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|  The former chairman of Chrysler, Lee A. Iacocca, has been called a lot of things in his time, but Mocha Cocca and I-ka-zizzle are new. The nicknames come from Snoop Dogg - Mr. Iacocca's new sidekick in a Chrysler commercial that starts Saturday. Mr. Iacocca, 80, is Chrysler's most famous retiree and has been reprising his role as company pitchman. [...] Now Chrysler is pairing the two in a commercial by the BBDO division of Omnicom Group aimed in part at overcoming Mr. Iacocca's demographic limitations. The commercial features the two men riding in a blue golf cart with spinning wheel rims and is the latest promotion touting Chrysler's employee discount offer on many 2005 models. ( An Unlikely Pair )Related: Knock the Hustle. Our solution? Black folk. The gist? While our core audience is white, our client knows what most in the beverage, music, fashion, and entertainment industries have known and utilized for decades: Black people are cool trendsetters...__________  In traditional mainstream theater, the "majority" consists of playwrights, producers and directors who are largely white, male, middle class and free of physical disabilities. So let's rephrase the question: how do mainstream theaters make space for all those minorities, those "others" whose lives are rarely shown on their stages? How does a majority theater support minority playwrights? [...] "...New York's energy has always come from the bottom of the heap, the minorities ... the Irish after the potato famine, Italians, Jews, Puerto Ricans. ... And long before any of them, the blacks. As Shakespeare wisely said, 'the city is the people.' I say amen to that." ( Will Theater in Los Angeles Fade to White? ) | |
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| This is the kind of thing that makes me want to holler.  Civil rights groups were outraged in June when they discovered that the Mexican government issued a set of postage stamps emblazoned with the image of a cartoonish black character with oversized lips and a monkey-like gait.  July was the month that XXL magazine, a hip-hop publication, rolled out its "Jail Issue." It contained interviews with some of what it calls hip-hop music's "incarcerated soldiers." Among them are black rap artists Corey "C-Murder" Miller, Michael "Mystikal" Tyler and Antron "Big Lurch" Singleton. Miller was convicted of second-degree murder, Tyler pleaded guilty to sexual battery and Singleton was found guilty of murdering a woman and then eating part of her lung. According to XXL, "the startling number of imprisoned rappers is ultimately a product of a nation that funnels a third of its black males ages 20-29 through jail, the penitentiary, parole or probation." Making these thugs the focus of sympathetic coverage ought to enrage civil rights leaders more than an offensive Mexican stamp. But they've yet to call a press conference to blast the damage these warped images can do to the psyche of young blacks in this country. [...] They also haven't raised their voices in protest of Hustle & Flow... ( Civil Rights Outrage Should Begin at Home ) | |
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| This book has earned her titles: gold digger, snitch, liar, feminist, survivor. Steffans has heard it all, and even had her life threatened.
[...]
On the sets of the hip-hop videos she appeared in, Karrine Steffans was the dancer who never said no. Wear gold star pasties? Sure. Add chaps, and an ostrich-skin, rear-exposing thong? No problem. But that was a few years and a vulgar nickname ago.
[...]
"We know what happens to little black boys that have no dads, we've heard that, we get it," Steffans said. "But no one is really saying that young women who are born without fathers have real serious issues especially when their mother had no father and the mother has issues. When I talk about it, people are actually listening."
( Karrine Steffans: Confessions of a Video Vixen ) | |
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| She's seen students analyze, for instance, the feud between 50 Cent and the Game in light of a fact most didn't know coming into the class: These artists share a record label. This simple point, Glanville says, profoundly affects their sense of how "real" rappers are; students who look up to the men as independent agents suddenly begin to comprehend that 50 Cent and the Game are also characters who, like most images on television, "are created, manipulated and put out by various media agencies."
They've counted the number of brand names flaunted in a video and then, after claiming that endorsements don't affect their buying habits, located those brand names in the classroom—on themselves and other students.
Glanville has seen students examine images of women in a particular rap video, then shattered their indifference to those images by posing a simple question: Would you like that woman to be your mother or your sister?
[...]
Such programs transcend rhetoric; they move beyond theory and into practice. And practice—analyzing, reading, thinking critically—is just what the next hip-hop generation needs.
