Nwigwe also designs all the clothes the band wears for videos and performances.

68 Payton J. Jones, Benjamin W. Bellet, and Richard J. McNally,$#Helping or Harming? The Effect of Trigger Warnings on Individuals With Trauma Histories,” Clinical Psychological Science 8, no. 5 (September 2020): 905–17. https://doi.org/10.1177/2167702620921341. Trauma warnings or “trigger warnings” are alerts for survivors about potential disturbing forthcoming content.

67 played with sticks fills the high frequency range. Nwigwe’s vocals resembles a choir as they are layered with additional harmonies and heavy reverberation effects. Subtle chordal movement and the major quality of the chords in this introduction creates a mood of meditation and tranquility, transporting the listener into a type of trance; then a heavy beat drop at 0:07 brings the listener back to reality. Nwigwe uses two contrasting voice timbres to differentiate the sections of the song. In the introduction, his voice is light and melodic as he sings. This timbre is disarming to the listener and supports the feeling of tranquility. He then changes to the lower range of his voice, almost on the fringes of vocal fry, and raps. The beat is made up of four components; a low bass frequency pedal, an 808 kick drum sample, a snap sample, and a clap sample. The bass line pedals on Db for three measures, then walking down from Gb to F at the end of the phrase before returning to the Db pedal. This cycle is repeats four times for a total of sixteen bars ending with a clap sample hit with reverberation.

Lyrical Analysis

Nwigwe released the five tracks on The Pandemic Project separately as singles with lyrics focusing on topics of racial identity, systematic racism, police shootings, and Black pride. “I Need You To (Breonna Taylor)” is the opening track and functions more as a public service announcement rather than a full song considering its short length and direct message.

1 Arrest the killers of Breonna Taylor 2 All of y’all who think we need more evidence you goofy 3 I said arrest the killers of Breonna Taylor

68 4 And Elijah McClain too 5 Y’all hoed that boy

6 Arrest this killers of Breonna Taylor 7 All of y’all who think we need more evidence you goofy 8 I said arrest the killers of Breonna Taylor 9 You catch the vibe? 10 Now get off my page

The opening two lines call for the arrest of the officers who broke into Breonna

Taylor’s home resulting in her death. As the story developed, people began taking sides regarding the legality of the situation resulting contrasting narratives. Those outraged by her murder were calling for the immediate arrests of those officers involved, while contrastingly supporters of law enforcement wanted more evidence that would justifying the raid on Taylor’s home. Nwigwe criticizes the latter group and calls them “goofy,” a slang term meaning foolish. He then calls for the arrest of the police officers who contributed to the death of Elijah McClain, saying, “y’all hoed that boy.” The slang term

“hoed” in this context means to be done wrong or disrespected. Nwigwe repeats the first stanza again, changing the phrase in lines nine and ten serving as a final “punch” to the listener.

Music Video Analysis

Video starts with a close up shot of Nwigwe staring intently into the camera wearing gold jewelry in his teeth. The camera begins to pan out revealing Fat and Nell sitting on either side of Nwigwe. The three sit facing the camera and perform three distinct choreographed dance moves in unison to specific words in the lyrics pictured below.!

69 Figure 6.1. “I Need You To (Breonna Taylor)” Music Video - Tobe Nwigwe. Performers make an “X” while singing, “Arrest” (2020, 0:23).

Figure 6.2. “I Need You To (Breonna Taylor)” Music Video - Tobe Nwigwe. Performers hold imaginary gun while singing, “Killers” (2020, 0:24).

Figure 6.3. “I Need You To (Breonna Taylor)” Music Video - Tobe Nwigwe. Performers “hit the woah” while singing, “Breonna Taylor” (2020, 0:26).

70

These three movements are significant for the ways they combine the practices of protest and music with synchronized bodily expression. It should be highlighted that the performers return to the neutral position between movements, facing forward with their hands resting on their knees palm side down. The first movement of crossing the arms to make an “X” (I will refer to this movement from now on as simple “X”) is synchronized with the lyric, “Arrest” (see figure 6.1). The performer’s hands are clenched in a fist and the “X” is centered over the chest offering a number of interpretations. It could be argued that the “X” resembles the position the hands are placed in whilst being placed in hand cuffs. Indeed this action is typically done behind the back, however, the choice to display the “X” in front facilitates flow to the forthcoming movements. An “X” may also be interpreted as a nod to “cancel culture,” the recently practiced way of exposing and subsequently ostracizing people as a result of their involvement with something unacceptable or highly problematic.69 In any sense, the “X” here implies negative connotation given the associated lyric of “arrest.”

