DR. VAJRA WATSON | Artistic Resistance: Creating A Transformative Teaching Praxis Through Hip-Hop by Hawaiʻi Review

ARTISTIC RESISTANCE: CREATING A TRANSFORMATIVE TEACHING PRAXIS THROUGH HIP-HOP

Dr. Vajra Watson Director, Research and Policy for Equity Founder, Sacramento Area Youth Speaks (SAYS) University of California, Davis

HIP-HOP IS LITERACY

On Friday, May 19th we had our 9th Annual SAYS Summit College Day at UC Davis from 8am-8pm. We filled the UC Davis Pavilion with 850 middle and high school students and 100 educators from every corner of Sacramento, Woodland, Davis, Stockton, the Bay Area, and even a few schools way up north. The summit primarily serves young people from the highest-poverty schools in our region and over 65% of these children will be the first in their family to attend college.

Founded in 2009 at UC Davis by Dr. Vajra Watson, Sacramento Area Youth Speaks (SAYS) strives to change the world through education and empowerment. Building on a foundation of critical literacy and spoken word performance poetry, SAYS breaks the chains of underachievement by elevating the voices of young people and creating spaces for students to become authors of their own lives and agents of change. SAYS services support the improvement of schools through teacher professional development, classroom instruction, and after-school programming. SAYS utilizes evidence-based pedagogies and an award-winning curriculum to prepare people to serve as cultural keepers, artistic dreamers, and scholar activists who work within and beyond the walls of schools to enact and embody a transformative educational praxis. “SAYS brings the arts back into education.” - High school student “SAYS is the glue that holds learning together.” -Continuation school teacher

Vajra Watson says.ucdavis.edu

Watson, V. (2015). Literacy is a Civil Write: The Art, Science and Soul of Transformative Classrooms. Chapter in Social Justice Instruction: Empowerment on the Chalkboard. Precis, Springer International Publishing For Book Series on Education, Equity and the Economy. Watson, V. (2014). The Black Sonrise: Oakland Unified School District’s Commitment to Address and Eliminate Institutionalized Racism. Final evaluation report submitted to Oakland Unified School District’s Office of African American Male Achievement. http://www.ousd.org/Page/12267 Watson, V. (2013). Censoring Freedom: Community-Based Professional Development and the Politics of Profanity, Equity & Excellence in Education, 46:3, 387410. Watson, V. (2012). Learning to Liberate: Community-Based Solutions to the Crisis in Urban Education. New York: Routledge (Michael Apple Series, Critical Social Thought).

Artistic Resistance:

Creating a Transformative Teaching Praxis Through Hip-Hop Abstract As an urban art form of creative expression, hip-hop has profound significance for education. Theories of cultural production contextualize rap as a powerful resistance-oriented transformative tool. Building upon aesthetic education models, this article moves from theory to practical application by providing a critical analysis of over 1,000 rap lyrics, giving particular attention to the ways a select group of artists conceptualize knowledge, learning, and school. Within the music, the rappers draw upon personal experience and social commentary to argue for communitybased culturally relevant schooling and high expectations. These lyrical lessons add to the general discussion about how to utilize the arts in urban schools. Key Words: youth culture, hip-hop, aesthetic education, urban education, literary arts

8th Annual SAYS Summit College Day - 1,000 middle and high school students from Oakland Unified School District, Vallejo City Unified School District, Woodland Unified, Sacramento City Unified, Twin Rivers Unified, individual school sites, and even participants from group homes across the state.

As an urban art form of creative expression, hip-hop has profound significance for education. Theories of cultural production contextualize rap as a powerful resistanceoriented transformative tool. Building upon aesthetic education models, this presentation moves from theory to practical application by providing a critical analysis of over 1,000 rap lyrics, giving particular attention to the ways a select group of artists conceptualize knowledge, learning, and school. Within the music, the rappers draw upon personal experience and social commentary to argue for community-based culturally relevant schooling and high expectations. These lyrical lessons add to the general discussion about how to utilize hip hop educational models.

