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(This is written as part of the Youth Media Blog-a-thon, sponsored by Youth Outlook and WireTap.)
I am a twisted, confused, tormented soul. Not only am I Japanese/Scottish/Mohawk-Amerikan, but I was also raised working-class in Richmond, CA around mostly Amerikans of Black, Latino, Southeast Asian and Pacific Islander descent. My class status changed to “Middle-Class,” right before I went off to college when simultaneously, my father received a raise from the Richmond Public School District and my mother finished graduate school and went from a secretary at Kaiser Oakland, to a student, to a Licensed Clinical Social Worker. Oh yeah…I’m also a Gemini like Yuri, Malcolm, Biggie and ‘Pac. To put it MILDLY, identity-clashes/crises can strike me anywhere, at anytime.
From the first time a white kid told me that I couldn’t be “Indiana Jones” and had to be “Shorty,” his adorable, Chinese, juvenile sidekick (watch “The Temple of Doom”) because I was “Chinese,” I have considered myself an Asian man (1st Grade). This was before Prince (4th Grade Basketball court nemesis – yes, Prince was his real name) told me “Japanese dudes got tiny dicks.” Before “Chinese. Japanese. Dirty Knees. Look at These!” Before Ron (7th Grade basketball court nemesis) asked me (because my eyes are slanted) if it was “hard for me to see people with my peripheral vision?” Needless to say, I grew up feeling very aware that people saw me as “Chinese.” Upon further explanation that I was in fact Japanese (and that was only my father’s ancestry), I was usually met with “what’s the difference?”
9th Grade was the time in my life that I began to really date girls. It’s not that I wasn’t a crazed, horny, teenaged boy who caught erections every time I watched Adina Howard and Mariah Carey videos and WANTED to date girls in Middle School (because I was =T). It was more that up until freshman year, your boy was a bit of a “chubby-checker.” I ate potato chips like I was a diabetic and there was insulin in the hickory flavoring. I drank RC Cola like E-40, well…drinks 40’s (that’s how he got the name “40-water,” for the uninformed). Cheeseburgers beckoned me, and Chili fries just made life feel easier.
I made a promise to myself that I would make the El Cerrito High School freshman basketball team by any means necessary. I joined the Cross-Country team and ran 5 miles a day for 4 months. I grew a good 4 inches. I worked out almost everyday and played basketball like it was my got-damn job. I made the team and while I played very little, I enjoyed a brand-spanking-new identity. The “short, chubby, Chinese kid,” became the “cute Hapa guy who’s on the basketball team.” I had a newfound confidence (that I had worked my arse off for) as the only Asian-Amerikan on the hoop squad, but still possessed the heart of that shy, awkward, chubby Asian boy.
Here’s where sh*t got a bit too hyphy for it’s own good. Here I am trying to figure out who I want to date, as a (now) slim, mixed race Japanese/White kid who spent the majority of his time around Black, Latino and API young people (I had white friends a white friend too – waddup Erythean!). I found myself attracted to any woman I considered “attractive” (at the time this meant she was thin, wore makeup and a skirt =T), but felt incredibly unconfident in attempts to “holla,” at any woman who was not Asian Pacific Amerikan. I pretty much assumed that no girl BUT an Asian girl would EVER give me the time of day. It was as simple as that at the time.
The Asian Amerikan sisters I pursued at that time primarily seemed interested in me because I was “mixed.” I was “Asian,” enough for their parents and “White,” enough for them (these relationships lasted about as long as this sentence). I.e.: I once dated a Chinese-Amerikan girl who was absolutely gorgeous (that was priority #1 at the time), and after a week of dating, called me sobbing her eyes out because I had gone to see a movie with my homeboy (and without her). In a conversation later that week, she told me that she chose to date me because I was Japanese AND White, and that “Vietnamese, Filipinos, Mexicans and Blacks,” were “dirty.” I dumped her that very night and yes, she cried her eyes out (she cried a lot during the week we spent together =T).
I also recall the ways my insecurity from being that “chubby, Chinese kid,” plagued my mind’s eye when it came to believing that anyone could be interested in me, for me. When women (of any ethnic background) showed interest, I usually believed it was only because of a fetish for my multiracial heritage while on the other hand, when women did NOT show interest, I was sure it was because I was an Asian man and Asian men were just not desirable.
I lost my virginity (here’s the part you were waiting for) to my first “real” girlfriend on a trampoline (seriously) during the summer of 1999, and it wasn’t as glamorous as it sounds (NOT that this sounds glamorous in ANY way). My baby bro had fought for months for our parents to buy a giant trampoline from Costco, and for his birthday a few years earlier they satiated his wishes. My room was right next to my parents’ and I didn’t want to be disturbed in any way. After an hour or more of “heavy-petting,” I suggested we make a journey outdoors. I remember feeling excited, confused, frightened and in a carnal state of not being able to think clearly AT ALL. I had JUST turned 17, and directly above trying to get into a good college, playing basketball, getting drunk with my boys while listening to 2pac and playing “Madden ‘97” on the weekends, having sex was #1 on my to-do list. Most of my homies (or so they told me) had lost their virginity by that time and I was growing tired of being “hoo-rode,” every time the subject came up.
I had a couple condoms that one of my boys had given me and we had decided to lie out on the trampoline in a sleeping bag in my backyard at 1AM to “watch the stars.” After about 3 minutes (which felt like 30) of me fumbling with a “slippery-piece-of-sh*t!” condom, I was ready to go but my lil’ soldier wasn’t having any of it. I had taken too long to go into “battle,” and now my comrade was having second thoughts about “going in.” In a state of forgetting that I was the “only Asian/Hapa cat on the ECHS basketball team,” I reverted to the “awkward, shy & chubby Chinese” kid, lying next to her demoralized. About 5 (it felt like 50) minutes later, my “Private First Class” received some “encouragement,” “stood to attention,” and the “battle” commenced. (*Apologies for all the military references. All weapons are phallic – ALL OF THEM.)
I remember looking in the mirror in the bathroom later that night after I had driven her home. More than ANYTHING, I felt a huge wave of relief wash over me. I had a ridiculous sh*t-eating grin on my face and thought to my (confused, slightly-retarded, overly aggressive, hormonal, teenaged) self, “…I guess I’m a man now.” =T
I look back at these thoughts and about the fact that while I truly wanted to have sex with my girlfriend at the time, there was a bit TOO much relief that came from it just being over and done with. As men, we get railroaded into having our masculinity questioned if we are not having (a lot of) sex with (many) women. I notice regularly, the ways that men are (at a very early age) cut-off from physical closeness. We don’t get hugged, kissed, nurtured and/or held by anyone in the way that (many) women do for most of their lives. What results is an internalized feeling that the only way we can obtain physical closeness is through sexual relationships with women. This leaves a TON of f*cking pressure on women in regards to these relationships and is why (I believe) sh*t can get so sticky (no pun intended =P) between men and women when it comes to sex.
There have been scientific studies done and it is a FACT that when human babies have physical contact taken from them, they die. They can be fed, bathed and properly tended to, but if they receive no physical human touch – THEY DIE. I wonder to myself, how many of those trapped in the Amerikan prison industrial complex today, received “closeness” as children. Thousands of men are incarcerated because they were/are deranged from feeling desperate enough, to force physical closeness on someone else by raping and/or molesting them. Prison is a place where human contact is forbidden and humans are literally “removed,” from humanity. I don’t believe the victims of these crimes should ever need to feel sorry for or forgive those who violated them, but I believe personally, the fact that baby boys don’t naturally murder or rape is worth thinking about.
