Rapping for Whitey

Last week, with both a vein of sincerity and sarcasm, I asked my dear white friends (and associates) of Facebook what hip-hop/rap artists they found particularly appealing. Failing to describe rather I meant white people as a collective or an individual white person's genuine interest in a rapper worked to my advantage, as it yielded a wide range of responses.
 After a bit of cross referencing, consulting with friends, and the discovery of artists I had been putting of listening to, I have compiled a comprehensive understanding of what hip-hop whites enjoy.

The majority of input was supplied by young white males with a negro or two weighing in with their expertise of white-favored rappers.
However, I was able to attract two females to chime in.
They did not supply what a "typical suburban" girl might mention
as their favorite rap artist; instead I was given names the like of:
Tech N9ne, Kottonmouth Kings, Kold Kace,
Yelawolf, Big Krit, and Slaughterhouse
- all of which were not mentioned be any male commenter.
The appeal of most of these artists are their gritty nature and material.
While not registering with all of white America,
they speak to those who've been through some grimy shit
and can relate to the struggle of these rappers/rap-rockers.
Slaughterhouse is the only group that seems out of place in this category.
They have more of an against-all-odds hood storyteller kinda vibe,
but no one said there was a formula for what white people liked.
It's only implied.

A consensus among those who answered my call went along these lines:
white people love anything critically acclaimed, especially from an award show.
I have an idea for what they mean;
anything to help reassure me "mainstream" whites
listen to more rap than Flo-Rida, Sam Adams, Nicki Minaj, and Kreayshawn.
[which I already knew to be true].
Outkast received much more attention after Speakerboxxx/The Love Below
won the Grammy's Album of the Year title in 2004.
White people actually knew who Three 6 Mafia was
after "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp"
won Best Original Song at the 76th Academy Awards.
Sure, all artists receive an influx of fans after winning an award.
I got into Esperanza Spalding after she won Best New Artist in 2011 myself.
But no genre of artists sees as big a change in fans than Hip-Hop/Rap.
The hunger for more good rap music lies within most white people
unless they have a conservative vendetta against rap
like I have a liberal vendetta against country.
But that's just good ol' close-mindedness for ya.

When speaking of what rap music white people like,
you can't forget frat boys, bros, and stoners.
If a rapper talks about weed in at least 1/3 of his songs,
you can be sure most of that artist's catalog'll be on their iPods.
In my experience, I've found bros to like anything
with a hard beat, money-cash-hoes lyrics, and/or a completely ratchet rapper.
These artists have included 50 Cent, Lil Wayne,
2 Chainz, Gucci Mane, Waka Flocka, and Rick Ross.
Most of these artists are listened to more so for
their amp-ing up ability rather than their lyricality.
But I know plenty of blacks that listen to those type of artists as well,
and I judge them just the same.

For the sake of political correctness,
let's not call the majority of the white guys
who submitted their lists hipsters;
instead, I'll refer to them as white hip-hop heads or WH3s,
because in honesty that's what they are
- at least in this scenario.
The WH3 is not an uncommon creature
but however a forgotten one,
as they tend to lurk in the underground of society.
While this may sound like a hipster to you,
WH3s also recognize several mainstream rap artists
as worthy of their time and illegal downloads.

So what does the WH3 listen to?
A wide variety of artists actually.
They are hip-hop heads. Duh.
Like BH3s, they debate Biggie vs Pac, Jay vs Nas.
They know all the members of the WuTang Clan
(often listing The Rza or Ghostface as their favorite member).
They recognize Lauryn Hill  and Wyclef Jean as members of the Fugees
and not just a crazy chick who dropped one album
and the political/social liaison to Haiti.
They've seen Kanye and Lupe have better days.
They list Frank Ocean under hip-hop after
blogs credited him as the first openly-bi hip-hop artist.
And they know backpack emcees don't like being called backpack emcees.

Among the WH3s I polled,
Childish Gambino was listed the most often.
[Eminem being a close second. No surprise there.]
As a number one fan of Mr Glover myself,
I was tickled by that result.
His style of geeky rap-chic mixed with his frequent
"white people problems" and honesty makes him one of the most appealing rappers out now. [...no dickriding]
Other popular rappers with WH3s include
Kendrick Lamar, Mackelmore, and Immortal Technique.
All three of those artists appeal to WH3s in different ways.
Immortal Technique, I understand the least.
But again, this is why I'm not a WH3.

There are a number of rappers that mainstream black listeners aren't enthralled by
but seem to hypnotize a number of WH3s and other white listeners alike.
Tyler the Creator, Das Racist, and Jurassic 5 come to mind first.
It's been said that you'll find a ratio of 20:1 whites to blacks at a Jurassic 5 concert.
I've heard comments from other Afro-Americans that
Tyler is too dark of an artists for them
- the same people that enjoyed Eminem's Kim -
and Das Racist is too off-beat and kooky.