Introduction

Across the nation, low-income students of color are disproportionately failed by school (Anyon, 2005; Darling-Hammond, 2006; Hursh, 2007; Kozol, 1994; Orfield & Lee, 2006; Weiner, 2006). Although it is widely accepted that authentically reaching students is a precursor to successful teaching, researchers and practitioners continue to grapple with how to effectively engage urban youth. Pedro Noguera (2000) argues that to learn how to influence student attitudes and behaviors, educators must first understand “the cultural forms and stances that young people produce within what is commonly referred to as youth culture” (p. 24). Noguera, like others (Dimitriadis, 2001; Ladson-Billings, 2004, 2014; Mahiri, 1998), emphasize the need to examine youth culture to glean insights about how to support student success. One of the most popular forms of youth culture produced and consumed around the world is hip-hop (Alim, 2006, 2009; Chang, 2005; Dyson, 2007; Forman, 2002). In the education arena, an increasing number of K-12 teachers are trying to deepen their understanding of how hip-hop culture can be used in school. A burgeoning body of research known as “hip-hop-based education” (Akom, 2009; Emdin, 2010; Hill, 2009; Love, 2013; Petchauer, 2009; Stovall, 2006) has demonstrated it as a formidable learning strategy. Naturally, then, if hip-hop is a tool for reaching this generation effectively, it is important to understand its complexity as an art form. While many people recognize the pervasiveness of hip-hop culture and rap music, they rarely understand it as a substantive, diverse literary genre. For 7

instance, although hip-hop is often used as a synonym for rap among mainstream audiences, the two terms are not interchangeable. Hip-hop is defined as a cultural movement that includes four main elements: DJ’ing, MC’ing, graffiti art, and break-dancing. In an interview with journalist Davey D, hip-hop pioneer Afrika Bambaataa says, “Hip Hop means the whole culture of the movement…when you talk about rap…Rap is part of the hip hop culture…The dressing, the languages, are all part of the hip hop culture. The break dancing, the b-boys, b-girls...how you act, walk, look, talk are all part of hip hop culture” (p. 3). From clothing styles to slang terms, hip-hop culture and rap music remain at the cutting edge and continue to take the world by storm. Hip-hop is mainstream, but it continues to represent an unabashed inner-city narrative. Given this motif, it is necessary to unpack the notion of an “urban” reality. National patterns of gentrification and displacement of low-income families of color from urban neighborhoods (i.e., Lipman, 2012; Watson, 2012), further complicate the ghetto stereotype that is so prevalent in rap music. In actuality, the word urban is “less likely to be employed as a geographic concept used to define and describe physical locations than as a social or cultural construct” (Noguera, 2003, p. 23). In other words, since the term does not necessarily demarcate a particular location, its meaning is more complex and racially coded. Building on Noguera’s point, hiphop as an urban narrative is further complicated by the ways it has been has been appropriated by young people of various races and ethnicities. Rap music has been made accessible to all, political in nature but palatable to the masses. Having moved into the mainstream, the messages and images within rap can be adopted by anyone (e.g., Iggy Azalea). It is significant that in 8

her ethnographic study of white youth, Perry (2002) found that “hip-hop clothing, and other cultural forms and practices originating from black youth cultures and identities were not linked to black identity or identification, but linked to stereotypical or putative qualities of blackness” (p. 110). Perry’s study undergirds the point that even the best ghost-writer cannot truly transform someone into something that they are not. Hip-hop might be for sale, but authenticity cannot be purchased. Building on this conceptualization, in this article, I explore the nuances of rap music as a form of genuine self-expression that creates a public platform for street storytelling and youth resistance, particularly for low-income students of color who are far too often silenced by school and the targets of miseducation.

Bringing Rap into Schools

Several researchers have examined the potential use of popular culture in the classroom. Literature addresses this topic both theoretically and practically. At the theoretical level, several scholars argue that high school students need to develop skills to critically analyze popular culture (Decker, 1994; Giroux, 1998; Kellner, 1995; Oliker & Krolikowski, 2001). In addition, empirical studies show the pedagogical benefits of incorporating hip-hop into the curriculum (Dimitriadis, 2001; Mahiri, 1998); several even suggest that rap “can be used as a bridge linking the seemingly vast span between the streets and the world of academics” (Duncan-Andrade & Morrell, 2000, p. 22). These writers urge teachers to use hip-hop in the classroom because of its popularity as a way to engage students in traditional assignments.

