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Category Archives: Music

An Open Letter to Men (RE: Take Care)

There are two things that irk me. Pretenders and haters. People who spend their lives pretending to be whatever and hatin’ on whomever can pretty much get doused with a bucket of slime. Nickelodeon. Unfortunately, the release of Take Care brought out the hatin’ ass pretender in men around the country. To mask their deep appreciation (what else) for a record that actually speaks to a portion of their every day experiences, men started pretending like Take Care wasn’t for them. Even worse, men started acting likeTake Care was garbage because, well, what kind of rapper doesn’t lie about who he is? Men lied and said they grew ovaries listening to it. Men hated on Drake for talkin’ about women, instead of bad b*tches and h*es. Men hated on Drake for…uhh…dealing with the consequences of making major choices in your twenties. The thing about Drake that appeals to female audiences isn’t that his music is effeminate/emotional/for suckas. It’s simply that he’s every guy every woman has ever been in a relationship with in Mp3 form. We don’t relate to Drake. We know him because Drake makes music for men who date and sleep with women. That emo light-skin ninja you love to call soft? That’s ya’ll. Every. Single. One of you.

So, you think “Marvin’s Room” is the “player haters anthem” sung only by the ultimate lonely boy?  Actually, that song is the very conversation your girl is having with her homeboy about you right now. Yep, that’s right. Somewhere in the world, your girlfriend’s brother/homeboy/ex-man/father is telling her that she can do better—much better—than you, sir. Despite your best efforts to disguise it, women know that men actually hold women in high-esteem. It’s why you’re annoyed with the dude your home-girl/sister/ex is chillin’ with right now (no one’s good enough for her). In truth, sometime this week you’re going to tell your home-girl, sister or ex-girl that she can do better, too. Maybe she can, maybe she can’t. But the point is, someone thinks so and someone is, in fact, “player hatin’.” It’s the reason why your home-girl calls you at 3am complaining about her man. She wants to hear someone player hate the sh*t out of her current dude. And, you know why she calls you out of her 27 female BFF’s? It’s not because she wants a “male perspective.” It’s because she knows you’re down for some good old-fashioned player hating delivered in the form of perspective. In fact, Adam was using that “I’m just sayin’” line on Eve way before Drake was even born. Genesis.

You can’t stand hearing Drake warn his girl to stop wasting her time with him because he’s focused on his grind right now? Really? Because that seems to be the theme of  most relationships that take place between the ages of 20 and 32. Drake telling an accomplished woman that he’s proud of her is a little too sappy for you? I get it. It’s cooler to tell a woman that you’re proud of her thighs, huge a**, long hair, and light skin. But, that has to get old. Or, maybe it doesn’t. To each his own.

The thing that gets me isn’t so much that men like to deny that they actually relate to this dude—It’s that most of y’all are worse than him. Care Bears. You can’t stand his whining? Yeah…okay. If Drake spent one hour sifting through me and my friends’ inboxes, he’d have enough material to write his next four albums just based off of the dozens of emotional e-mails men like to send when they even think they’re in love and sh*t starts going bad. If he went ahead and added Gchat conversations to the mix, he’d have enough material to last a lifetime. Give him a spy cam to watch over our most personal moments filled with testosterone tears, male sniffles and he-man hissy-fits, he could write enough material for the next seven generations of “emo rappers.”

 Now, I’m not going to sit here and say that Drake is the greatest rapper alive (far from it), but he’s definitely an accurate representation of straight men everywhere. I guess you could say he’s “not a rapper.” That may be true at times, but not because he sings “too damn much.” Rather, Drake’s not a rapper in the traditional sense. Most rap is about smashin’ bad chicks and getting’ racks on racks. Drake, on the other hand, is about consequences. He talks about what happens when you get money to blow too young to make good choices with it. He talks about dating women who’ve been hurt. He talks about being hurt. They’re conversations that men have with their home-girls and the fights you’re having with your girl right now. Maybe men don’t appreciate Drizzy airing out their emotional laundry. Whatever it is, women know what’s up, no matter how much you try to deny it.

Why Conscious People Should Listen to Commercial Rap

“Judging by ‘H.A.M.’ and ‘Otis,’ I honestly can’t think of two rappers more out of touch with their audience. Unemployment is sky high, particularly amongst black youth.”- The Black Youth Project. 