But of all the rap artists misunderstood by blacks and championed by whites,
Rhymesayers Entertainment ranks high up on the list.
Stand out artists from the Minneapolis-based label include:
Aesop Rock, Brother Ali, Atmosphere, P.O.S., and MF Doom.
Point blank, this massive collective of artists doesn't interest most black listeners because of their lyrical flow and subject matter that doesn't line up with the hood mentality nor the formulaic prosper into something more message.
There's usually a mix of political undertones or overtones with their music.
Other times, the metaphors are too nerdy or outta left field to keep up with.
 They're a group of artists comfortable with their underground nature.
Shit, MF Doom is one of the last artists in the game to wear a mask all the time.

So, why did I feel the need to write this post?
As a negro pointed out,
if a white person asked the reverse of this, they'd be pointed out as racist.
To my defense, a white friend pointed out I was "already a raging racist."
I admit to this, but only jokingly and objectively.
I compiled this list earnestly to see what White America listened to
and was given a list of 70+ rappers (a few joke submissions, albeit).
Because honestly, there's no rapper that doesn't have white fans.
This is the United States, population 314 million with more than 72% being white.
You cannot succeed in this country without appealing to a white market.
Well, I take that back.
You can't succeed on a GRAND scale without appealing to a white market.
White people listen to everything.
When I went to a Big Sean concert at a small venue in Baltimore
right before he blew up, close to half the crowd was white.
If anything, there are artists who don't intrigue black people at all
and they will thrive just swell.
I point your attention back to the Jurassic 5 concert reference.

Moral of the day to take with you into other aspects of life:
at the end of the day, it's not the color of the skin; it's the taste of the character.
Mmmmm. Delicious.
Word.


For your white people liking rap music needs
be sure to check out Manik Music
Don't worry, they rate other music, too.

We Like (Baltimore) Sportz

By this point in my blogging career,
I hope most of you have come to realize
I give little attention to sports.
However, in light of the past five days
I feel I need to make a confession:
Baltimore's sports teams are growing on me.

When I arrived in Baltimore five years ago
you couldn't have told me this day would ever come.
I lived in a city that housed a national hockey team (NJ Devils)
and a minor league baseball team (Newark Bears).
Sure white people from North to Central Jersey came into town
for the Devils' games making the native "urban" folk feel displaced
to the point of considering jacking a fool or two -
I plead the fifth on having such thoughts -
but no one really cared if they played well.

New Jersey also had the Nets for a while,
and I followed them halfheartedly while Jason Kidd was on point,
but once Jay-Z showed interest in them, I displayed the opposite.
By Tri-State principle,
the Knicks, Yankees, Mets, Jets, and Giants are our teams too.
The Giants more so than the others because they PLAY in NJ.
But having more than one franchise in a sport
makes it difficult to pledge brand loyalty,
let alone feel sorry when they lose.

Coming to Baltimore
where there are two home teams to root for adamantly,
I wasn't sure how to take it.
In high school, each guy at the lunch table would be rooting for a different team
leaving you to wonder how in the hell a kid from Jersey
end up liking the Kansas City Chiefs or the Oakland Raiders.
In Baltimore it's a consensus of Ravens, with a few seldom other fans in the mix.

Even the Orioles,
as sucky as they've been the past 10+ years,
have managed to hold on to fans, and their $5 student tickets - that could be finagled into front row seats with the ease of walking down to the plate - helped them gain a few more.
But with the success of the Orioles this season,
Baltimoreans rushed back to Camden Yards to watch the return of a team despite the spike of ticket prices.

Watching their last series against
the Yankees this year was conflicting for me.
I had never been a fan of the Yankees, let alone baseball.
If anyone asked who I rooted for in high school, I'd say Mets.
Geographical loyalty urged me to rally behind the Yankees,
but my heart told me to wish the Orioles well.
Every victory against the Yankees made me smile.
Actually, the pleased faces of the fans around city is what made me smile.
All that orange, it can't help but brighten up your day.
The week after the Orioles caught their final L that fateful Friday
was one of the purplest I've seen yet.


The Ravens, I must say, have always been on my radar.
Ever since my first year of Fantasy Football three years ago,
I knew their defense alone was a problem for other teams.
With the acquisition of Joe Flacco and Ray Rice in recent years,
they've been a true team to contend with.
It helps that Baltimoreans have embraced them with open arms since '96 after the Colts left them for Indianapolis in 1984.
It's almost as if the lost of a team made them appreciate
their next football team even more.
Having a phenomenal defensive player like Ray Lewis
that has stayed with them to this day helps strengthen
the bond between player and team even further.
That man is literally the backbone of the team.

My heart broke alongside the city's during last year's game
against the Giants, lost by a field goal at the very end.
It broke yesterday when it was confirmed Ray Lewis
would be out for the rest of the season along side Lardarius Webb.
For a team to be so good and fall short every year, it's frustrating.
But the thrill of the Ravens possibly going to the Super Bowl once more
is enough to carry the town of Baltimore on til the next season.