As a prime example, Greg Dimitriadis (2001) explored how young people use hip-hop to construct notions of self and community during a four-year ethnographic study at an African-American community center in the Midwest. Using focus groups and in-depth interviews, he uncovered the complex ways that these young people use rap to make meaning of their lives. His work revealed a significant divide between in-school and out-of-school culture. Hip-hop is a type of alternative lived curriculum, but the curriculum in schools, even Black history, is so removed it seems irrelevant to students. Dimitriadis asserts that teachers need to use different forms of popular culture in their lessons to further connect with students. Another case in point is Ann Ferguson’s (2001) ethnographic study, Bad Boys: Public Schools in the Making of Black Masculinity. Her research provides an intimate look at how a group of African-American students relate to school—and the way they are socialized by school. For her study, she hired a research assistant: a young man the school deemed a “troublemaker.” He immediately explained to her that if she wanted to understand him and his peers, she needs to listen to their music—rap. Despite his insistence, Ferguson would not listen to a music she thought was overtly misogynistic and nihilistic. Her young informant stood his ground. Once she finally acquiesced, she was surprised by what she heard. The lyrics provided a critical articulation of the very ironies and contradictions facing students—in this case, African-American males—at the school site. She discovered that the raps themselves were potent alternative sources of knowledge about such themes as racial formation, authority, and justice. A number of studies urge educators to utilize hip-hop as an engagement tool (e.g., Mahiri, 1998; Duncan-Andrade & Morrell, 2000). A lot of this research 10

promotes the use of rap in schools simply because of its fame without a deeper appreciation of its coded language and its role of propagating messages, themes which I will subsequently investigate. The content of rap must be addressed. How can educators be asked to include it in their curricula if we do not know what it is, or the distinct and converging messages within it? Moreover, in what ways can hip-hop augment our knowledge about ways to better communicate with, and support, the education and achievement of youth? In search of answers, I turned to the artistic creators of rap music and examined over 1,000 song lyrics. Before delving into the findings, I provide a context for understanding hip-hop as a complex literary art form. Theories of Cultural Production and Resistance

Understanding the oppressed’s reality, as reflected in the various forms of cultural production—language, art, music—leads to a better comprehension of the cultural expression through which people articulate their rebelliousness against the dominant. These cultural expressions also represent the level of possible struggle against oppression. -Freire & Macedo, 1987, p. 137 Several scholars suggest that rap “can be used as a bridge linking the seemingly vast span between the streets and the world of academics” (DuncanAndrade & Morrell, 2000, p. 22), yet while a number of studies promote the use of hip-hop inside schools, to date, there has been little analysis of the ways rapper’s conceptualize these topics within their music. Examining hip-hop as literature elevates the art into the field of academic inquiry; an intellectual aesthetic embodied inside the dynamics of popular youth culture. Many significant works within the dominant discourse on cultural production and resistance theories contribute to the understanding of the politics 11

of popular culture (e.g., Aronowitz & Giroux, 1993; Giroux, 1989; Gramsci, 1971; Hebdidge, 1979; Hall, 1998; Kelley, 1996; Lipsitz, 1998; Scott, 1990; Smitherman, 2000; West, 1990). Several important background notions will be explored, specifically: the urban griot, the street ethnographer, the studio gangsta, and the hidden transcript of resistance. Each of these concepts will help contexualize the role of the rapper, which will then be connected to urban school reform.

Origins of Hip-Hop

To begin, where did hip-hop come from? In the late 1970s hip-hop emerged as a fusion of expression by African-American, Caribbean, and Latino youth in the post-industrial, post-Civil Rights era of intense racialized poverty in the South Bronx (Chang, 2005; George, 1994; Rose, 1994; Flores, 1994; Del Barco, 1996). Understanding the socioeconomic and political context in which hip-hop emerged is crucial because these pioneers set the stage for all of the acts that have followed. As rapper KRS-One boldly notes: “I’m the teacher, but you still can’t see cause while you respect Tupac, Tupac respected me (Song: The Sneak Attack). KRS-One indicates that hip-hop is now intergenerational and many of today’s artists learned what it is to be “hip-hop” from the original pioneers of the culture. This is not to imply stagnation. Since its inception, hip-hop has evolved; it has grown from public park parties to a multi-billion dollar industry with influence and status around the world. As a result, hip-hop has established itself within mainstream popular culture. However commercialized it may be, several researchers (Dyson, 1996; Forman, 2002; Kelley, 1998) argue that the language and styles are intertextual, that is, they are 12