( Insight vs. Incite: Critical Thinking Through Hip-Hop Culture ) | |
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|  Now that he's got a name, Mr. West also has an image and maybe even an image problem. Because his lyrics sometimes hint at social and political protest, he is often invoked as the answer to whatever is supposedly troubling hip-hop. (At Live 8 in Philadelphia, he rapped, "Drug dealer buys Jordans, crackhead buys crack/And George Bush gets paid off o' all o' that.") And because his public appearances suggest that he doesn't underrate his own music, he's also known as a big-headed new star, the kind of sore winner who protests about not getting enough awards. In other words, he's thought of as both a solution and a problem, which means he must be doing something right. You can hear these competing currents in "Diamonds (From Sierra Leone)," the first single from "Late Registration". Who but Mr. West would promote a new album with a song named in honor of the African victims of the diamond trade? ( Kanye West's Argument With Himself )__________ Kanye West, W.E.B. DuBois: Same Message? | |
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"What you see on TV and what you hear on the radio and what you read in so-called 'urban' magazines is not life and is not really art. We've become a paradoxical culture, imitating the 'art' that is allegedly representative of real life, but of course, isn't. I mean, I've tried to fill up my Mustang with teenage girls in thongs. Can't find many volunteers. It's not real. Not by a long shot.
"But, here we are, modeling our real lives after the stupidity we are bombarded with daily through the so-called 'black' media. And I, the stranger on the shore, often feel rejected and passed by because I don't subscribe to this propagandizing of Black America.
"The tragedy is, to a great degree, I can't find a place among my own people. I'm the stranger on the shore, Tom Hanks back from the island wondering where his world went."
Black Like Me: The Ostracized Negro
*****
"An ocean of ink has already been spilled about the ways that many rap tunes denigrate women, homosexuals, the police, or whites in general. As such, there is no need for me to attack what is obvious about rap music's agenda; but I continue to worry about the ways in which this music reinforces separatism and the way it makes no bones about who is authentically black and who is not."
The New Minstreldom | |
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|  The problem with being labeled a socially-conscious rapper is that it's often music-industry code for self-serious artists who are more interested in being scolds or preachers than having fun. "I'm not a gangster, I'm not a preppie and I'm not a nerd either," Common says. "I'm an everyday guy, and I wanted to be that voice, the one who could speak to all those people, because I have known all those people in my life growing up." "Before I came here this morning," he says, "I thought to myself, 'Please let this be sexy and beautiful, but let it be something my daughter could watch.' I don't want it to be what I'm not, something I can't show my daughter and talk to her about. I can't just put anything out there to sell records." The hope that Common has is that class will win out over crass, that a great record will sell without having to sell himself out in the process. "I'm a dreamer," he says as twilight looms outside the video shoot. "I believe if you just make good music it's going to get to the world somehow." ( Common Ground: How Hip-Hop's Kanye West and Common are Recapturing Their Chicago Roots ) | |
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|  "The worlds of hiphop and porn move even closer with the launch of Fish 'N' Grits." __________ For black Americans, the burning cross is a symbol of a time when we were considered second-class citizens that could easily be manipulated. Today, we are doing the same thing to our own women. [...] "...the innocence of just looking at a woman during normal conversation without thinking about sex has in many cases been diminished." [...] We are very quick as a people to call for a boycott against businesses, institutions, etc. who exhibit racial attitudes. Brothas, it's time for us to boycott this industry for exploiting our women. In order for us to get to that point, our hands and eyes have got to be clean of this smut. Until then, there is always someone out there that is willing to buy the dignity of your daughter or niece—for two-dollars and ninety-five cents.The New Burning Cross__________ And he's wrong? | |
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|   Time to Redefine Black CultureBy Bill Maxwell, St Petersburg Times November 23, 2003 Each week, I receive several correspondences from black people calling me an Uncle Tom, a race traitor and that sort of thing. The most recent epithets came as a result of my column asking Tampa Bay Buccaneers defensive tackle Warren Sapp to shut his mouth, stop acting like a child and get back to playing the exemplary football that made him a repeat Pro Bowler. Weeks later, I am still being accused of dissing not only Sapp but African-American culture itself. So, the question is: Exactly what is African-American, or black, culture? According to my critics, the likes of Sapp and the late rapper Tupac Shakur epitomize African-American culture. If they are right - although I believe that some are simply venting out of anger - then I primarily dislike their brand of black culture. What do I mean? ( Time to Redefine Black Culture ) | |
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| Greetings Black Intellects:
You have to check this article out! 'The College Dropout' Speaks on Campuses highlights Black souls continuing fight for identity and self revelation. This one hits the spot:
"DuBois was poised on the verge of the 20th century, looking optimistically
at the power of education and the vote to improve the lives of black people,
while West at the beginning of the 21st century can see the problems still
endemic to the African-American poor, especially in education and the
electoral process. He recognizes that his peers are situated between
capitalism's prime assumption, money buys happiness, and a history of
African-American people being the first squeezed off the merry-go-round. In
"Never Let Me Down" he complains about a misplacement of values: "Now niggaz
can't make it to ballots to choose leadership/But we can make it to Jacob
[the jeweler] and to the dealership."