A second movement shows the performers turning to their left and positioning their arms as if they are holding a large gun (see figure 6.2). This synchronizes with the lyric, “killers,” further emphasizing the gun visual. Breonna Taylor was shot and killed as police entered her home; the motion of holding an imaginary gun on “killers” is a representation of the atrocity that occurred. With this visual in mind, each of the three

69 Eve Ng,$#No Grand Pronouncements Here...: Reflections on Cancel Culture and Digital Media Participation,” Television & New Media 21, no. 6 (September 2020): 621–27. https:// doi.org/10.1177/1527476420918828.

71 performers now represent one of the three officers involved in the shooting; Myles

Cosgrove, Brett Hankison, and Jonathan Mattingly.

Finally, the performers perform a dance move while saying “Breonna Taylor” (see figure 6.3). This dance, colloquially known as “hitting the woah,” is a popular internet meme often performed as group dance to hip-hop music. The dance requires performers to circle their fists in counter motion to one another and simultaneously shimmy the shoulders and head into a freeze position. This is a peculiar contrast from previous two movements, whereas the former in some way relates to action or the incident, this movement isn’t connected to the incident, any particular protest practices, or Taylor herself. To include this dance can be interpreted as an attempt to further position this video within the realm of internet virality in an effort to spread the message of accountability for the officers in this case. (I discuss this topic in greater detail in chapter

7.)

Movement is a bonding tool in group activity. Given the context of the video, dance is integral to the lyrics and message. Turino’s study of dance and music in connection to participation emphasizes movement as one of the centers of social life.70

Further, the inclusion of multiple people in synchronized movements facilitates greater participation. As he does in most of his videos, Nwigwe chose to include both Fat and

Nell. In the same way that large protests lead to large results, the group movements in this video have a greater chance of being passed on. This group, although small, is a representation of group protest with synchronized movements and chants. While

70 Turino, 35.

72 reflecting on this point, I’m reminded of my alma mater Temple University’s fight song and the connected choreographed movements. While singings the words at sporting events, the crowd would use the body to create a “T” and a “U” while singing those letters. As the thousands of students and spectators at a sporting event joined in together, we felt deeply connected to one another and the school. These simple movements enhanced our experience singing the fight song and produced more school spirit. It was one thing to sing the words, but to also perform these movements with strangers created and greater sense of pride. In the same way that the fight song connected spectators to one another, Nwigwe’s simple and direct message paired with simple movements has a similar goal. I argue that by coupling a powerful message with easily retained choreography, Nwigwe borrows from popular internet dance trends in order to ensure the messages impact and extend its viral shelf life.

To determine whether or not this song is “activism-influenced art” or “art- influenced activism” requires a deeper look at the implications behind Breonna Taylor and her post mortem memeification on social media.71 In the months following her murder, social media users began a hashtag campaign in order to spread awareness regarding the incident and call for the killers to be arrested. Hashtags such as

#JusticeForBreonnaTaylor and #ArrestTheKillersOfBreonnaTaylor emerged on Twitter and Instagram shortly after she was killed, however, users began creating memes with the hashtag in different formats. These resulting in the virality of

71 Zeba Blay, #The Memeification of Breonna Taylor"s Death,” Huffington Post, July 2, 2020, https://www.huffpost.com/entry/memes-breonna-taylor-arrest-the- cops_n_5efcf975c5b6acab284a93aa.

73 #ArrestTheKillersOfBreonnaTaylor and other related configurations. Given the timeline of these memes and their artistic expressivity displayed on social media platforms, I argue that Nwigwe’s “I Need You To (Breonna Taylor)” is an example of “art-influenced activism” as its main message and incorporated dance moves are directly connected to internet memes and viral dances. This argument will become clearer in the following chapter as I problematize the morality of using Breonna Taylor as a meme, discuss the implications of “trauma triggers” and “trauma porn” in activism, and discuss the resulting effects of widespread desensitization to Black trauma and mortality.