Some parents only touch their children when the whip’s brought / That’s why bad kids do bad sh*t – just so they can get caught / and get touched – this growing up sh*t’s rough / that’s a big part of why we’re so mixed up / Sh*t, we don’t have Barmitvahs. We become men the first time our father hits us, and we don’t open gifts up…
-Brother Ali
Something happens to men, usually (but not always) of poor/working-class background in Amerika that takes us away from humanity. Sex – an expression of life, love and human survival, becomes a weapon of imperialism, colonialism, misogyny, commodity and oppression. Early European colonialists made attempts at “breeding-out” indigenous people. Many of my sisters in in Asia (and throughout the world) are sold into slavery through sex-trafficking. Catholic Priests abuse the trust of children and families, scaring them for life. Men abuse, molest and rape each other inside the walls of prisons to form hierarchies…and the beat(down) goes on…
I am currently engaged to marry to the woman of my dreams, and am experiencing the most amazing, incredible, earth-shaking futuresexlovesounds of my life (T.M.I.? – Sorry baby, that sh*t is true though! =P). The most beautiful part of lovemaking with my partner is that she and I are always (unless we’ve just completed a night of alcohol consumption together) in-touch with and “present” with each other.
*recording going off in my head: “you HELLA gay blud!”*
I am so incredibly blessed and fortunate to have learned from the craziness of my confusing life, what a true “life-partner” looks like as opposed to a “girlfriend.” We are able to communicate in no uncertain terms, the ways we struggle through our vastly similar AND immensely different backgrounds. She has helped me see the ways I allow my internalized sexism/male oppressor patterns to play-out, despite my best efforts to the contrary, and it makes me a better/stronger man. I assist her in seeing why I sometimes “show my ass,” as a raised-working-class, heterosexual, mixed race, Asian man. And while I may sometimes leave my clothes on the floor, “accidentally slip” onto certain websites that I really shouldn’t be anywhere near, watch too much sports on TV, and eat the wrong foods, I am FULLY prepared to pledge my eternal, undying love and devotion to an amazing, gifted, brilliant, beautiful, righteous, strong woman who won’t completely give-up on me for being an imperfect, chubby/skinny, awkward/sexy, Asian/Hapa basketball player from the “good” part of Richmond who just moved-on-up to the “bad” part of El Cerrito.
Life hurts so damn good.
No babies making babies. Chiggity-Check before you Wriggity-Wreck, my people.
Senbei
p.s. Isn’t it odd that when I talk about making love to my future wife, I hear old voices in my head telling me I’m “gay,” for that? LOL. Oh, Amerika…
p.p.s. “Asian men are hung like horses.” –Beu Sia
(This is written as part of the Youth Media Blog-a-thon, sponsored by Youth Outlook and WireTap.)
On Sunday, June 15, 2008, Broken Halos (Jeimil and I) will be performing at VOLUME CONTROL, a show created to fundraise/”FUN-raise,” for the upcoming 2009 Asian Pacific Islander Amerikan Spoken Word & Poetry Summit.
It will be hosted by my bro and sis, Adriel Luis & Ruby Veridiano-Ching of iLL-Literacy and promises to be off the got-dam hook. It will take place at Oakland’s own Eastside Cultural Center, located at 2277 International Blvd. and will begin promptly at 7pm. The admission cost will be a sliding scale of $10-$20, and ALL proceeds will go to funding the 2009 APIA Spoken Word and Poetry Summit. Please come through if you are around, as this evening is sure as hell going to be one to remember.
speak. be heard. spray the world with paper bullets.
Senbei
p.s. I yawn and wakeup, turn off my clock alarm, God is the greatest – allah hu akbar / thankful for the morning and the history of my young life, anxious for the glory and the wisdom of my hindsight / was itching for the limelight, but now I play the background, fixing to design life to udder to the cash cow / “got milk?” I need some vitamin d. but me, my smiling has ceased, my stylin’ is bleak, my dream’s designed to free / but it’s not, I’m paying dearly for it, my masterpiece is blasphemy im slaving yearly for it / but I spend my days with children that I’m willing to build with, and celebrate my funding til it rand-off like childress / damn god, I feel this…aching sense of desperation, making sense of hesitation’s insecurity / blast off and peel this, lyrical cap, a spiritual rap, a miracle in…fact, because…
My spirit lives inside the rhapsody, searching for person that I have to be / and I talk to my creator ’til im fast asleep / dreaming how I’ll be a brush stroke in her masterpiece…
“Nasty” Nas is probably my favorite rapper of all-time. I’ve been listening a lot to his old stuff lately and realize that he wasn’t like most of my other favorite rappers who progressed in and/or completely changed their rhyme styles, but has since the very beginning, been one of, if not THE greatest writer/poets in Hip-Hop’s history.
["It Aint Hard to Tell" @ 19(!) in '94]
["Street Dreams" '96]
Nasir hit a bit of a bump in the road in ‘98-’99 when he decided to run with the “shiny-suit” crowd (I aint even gonna speak on “Nastradamus” – OUCH), but please realize that although he was out-of-pocket, the man still absolutely destroyed some songs. LISTEN!
["Hate Me Now" (Damn you, Puff Daddy aka Puffy aka Puff aka P.Diddy aka Diddy, DAMN YOU!)]
["Nas is Like" in '98]
With songs like “Ether,” Nasty made a triumphant return to the top with his platinum selling, “Stillmatic.” Some people don’t like this next song, but to me it’s one of the hardest rap songs ever. The beat slaps, and he simply just pulls hella cats’ cards. I don’t approve of the Pac & Biggie comparisons, but there is still no doubt that he is is of the “upper eschalon” of rappers in their same weight-class.
["Got Urself a Gun" in '01]
After being officially back, “God’s Son” (also platinum) followed and contained another Nas classic, produced by Salaam Remi.
["Made You Look" '02]
Nas next delved into “Streets Disciple.” This was a double album that I felt would have been a classic, had he concentrated his best songs from this project into a single disc.
["Just a Moment" ft. Quan in '04 (Who got more style than Son do?)]
Nas’ last project was on the lips of every Hip-Hop head in the world. “Hip-Hop is Dead,” wasn’t my favorite album of Nas’, but it sparked a controversy that I personally felt made HELLA rappers step they game up somethin’ vicious. This record was dope to me, and also featured the first ever collaboration between Nas and long-time foe Jay-Z in “Black Republicans.” Them not killing eachother and keeping their battle on wax was so extremely GREAT for Hip-Hop. That sh*t aint dead, Son!
["Hustlers" ft. The Game & produced by Dr. Dre in '06]
The next album’s nomencalture is currently untitled and was recently changed from “N—r.” Yes, that word – the one I have decided to never use because of its origins, and because when you think about it, would it hurt anyone if this word was never used again? I personally believe most “liberal” White Amerikans don’t like hearing the word because it reminds them that there was (and still is today – but that’s another post altogether) a time when Anglos benefitted from the murder, rape and enslavement of Black people, and their “guilt-o-meter” shoots off the charts (and I say this as someone who has much privilege in the melanin arena). “The N-word” being used by Black Amerikans is not up to me (or anyone NOT of African heritage) to decide, but you can see why the title was so controversial. I think he should have kept this title to be honest with you, because people would have HAD to talk again (just like they did with “Hip-Hop is Dead”). If there’s one thing God’s Son is NOT afraid of, its controversy.
Anyhoo…this last video is a super dope AND wack. It is dope because it chronicles Nas’ career in Rap music. It is wack because I have the feeling they did it this way was because he is a lazy pot-head and didn’t wanna show up for another video shoot for his last album with Columbia Records (a “Greatest Hits” CD).
