My Love Letter to Hip-Hop
By Bitter Bitch (May 15th, 2003)
Hip-Hop is a black man and he used to love me. But Hip-Hop doesn’t love me anymore - a, loyal, black woman. I used to be so in love with him, but I am falling out of love because he has become too violent, lewd, and disrespectful it’s like I don’t even know him anymore. Hip-Hop has a cheating heart. He is constantly flirting with Violence and Death. Ms. Bling-Bling has his nose wide open and Foolish is his best friend. Hip-Hop is now a drunk ass weed head. He lacks the direction and passion he used to have when we first fell in love back in the early 70’s. Now that he has the acceptance of the mainstream he seems to constantly regress. His anger used to be beautiful and full of fire - aimed at systematic discrimination and injustice. He used to call himself prophet, MC , revolutionary, messenger but now he reduces himself to thug, gangster, and pimp. He has reduced me to nothing but hips, tits, and ass. I feel like a nagging housewife whose husband spends more time at the booty club than at home. It’s not even me that he fantasizes about anymore. Gone are the days when he idolized my black beauty and Afrocentricity. I guess the glare of Bling-Bling has skewed his sense of beauty. The women in his videos are mutations of my best qualities, MUTS for short. They have my ass, lips, ample bosom, and thighs – but the rest isn’t me - not all the way.
Now that he is accepted, and a viable thriving industry you would think that he would sport me on his arm. You would think that his ascent would be dignified and a victory for us all, since it was US that put him there. White American couldn’t deny him/us any longer. Not with their commercials and children singing his praises and mimicking his style. Hip-Hop was such a bad brotha that he turned the fashion world on it’s ear and made the entire world embrace him. He changed the face of music all over the world. Now my thoughts read like a Lauren Hill song, I used to Love Him.
Not only has he left me behind but his community as well. Gone are the days in which Hip- Hop used to call for a change in his neighborhood – he know brags about killing for a block that he doesn’t own. He glamorizes the lifestyle that is crippling our community. He’s mainstream but he’s killing me. He’s leading our kids astray and spending money like it will never cease to flow. He doesn’t realize that whites make more money off of him than he could ever blow on platinum teeth and cars with a fucked up suspension because 24 inch rims DON’T BELONG ON A JAG. I don’t know Hip-Hop anymore.
I had a sister once, she too was a growing force in Hip-Hop’s world. But she’s undergone a personality split – you know like Sybil? Where once Sister Hip-Hop stood for strength, pride, courage, and grace – she know raps like a thug or dons G-strings made of lace. She is similar to the video hoe – but she has a flow. She’s a thugged-out chick or she raps about sucking dick. Why can’t we express ourselves in veiled sensuality? To sell a record why does everyone have to see her pussy? Hip-Hop you and your sister are killing me. Killing us. Is this what fame does to us?
I like to watch white comedians and stars imitate us, because it reflects just how they see us. It lets me know what level we’re on. What we’ve accomplished and what we need to work on. They dress in gold chains and baggy pants. Hop around on stage pretending to dance. Saying “Yo yo yo this is how blacks talk. Look at my gait, this is how blacks walk.” Last time I checked we had more style, class, and finesse without all of the platinum, diamonds, cars and mess. But with all of the money and fame, we still appear lame. Sometimes I’m ashamed.
Hip-Hop, I expected so much more from you. Like the song in Mahogany asks, “Do you know where you’re going to? Do you like the things that life is showing you? Where are you going to? “ Hip Hop where are you going to? As a race you are taking us with you and our children too. The guns, glitter, and cars. We are showing the world class is not a prerequisite to be a star. Now we have to deal with 50-Cent, Em, Busta, and Ja. Beefing and I am not sure why. Day after day and rhyme and after rhyme the bullshit escalates as America sits on the front lines. We no longer judge diss records of who is more skilled. The winner becomes the one whose not killed. But like with Pac and Biggie – nobody won. We lost 2 icons, their mothers lost 2 sons. Don’t let me get started on all of these disses. Grown ass men with sensitive egos like sissies. Battle records used to amaze us with their wit, sarcasm, and imagery. Now everyone is just taking cheap shots at one another’s family. Personally I think it would easier if they just whipped out the ruler and measured their dicks instead these mother’s losing sons and these kids becoming fatherless. In the name of rap this bullshit should cease, with all of your mansion in cars – why put your beef in the streets? Why put your insecurities on display? Defame your brother, just to get airplay? There’s enough money, diamonds, and fame for everyone one to enjoy – why do you have to wish death and destruction on your brother, your colleague, your boy? I’m not saying ya’ll have to be friends, but there will never be peace on the streets if you don’t uphold it on your end. As long as ya’ll continue to act like niggas – there will continue to be more Pacs, Biggies, little Nases, and Jiggas. All beefing to prevent looking soft. Hip Hop you got me turning my radio off.
Originally appeared in Playahata.com.