74 Chapter 7

The Memeification of Breonna Taylor: A Critical Look at Discursive Performative Activism in Digital Culture and Song

Social media platforms such as Twitter, Instagram, and TikTok thrive on the resharing, remixing, and alteration of media for sake of virality and commodified consumption. The spread of these types of media is usually based on their shock value.72 Digital memes have become a popular method of sharing reactions and expression according to their assigned semiotical relation. Digital memes including the image or name of Breonna

Taylor were shared as a means to spread awareness of her murder, gain public support for protests and petitions, and call for the arrest of the officers involved. Similarly, music artists in support of the movement used images of Breonna Taylor in their videos and incorporated her name or chants related to her name into their lyrics. In this chapter, I discuss the memeification of Breonna Taylor through music, the inherent repercussions of

“activism-influence art,” and the dynamics of collective participation in digital culture.73

I conceptualize my findings based on the scholarship of Aria S. Halliday (2018), Bradley

E. Wiggins (2019), and Stefka Hristova (2014). I also touch on notions of gender in regard to the representation of Black women in mass media. First, I give a timeline of events leading up to hashtags and posts dedicated to Taylor. Second, I offer a contextual explanation of memes and how they function in digital culture. Third, I draw on Thomas

Turino’s description of Charles Sanders Peirce’s theory of semiotics to explain

72 Aria S. Halliday,#Miley, What"s Good?: Nicki Minaj"s Anaconda, Instagram Reproductions, and Viral Memetic Violence,” Girlhood Studies 11, no. 3, (December 2018): 67.

73 Wiggins, 21. Digital culture means the interaction between human and computer.

75 76 the ways we assign meaning to digital memes. I conclude by revisiting the analysis of

Tobe Nwigwe’s “I Need You To (Breonna Taylor),” situating his music within the broader scope of these findings.

“Performative activism” has become a triggering phrase as of late. Its purpose is to sift out the “real” activists from the “fake,” or those who are using the opportunity of activism to aid their personal agenda for clout. But as Turino suggests, most aspects of human participation have some degree of “performance.” In light of this, I suggest the more pointed term, “discursive performative activism,” which directs attention to the subtle yet detrimental ways in which people participate in protest.

#BreonnaTaylor

On March 13, 2020, 26 year old Breonna Taylor was fatally shot by Louisville Metro

Police officers in plain clothes executing a no-knock search warrant. In the following weeks, intense national outcry ensued in the form of public demonstrations and protest marches. Many took to social media to share her story, mourn her death, and air their grievances over the continued disregard for Black lives. Just a few weeks prior, news of the tragic murder of Ahmaud Arbery filled Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram feeds. The news of yet another young Black life lost in Breonna Taylor compounded the already increased feelings of inner pain experienced by any and all who empathized with her story. Twitter posts about Taylor were shared with the hashtags #SayHerName,

#BreonnaTaylor, and #BlackLivesMatter, along side

77

Figure 7.1. @zelliemani tweet on Breonna Taylor, June 23, 2020.

Figure 7.2. @heatherbarmore tweet on Breonna Taylor, June 11, 2020.

78 images of Taylor in her EMT uniform. Much like the posts dedicated to Ahmaud Arbery,

George Floyd and the many other Black folks who fell victims to violence, these initial posts acted as a digital memorial. Throughout the months of April and May as more details of the incident became known, tensions continued to rise and many demanded the officers involved to be arrested. While thousands of protestors took to the streets to publicly display their support for Black lives, many also utilized social media as a platform for protest expression. Soon, images of Taylor with messages and protest hashtags were depicted as digital memes. “Arrest the killers of Breonna Taylor” became a widely used message, however, the message was shared in the form of a “punchline” in tweets and digital memes (see figure 7.1). The message would open with an insouciant comment or advice, then reveal the true reason for the tweet being to “arrest the cops who killed Breonna Taylor.” A tweet by @HeatherBarmore follows a similar format as

@zelliemani’s seen in reference to messages related to the COVID-19 pandemic, urging people to both do their personal duty to stop the spread of the virus by washing their hands and wearing a mask, and also “arrest the cops who killed Breonna Taylor” (see figure 7.2). This trend of “punchline memes” were redeployed in various forms throughout social media. To better understand the ways these memes function and evolve within the digital realm, it is important to have a contextual understanding of the difference between “memes’ and “digital memes.”