["Surviving the Times" '07]
“Nasty man from baggin’ grams and running from cops, to a mill’ on the hand, a mill’ on the watch…”
-Nas
Stillmatic,
Senbei
p.s. Name me a rapper that is AS grimy AND intelligent as Nasir, and I owe you a McDummy.
p.p.s. ‘Pac, Biggie, Pun & Big L (R.I.P.) don’t count because we didn’t get to see how far they would’ve gone. =(
SO. F*CKING. HILARIOUS.
Senbeez
p.s. Arigato Joshua Zachary Bloom.
p.s. Phonte (of Little Brother) GOES.
I am coming to grips with the fact that I am a sensitive muhf*cka.
Small instances can affect in me in very big ways. The thing I seem to have internalized and taken on as a raised working-class, hetero, male of color, is that I am incredibly talented at looking “cool, calm and collected,” regardless of what is going down. I can literally be dying inside while my outside looks like “business as usual.” I saw a white woman on the streets of SF yesterday who looked like she obviously had some “dependency” issues (sickly skinny, torn skirt, covered with dirt and a look of utter desperation in her face aka “Crack Kills”) and I wanted to pull over and cry my eyes out. Instead, I kept it moving, lowered my shades and sang along to T.I.’s “HURT” (see video below).
[What men who stare racism and classism in the eye everyday, can end up looking & sounding like.]
Rationally, I realize that the most intelligent and righteous human beings on this planet share this extreme sensitivity to anything that is violent and oppressive. What makes my sensitivity feel like a burden is the fact that when/where I was growing up, anything that resembled sensitivity was deemed “bitch,” “fag,” “WHITE,” etc., and usually meant you were going to be the subject of ongoing violence. As with many mixed race men of color (with one white parent) who are raised working-class, there is somewhat of a chip on our shoulder to prove that we are not soft, weak and/or someone who is to be taken advantage of (just watch Matt Barnes or Delonte West play basketball). I am thoughtful of the fact that I have internalized a feeling, that to “show” myself means being preyed upon and/or having my other brothers and sisters of color “questioning,” my authenticity.
Especially in the realm of Hip-Hop expression, does the need to feel invulnerable come into play. In a culture/expression rooted in a response to racism and classism, being a mixed race Asian man can bring a plethora of these (very old) feelings of needing to “stay safe,” to light. It is my personal belief that men (particularly of color) are amazingly brilliant and wise, but primarily use these gifts of vast intelligence to keep ourselves safe. Yellow, Red, Black or Brown, we learn (implicitly and explicitly) as little boys what will make us targets and what will not. For some of us, being loud and aggressive is a key to safety, for others it can mean silence, invisibility and disappearing into the shadows. We learn what clothing, shoes, accessories, etc. will make others around us admire and respect us, and whether it’s Girbaud, Lacoste or something colorful and worn from the thrift shop – we shop, shop, shop. We learn these things EXPLICITLY in things like an older cousin saying: “Quit crying like a lil’ B*tch,” as well as IMPLICITLY through the media in everything from (Governor) Arnold Shwarzenegger movies, to Maxim, King, XXL or GQ magazine.
The combination of the expectations put upon me as a man combined with my being raised working-class and of mixed race, has left me incredibly guarded. Breaking down these walls is very painful but also INCREDIBLY liberating. I notice new ways that taking chances with people in “showing myself” is 9 times out 10, met with respect and a genuine thankfulness that I have allowed myself to trust that person. The contradiction of a male NOT looking tough and prepared for violence is something I think most anybody appreciates when they see it. I also believe it is especially hopeful to my Black and Brown brothers and sisters of color, to see someone with pale skin not feeling the need to “prove” themselves, but actually showing up and being present in a progression toward justice, solidarity and peace. When we as men “show ourselves,” without the weight of fear (racism, homphobia, sexism, classism, etc.) on our shoulders, the limits of the imagination are boundless and the souls’ freedom doesn’t seem so discouragingly elusive.
*I am having a moment right now, picturing my homies I grew up playing hoop with, reading this entry and saying: “Omigod… F—in’ gay-ass n—a…”
*Moment passed. Yee.
The “War,” in Iraq is a failure of the imagination. It is the culmination of men (particularly of color and/or a working-class background) being pressured into NOT “feeling.” It is literally the face of little boys being bred to become violent aggressors that fight the wars waged by the wealthy men for profit, be it monetary or land ownership. The “War,” is necessary for those in power to remain there because the only thing Amerika really has going for us at the moment, is our military. Anytime we go into a recession, we go and pick a fight with someone. From the Civil War, WWI, WWII, Vietnam, Korea, and Desert Storm to “The War on Terror,” we’ve gone from fighting against other countries, to waging war on a word whose meaning is dictated to us by our “leaders,” and the media. Our “leaders,” have literally gotten THAT desperate to hold on to the power that they possess. Sh*t is downright satanic and tears my f*cking heart to pieces. It is a failure of the human imagination.
When I sit and hold my baby nephew Nolen, it is SO completely clear to me that boys are NOT designed to be killers and fight in wars, murder people and go to prison, or abuse, molest and rape women and children. BUT WE DO. We get told some very insane and hurtful lies as we grow up as to how we are to treat others, each other and ourselves. We become desensitized to violence and sexism through movies, video games, pornography, television shows, magazines, commercials, billboards and above and beyond that, a lack of positive, heterosexual, male role models who are brave enough to question our role as oppressors to women and LGBTQ folk.
[What men look like before we're lied to.]
While many of us get to hang on to the humanity we possess as infants; many of us do not. I believe I KNOW THE ANSWER to hanging on to that humanity, as well as why women on the whole can think clearer in terms of conflict resolution. The sad fact is that most of us men have lost the ability to access the most fundamental healing tool known to man: “BOYS DON’T CRY.”
At his Christening, I watched (my baby nephew) Nolen roll around in his scooter/high-chair, laughing and giggling until he bumped his knee on a pillar in the building. He (as all babies do) cried his eyes out for about one minute, and then kept it moving. He took a single minute to cry/heal, and then was good to eat smashed peas, drink formula, poop himself and fall into a deep, drooly slumber. From the time we are born, men have a perfectly developed system to heal from emotional/physical hurt but it gets taken away from us. While crying has been deemed “juvenile” and “feminine,” (which is oppressive) it is something that women on the whole can access when they truly need to without being punished in the same way men are.
I wonder very often, how different a person I would be today had I cried every time I felt hurt enough to do so. On one hand, I would probably be a lot less cynical about the world and have a lot more energy to remain hopeful. On the other hand, I may not be alive today. From the Mathew Sheppard and Steen Keith Fenrich to the Nazi holocaust (Gay people were targeted too), it is a fact that due to sexism, homphobia and other such outside forces, men who act in a way that is deemed “feminine,” have largely been targeted for destruction throughout the history of the world. It is very clear to me that the men who raised (and helped raise) me did not consciously assist in my becoming someone who is almost incapable of crying, but were rather using their extreme intelligence to teach me how I would need to act to not be made a target of.
*LONG-ASS SIGH… =T
THE MALE PSYCHE POST-WWII JAPAN
(I always bring it back to Japanese history somehow don’t I?)
After WWII, Japan was forced by the United States to disband its military. From then on, Amerika would be doing its fighting for them if anyone had beef with Nihon (Japan, blud). While this basically put them under the thumb of U.S. control, it also did some other things. From that day on, every Japanese scientist that designed weapons, guns, planes, tanks, warships, etc., had to find new work. What came into play was an electronics boom that was felt all over the world. Toyota, Honda, Mitsubishi, Sony, Kawaski, Nintendo, and a sh*tload of other Japanese companies began putting their best minds to work on automobiles, videogames, televisions, cell phones, computers, etc. Where the best and brightest once spent their waking hours thinking of new ways to design machines that kill people, they now thought of ways to get people from point A to point B, how to make speakers sound amazing, how to make video games that literally took you to another dimension, etc.