addressed and embedded within local lived communities. “You know what’s going to happen to hip-hop?” rapper Mos Def asks. “Whatever is happening with us. If we smoked out, hip-hop is going to be smoked out. If we doing alright, hip-hop is going to be alright. People talk about hip-hop like it’s some giant living in the hillside coming down to visit the townspeople. We are hip-hop” (Song: Fear Not of Man). While hip-hop is dynamic and alive, several scholars and rappers (e.g. Morgan, 1997; KRS-One) insist that some features remain constant. Specifically, rap music continues to adjust to reflect and address societal struggles. In an international study of hip-hop, Sharma (1996) found that rap lyrics, irrespective of national and ethnic origin, are deeply concerned with issues of oppression. For instance, examining new Asian dance music, she found that the lyrics evoke Black Nationalist themes contextualized within specific Asian historical experiences that draw attention to global racial subjugation. The groups were using rap “to narrate and reclaim suppressed histories of (enforced) colonial displacement, capitalist work relations and racial oppression” (p. 46). Similarly, in the documentary film Hip-Hop: The New World Order, an African man interviewed in France explains why hip-hop speaks to him: “you can find a ghetto anywhere…we can relate to hiphop’s message.” These semantic networks bring ranges of meaning to hip-hop as a resistance-oriented cross-cultural communication system (Gay et. al., 1997, p. 15) that provides a “medium to talk to people, to get social and political ideas across, to get the attention of youth” (Sharma, 1996, p. 68). To the extent this is accurate, those who live hip-hop are pushing the boundaries of their respective societies by critiquing the world in which they live. Hip-hop enthusiasts argue that this battle to name the world, as youth see it, continues to be one (if not the) core element of hip13

hop culture (Coreno, 1994; De Genova, 1995; Potter, 1995; Love, 2013; Morgan, 1997; Stovall, 2006).

Role of the Rapper

While different elements of hip-hop culture persist, rap is by far the most prevalent and popular feature (Baker, 1993; Berry, 1994; George, 1998). The MC style of rapping is rooted in the African-American tradition of signifying, toasting, and call-and-response (Kelley, 1997; Gilroy, 1993; West, 1990; Smitherman, 2000). Some of the first rap recordings (e.g., Rapper’s Delight by The Sugarhill Gang) are elaborate toasts: lengthy, rhythmic stories in which the characters poke fun at themselves. It is well documented that the roots of this practice are West African (Gates, 1988; Smitherman, 2000). As such, the role of the rapper is based upon a larger legacy of African traditions embedded in America. The hip-hop MC (rapper) is equivalent to and a renaissance of the West African griot who travels from village to village singing the news, history, genealogy, and customs of a place. Traditionally griots were oral historians, spokespeople, and musicians at the same time. This highly esteemed person was able to forge lines of communication among places through which shared knowledge and consciousness could develop and take actual form. Thus an ancient cultural prototype exists for the rapper. Ice Cube explains that rap is “a formal source to get our ideas out to a wider group of peers” (Dimitriadis, 2001, p. 28). When rap first emerged on the streets of the Bronx, it was in many ways just another chapter in a long unbroken chain of Africa’s presence in the Americas (Hilliard, 1998). While rappers in this country 14

might not be in Africa per se, the tradition continues to flow through their veins as they reenact this traditional role in a different context. This is what Smitherman (2000) calls the urban griot. Building upon Mos Def’s analysis cited earlier (we are hip-hop), Boots, of the rap group The Coup, asserts that rappers are legitimate urban griots to the extent they authentically reflect the communities they claim to represent. In the following interview he articulates the importance of rappers being connected to the everyday lives of the people: Rappers have to be in touch with their communities no matter what type of raps you do, otherwise people won’t relate. Political rap groups offered solutions only through listening. They weren’t part of a movement, so they died out when people saw that their lives were not changing. On the other hand, gangsta groups and rappers who talk about selling drugs are a part of a movement. The drug game has been around for years and has directly impacted lives, and for many it’s been positive in the sense that it earned people some money. Hence gangsta rap has a home. In order for political rap to be around, there has to be a movement that will be around that will make people’s lives better in a material sense. That’s what any movement is about, making people’s lives better. (Ards, 1999, p. 7)