79

Memes vs Digital Memes

In 1976, evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins described the term “meme” as cultural phenomenon. Bradley E Wiggins and G Bret Bowers quote Dawkins describing a meme as “a cultural unit (or idea) that sought replication for the purpose of its own survival.”74

Memes, according to Dawkins, are the catalyst for cultural jumps in human evolution, or in other words, slogans, catch phrases, fashion, and learned skills— aspects of human culture that spread naturally.75 These actions or ideas are then replicated within the human mind and spread in the same way a virus would—through human interaction. The key here is that memes are replicated then mutate by random chance. Take, for example, greetings between friends or new acquaintances. In many cultures, a cheek kiss is customary. However, many parameters are involved when performing the kiss such as which side to begin the kiss, and how many times one must kiss.76 Human interactions over time have developed natural variants to this greeting that work as signifiers of culture and place. Simply put, Dawkins’ memes are units of imitation that survive and thrive based on replication through human interaction. These ideas then gain agency as they evolve naturally.

Digital memes, on the other hand, are altered purposefully by human creativity.

According to Wiggins and Bowers, internet memes exist as artifacts of participatory

74 Bradley E. Wiggins and G Bret Bowers, #Memes as Genre: A Structurational Analysis of the Memescape,” New Media & Society 17, no. 11 (December 2015): 4.

75 Bradley E. Wiggins, The Discursive Power of Memes in Digital Culture: Ideology, Semiotics, and Intertextuality, (New York, NY: Routledge, 2019): 2.

76 Richard Li, Juyoung Lee, Woontack Woo, and Thad Starner, “KissGlass: Greeting Gesture Recognition using Smart Glasses,”Association for Computing Machinery 17, (March 2020) 1.

80 digital culture.77 Dawkins himself claims that the very idea of a meme, has itself mutated and evolved. An internet meme is a hijacking of the original idea. Instated of mutating by random chance…internet memes are altered deliberately by human activity.”78 As digital memes spread on the internet, they can be remixed for a specific purpose. For example, the “blinking white guy” meme. The short meme, in the form of a GIF, is a close-up shot of video gamer and podcaster Drew Scanlon taken from a gaming podcast in 2014.79 The meme shows Scanlon turning his head slightly and blinking in reaction to a joke made by a fellow podcaster. In an interview about the popularity of the meme, Scanlon recounts his reaction being made into a meme and the meme reaching its peak popularity four years after the video was taken: “I don’t really know why that happened…I attribute it to internet chaos theory.”80 The meme has been given different names including “confused white guy,” and remixed for use in different contexts. Hristova argues that memes exist online as “contagious patterns of cultural information that get passed from mind to mind and directly generate and shape the mindset and significant forms of behavior and action of a social group.”81 The nature of technology facilitates the spread of these memes which then have an impact on digital culture. Therefore, online memes mutate more rapidly and

77 Ibid.

78 Wiggins, The Discursive Power of Memes in Digital Culture: 3.

79 “GIF” is short for graphics interchange format.

80 Buzzfeed Video, #I Accidentally Became A Meme: Blinking White Guy,” YouTube, April 25, 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KfDw0cgbaWU.

81 Stefka Hristova, “Visual Memes as Neutralizers of Political Dissent,” Triple C 12 no. 1 (March 21, 2014): 266.

81 remain active for a significant amount of time.82 How a digital meme spreads is largely based on human interaction and participation in digital culture.

Greater participation— the sharing, creating, remixing of digital memes—relates directly to Turino’s notion of participatory performance (seen in Chapter 2). From when a digital meme is created, the quality of the meme is determined by how frequently the meme is used and by how people participate in is use by way of remixing the accompanying caption (or message that situates the meme within a specific context).

Participating in memetic distribution correlated with the ways in which people participate in collective protests; a mass of people creating, sharing, and remixing messages with memes is comparable to large groups marching through the streets of a city chanting. In both instances, the message grows through participation. Turino states that the presence of other people with makes joining in that much more comfortable; in the same way, many people sharing memes makes for continued participation. But for people to participate, an understanding of the memes meaning is necessary. Wiggins suggests that meme are not merely content items but are visual arguments, which are semiotically constructed with intertextual references to reflect an ideological practice. 83How then do we assign meaning to memes, and how do these meanings change as the memes are shared and remixed? For that, we must look again in the theory of semiotics and how this theory relates to memetic culture.