[Q: "Why are the Japanese just so great at making gadgets?" A: "Because Amerika don't let them make weapons."]
In this SAME way, I wonder what this world would look like if men (particularly of color/working-class background) grew up from little boys, not having to primarily use their brilliant minds to stay “safe.” I can think of bookoo muhf*ckas who probably could have gone to college, had they never had to think about what clothes to wear to attract women; had they cried and never had to smoke weed and drink cheap liquor to numb out their pain and anger; had they been allowed to smile at each other and treat women with respect without being branded a “straight-up, b*tch-made f*ggot,” etc. What if the majority of our best and brightest male minds didn’t have to spend so much time and energy working on playing this oppressor role “to a T?”
Not knowing the answer to that question is not only a failure of the imagination, but truly something to cry about.
With deep love, respect and appreciation for women and LGBTQ people who haven’t given up on their heterosexual brothers,
Senbei
So I had to shout-out the homie Phatty, aka DJ Phatrick (formerly of Native Guns) because he just dropped a fresh-ta-death new mixtape (and Broken Halos is all up in there, sun!). Asian American Hip-Hop for Dummies is a blend of SEVEN Hot 7 @ 7 – APEX EXPRESS RADIO Hip-Hop mixes.
APEX EXPRESS is an Asian Pacific Islander Public Affairs & Culture Radio Show in the Bay Area. It airs Thursday evening at 7PM on KPFA 94.1FM. DJ Phatrick is a DJ/host at APEX Express and represents truly for Asian Pacific Amerikan Hip-Hoppas with his wisdom, witty interviews and socially conscious (bullet)train of thought. DJ Phatrick spins his ARSE off as a DJ, rockin’ everything from Native Guns, Kanye, and Jiggaman to Sly Stone, Roberta Flack and James Brown. Until meeting Phatty, I had no idea there was another Asian kid out there who listened to or even knew of Tower of Power! Yeetadee.
Asian American Hip-Hop for Dummies has bookoo Native Guns and Blue Scholars (always a good thing) as well as verses from Jeimil and yours truly, Nate Krooks, Emassin, The Pacifics, Mountain Brothers, DJ Honda, Typical Cats, Dan the Automator, Skim, RJ, Jupitersciples & Lyrics Born. It was an honor to be included on this mixtape and I damn near sh*t myself (T.M.I.?) when I heard ”A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius,” from The Literary Ca(n)non album mixed in after Kiwi, absolutely destroying the Jus Blaze/Fat Joe “The Incredible,” instrumental.
Rumor has it that DJ Phatrick and my Spoken Word Jack-of-all-trades-brother-from-another-mother, Adriel Luis are working on a collaboration effort, aptly titled PRETTY BOUYANT. With Phatty’s taste for music with enough bass to make Barrington Levy uncomfortable, and Adriel’s superfulous wordplay and gully mind mechanics, I’m expecting a Chinese-Amerikan version of Gnarls Barkley mixed with Madvillain, Saul Williams and DJ Spooky. Checkout iLL-Literacy’s website for more details…
[Troublesome '08 - The Chinese Connection]
Buy the CD. Support endangered ART. Have a blast while you’re doing it.
“And I don’t need no hook for this sh*t…”
Senbeez
p.s. Come hangout at the Namu Bar in SF every 2nd & 4th Thursdays of the month. “Devils’ Pie,” GOES and is hosted by DJ Phatrick. Trick n’ Treat DJs, A 22oz Asahi and an order of deep fried calamari makes me smile inside. Thursday is the new Friday. Meet me there cuzcuz!
[Gnarls Barkley - Going On]
GOOD GOD, I HEART GNARLS BARKLEY. This video reminds me of Ghana, aka land of people who say what they mean, and mean what they say (what an idea, right?!?!?). Reading the lyrics makes me wonder if Cee-Lo’s ancestors are from Ghana. Hmmmmm…
I’ve seen it with my own eyes / How we’re gettin’ otherwise / Without the luxury of leavin’ / The touch and feeling of free is / Untangible technically / Something you’ve got to believe in / Connect the cause and effect / One foot in front of the next / This is the start of a journey. / And my mind is already gone / And though there are other unknowns / Somehow this doesn’t concern me.
And you can stand right there if you want…
But I’m going on / And I’m prepared to go it alone / I’m going on / To a place in the sun that’s nice and warm / I’m going on
And I’m sure they’ll have a place for you too…
Anyone that needs what they want, and doesn’t want what they need I want nothing to do with / And to do what I want / And to do what I please / Is first of my to-do list / But every once in a while I think about her smile / One of the few things I do miss / But baby I‘ve to go / Baby I’ve got to know / Baby I’ve got to prove it
And I’ll see you when you get there…
But I’m going on / And I’m prepared to go it alone / I’m going on / May my love lift you up to the place you belong / I’m going on / And I promise I’ll be waiting for you…
This song brings to mind, every person I’ve loved and had to leave behind. I had to “go on,” because you can only help someone as much as they want to be helped. There comes a point when you’ve done all you can to care for and support someone, and you come to realize that if you don’t “keep it moving” yourself, their behavior will actually cause YOU to digress. I encourage everyone out there who is struggling to love and support someone who struggles, to read these lyrics a few times through. Gnarls Barkley always seems to get me through tough times, and a platinum plaque proves that they do the same for millions of others.
I’m Going On Y’all,
Senbei
p.s. For those of you who don’t know me and wonder why a eurasian kid from the eastbay would talk about West Africa, it’s because I lived there during 2003-2004 through an education abroad program, and got turnt-out (in a good way). I feel like the only honesty I see in Amerika that resembles Ghana is from the young people that I work with each day. Thank God for Ghana, children and Gnarls Barkley. Church.
So I have a theory. And it is HELLA f*ckin’ long…
It relates directly to my life as the product of an interracial marriage (Japanese-Amerikan daddy & a Scottish/German/Native-Amerikan mama) and as a Hip-Hoppa (MC/DJ) raised working-class in the Eastbay (Richmond, CA) of the “Hip-Hop generation.”
I was at “Peoples’ Park” in Berzerkeley, CA last weekend with some homies for “Hip-Hop in the Park,” and it was quite the spectacle. After kicking it by a circle of diverse, fresh ta death B-Boys and a lineup that included Clyde Carson (of The Team), Mystic, Kiwi (of Native Guns) and Geologic (of Blue Scholars), the stage was being taken down and a cipher began in the crowd. I noticed a bunch of bunch of things here that made me both extremely happy and extremely frustrated.
The first thing I noticed was a Nigerian-Amerikan kid (about my own age) I had met through a friend earlier, absolutely destroying the mic device (someone brought a small boombox/PA and had beats playing). His flow was both powerful and effortless at the same time and it made me do my “I-smell-urine-face.” Another kid with long dreads (no he wasn’t white, even though we were in Berkeley) stepped to the mic and proceeded to get his shine on, kicking a more “spiritual” rap about finding oneness and using his 3rd eye to guide him. All of a sudden, out of nowhere comes a White kid dressed head to toe in what looked to be his best Malice-(of-the-Clipse) impression, and began screaming into the microphone about how hard of an emcee he was and how he “lyrically murders everyone.” White men (including some of my own beloved family members) take up a lot of space sometimes, without questioning for a second that they are in someone else’s “home.” (ie: ‘Member that time you went to a Japanese restaurant and those Cal Berkeley whiteboys were doing “Sake Bombs,” hooting and hollering at the top of their lungs while others tried to enjoy their meals??? You ‘member.)