Boots’ observation helps explain the popularity of gangsta rap: it resonates with reality and the material conditions that define most inner cities. Kelley (1996) argues that, as street journalists, certain rappers offer outsiders a glimpse into their intense reality: “When gangsta rappers do write lyrics intended to convey social realism, their work loosely resembles a street ethnography” (p. 121). 50 Cent agrees: “Yo, I actually write what I do or see / The felonies from day to day make me say what I say… / I get sensitive with my shit, don’t fuck with my art / Sometimes it sounds like I’m playin’ but I’m sayin’ / This shit is real, it ain’t a game (Song: The 15

Good Die Young). To the extent rappers provide authentic testimonials, their art becomes insightful sites of description, resilience, and resistance.

Many rappers, however, while espoused representatives of their particular

communities, are also icons of popular culture. Guevara (1996) sees a difference between the roots of rap, the underground scene, and the media’s commercialization of an inner-city art form: “A rash of Hollywood hip-hop movies, together with a space of thirty-second hip-hop spots for Pepsi-Cola, Kodak, and Burger King, have spun a hype fantasy-image…This image of hip-hop is uninfected by any hint of the socioeconomic or racial context in which its practices arose” (p. 49). She asserts, along with others (Flores, 1996; Ross & Rose, 1994), that the mass media attempts to decontextualize rap music by taking it out of the historical continuum of creative expression of Black, Latino and other oppressed groups in the urban United States. Building on this notion, the corporate marketplace disproportionately promotes rappers who perpetuate stereotypical images of African-Americans. Perkins (1996) argues that this characterization dates back to Run-D.M.C. who were represented as “surviving the ghetto” because this profitable image could be sold to middleclass white audiences (p. 14). Adding to this debate, Dyson (1996) argues that the media promotes those images of African-Americans (especially males) that are individualistic, misogynistic and nihilistic.

Even though the media exercises a crucial role in shaping what becomes

popular culture, it is important to acknowledge the creative authority of those who actually produce the music. Not all popular rappers are promoted by large record labels. Too Short, for example, is a prominent rapper who gained popularity in the early years strictly by word of mouth throughout the San Francisco Bay Area. There 16

are still others within rap music, for instance Dead Prez, who achieve popularity by exalting their underground status as real hip-hop. At the same time, others, like KRS-One, find their niche as conscious artists within the mainstream. Yet again rappers such as Tupac and Nas combine a myriad of juxtaposing messages within the supposed monolith of rap and use disparate comments to extend their reach to a larger audience. These dynamics demonstrate the multifaceted ways that rappers influence and complicate homogenous notions of youth culture.

Spreading and Coding Messages

While this overflowing diversity within the channels of media marketing is noteworthy, it is equally important for educators to understand that rap music is used to spread messages. As one rapper says, “I thought we were supposed to sing / And if we oughta sing, then let us begin to teach / Many of you are educated, open your mouth and speak” (KRS-One, Song: I’m Still #1). Various rappers are themselves aware of their power on the stage of popular culture. Tupac used rap to get a message out to Black youth and in turn saw himself as their ambassador. Similarly, Chuck D of Public Enemy says that “rap is Black America’s CNN” (Dimitriadis, 2001, p. 28). But it is noteworthy that the rapper’s public broadcasts are not always obvious, given the language, vocabulary, and nuances within the music. Often, rap music embraces street slang and African American Vernacular English (AAVE) as well as innovative and creative vocabularic prose following no rule except possibly a rhythmical one. Within the variety of rap’s vocabulary exists another historical dimension to be discovered in the manner of communication. 17