82 Ibid.

83 Wiggins, 9.

82

The Semiotical Relationship of Memes

Semiotics is a concept by Charles Sanders Peirce and Ferdinand de Saussure with its primary approach being to develop a way to study how signs operate, manifest, and expressed in social relations.84 Turino points out three aspects of signs: (1) the sign or vehicle, (2) the object or indicated idea, and (3) the effect or meaning of the sign.85 He then outlines Peirce’s three manners by which an object is assigned.86 The first category, the icon, is based heavily on resemblance to person, place , or thing. In this regard, an artist’s rendition of Breonna Taylor acts as an iconic sign due to its resemblance, the sight of the picture then brings Breonna Taylor to mind. The second category, the index, is based on experiencing the sign and object together at the same time. Recall H.E.R.’s use of the phrase “I Can’t Breathe” outlined in chapter 4. The phrase is then an index for death and systemic oppression because we experienced Floyd and Garner say these words as they were dying. The third category, the symbol, connects objects to meaning through linguistic definition. More importantly, symbols require social agreement. As I stated in chapter 4, neither Floyd nor Garner were the first people to say, “I can’t breathe.” The phrase “I can’t breathe” does not, by itself, infer any specific situation, and although it has negative connotations, hearing it out of context does not bring a particular image to mind. However, following the deaths of Floyd and Garner, the videos of their deaths along with social agreement assigned “I can’t breathe” as a symbol to establish meaning.

84 Wiggins, 31.

85 Thomas Turino, Music as Social Life : The Politics of Participation, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press 2008): 5.

86 Turino, 10.

83

As we look toward a better understanding of the semiotical relationship of internet memes, we simultaneously gain a more detailed perspective on the ways in which these memes contribute to discursive forms of activism. It’s safe to say that internet memes are indeed a form of communication for online audiences, but due to the nature in which they are created, parodied, and spread, it is possible that internet memes lose their original meaning along the way. In the case of memes created to spread the story Breonna Taylor and call for the arrests of the officers involved in her death, the intention is relatively clear, however, in many cases the approach and execution deters from Breonna Taylor entirely, and effectually commodifies her life.

The images shown below are examples of memes created with the intention of reminding internet users that the cops who killed Breonna Taylor have yet to be held legally accountable for their actions. The first image shows an artist's rendition of “Arrest the cops who killed Breonna Taylor,” the message previously used as a hashtag now on candy bar wrappers along with the three names of officers (see figure 7.3). The color scheme and font of the candy bars resemble the Snickers chocolate bar. This image was designed by freelance graphic designer and artist, Ingrid Nuttle.87 What is potentially problematic about this meme is the location of the message on the wrapper. As opposed to the candy bar itself, the wrapper is what is first discarded when the contents are consumed. While this meme looks to continue the conversation around Breonna Taylor, it also inadvertently suggests that the message will eventually be discarded like a candy wrapper.

87 Ingrid Nuttle (@theredcrayonsarethebest), Breonna Taylor Snickers meme, Instagram, August 4, 2020, https://www.instagram.com/p/CDe8eNPhI-G/.

84

Figure 7.3. @theredcrayonstastethebest Instagram meme of Breonna Taylor hashtag, August 4, 2020.

Figure 7.4. @haradasound Instagram meme on Breonna Taylor, August 7, 2020.

85

The second image shows the hands of a conductor holding a baton and the meme title “A Guide to Time Signatures” (seen in figure 7.4). Six-time signatures are paired with words and phrases which line up based on the number of syllables. The first five pairings are recognizable foods and a hippopotamus, however, the last time signature

(12/8) reveals the main message of the meme, “Arrest the cops that murdered Breonna

Taylor.” The twelve-syllable message aligns with the 12/8 signature (I interpret the pattern in four groupings of three beats with accents on the typically accented syllables, see example 7.5).

> >> > > 12 8 ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ ¿ Ar- rest the cops that mur- dered Bre- on - a Ta y- l o r

Example 7.5. Transcription of Breonna Taylor meme message in 12/8.

There is a stark contrast in the messages—we are initially brought in with an expectation of learning more about time signatures, then struck with a sobering reminder of trauma.

Again, like the previous meme, the intent is to continue calling for arrests of the cops who killed Breonna Taylor—however, there are underlying issues with the presentation.