Hip-Hop expression, and in particular “Rap,” music (the combination of the DJ/producer and Emcee creating syncopated audio) has historically been a vehicle for Black and Brown men to express their truest emotions as a response to poverty and oppression. Just as indignation (being “red-face” pissed-off) does not wear well on white Amerikans in regular walks of life (ie: a white guy angrily stating that minorities are taking all the jobs; (in)directly implying that those jobs are reserved specifically for him and people like him), it especially does not wear well in the realm of Hip-Hop music. Hearing a white emcee rhyme about how hard and angry he is, is not a contradiction to oppression in ANY sense (unless he was raised dirt-f*cking-poor around people of color, which contradicts certain stereotypes, but it’s still a slippery-ass slope and that dude could always write a book about his life and sell a bazillion copies). When this kid came into the cipher, he did not do it with respect or responsibility, but with a feeling of entitlement and a chip on is shoulder that made him feel the need to prove how “down,” he was. I think everyone in the area felt embarrassed and/or disgusted with/for him. “Pass the mic cuzcuz…”
H.E.R. “INTERRACIAL DATING”
If Hip-Hop, as Common so eloquently put it so many years ago, is a “H.E.R.,” there is little doubt in my mind that “SHE,” is a working-class Black Amerikan woman with some Caribbean and Latin ancestry. In the same way that people can question interracial dating; when a person who is not of the people who created Hip-Hop (ie: Black & Puerto Rican kids in the Bronx) is “dating H.E.R.,” questions will undoubtedly arise (ESPECIALLY if the person is not of “H.E.R.” same class background). The thing that makes the whole “Hip-Hop as a woman,” analogy kind of go to sh*t, is the fact that she has NO choice as to who “dates” H.E.R.
While Asian Pacific Amerikans were not around during its inception, there have been a plethora of contributions to the culture on our part. While Turntablism/Scratching/DJing was invented by DJs Grand Wizard Theodore, Grand Master Flash, Kool Herc and carried on by INCREDIBLE DJs like the X-excutioners, there is little doubt in most Hip-Hoppas’ minds that this “element,” of Hip-Hop is largely dominated by Pilipino-Amerikans today (Q-Bert, Yogafrog, Kid Koala (Chinese), Shortkut, etc.). Asian heritage producers like Soundtrakk (Lupe Fiasco), DJ Honda (Mos Def, Blackthought) Dan the Automator (Del, Lupe, Heiro, J5) and Chops (Kanye West, Raekwon, Paul Wall) have been putting together bangin’ beats since I was “knee-high to a caterpillars’ toenail.” Graffiti artists from all over Asia and their diaspora here in Amerika have contributed vastly to the world of “street art,” and Hip-Hop’s spray-paint-counter-culture. B-Boy/Girls of API (Asian Pacific Islander) heritage have been repping for a LONG time in Hip-Hop with true respect and reverance for the artform.
ASIAN PACIFIC AMERIKAN RAPPERS
This brings us back to emceeing (aka the “Voice,” of Hip-Hop expression). It is my personal belief that one of two things happen (or a combination of a bit of both) when an Emcee of API descent takes up the mic, and BOTH have EVERYTHING to do with our history in this country.
Scenario #1:
We contradict oppressive stereotypes by reclaiming a voice that has been stolen from us through emasculation, colonization, appropriation and institutionalized racism, following in our Black/Brown brothers’ and sisters’ footsteps. We use the realm of Hip-Hop expression to honestly express ourselves, contribute to the art form and stand as allies in solidarity with our sisters’ and brothers of color to combat oppression in all its forms.
Scenario #2:
We “step inside someone else’s ‘home’ without an invitation, without removing our shoes,” make asses of ourselves and never question it for a second. We maintain the status of “model minority,” by taking the same oppressor route as entitled, non-thinking whites and appropriate a culture that we did not create, contributing further to the ongoing institutionalized oppression of African/Latin heritage people who are being targeted for destruction.
AN EXPLAN(ASIAN) FOR IT ALL
Scenario #1:
I personally know many Asian Pacific Amerikans who possess knowledge of self and are highly politicized. The common bond I share with most of these folks is that they are usually (but not always) raised working-class around diverse groups of people. This is an incredible advantage but also an incredible disadvantage. It is an advantage because of the privilege that comes with not having any particular group shrouded in “mystery.” Having close personal relationships with many different kinds of people is the hugest gift someone can access because of the way it socializes you away from the world of television’s propoganda (ie: Black people being arrested on ‘Cops,’ Asian/Latinos nowhere to be seen but on channels where ZERO English is spoken, White people EVERYWHERE else, in roles as diverse as “Rambo,” to ‘Ross’ and ‘Chandler’ on “Friends.”). My close relationships with brothers and sisters from other groups “of color,” have provided invaluable insight to myself AND them, in the ways we can support and care about each other. My close relationships with white folks have also allowed me to realize fully, that the TRUE ENEMY of people of color is not necessarily people who are “white,” but the concept of “whiteness,” itself as an identity.
DO NOT GET ME WRONG. Being raised working-class leaves MOST people at an incredible DISadvantage. Because of the internalized anger at, and (many times) eventual ACCEPTANCE that the world is unfair, lives are lost and thrown away EVERY SINGLE F*CKING DAY. This acceptance leads to drug and alcohol dependency, theft, violence, murder, suicide and/or incarceration. It can also lead many times to the exact OPPOSITE affect of the “advantages” I have fore mentioned, leaving people believing that they are alone, isolated and disconnected from humanity – left to fend for themselves in an endless cycle of apathy and self-destruction.
Asian/PI folks must remember that we are by and large, a “3rd World” people. We were the first group to have laws made specifically to keep us from immigrating here (“Chinese Exclusion Act”), the only group of people on the planet to have nuclear weapons used on/against us (TWICE: Hiroshima/Nagasaki), Amerikans of Asian ancestry had their constitutional rights shredded and were incarcerated for their ethnic backgrounds (“Farewell to Manzanaar”), and our (GINORMOUS/DIVERSE) group of brothers and sisters have been colonized up the arse (Ghandi, LapuLapu, HoChiMihn: Holla if ya hear me!) since Alexander “the Great” marched from Europe to Asia. (F*ck your couch Colin “why-do-we-have-the-same-nomenclature” Farrel. “Alexander” was 5 hours of HOT garbage, blud.)
My API Amerikan Hip-Hoppa brothers and sisters who know their her/histories and do not buy into the myth of our role as the “model-minority,” posses an incredibly unique take on a country that has been largely racialized through a Black/White paradigm. Amerikans of Asian & Latino heritage view the U.S. through a lens that is neither “Black” nor “White.” Asians and Latinos are in some (and/or many) ways able to escape forms of institutionalized racism that Black Amerikans face on a daily basis (ie: Fair-skinned Asians and Latinos who are able to pass as “White” being less likely to be the victim of police brutality). But while Black Amerikans are treated as “2nd-class Amerikans,” Amerikans of Asian and Latino ancestry are not generally accepted by Amerikans (or the rest of the world for that matter) as true “Amerikans.” (I just said “Amerikans,” like 67 times. =P)
Using Hip-Hop as an instrument to give voice to the working-class API-Amerikan experience is a direct contradiction to racist stereotypes that we are not Amerikan. If the MC is male, it contradicts the racist notion that we Asian men are weak-willed, quiet, submissive, a coward (“yellow”), or that we exist at all. Our INVISIBILITY itself(!) is challenged outright. It is a direct contradiction to our role as the “model minority,” in that it expresses the way “class-ism” under capitalist oppression has affected our physical and psychological wellbeing and that we are NOT (as a ginormous/diverse group of Amerikans) benefiting under the current power structure. It is my personal belief that if you are an Asian Pacific Islander Hip-Hoppa, and being an ally to our Black & Brown brothers and sisters is nowhere in your mind, YOU ARE NOT HIP-HOP (mahf*ckin’ period – straight up and down).When Asian Pacific Amerikans use Hip-Hop in this way, with the underlying objective being the obliteration of ALL racist/classist stereotypes/oppression, “scenario #1” is in FULL-EFFECT and somewhere an Angel (of API descent) in heaven gets its wings. =D
Scenario #2:
*SIGH…
This is the part of the “game” that breaks my heart on a daily f*cking basis.
