Home » Love » My Love Affair with Hip Hop | Just Some Random Ish

My Love Affair with Hip Hop | Just Some Random Ish

my love affair with hip hop often feels like an abusive relationship. it simply builds me up to beat me down and trample on my feelings with a barrage of verbal assaults.

Focsi Art: Oak City Hustla
yet i cling to my first experiences with hip hop. the hip hop that showed me beautiful powerful women of color who were reflections of my future grown woman self who was powerful, beautiful, and deserving of respect. i didn’t understand what that meant during my tender adolescence, but i came to understand the importance of that imagery and my confusion with its juxtaposition of soft and hard blurring the lines between feminine and masculine and what it meant to be a “tough” girl next to a “pretty” boy!
my love of hip hop was always one of an ever evolving art form that spawned a movement then later a lifestyle. bringing hoods to every day life, spinning tales of adventures of some far away land that i didn’t even know existed. and somehow my own black experience wasn’t “black” enough, because i wanted to related. i wanted to understand the lyrics without the need of a vernacular translator, a slang sage to guide me through the metaphorical lyrics for which i had no reference until much later in life.
growing up in places where we were the ONLY for a 20 mile radius left an ache that only hip hop, or r&b, could fill; my love affair with hip hop often feels like an abusive relationship. it simply builds me up to beat me down and trample on my feelings with a barrage of verbal assaults.
yet i cling to my first experiences with hip hop. the hip hop that showed me beautiful powerful women of color who were reflections of my future grown woman self who was powerful, beautiful, and deserving of respect. i didn’t understand what that meant during my tender adolescence, but i came to understand the importance of that imagery and my confusion with its juxtaposition of soft and hard blurring the lines between feminine and masculine and what it meant to be a “tough” girl next to a “pretty” boy!
my love of hip hop was always one consistently of an ever evolving art form that spawned a movement then later a lifestyle. bringing hoods to every day life, spinning tales of adventures of some far away land that i didn’t even know existed. and somehow my own black experience wasn’t “black” enough, because i wanted to related. i wanted to understand the lyrics with the need of a vernacular translator, a slang sage to guide me through the metaphorical lyrics for which i had no reference until much later in life.
growing up in places where we were the ONLY for a 20 mile radius left an ache that only hip hop, or r&b could fill. bubblegum pop, with the rare exceptions of girls wanting to have fun and a boy named george, with whom i found a home, because they seemed to be the ONLY of their kind, which made them, in my young mind, like me.
then someone played a song about adidas, and i didn’t even wear tennis shoes like that, but i got it, sort of. either way i like what i heard. so my creeping began. sneaking to listen to forbidden lyrics about a faraway land filled not with unicorns and princesses, but real mc’s and grandmistresses, and fresh dj’s. hip hop sucked me in with its lyrical spells and rhythmic creations. gave me gifts. treated me nicely. spoiled me. taught me to dance. gave me the beat that was missing.
then i grew up and so did hip hop. i keep going back, because a gem would crash the scene and declare the rival of “real” hip hop, someone leading the people back to the old ways in the good old days. only to be stuck with those whom i shall not name with too skinny jeans wearing furs and skirts. the magic is gone as are the lyrical melodies and creative rhymes that used to happen once upon a time.
someone told me to watch a video on youtube today, and this is my response after witnessing what i can only call a mastery of marketing. the ultimate grand hustle. as i walk away holding my eye from yet another disappointing fight in my love affair with hip hop.
hip hop i want to love you, but you won’t let me. i want to stay laid up with you and have your babies, but you just keep cheating, mistreating, and abusing me. and i understand it’s because i allow it. so i’ll take my things and go. holding on to the memories from the 80’s and 90’s. wishing for a time trapped in the ether.
hip hop i still love you, and probably always will. we had some good times and some ugly spills.
your’s truly
focsimama
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