I wish I
grew up in an era where I could have experienced the beginning of hip hop. What
I would have given to be in the boogie down Bronx to experience Doug E. Fresh
free style, or see the best crews break.
I wasn’t
there at the inception of something that would change the world. I, on the
other hand, inherited the change. I was born with hip-hop being my brother, my
friend, and eventually, my lover. I couldn’t have asked for something more
wonderful – a life filled with music. Noise consumed the blocks I grew up on.
As soon as I learned how to walk and how to talk, I was popping my lips and
rolling my eyes and listening to the sounds. Tape decks were rewound and
remixed and amplified from boomboxes for all to hear. Yes, there were people
free-stylin’ and beat boxin’, but this was not the early 80’s and it damn sure
wasn’t the Bronx. Hip-hop’s daddy had been a rolling stone, moving on to the
life of a corporate sell-out, and leaving only the name and the skill behind.
I fell in
love on a magical night. It was 1998. The Chicago Bulls were playing in the
championship, and they were about to take it home again. My mama had let me
stay up past nine to watch the game in her store-front shop that she kept open
that night. When we won the game, she let me walk to the store with an older
sister friend. People were whoopin’ and hollerin’, flooding the streets. I
watched in awe as we navigated the crowds towards the store. Then I heard it,
Big Pun, Still Not a
Player cascading from the speakers on the corner. Looking back, this song
was no Common or Lupe, and as an educated woman, I am almost ashamed to admit
that this is when he got my heart. But, I lead with the truth. I was down for hip-hop in that moment. Little
did I know that our relationship would test me for years to come.
Hip-hop was
angry. As a result, he wasn’t saying nothing nice about me or my budding womanness.
Still, I obliged him. As the resident candy lady, I was there with sour patch
kids, flaming hots, and a cold pop to sustain him for hours on end. Hip-hop was
spicy. I mean the foods influenced by the beginning of time, a taste I experienced
only in a small restaurant on the shores of Mumbai. Hip-hop was mean. He was
plenty nice when I counted out his 2 cent candy, and he winked and gave me a
quarter extra. Or even sneaking and giving me a ride around the block on the
handlebars of his bicycle. But, hip-hop’s words cut like a dagger. Not meant
for me, he said. I am not who he’s talking about. He said that because I was
young, sweet, and naïve. Even if I am still reserved as innocent in the eyes of
hip-hop, I would break a heart eventually, and those lyrics would come back to
hunt me.
When we
were old enough to give our love a try, he was gentle, sensitive, and sweet,
but only in the confines of our personal space. When in public, he was
withdrawn and there was no space for me. As I grew, so did we, but
unfortunately, so did my conscious. I went through a phase, where I thought
that I could keep up with hip-hop. I mean I’m no lyricist and I’m not a player,
but I was pretty good on the dance floor and an artist in my own right. But
with the emergence of technology, all of my actions and decisions would be
visible to .com. I wasn’t really willing to put myself out on the streets like
that. Hip-hop was on his way to making it big, which freed up a lot of my time.
I was studying decorum, classic ballet, and feminism. I was consumed by books
and science experiments. I was seeing the world and discovering other genre’s. The
only way to put it, I was growing up and out of our love.
I thought I
was angry at him because he wasn’t staying true to the name passed on to him.
He was still a genius, and always focused, but he was saying anything and
everything and calling it music. Claiming the genre, tainting the game.
I know
different now. Hip-hop was growing just as I was. He was defining his own rules
and leveraging his own resources. He was the man I always knew he would become.
As I rock out to all the new “stuff” influenced by him cross-over, dub-step,
and autotune, I realize I been rocking alone for years now waiting for
something.
I miss
hip-hop, but I am not sure there is anything there. He grew. I grew. Will we
ever be able to remerge?
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