We are first given a list of recognizable foods, the topic then switches to include an animal, a hippopotamus. The message pertaining to Breonna Taylor coming after a comparison to an animal is reminiscent of pernicious stereotypes of African as animal- like reproductive units.88 Microaggressions such as these perpetuate dangerous notions

88 Jennifer L. Morgan, Laboring Women: Reproduction and Gender in New World Slavery, (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004): 18.

86 toward Black women. It’s also important to note that the hands are of a lighter complexion, implying that they belong to a White male conductor. So not only does this meme portray problematic historical theories about Black women, but it also appears to be “directed” by White men in positions of power. Although this meme is intended to contribute to activism, these qualities, along with the overall trivialization of Black lives being made into memes, have started debates about discursive performative activism through the memeification of Black folks, especially Black women.

The aforementioned digital memes offer a look into the through lines of the memeification of Breonna Taylor. Like Nwigwe’s song, the introductions or general concept of these memes is meant to disarm and create an initial sense of comfort.

Nwigwe’s opening seconds, sounding in a comfortable Db major paired with his higher registered voice, creates a relaxed atmosphere that is quickly dismantled with the hard beat drop and message to arrest the killers of Breonna Taylor. This type of musical pattern is identical to meme form. In the case of figure 7.3, we are shown a relatively recognizable image of candy bars, but a closer look reveals the implied message. In figure 7.4, we are drawn in by seeming innocuous and benign techniques for teaching time signatures, then struck with a dramatic “punchline.” Internet memes in this form create a sense of trivialization in that they reduce the message of justice for Breonna

Taylor to a punchline and rely heavily on this shock factor. A drastic reminder of Breonna

Taylor"s death in the form of the punchline may then lead to re-experienced trauma,

87 especially in the case of people with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).89 I began to notice groups of online users calling out the discursive nature of these memes in comment sections. I also started dialogues about the problems related to these forms of activism which sparked a deeper understanding of the impact of these memes. It is these conversations that lead me to question the efficacy of Tobe Nwigwe’s “I Need You To

(Breonna Taylor).”

A Case for the Memeification of Breonna Taylor In Music

On July 18, 2020, I engaged in a conversation with my friend Imani about the potential memeification of Breonna Taylor in Nwigwe’s recently released song. She mentioned a concern with the way Nwigwe presented the topic and the medium he used to bring awareness Breonna Taylor and Elijah McClain. Her criticisms of Nwigwe were centered on three points: (1) the dances, (2) the lack of information or leading viewers to resources in order to hold those officers accountable, therefore contributing to the sea of memes being shared online, and (3) the different approaches to activism for Black men compared to Black women.

Dances like those seen in Nwigwe’s video are popular on music-video sharing apps, most recently in TikTok. TikTok, known in China as Douyin, is a short video creation sharing app released in September 2016. Since then, TikTok has grown exponentially in the U.S. gaining 113 million in February 2020, likely due to the influx of

89 Payton J. Jones, Benjamin W. Bellet, and Richard J. McNally, “Helping or Harming? The Effect of Trigger Warnings on Individuals With Trauma Histories” Clinical Psychological Science 8, no. 5, (September 2020): 905.

88 people staying home during the COVID-19 pandemic.90 TikTok dance challenges are an integral aspect of participatory digital culture on the platform and feature trends such as

“the woah” seen in Nwigwe’s video. These dances are them mimicked by other users.

Dance trends spread in similar ways as memes—by high levels of engagement, mass participation, and imitation and replication as a result of remixing. Increased engagement and imitation is encouraged with TikTok’s “duet” feature which allows users to reacted or add to other users"$TikTok videos, and experience videos, where users describe similar experiences while applying the same sound.91 By linking the audio from one user’s video, another user can replicate or change the visual context, much like the sharing of digital memes. The memetic nature of TikTok and the virality TikTok dances resurfaces issues akin to the internet memes, it is the purposely altered and mutated content that detracts from the original meaning of the video. In the case of Nwigwe’s use of “the woah,” it draws a semiotical relation between his video and the TikTok memetic platform, which may have the ability to distract from the graveness of the death of Breonna Taylor. Imani is not the only one who thought the dances were problematic. A number of comments on

Nwigwe’s YouTube video echo Imani’s criticism of the performers “hitting the woah” while singing Breonna Taylor’s name (see figures 7.5, 7.6, 7.7, and 7.8).

