The years spanning 1991 to 1993 are widely recognized as the peak of golden age Hip-Hop. This title has been rightfully earned due to the creativity and diversity present within the music produced at the time. But what about what came after? Hip-Hop’s evolution and growth in popularity during this period led to the dilution of its creative impact and what I would consider to be a stale placeholder of what once was. By no means do I intend to assert that the art form has no value now, but rather that this diverse and complicated genre has found itself riddled with stereotypes. To understand how it reached this point, we must dissect the evolution of Hip-Hop. Originally a creative tool of expression used by and for Black people, it has transformed into a commercial beast that dominates the way we, as Black people, perceive ourselves.
Hip-Hop is not just a genre, but a way of living for the people who partake in it. It is a culture that is a culmination of the history, language and media of the Black community. It feeds into the music, and the music in turn feeds back into it. Beyond that, it is an expression of creativity that Black and brown people use to uplift themselves from the struggles that plague their communities.
In the face of the peak of the crack epidemic, these struggles intensified. When crack use surged in cities, legislators brought about the War on Drugs, and economic destruction and hopelessness followed. In his article “The Crack Epidemic and the Transformation of Hip Hop: A Bronx Tale,” Mark Naison discusses how Black artists responded to the crisis. The first response was to push Black unity and resilience, drawing influence straight from the Black Power movement of the ’60s and ’70s, in which the Black community asserted racial pride and empowerment. This is reflected in the music of artists like Public Enemy, which contained politically charged messaging and lyrics that appear in songs like “Fight The Power” and “911 Is a Joke” among others. By uniting, the community could reclaim its power and fight against the daunting systems at play. The second response is best understood as the emergence of the “hustler” or “gangsta” figure as both a hero and anti-hero for the Black community. The “hustler” and “gangsta” figures were very alike and originally represented success by any means necessary. In “The Hip Hop Wars”, Tricia Rose depicts these figures as a complex reality within major cities during tough times. Groups like N.W.A. sought to take on the livelihoods of these figures and tell their stories.
The generation consuming music at this time had almost nothing to lose and everything to gain. They were seeking escapes from poverty, addiction and violence in their communities and were in desperate need of power over their own livelihoods. In his book “Somebody Scream!” Marcus Reeves discusses how once the “hustler” figure became an icon that everyone wanted to exemplify, N.W.A took advantage: “The age of crack turned urban Black communities into cauldrons of selfishness, paranoia and violence, and N.W.A turned those sentiments into a fresh musical movement.” N.W.A.’s success was a cultural reset that changed the trajectory of Hip-Hop from that point on by solidifying “gangsta” rap as a distinct subgenre.
N.W.A. was violent, ruthless, a little scary and unmatched in power and reach. The group released countless songs that blew up in the charts, while also discussing issues close to the communities from which they came — including those involving the police and systemic racism. However, Ice Cube’s departure from the group led to less politically charged messaging and more controversy. N.W.A. began emphasizing what we now understand to be key to music of this era: the degradation of the Black woman, the glorification of violence and drugs, and the rise of the “hustler” icon which manifested in both their artistic and personal lives. A prime example of this is Dr. Dre’s physical assault on Dee Barnes, which only helped to reinforce his “gangsta” image amongst the general public. The members of N.W.A. were by no means the only rappers who glorified these ideals. 2 Live Crew and Geto Boys were habitual offenders. Violence and misogynoir — hate and prejudice geared specifically toward black women — were becoming common issues for rappers, and the community was torn.
This problem bubbled and boiled over outside of cities and into white America — this changed the game completely. “Gangsta” rap’s spread in non-Black sectors of the United States led to peaks in commercialism, allowing it to become a product to be sold to white teenagers. There are many essays that document the appeal of “gangsta” rap to white Americans, but readers of The Source magazine put it best: “gangsta” rap gives white consumers the chance to “live out their ‘Ghetto fantasies’ ” and opens up a massive market in the music industry. As a result, a formula for Hip-Hop music began that needed to be followed because straying would decrease profits. This led to the exploitation of Black artistry, seemingly pigeonholing Black artists into the “gangsta” and “hustler” roles in order to garner contracts with record labels.
This history has led to what many would consider to be a diluted genre centered on violence and embedded misogyny. On this issue, I’ll admit I’m very torn. Despite all of this history, Hip-Hop has expanded far beyond the limitations it has faced. After the golden age’s end, Hip-Hop would continue to grow both regionally and musically. The fusions of jazz and funk in rap allowed for innovative music that would dominate the music sphere. On one hand, my heart swells with pride when I consider the genre and all of its history — no matter how painful — because it represents the resilience of my community. On the other hand, it can be hard to accept the underlying themes still present in music today as well as the commercial formula that allows the exploitation of Black artists to continue. It is important though to acknowledge the Black women in the industry who opposed misogynoir within their music. Queen Latifah, Missy Elliot, Lauryn Hill and countless others have made strides in combating these controversial themes.
Whether Hip-Hop has been ruined or elevated is subjective, and in reality, it’s likely a mix of both. As commercialization pushes the genre to center money, the original purpose has been left behind. It feels as though the genre made for us and by us has been hijacked, and I am left with uncertainty. Misogynoir and violence are still overwhelmingly present within Hip-Hop, and their effect on consumers can not be understated. Will we continue to produce music at the expense of Black women and the overarching community? Or will we find a way to reinstate agency over the genre and use it as an uplifting force throughout our community? Many artists are at the forefront of moving us all forward. But with many prominent figures still upholding these problematic values, I can’t help but wonder if we’ll always be tethered to the past.
MiC Columnist Karis Rivers can be contacted at kvrivers@umich.edu.