The Final Call

The psychological dilemma of the Black artist

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• Spelman women continue to rap about hip hop (FCN, 11-10-2005)

While this generation of Black youth has generated the greatest presence of Blacks in the media in history, we should rightfully be concerned about the type of image that they projected.

Just as Hattie McDaniel, Lincoln Perry (Step and Fetchit) and a host of earlier artists were forced to perform within the racial, political and social context of their times, today’s generation of aspiring artists create and perform based on their cultural and/or sub-cultural experience, their unique realities. These young Black artists utilize their own vernacular, the language they have created, to tell their stories. We scoff when they tell us they have redefined the ‘N’ word. Many of us were offended by the use of the term “Ebonics”; we said we wanted our youth to speak “good English” so that they would get a job. But Black youth not only created their own language, they then used that language to create wealth.

While this generation of Black youth has generated the greatest presence of Blacks in the media in history, we should rightfully be concerned about the type of image that they projected. Are artists falsely creating negative images or simply expressing the realities that exist for a segment of Black America? We will not be able to change the images the Black experience has created until we are able to change the experiences that have influenced them.

Many Black youth have been severely traumatized by the absence of parents, loss of friends as they face daily fears that they may become victims of violence at home and at school. Their raps serve a cathartic release. Their expressions are raw and thus may rub us the wrong way. Powerless to change their conditions, too many of us further victimize the victims in the name of our so-called racial pride. And, whose more proud of who they are than those youth who openly express themselves without concern about what White people think about them.

“Those other Blacks” offend many of us who find their actions and behaviors embarrassing. Not only are we offended by their “obscene behaviors,” but also by their relatively trivial acts. We wouldn’t dare be seen in public with rollers in our hair. We would never use the “N” word around Whites. We would like to suppress the psychological impact of slavery on us and would prefer that “those other” Blacks become like Ralph Ellison’s “Invisible Man.” 

They, in turn, declare that rap is here to stay—which means they are, too. Ironically, despite access to better education, the Black upper and middle-class do not appear to be either as creative or industrious as Blacks in the “hood.” If we want their stories to be told, then they must tell them with the same zestful vigor that “those other” Blacks are able to manifest. 

The South African movie Tsotsi provides a comparable study of a young man who bares the psychological, posttraumatic mental and emotional generational scars of White supremacy, domination and oppression. Like the Color Purple, the story leaves out the generational effects and impacts of White supremacy racism and slavery. Despite the fact that some Blacks are in denial, all of us are the products of a history of oppression and White domination. It ain’t just hard out here for pimps.

Hustle and Flow was about more than pimps and whores. The movie was about a segment of Black people who exist even without our approval. It was a love story, a Black prostitute who falls in love with her pimp and a pimp who, in the end, recognizes his love for her, despite the fact that she is carrying another man’s child. Taraji P. Henson’s character loved her man. She stood by him and felt his pain. It was her character that was able to emote: “You know it’s hard out here for a pimp.” It was her lament, her ode. I was touched by Taraji P. Henson’s character’s lyrical, rhythmic expression of both praise and sorrow.

Nevertheless, Hustle and Flow represented a small percentage of a wide spectrum of Black life. And Black artists are not the only ones who face ethical and moral dilemmas. Indeed, Black people demonstrate many contradictions. Is it fair to demand more of Blacks in entertainment than we do of Blacks in other fields of endeavor? Until we collectively improve the reality of our condition, our racial psychopathology, we must temper our judgment of the reality the artist depicts. 

Certainly, I am not pleased with the media’s impact on Black people, however, I am equally concerned about how Blacks who have obtained perceived positions of influence and power respond to the plight of our people. Ironically, it is because of the exposure that Black athletes and entertainers have achieved that they are the most vulnerable to our criticism.