90 Daniel Klug, #‘It took me almost 30 minutes to practice this’: Performance and Production Practices in Dance Challenge Videos on TikTok,” NCA 106th Annual Convention: Communication at the Crossroads, (August 2020): 5.

91 Diana Zulli, and David James Zulli,#Extending the Internet Meme: Conceptualizing Technological Mimesis and Imitation Publics on the TikTok Platform., New Media & Society, (December 2020): 10.

89

Figure 7.5. ZZNinjaX’s comment on Nwigwe’s video, YouTube, 2020.

Figure 7.6. Comment on Nwigwe’s video, YouTube, 2020.

Figure 7.7. Texanii’s comment on Nwigwe’s video YouTube, 2020.

Figure 7.8. OK OK’s comment on Nwigwe’s video,YouTube, 2020.

90

She continued commenting on this topic saying, “He’s toward the end of people who look like they were doing something good via that video, but weren’t doing what they thought they were doing.” She then discusses how this trend of memeification with viral dance and beat making was not particularly used as a form of activism for George

Floyd or other Black men saying, “It bugs me particularly because I didn’t see this type of energy with George Floyd, I do not see this type of energy with Black men.” By pointing out the contrasting forms of activism in support of Breonna Taylor, Imani suggests a discrepancy of protest practices in digital activism based on gender. Although

Nwigwe is using his platform to bring awareness to Breonna Taylor in a different format than traditional internet memes, this approach may also highlight the dichotomy of discursive performative activism and “authentic” activism.

The second potential issue Imani implied was the lack of resources presented by

Nwigwe to put in motion the things that he sings about in his song. She states, “When you see a video like that, it doesn’t provide anything substantial—no caption, no anything, no links, nothing about that was substantial. It blends in with the sea of other people who are doing tomfoolery.” Again, her sentiments are shared by others who commented similar criticisms on Nwigwe’s video (see figure 7.9).

Figure 7.9. Bih35822’s comment on Nwigwe’s video, YouTube, 2020.

91

The description section of Nwigwe’s video does not include any information or link about the process of ensuring justice for Breonna Taylor; only the hashtag

#arrestthecopswhokilledBreonnaTaylor and #elijahmcclaintoo along with the social media handles of the videographer and sound engineers. “Without context,” Imani says,

“this video does not do anything.” However, on the subject of hashtags, Yarimar Bonilla and Jonathan Rosa confront notions of “hashtag activism versus ‘real’ activism” and highlight the positive outcomes of #Ferguson, suggesting that these linking tools of social media have the potential to link online content into a intertextual chain of information.92

In the place of links to petitions or activist websites, Nwigwe chose to use hashtags to link his video with the collective voice of protestors participating in digital culture to demanding justice for Breonna Taylor.

Considering the elements in Nwigwe’s song and music video and how they align with typical internet meme format, I concur that it is indeed a meme; however, I challenge the term “meme” as a universally discursive unit. To what extent do the linked hashtags in the video description provide context by connecting this work to a collective call for justice? Does this video in connection to Nwigwe’s body of work and community activism in some way validate the levels of memeification shown in this video? I suggest that there are no definitive answers to these questions. The very nature of internet memes are temporary, ironic, and sometimes discursive, but the complex ways in which they inform contemporary music-making provides insight into the advantages and disadvantages of digital culture. While Tobe Nwigwe’s use of dance and performance in

92 Yarimar Bonilla and Johnathan Rosa, ##Ferguson: Digital protest, hashtags ethnography, and the racial politics of social media in the United States,” American Ethnologist 42, no. 1 (February 2015): 5.

92

Figure 7.10. Google search suggestions for Breonna Taylor. his video may be triggering to some, many others in favor of his approach showed support and appreciation by “liking,” commenting, and sharing the video to others. A deeper look into this dichotomy may reveal how the memeification of Breonna Taylor compares to other internet trends commodifying the images Black women and girls.