While the role of the rapper has its roots in West Africa, the coded

language style of rap reflects the experience of Africans in America. Researchers (Fanon, 1963; Gates, 1988; Hilliard, 1998; Smitherman, 2000) suggest that several African-American cultural attributes are derived from the violent interplay set in motion when Europeans stole Africans and brought them to the Americas to become slaves. When the English language was imposed upon Africans in the Americas, it became alien and oppressive. In order to resist the dominance of white society, African-Americans transformed some forms of communication to reflect their own worldview: For centuries, African-Americans have been forced to develop coded ways of communicating to protect from danger. Allegories and double meanings, words redefined to mean their opposites…even neologisms have enabled Blacks to share messages only the initiated understood. (Gates, 1990) Advancing this idea of a coded language, Scott (1990) conducted a historical analysis of African-American folk tales, such as Brer Rabbit, and discovered a hidden transcript of resistance. He found that these stories were calls for rebellion and that the ways they were told, eloquently woven between mainstream ideas, were resistance mechanisms in and of themselves. Public Enemy confirms, “To the poor I pour it on in metaphors” and “listen for lessons I’m saying inside music that the critics are blasting me for” (Songs: Prophets of Rage & Bring the Noise). Rapper Jay-Z’s (2010) book, aptly named Decoded, expresses a similar idea as he shows that many of his lyrics have layered connotation. Likewise, Tupac provides a compelling example of indexicality (a linguistic term referring to the same word having multiple meanings based upon personal context and worldview) when he describes how curse words 18

can have different interpretations. When filming the movie Poetic Justice, he crusaded to be able to use the word “muthafucka.” He explains: I fought to have all them muthafuckas, and more of them. I remember we had a meeting, and everybody was saying “do this, and do that, because we need to have a better image for our black brothers and sisters.” I said “it’s not like that. We are cursed, that is why we curse.”…There is a signal there. That is just what I did. I took a signal from my brother, put it in the movie very loud. We can fall in love and be cursed and all of that. That just goes to show you how deep we are. (Spady, 1999, p. 564)

Researchers and rappers alike affirm that several levels of meaning can be derived from a single word, story, or song. It becomes possible then that “by stretching language, we’ll distort it sufficiently to wrap ourselves in it and hide, whereas the master will contract it” (Genet, quoted in Scott, 1990). Accordingly, the very style and modes of communication in rap (like the use of indexicalities) is steeped in a tradition of African-American vernacular and local metaphors that make it unintelligible and possibly stereotypical to some, and “the straight up truth,” to others. Theories of cultural production help explain the complex and subtle layers of rap music and the ways in which rappers can simultaneously deconstruct and perpetuate the traditional social order (Aronowitz & Giroux, 1993; Bennett, 1994; Hall, 1980, Storey, 1998; Morrow & Torres, 1995). As demonstrated, rap is not neutral nor is it strictly entertainment-based. Instead, it is a highly contentious and multifaceted arena of artistic expression within youth culture.

Hebdige’s (1979) observations of British Punk are relevant to this

assessment. He points out that “it is very difficult to sustain any absolute distinction 19

between commercial exploitation on the one hand and creativity and originality on the other” (pp. 94-95). Rap music also embodies such inconsistencies. Rose (1994) maintains that Attempts to delegitimate powerful social discourses are often deeply contradictory, and rap music is no exception. To suggest that rap lyrics, style, music, and social weight are predominately counter hegemonic (by that I mean that for the most part they critique current forms of social oppression) is not to deny the ways in which many aspects of rap music support and affirm aspects of current social power inequalities. (p. 103)

Rap music, taken as a whole, breaks down this society while simultaneously supporting it. Understanding the multiplicity of rap’s layers exposes the ways, as an influential segment of popular culture, it responds to, reconfigures, battles, and reinforces the dominant order. The messages in rap music are extremely diverse, but there are distinct commonalities. As an example, when the police are mentioned in rap music, they are almost always vilified. The same is true for prisons and schools. Rose (1994) asserts: “Rap’s commentary on alienating and racist educational structures and curricula clearly critiques dominant ideologies regarding the reasons and solutions for the crisis in public education” (p. 104). As stated, educators must understand that rap music is used as a medium to spread social commentary and thereby, to the extent that rappers “write what I do or see” about learning, knowledge, and school, their messages become germane, first-hand street-based testimonials. These artists, as creators of their craft, control the narrative of their own lives. This is important and, essentially, anti-hegemonic. Therefore, if the multiplicity of rap’s layers and connotations provide insight into a transformative praxis and if, in fact, rap does tell 20

an alternative narrative, how is this discourse being brought into schools? Moreover, how can educators be asked to include it in our classrooms if we do not know what it is, or what distinct and converging messages it carries? It’s time to let the music speak.

