The look on my son s face as he watched a current rap video on Black Entertainment Television spoke volumes: the frown, the look of disgust and dismissal.
Rap s been on a 10-year slide since Biggie died, he announced.
Biggie, aka the Notorious B.
I.G. but born Christopher Wallace, is regarded by many as the greatest rapper of all time.
I m not sure if I m the only Biggie fan who s 55 years old or just one of a handful. But I have to agree: Wallace was the Muhammad Ali of rap. Tupac Shakur was the Joe Frazier.
(That s not an insult. Frazier could bang, as Ali can attest.).
And Eminem? Unfortunately for his devoted fans, he s only the Jerry Quarry: good, but not nearly good enough.
Nobody flowed like Biggie flowed or rhymed like he rhymed.
That being said, many of Wallace s lyrics contain the same things critics of rap have focused on over the years: an emphasis on crime, gangstas, pimping, the thug life and calling black women the b-word. But Biggie s artistry was so unique that he could -- and should have been -- viewed as the exception. The reason rap is in a crisis today is that most rappers since Biggie have tried to be Biggie and failed miserably.
Today s rappers have tried to copy Biggie so much that the prevailing theme in much of rap is street cred, thugging and a devotion to the code of no snitching. People with a keen eye for irony might notice the connection that the no snitching code has to the fact that Biggie s murder remains unsolved 10 years after it happened.
Randall Sullivan has written that part of the reason is a pusillanimous brass in the Los Angeles Police Department that refused to investigate leads indicating corrupt black cops in the murders of both Biggie and Shakur.
Sullivan, in his book Labyrinth, said those cop suspects worked part-time for Death Row head Suge Knight.
But there s another reason the murders of Biggie and Tupac haven t been solved yet. It has to do with that no snitching and stop snitching code.
It s now everywhere, and not just in rap music.
There is a growing body of fiction targeting black audiences with themes of life in the inner city. That s a positive development.
People reading anything sure beats people reading nothing. But the no snitching and stop snitching thinking has permeated even that literature. Take a peek at one example, Darrell Debrew s Stacy.
Subtitled, perhaps not surprisingly in today s hip-hop culture, The Ultimate Gangsta B*tch, the book s plot is about Stacy s dilemma: to stay loyal to the gang or become a rat, according to a summary of the novel on the back cover. Debrew gives more details inside the book. In a letter from her dad -- he s in prison, of course, because black folks have no daddies not in prison who are law-abiding citizens and have real jobs -- Stacy is advised of what she must do.
Word has reached the penitentiary that they have locked you up for no reason at all. Nobody knows anything and the rumors are spreading that you are gon be a rat because you are a woman There has never been a rat in the Dee family. Death before dishonor.
Don t put me to shame.
There was a time when black folks were actually ashamed of their kinfolk who became involved in a life of crime. Or became drug addicts.
Or became unwed mothers. Please ponder that such a time existed the next time you re inclined to ask black conservatives, What is it you want to conserve?
Today, the shame is in being a rat.
A snitch. Of not adhering to the death before dishonor code. There s even a DVD about the stop snitching craze that has the title Death Before Dishonor.
Fortunately, one of those commenting in the DVD is Chuck D of the rap group Public Enemy. Chuck D put the stop snitching phenomenon in its correct historical context, saying that those FBI and police informants who finked on people like Huey Newton and Bobby Seale of the Black Panther Party are those most deserving of being called snitches. Chuck D gave snitching some political and historical context, one that others appearing in the DVD -- like Fat Joe, Swizz Beats, Ja Rule, Young Jeezy and Suge Knight -- simply don t have.
Where has the current state of hip-hop left black folks, especially our youth? In less than 50 years, black youth have gone from noble slogans like Freedom Now to Black Power to Power to the People to Stop Snitching.
Let s play a little game that s played on the TV show, Sesame Street.
Which of those phrases does not belong?
Today’s rappers have tried to copy Biggie Smalls so much that the prevailing theme in much of rap is street cred, thugging and a devotion to the code of "no snitching."
It took the first two episodes for me to realize that, amid all the scenes that were excruciating for me to watch as a teenager in 1977, lies teachable moments for black youths today.
I love clean water and fresh air as much as anyone. But there are trade-offs in life, and I can admit that there is a price I am just not willing to pay to ..
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"A crying shame" is an antique term. Except in matters of life and death – murder, rape, incest and such - I don’t know that the word has carriage anymore.
Shame no longer brings tears.
Today’s rappers have left me pining away for reruns of "Amos ‘n Andy," where there were black folks who were either doctors, lawyers, judges or businessmen, all talking impeccable English.
Public funding of campaigns doesn't always change election results, but that's secondary.
The point is to allow candidates the ability to spend more time to talk and listen to ordinary Americans.
There are people out there who are bent on using any means necessary to keep blacks in their place. And it seems young people like Shaquanda are becoming easy prey for them.
Does your neighbor have a duty to pay for your doctor’s visits and medical care? Do your neighbors have a duty to pay for your retirement? What about housing?
Food and clothing?
Principle, integrity and prestige are what the Congressional Black Caucus Institute has laid on the line in its partnership with Fox News to host two primary debates.
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