A search for “Breonna Taylor” on Google Images shows an array of photos and murals of Taylor, her family, and protestors with signs reading “Justice for Breonna

Taylor.” However, suggested search options offer a clearer view of what people are searching for in connection to Taylor (see Figure 7.10). Within this Google Image search, half of the suggestions have to do directly to her death. How do these image searches contribute to memetic culture? Safiya Noble suggests that search engine results perpetuate particular narratives that reflect historically uneven distributions of power,” and goes on to say, “women and girls do not fare well in Google search.”93 Recalling my conversation with Imani, her concerns were with the ways people were disrespecting

93 Safiya Umoja Noble, Algorithms of Oppression: How Search Engines Reinforce Racism, (New York: NYU Press, 2018): 71.

93

Breonna Taylor by using her name and images for profit. Aria Halliday explains that the spread and virality of these images as memes is based on shock value.94 Search suggestions of Breonna Taylor with “death,” “death photos,” “killers,” “open casket,” and

“autopsy” reveal a desensitization to Black mortality, especially that of Black women.

Images of Taylor in memetic form may contribute to this desensitization because they, like memes, rely on shock value.

Shock value leads to virality, and virality eventually leads to financial gain. By the memeification and recycling of images of Black women and girls’ misery and mortality, Black women and girls are then subjected to the historically oppressive capitalist process of being made into objects and sold.95 We then must acknowledge the concept of misogynoir and what role (and toll) that plays on the appraisal of Black womanhood.96 With this in mind, the use of Breonna Taylor’s name, viral dances, and memetic musical techniques in Nwigwe’s video provides a deeper understanding of the competing dynamics at play when participating in activism within digital culture.

94 Aria S. Halliday,#Miley, What"s Good?: Nicki Minaj"s Anaconda, Instagram Reproductions, and Viral Memetic Violence.” Girlhood Studies 11, no. 3, (December 2018): 67.

95 Halliday, “Miley, Whats Good?,” 69.

96 Cross, “The Memeification of Breonna Taylor is Misogynoir at its finest,” 2020.

Conclusion

In this thesis, I have provided a glimpse into various practices of protest—both in the field and within what I have described as “digital culture” (see Chapter 7). I have also examined the creative strategies through which Black artists convey these practices in their music. This scholarship contributes to ongoing conversations within the academy and on social media about the impact Black musicians have on protest, and conversely, how protest influences Black music-making. The terms “activism-influenced art” and

“art-influenced activism” provide a directional road map for through lines of music and protest. In other words, these terms can be used to better understand how songs are situated in the protest soundscape. I have found that studying protest practices and music concurrently exposes many through lines for they are both a consequence of the human condition. Additionally, I highlight how collective protest and recorded music—the sounds of Black sonic dissent—may not translate well into memetic practices.97 Social media has the ability to facilitate community building and spread information. After all, it was because of social media that I and many others learned of the Miami protests and got involved, the experience thereof resulting in this paper. However, I have suggested that certain practices and trends also contribute to the desensitization of Black suffering and mortality. It is within this dichotomy—the gray area between memes as a productive outlet for dissemination, on the one hand, and destructive sources of desensitization, on the other—that I position my work.

97 Daphne A Brooks, “How #BlackLivesMatter started a musical revolution,” The Guardian, March 13, 2016, https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2016/mar/13/black-lives-matter-beyonce-kendrick- lamar-protest.

94 95

In this thesis, I have also described in detail my experience as a participant in a peaceful protest, paying close attention to the sounds of chants, accompanied music, and the organic sounds of thousands of people, all of which contribute to the protest soundscape. This soundscape is influencing Black music-making and positioning their work within an ever-growing movement. My analysis of the work of H.E.R., Lil’ Baby, and Tobe Nwigwe demonstrates three distinctive approaches to protest music and the ways the songs and the artists themselves embody protest. Semiotics provides a contextual foundation for drawing useful connections between music and internet memes using semiotics as a contextual foundation. As I have shown, social media has a major influence on the creation, promotion, and distribution of these musics, and specifically on how levels of memetic practices contribute to discursive performative activism within digital culture.

I must emphasize that I do not suggest a “universal protest.” I seek neither to celebrate nor vilify what these artists have done. I hold true that there is no such universal practice of protest, for we as humans will continually respond to adversity relative to our lived experience. Rather, this thesis brings to the foreground the complexities of music- making. There is indeed a gray area, especially when it comes to responding to the human condition and that should be explored. After all, who is to define authenticity? Is memeification always a bad thing? What are the limits of sonic and musical protest? I hope these questions will fuel ongoing conversations about the ways Black folks navigate music and protest.

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