So as the weeks carry on, I hope to see the Ravens continue to crush it.
Never mind their defensive being on my fantasy team.
Consider this post my official resignation as a New York sports fan
and my first day as a true purple and orange Balti-moron sports fan.
I want to be part of a franchise with a true sense of community and fellowship.
Caw.
Word.

74) Help 3 people become better writers

I know it doesn't seem like I've been keeping up
with my 101 Tasks in 1001 Days challenge, but I have.
Just because I didn't write about them doesn't mean they weren't completed.
For instance, I've gone to the beach (45), climbed a tree(61),
worn a shirt without a saying or logo (65),
and even hooked up with a white guy (81).
Writing about them just seemed too personal or not interesting
enough to relay to you all through a proper post.
But I figure you guys have gone long enough without an update,
so let's dive into this one.

During my days as a undergraduate yearning for a degree in Writing,
I discovered something while I enjoyed
my lunch in a minority dominated facility.
A fair amount of the students disliked or struggled immensely
to write coherent papers for their classes.
To my bittersweet satisfaction, I found that
many of my white classmates had the same problem.

As a mere Writing major, I wasn't exactly sure how to help my fellow man.
Sure I had critiqued other Writing students' work,
but how could I convey the importance of word choice and cohesive arguments
to students that didn't even enjoy an intro to creative writing class?
Luckily my junior year I interned at the Writing Center on campus
and realized there really wasn't a difference.
It just required patience (which was occasionally needed
when dealing with other writing students, too).

Usually when I helped students with their papers,
they just wanted a better grade.
But I knew I needed to teach them how to write.
Otherwise they wouldn't only just come to me for each new assignment,
they'd be unable to write up a proper report
for whatever job field they would eventually enter as well.

I didn't believe it, but there are actual grown men and women who don't know
how to write - or don't care enough to act like they know.
I've heard about and seen emails and write-ups they are simply atrocious.
It honestly makes me gag.

When helping these students, I took great joy in using a red pen.
Though it is overly daunting for a person to see their paper drenched in red ink,
I felt as if I channeled my prior teachers into help criticism.
Most of them found my critics helpful;
I like to think it's because
I never wrote "VAGUE" as a comment
- that in itself is vague.

Occasionally, if they needed help organizing their thoughts,
I would write a sample paragraph for them.
This, of course, led them to urge me to write the entire paper (for a fee).
However my moral high ground - and senior seminar professor
who was extremely paranoid of students finding "professionals"
to write their term papers - prevented me from undertaking the task.
They wouldn't learn that way, either.
Instead I wanted them to use that and a co-drafted outline
to lead them to the path of glory through well-written work.

A week or two after each session,
a student returned to thank me
for helping them earn a higher grade.
They would admit they still didn't like writing,
but they had a better grasp of it.

I dread the thought of becoming a teacher
- through considerably less nowadays -
so I consider this my contribution to the world.
Granted, teaching others to write could inadvertently
hurt my chances of finding full time employment,
but I'm a team player like that.
Word.

How Poetic: Truman Ego

As some of you may have guess,
this past summer was one of my driest writing periods
since I began pursuing my career as a novelist.
In hopes of curing this, I'm turning back to poetry.
I'm rusty, as expected, and would greatly appreciate
your feedback on this poem.
[If this doesn't pan out, I'll probably attempt
to assemble a post-college writing group or something.]
Thanks in advance/

~

What can be said of a seven year old in '97
who imagines his life to be the Truman Show
before he has any idea Jim Carrey could be a dramatic actor?
Purely over-imaginative?
Narcissistic?
But what child doesn't think the world revolves around them?
Even teenagers - and certainly a few educated adults -
still believe this to hold true.
But for a child to insist there's a camera hidden
near the vicinity of his night light -
because it needs the best lighting at all times
even if at the expense of a better angle -
requires at least a gallon of creative juices.
To him, it's a perfect example of how God always
watches over us - except he can shoot from any angle,
any time of day and have the perfect amount of exposure.
He is God, after all.

But who manned these cameras, the boy would wonder.
Who's so interested in my life? I must truly be awesome.
It doesn't take a montage or dramatic voice-over
to indicate the boy will develop an overgrown ego,
often playing to his fans he must have scattered across the globe
though he never manages to find a single lens
hidden behind a hanging photo or bundle of dirty laundry
 to reaffirm his celebrity status.

Unable to determine how captivated his television audience may be,
he takes his show on the road: first stop, school.
He fails to realize, however, that he is no child actor.
If his intuition is spot on, he's nothing more than a reality star
putting the prior casts of the Real World to shame.
Either way, watching him fail to impress a girl in his class
only to have her male suitor and best friend supply him with a wedgie
is much more entertaining while in the live audience.
Shortly after, the boy cancels his tour
and returns to a life where he is not necessarily the star.
Meanwhile a pair of graying angels chuckle at their grandson's short comings
as they take a break from eternal glory to enjoy one of their favorite programs.