Amerikan “classism” (the oppression of people who are not wealthy) is uglier than being stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic after eating a bran muffin and drinking two large cups of coffee… =T (“Bubble-guts” aka “the sharts” does NOT go.)
Don’t stop reading this entry Hip-Hop lovers, but I HELLA LOVE Green Day (yes, the eastbay punk rock band). One thing they have brought to my attention is that there are a good number of white and/or middle class folks who are not only politicized, but DO NOT want to be set-up by Amerika to be oppressors. There ARE actually people who are born into places of privilege who DON’T want that privilege (crazy, I know!).
Let me set it straight that I am NOT for one second, asking any person of color to feel sorry for “white” people, or to give them props for not buying into the bullsh*t. I know personally that the majority of P.O.C. have explicitly and implicitly gone through too much grief, humiliation and hurt (on a daily basis) to even consider that and that IS NOT what I am asking you to hear. The point I want to bring to the table is that our API (and Black/Latino) brothers and sisters who were raised in white suburbia were UNDOUBTEDLY made to have a hard time and to feel outcaste in some way. As I have been privileged enough to know through my personal experience, both working-class AND middle-class life, the difference I have seen between these two walks of life is that OPPRESSION HAS A KINDER FACE IN MIDDLE-CLASS AMERIKA. I am not saying that I wish I could have been raised in a homogenous, sterile, low-brow, community on ridalin, because that doesn’t sound like a particularly “fabulous” childhood. But at the same time, I REALLY could have done without the possibility of my schools closing, getting robbed by neighborhood gangs walking home, and seeing my peers go to jail and/or die.
Here’s my point…and please remember that this is my PERSONAL opinion and ANYONE can feel free to disagree with me.
The voice of Hip-Hop aka ‘Emceeing’ in its purest, most original form (even if you disagree, please try to consider this possibility) MIGHT not be the place for suburban, middle-class, Asian Amerika to figure out its problems and search its soul. I feel personally in this arena, there to be too much of a disconnect between the fore mentioned group and the poor/working-class Black & Latino Amerikans who created emceeing and Hip-Hop culture itself. (ie: “The Joy Luck Club,” by my SHERO Amy Tan GOES, but if she made a rap album about her mama escaping an arranged marriage to a wealthy merchant’s son in China to come to the U.S., Hip-Hop probably woulda been like: “…the f*ck???”)
I believe that “scenario #2” happens most frequently within the API Hip-Hoppa community when middle and/or upper-class API Amerikans who are trying to find themselves, step into “Hip-Hop’s home,” carrying with them the baggage of feeling unaccepted and invisible from a White, suburban upbringing. These feelings of isolation and invisibility are prevalent and authentic because of racism and classism, but if poor/working-class Asian Pacific Amerikans have to enter the realm of Hip-Hop with a deep love and respect in order to gain true entry, Black and Latino Hip-Hoppas will (in my own experience) have even more trouble recognizing a middle and/or owning-class Asian Pacific Amerikan emcee AT ALL.
Due to racism and classism, emceeing (and breakdancing) is an element of Hip-Hop that does not require the accumulation of a lot of money. DJs/producers need a good amount of money for music, computer programs, turntables/CDJs, “serato,” etc. Graffitti artists must spend ludicrous amounts of cash for spray paint, materials, supplies and canvases (unless they keepin’ it gully like the olden days and bombing public and/or private property). Emceeing or “Rapping,” is one aspect of Hip-Hop that poor/working-class Black and Latino youth can access at ANY time in ANY place. While more and more middle-class Amerikans of all ethnic backgrounds are buying turntables and MPCs, rhyming is the one thing that has always been an equal playing field.
It is for this reason that I, along with most raised working-class Hip-Hoppas I know, are NOT quick to run to the store to purchase a rap CD made by an emcee who was is not Black or Latino and was raised middle/upper-class (ESPECIALLY if they are Anglo – see my experience at People’s Park).
THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND WEVILS
Try for a second (as I attempt to close this LONG-ass entry) to think of Hip-Hop as a HUGE garden filled with all different kinds of flowers, fruits, vegetables, flora and fauna of all types. The soil is incredibly fertile and when tended to properly, flowers, fruit and vegetation produce and bloom rapidy. However; as in any garden there are weeds siphoning off water away from the fruit bearing foliage. There are insects, wevils, rats, and other pests that are trying to survive and progress, but unfortunately their progression means the digression and eventual destruction of the garden. (Keep following me, don’t get lost!)
DON’T GET IT TWISTED. I think the majority of Hip-Hop has both a ton of “GOOD,” and some “WEVIL,” in ‘em. While someone like (my “swagadocio” HERO) Lil Wayne rapping about how much money and women he has, isn’t exaclty “liberating” to anybody, the way he does it and the VASTLY intelligent wordplay he uses does a few “liberating” things:
1. He contradicts racist stereotypes that young, Black men with tattoos/dreadlocks from poor/working-class neighborhoods (the 5th ward in NO, LA) will never amount to anything and be poor for the rest of their lives. “B*tch I’m paid, that’s all I gotta say…”
2. He may encourage ghetto-youth that don’t connect with White, Middle-Class teachers or “conscious,” rappers to read books, become educated and expand their knowledge of diction, the English language and their vocabluaries. “Quick-Draw Mcgraw, I went to art school…”
3. His ability to disassociate “the street,” being “hard,” and/or being of “the hood,” with having limited intelligence, just might change the perceptions of ANYONE who listens.
Stunna pop a bottle, baby peel us a blunt
Lets eat and talk about all them n—az we cut
But…you know what? Lets not f–k up our lunch
Thats real sh-t if you ever seen such.
Church.
On the other hand…
While Asian Pacific Amerikan males have been emasculated and face oppressive stereotypes on a daily basis, WE MUST NEVER FORGET that Black Amerikan men were at one point (not very long ago) LITERALLY emascualted, lynched, castrated, murdered, brutalized, kidnapped and enslaved; and up until 1964 (that was and hour ago TODAY, if you think of Amerikan history in relation to how old the earth is), didn’t have any rights in Amerika.
It is my personal frame of reference that if an API Amerikan of any class/ethnic background wishes to participate in Hip-Hop culture/music/expression, we must make a concentrated effort to not be “WEVILS,” in this beautiful garden. We need to plant seeds and tend to our (small, yet amazing) portion of the garden, with love, care and respect, making sure to not trample on anyone else’s blossoms (ESPECIALLY the one’s who created the damn garden to begin with!).
CLOSING (“Shut ‘Em Down”)
I AM IN NO WAY CLAIMING TO BE SOME OMNIPOTENT API HIP-HOP JUDGE AND/OR JURY. I have, due to racism and classism, oppression and privilege, participated willingly AND unwillingly in both “scenario #1″ AND “scenario #2.” I have at times ridden the fine line (particulary in my youth in Richmond public schools), as a partial “wevil,” when it came to this beautiful expression. What I CAN say for sure, is that TODAY, I ALWAYS make concentrated efforts to not be a “wevil” in this (not-so-secret) Garden, and that I keep the destruction of racism/classism, sexism, homophobia and ALL oppression at the forefront of my mind and in my music. I am working everyday to chip away at the feelings from racism/classism, that I have to look and act “tough,” “cool,” “hard,” etc. From the ages of 12-21, these feelings were warranted and those actions in many ways necessary (ie: kids who didn’t posses that “edge” were terrorized psychologically and physically, never had relationships with women, and were consistently preyed upon on a daily basis) but I am beginning to realize fully that this “suit of armor” no longer serves me in the way it once did.