I’m not the most conscious person I know—and I mean the type of consciousness that compels folks to change their name from Bobby to Abubakar.  Shit, far from it. I rock a weave long enough to rival Beyonce’s 9 out of 12 months, I choose to read YBF instead of books written by scholars and people with names I can’t pronounce, and I pretty much spend my time thinking about myself. I even chose to spend my year traveling in Europe and Asia and saved Africa for another time. And, yes, BET does entertain me.

Amidst all of my non-consciousness, however, I love my people. I’ll join in on the struggle when needed. I’ll show up at whatever protest, pass out whoever’s fliers, and phone bank ‘til I’m blue in the face. I don’t say the “N” word in casual conversation and I’m even going to law school to help out the folks who don’t have a voice and help to rectify the structural dynamics that systemically oppress poor and minority people. But, somehow I always blow whatever consciousness I’m showing by committing the ultimate sin truly conscious folks don’t do (at least in public)—I listen to commercial rap. This means that I have to tell people I’m listening to Common, when I’m really listening to anything but him. No, I mean the ratchetess rap. Ever. I listen to enough misogynistic lyrics to convince me that stripping really wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. Right? Law school’s expensive. Hey, Weezy taught me. Sue me.

 Not only do I listen to commercial rap, I don’t trust people who don’t. In fact, if you don’t have a theme song in the key of your favorite rapper, I assume you ain’t ‘bout shxt. I hustle, hustle, hustle, hard.  I want to get money. I go H.A.M…in the struggle. Look at me now, Mama I made it! Sure, we’re in the middle of a recession and rappers could discuss things more closely related to the struggle facing people in the streets, but the recession is an economic condition, not a state of mind. I don’t wake up feeling “recessed.” I wake up grindin’ for myself, my community, my family and whoever else needs me to grind for them. Welcome to the jungle. So, when I read articles like this citing endless facts and figures about how the recession is disproportionately affecting the black community and artists like Jay-Z and Kanye are, consequently, doing a disservice by rhyming about wealth, I don’t get it. Why the hate?

Recession or not, I’m not trying to be broke forever. I done had my share of rice and garlic salt for dinner and…I just don’t want to spend $10 on iTunes to hear about my depressed and broke state on my way to spend $204,000 on my legal education. In fact, when these next 24 courses I take are going to cost me $8,500 each, I want to hear about what I’m going to be. I want to fantasize about yachting in St. Tropez with my equally as successful husband. Yes, the statistics show black folks ain’t got jobs and the educational system sucks, but empowering communities to recognize and work within their oppressed state is one thing—building quality schools, community centers, and bank rolling other vital social services is another. Ask Oprah.

Alas, rappers could (theoretically) spend less time douging, flexing, and crankin’ dat whatever and more time talkin’ about community conditions. However, I refuse to stop listenin’ to folks rap about gettin’ racks on racks on racks because the conscious folks turn their noses up. That doesn’t mean I’d spend my money on bad bxtches and rims, though. Quite the opposite. I’d be sure spread my future opulence to the masses and help to create better situations for others…reach back, if you will. Just watch the throne.

F*ckYeahBeyonce

I’m sure those of you in the blogosphere (the world in which people exist without actually existing) have heard of fuckyeahmenswear. Its a blog that satirizes mens fashion blogs through spoken word-esque writing. I’ve been wanting to incorporate my obsession with certain celebrities into my blog and this may be the perfect way without being trite. Here we go.

Who the f*ck are all these people?

And who the f*ck are you?

Grabbin all on my arm like you Sean Carter…

If you don’t stop, people will think we’re doin’ the thing I never admit to doin’.

That wouldn’t be a bad idea I guess,

Unless you sweat in bed like you sweatin all on me now.

I’m not tryina mess up my $50,000 weave with your sweat all up in my hair.

You better believe that!

Who the f*ck are all these people?

And why are they all up on me?

Can’t they see I got my Ray-bans on?

Can’t they see I got my fly sh*t on?

Why are they all up on me?

Can I live?

Can I gaze off the top of this exotic a** location

Without you gazin’ right back at me?

Buy my album by the way.

And my concert dvd.

Buy the deluxe sh*t when I release those too.

But leave me alone, please.

And someone please tell this man to stop grabbin all up on me.

Or else the gossip blogs will write that we’re doin the thing I never admit to doing with him.

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