Read more: ( Kanye West, W.E.B. DuBois...same message? ) | |
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| Rhymin' and Stealin' - the Rise of RapNelson George, Guardian Unlimited Sunday January 23, 2005 "Growing up in a black neighbourhood in Brooklyn, New York in the Sixties and Seventies, I found 'soul' everywhere. First, there was soul music, led by James Brown, soul brother number one, and Aretha Franklin, soul sister number one. Then, we all ate soul food, greeted each other with soul shakes and got our hair cut at soul scissors barbershops. There were soul magazines and an enduring TV show called Soul Train. In church we soul clapped. On the streets we marched for soul power. We were amused and sometimes flattered when whites talked of blue-eyed soul. Dr. King had soul. Freedom riders had soul. James Baldwin had soul. Political figures such as 'Bull' Connor, George Wallace and Richard Nixon - none of them had soul. Soul was a one word summation of our spirit, our desires and self-esteem." | |
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| "I went to an event in Philly on Friday, November 19 at the Asian Arts Initiative, an Asian American 'community arts' space, entitled 'Changing the Face of the Game: Asian Americans in Hip-Hop.' I cannot pretend I didn’t already know what I was getting myself into. The title of the event itself expresses a level of hostility to Black people – since Black people are the current face of the game, and for whatever reason, that needs to be changed. But anyhow, I went, ready to see what was gonna go down . . . . "The jig was up. I was the rain that ended the parade (or shall I say charade?). The room quickly turned to palpable hostility and anger. Since they were already clearly pissed, I decided to throw out a follow-up question: 'Mr. Wang, you said that Asian people are attracted to hip-hop because they just like the music, which I find hard to believe since hip-hop also came into prominence in the day and age of music video – where image and representation are as important (if not more) than the music itself. "'That being the case, what is it about Black people (and especially Black masculinity in the case of hip-hop), and what they represent to others, that is so attractive to other people, including non-white people of color?'" On Hip-Hop, Asian-Americans, Black Folks, and Appropriation | |
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| The Numbers Beyond the Bling:
In the Streets of America, People are Worse Off,
and More of Them Are in JailBy Ward Harkavy, Village Voice January 4th, 2005 3:26 PM While hiphop's being celebrated, life on the streets during its 30 years of existence has gotten much tougher. Income inequality in the U.S. began climbing 30 years ago, reversing a nearly 50-year trend. And the prison population has soared. Hardest hit have been African Americans, whose folk culture has made cash registers ring. America is now No. 1 in the percentage of its population in prison and No. 1 in income inequality among industrialized nations. Here are a few statistics: ( continued ) | |
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|   If we woke up tomorrow and there was no hiphop on the radio or on television, if there was no money in hiphop, then we could see what kind of culture it was, because my bet is that hiphop as we know it would cease to exist, except as nostalgia. It might resurrect itself as a people's protest music if we were lucky, might actually once again reflect a disenchantment with, rather than a reinforcement of, the have and have-not status quo we cherish like breast milk here in the land of the status-fiending. Because the moment hiphop disappeared from the air and marketplace might be the moment when we'd discover whether hiphop truly was a cultural force or a manufacturing plant, a way of being or a way of selling porn DVDs, Crunk juice, and S. Carter signature sneakers, blessed be the retired. That might also be the moment at which poor Black communities began contesting the reality of their surroundings, their life opportunities. An interesting question arises: If enough folk from the 'hood get rich, does that suffice for all the rest who will die tryin'? And where does hiphop wealth leave the question of race politics? And racial identity? ( Hiphop Turns 30: Whatcha Celebratin' For? ) | |
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