If you read this the entire way through, I’d sincerely like to thank you for caring enough about and respecting the opinion of an Asian Pacific Amerikan Hip-Hoppa. This expression/music/culture saved my life in too many ways to name, and I love H.E.R. like a sister/lover/mother from now until forever. I only pray that this essay can serve as a testament to my undying respect and adoration for Hip-Hop and its UNLIMITED potential. I’d like to end this by quoting one of my HEROS. Saul Williams is pretty much the reason I ever started writing in the first place, and I continue to look to his poetry/prose/rhymes as a compass to my audio-sonic future. This passage is something I think about EVERYTIME I pick up a pen to write a rhyme and it goes a lil sumpin like this…
Most emcees are also concerned about telling their own coming of age stories. Their voices are easily likened to the voices of young poets, often contemplative and introspective to the point of questioning their reality, upbringing, and the society that bore them. Yet, where a special form of attention is paid to crafting a poem or a prayer, it is seldom the same sort of attention used in writing a rhyme. The braggadocio aspects of emceeing are a distinguishing factor. Part of the unique power of hip-hop is its internal sense of competition. Every emcee is automatically pitted against the others. The competitive nature of the art helps create an environment where most are concerned about displaying their skills while at the same time putting down the skills or abilities of others. As in any gladiator-like sport, those involved are most concerned about not leaving themselves vulnerable on any given side. It is this factor that serves to distinguish the emcee form the poet. Whereas an emcee may see displaying his or her vulnerabilities as a weakness, a poet will often see the ability to display vulnerability as a strength. It is when the careful balance between the two is found that hip-hop is at its most powerful…
-Saul Williams
IN DEBT TO H.E.R. FOREVER,
Colin Masashi Ehara aka MC SENBEI aka DJ C+
p.s. This essay could have been 3X(Krazy) as long if I had gone deeper into white Hip-Hoppas and Asian Pacific Amerikan WOMEN Hip-Hoppas. That’ll mos definitely come later. Stay tuned beautiful people.
“Rising Down,” is Philly Hip-Hop Legendary super-group, The Roots‘ 8th album and that sh*t is absolutely f*cking fabulous.
["Rising Up" feat. Wale & Chrisette Michelle]
The album opens up with “The Pow Wow,” a crazy phone convo between Blackthought (Emcee extraordinaire/frontman of The Roots) & ?uestlove (producer/drummer extraordinaire) screaming at what I can only assume to be their manager about being taken advantage of. This meeting of the minds is anything but friendly, but it sets a tone to the album that left me ready for something confrontational and unapologetic.
The first song on the album is “Rising Down,” featuring Mos Def & Stles P. While I LOVE this song immensely (that ?uestlove beat is the hardest sh*t since MC Ren!) I felt it strange to open a Roots album hearing Mos Def. I am a thorough supporter/fan of Tariq “Blackthought” Trotter, and the vast array of guest appreances on this album made me feel a bit cheated as to hearing only a single verse from him on most songs. I DID love that they had folks you might not expect on board with this project (ie: Saigon, Styles P, Peedi Peedi, etc). In comparison to most of Hip-Hop, esecially the newcomers, these dudes can do no wrong in my (highly critical/analytical, rap-nerd-to-the-fullest) book. This crew ALWAYS puts it down and does something totally unique and different with each project they produce. I have yet to see them live (which kills me), but I know it’ll happen someday.
My Fav Joints on “Rising Down.”
- “Rising Down” feat Mos Def & Styles P
- “Get Busy” feat Dice Raw & Peedi Peedi
- “Criminal” feat Truck North & Saigon
- “I Will Not Apologize” feat Porn(?) & Dice Raw
- “Unwritten” feat Mercendez Martinez
- “Rising Up” feat Wale & Chrisette Michelle
Sonically, this is one of my favorite Roots albums of all time. It probably is #3 behind “Things Fall Apart” and “Game Theory.” I liked it more than “The TIpping Point,” (#4) because of its musicality, but less because I loved the way “The Tipping Point” showcased Blackthought’s meticulous/superfulous lyrical genius.
This aint even on “Rising Down,” but I have to end with this small tribute to Blackthought along with my begging for him to complete that “Dangerous Thoughts” collabo album (with DangerMouse!) I heard cats talking about a while back.
[The Web off of their last album, "The Tipping Point."]
(Press Play. Read along. Be amazed.)
And it weights a ton / ‘riq geez motherfuckers I’m a son of a gun / Black master of any trade under the sun / Talk sharp like a razor blade under the tongue / clear my path and come get your captain hung / Trying to breath like black’ll collapse your lungs / Young chump you could choke off the web I spun / I done cleared ‘em out from the threat I brung / You done heard about what set I’m from / My nigga, word-a-mouth little rule-a-thumb / Y’all better bow down when the ruler come / I’m a real hood nigga not a hood-a-lum / The way Thought put it down be confusin’ some of y’all / cats can’t walk while chewin’ your gum ‘n all / With a keyboard got do with a drum ‘n all / School ‘em on stage like I’m doin’ a seminar / Professional type, I’m adjusting my mic / Go to war kid I’ll give you any weapon you like / Give you something to run from, bust off your dum-dum / Stop kid, that hot shit you know where it come from / It’s philly world-wide phenomenom / And reinforcin’ that shit is my 9-to-5 / And when I finish making you recognize / I’m getin’ at a couple civilized women that’s tryin’ to ride / You were waitin’ on the raw to come off the oil / You wanna get the bitches up off the wall / Just to see you smile and enjoy yourself / To keep you in health, this for all of y’all / I’m quick on the draw like Black McGraw / And I can’t tell what y’all cats rappin’ for / My name ‘riq geez and I’m back for more / To get more chips than the corner store / with a portrait of Malcom X on the door / while I’m eatin’ MCs like a carnivore / Matter fact, ease back ‘fore you get harmed / Ring the, warning horn when I’m gon’ perform / The first nigga that move, or disturb the goove / I’m a have y’all flicks on the evening news / Play y’all part – get on y’all P’s and Q’s / And when y’all think Thought, be prepared to lose / Bring money to spend and somebody to lend / And some worthwhile money not twenties and tens / Get took for your tuck right in front of your ‘hens / Who coulda help you nigga, not none of ya friends / Because, I put a black fist under ya chin / Have your physical remains found under the pen / If I’m coming up in the place, I’m coming to win / Wasn’t in it for a minute, now I’m dumbin’ again / ‘riq geez ock, y’all can chat what y’all please / Receive what I’m gonna give back to y’all please / ‘cuz y’all don’t really wanna get clapped with all these / My man, you can take y’all strap when y’all leave / You see the squad come in the place, they all freeze / Ice cold, with his mellow cool breeze / MCs, never showed loyalty yet / Kool Herc ain’t never get a royalty check / I do work, no question, and bomb your set / I’m calm collect, sharp like my name Gillette / RIP my man Gillette / Until I touch the mic, y’all people ain’t seen danger yet / I’m a decorated vet, I regulate and wreck / Never hesitated yet, I’m gettin’ heavy weighted checks / If you would dare ask if I’m dedicated – yes / I spit, live rounds that would penetrate a vest / Nigga, take ya seats I’m a demonstrate a test / How to freak the beats, so gangsta fresh / And it thump, from the east coast to Bangladesh / Big bank, willy gank smoke the thing to death / But hold tight, cuz it’s not over yet / I don’t even feel like I’m not sober yet / And it ring like shots in the projects new year’s eve / And it ain’t even October yet / I’m a big bounty hunter like Boba Fett / Y’all more shell shocked then a soldier get / If the prize in my sights then I’m goin’ for this / Whoo whoo ‘riq geez be the ultimate / I’m the corporate, give me the bulk of this / ‘riq set it on the magnetic ultra tip / Get down how you ‘posed to get / I got nothing to lose, I’m a killer with no regrets / I’m like young LL, cuz I’m hard as hell / Makin’ niggaz screw face like Gargamel / Now I’m all out on my own like Patty LaBelle / Put the pimp game down on your mademoiselle…
Keep the beat goin’
Keep the beat goin’
Church.
(You can’t tell me he don’t look jus a lil bit like THE GS (Oakland) Warrior, B.Diddy.)
(…except, I don’t think Blackthought woulda taken this pic. Wut the wizzle, Boom Dizzle?)
“The future is now, no muting the sound, through music I found my ROOTS underground…”
Please support these incredible mahf*ckas and buy their CD today.
PAZ.
Sen
OCTAVIA BUTLER (1947-2006) IS PROBABLY MY FAVORITE AUTHOR OF ALL-TIME.
Octavia Estelle Butler (June 22, 1947 – February 24, 2006) was an American science fiction writer, one of very few African-American women in the field. She won both Hugo and Nebula awards. In 1995, she became the first (and as of 2007, the only) science fiction writer to receive the MacArthur Foundation “Genius” Grant.
“Genius,” grant indeed. When I first picked up a copy of “Kindred,” I wasn’t too sure what to expect. As a mixed race API male, this was my first ever look into Black, feminist, science-fiction literature and I had my mind rocked in ways I didn’t know it could be rocked. Think Jimi Hendrix/Kurt Vonnegut having a baby with Arundhati Roy/Maya Angelou. SERIOUSLY.
“Kindred,” is the story of Dana, a Black Amerikan woman living a seemingly normal life in the 1970’s, when some crazyass (to put it HELLA LIGHTLY) sh*t goes down…
The novel tells the story of Dana, an African American woman living in 1976 who is repeatedly thrown back in time to the antebellum South. She is unconsciously summoned (through means that are never explained) by her ancestor, Rufus, from the time he is a child through to adulthood. Rufus is white and from a slave-owning family. She also meets Alice, another ancestor, who is forced to become Rufus’s mistress. Dana is placed in the difficult position of making certain that Rufus and Alice have a child, Hagar, who is Dana’s direct ancestor (thus ensuring Dana’s own survival). Dana is also forced to cope with an environment which forces her into slavery every time she enters it.
Each time she travels back in time, she stays longer (Although time in antebellum south is “shorter” than real time. She only goes back in time when Rufus would have killed himself otherwise. Dana only returns to the present when she is extremely scared.
This book was the most imaginative yet vivid look at what affects slavery had on the Black AND White Amerikan psyche. The story goes from an edge-of-your-seat, terrifyingly horrific thriller, to a poignant, introspective story of love and determination. Butler never once eases up and describes in the greatest depths, the horror experienced by her characters and the devastating pains Dana confronts in discovering her bloodlines and ancestry.
While “Kindred,” made me an immediate fan of her work, my personal favorite collection of Butler’s is without a doubt “Lilith’s Brood” (aka “The Xenogenesis Trilogy”). This story is a trilogy comprised of “Dawn,” “Adulthood Rites,” and “Imago.”
The central characters are Lilith and her genetically altered children. Lilith, along with the few other surviving humans, are abducted by extraterrestrials, the Oankali, after a “handful of people [a military group] tried to commit humanicide,” leading to a missile war that destroyed much of Earth. The Oankali have a third gender, the ooloi, who have the ability to manipulate genetics, plus the ability of sexually seductive neural-stimulating and consciousness-sharing powers. All of these abilities allow them to unify the other two genders in their species, as well as unifying their species with others that they encounter. The Oankali are biological traders, driven to share genes with other intelligent species, changing both parties.
So basically…human beings have destroyed themselves AND the planet earth. An Alien race of healers bring us back to life, but in order for Human Beings to survive, we must mate with this “Alien,” species and create a new race of beings. Some understand and submit willingly, others rebel and attempt to kill the creatures that gave us life again.
“Dawn,” is the story of Lilith and her introduction to a new life and a new “race,” of beings. She ends up creating a child with her rescuers (after a multitude of violence/craziness/internal & external struggle) named Akin. Akin is a Human/”Oankali” hybrid. Unlike human beings, the “Oankali,” have a 3rd gender group that is needed in order for these beings to mate/reproduce (bananas, I know).
“Adulthood Rites,” is my favorite in the series and tells Akin’s story. I identified with this story in myriad ways because so much of it calls upon the experience of mixed race people. He is able to move easily among both Human Beings AND the Oankali, but also never feels completely “at home,” in either group. This story also goes deeper than my feeble mind had ever been able to grasp previously, into issues of gender and the fact that it is a dynamic that moves in a circular motion and is not a “black/white” spectrum (bananas, I know).
“Imago,” is about Lilith’s other child Jodhas. Jodahs is born “Ooloi” (the 3rd gender in the Oankali race) and as a hybrid Human/Oankali, is able to change between male AND female depending on his/her/its’ surroundings. The English language does not have a word in its’ vocabulary that describes a sexless being (bananas, I know!).
Another dope piece of Butler’s thought-prose is the final book she put out before passing on to sit by God, entitled “Fledgling.”
The novel tells the story of Shori, who appears to be a 10 or 11 year old African-American girl, but is actually a 53 year old vampire, or “Ina.” The story opens as Shori awakens with no knowledge of who or where she is, in the wilderness, hungry and suffering from critical injuries. Although she is burned and apparently has major skull trauma, she kills and eats the first animal that approaches her. After she kills again and heals, it becomes clear that she has complete amnesia, no memory at all of her former life. After discovering a burned village that feels familiar but of which she has no memory, a construction worker named Wright picks her up on the side of the road, and they begin a symbiotic relationship in which he receives great pleasure from her biting him and drinking his blood. The novel follows her exploration to discover who she is, who the people are who were burned and killed in the village, and why the people who killed them want her dead as well.
This book is (you guessed it!) BANANAS. Shori is a V.O.C. (Vampire of Color) and because of her melanin/pigment, she is less vulnerable to sunlight(!) than her pale, European Vampire bretheren.
Octavia Butler is a testament to the sheer potential of power and brilliance of the human mind and is my SHERO to the fullest. I just began reading “Seed to Harvest,” another compilation that includes “Patternmaster,” Mind of My Mind,” “Survivor,” “Wild Seed,” and “Clay’s Ark.”
The Patternist series (also known as the Patternmaster series) is a group of science fiction novels by Octavia E. Butler that detail a secret history continuing into the future from the Ancient Egyptian period to the far future, involving telepathic mind control and an extraterrestrial plague. A profile of Butler in Black Women in America notes that the themes of the series include “racial and gender-based animosity, the ethical implications of biological engineering, the question of what it means to be human, ethical and unethical uses of power, and how the assumption of power changes people.
BANANAS, I KNOW!
Do ya’self a favor and buy them ALL.
Octavia Estelle Butler (June 22, 1947 – February 24, 2006)
Thank you for always droppin’ Science (F[R]ICTION).
With deep love, respect and gratitude,
Colin Masashi Ehara
p.s. Drop that Science…