Methods

In order to add to the dominant analyses of hip-hop and education, rap lyrics were scrutinized for concepts of knowledge, learning, and school. Data collection and analysis proceeded in three stages: selecting the rap artists for investigation, collecting the data, and coding the lyrics. Maxwell’s (1996) purposeful sampling strategy was used to choose the artists; statements were then recorded and analyzed within the lyrics to fully understand issues relevant to education. The overarching aim was not to tally words but to critically examine the artists’ perceptions and observations. A content analysis was conducted of the transcribed lyrics of 14 rappers: Run-D.M.C., KRS-One, Public Enemy, Too Short, Tupac, Nas, Lil Kim, Lauryn Hill, Eminem, 50 Cent, Lil Bow Wow, Missy Elliot, Talib Kweli, and Dead Prez. These artists represent a diverse sampling from rap music. The 14 artists produced a total of 98 albums (1,447 songs) of which 287 songs (20%) explicitly discuss learning, knowledge, and/or school. A vast body of transcribed lyrics comprised the data. During this phase I did not focus deductively on words like ‘knowledge,’ ‘learning,’ and ‘school,’ but examined the lyrics in their entirety in order to discern any statements about or 21

references to education. A significant portion of the texts related to my research questions so it was possible to compare and contrast the primary themes that developed. Concurrently, colleagues cross-checked my coding, which provided potential alternative interpretations. Altogether, these techniques provided the basis for the content analysis. Subsequently, findings were subdivided into three areas. First, a rapper might explicitly mention school, for example, “the school…ain’t teachin us how to get crack out the ghetto” (Dead Prez, Song: They Schools). Second, some lyrics referred to knowledge and learning more broadly; Tupac says, “Let knowledge drop…I’m on a mission to preach and teach to reach” (Song: Let Knowledge Drop). Third, some advocated for school reform: “in a school that’s ebony, African history should be pumped up steadily” (KRS-One, Song: You Must Learn). These passages exemplify the multiple ways that educational concepts are present with and without the explicit use of keywords. Featured below are lyrics that showcase hip-hop as a politically conscious art form; providing educators with keen counter-narratives steeped in conceptions of art as activism and education as liberation.

Rappers Educating Educators

Consistent with the literature review, the messages within rap music reflect a type of street poetry that illuminates the conditions and circumstances of the innercity. It is profound that within this medium, rappers consider themselves educators, proclaiming: “T’cha, t’cha…I am a teacher” (KRS-One, Song: Part Time Suckers). The concept of teacher strikes at the heart of this study’s findings and there are many 22

examples. Eminem offers an entire song (The Kids) in which he becomes a substitute teacher and explains to the students the ways drugs debilitate. Though Eminem was the only rapper to have acted like a school teacher in the traditional sense, other rappers, from Public Enemy to 50 Cent, also refer to their role as “t’cha.” Dead Prez claims this is because “Hip-hop means teaching the young” (Song: It’s Bigger Than Hip-Hop). Instructing youth and sharing life lessons is a recurring motif. Rappers consider themselves educators for several distinct reasons. Unlike teachers in conventional settings who gain the job title because of credentials, the majority of the rappers treat this role as an esteemed position within their community. As the term urban griot suggests, they take on this function because they reflect and represent the genuine hardships and experiences of the impoverished neighborhoods they allegedly personify. Accordingly, the artists consistently rap about where they grew up as a way to prove their authenticity to their neighborhoods. The following passages by Nas and Too Short demonstrate this trend. I come from the housing tenement buildings

I ain’t forgot where I’m from East Oakland, and that’s

Unlimited killings, menaces marked for death

where I learned everything I know, and when I got my

Better known as the project where junkies and rock

turn I never came fake on a microphone

heads dwell (Nas, Song: Rule).

(Too Short, Song: Survivin’ the Game)

Like most rappers, they are constantly aware of their original environment, which they often depict as poor and violent. And they do not simply announce where they are from; they expound their view as spokespersons detailing the daily lives of the people they attempt to reach and teach. Consider these words:

Livin in hell – only a few of us’ll live to tell (Tupac, Song: How Do You Want It)

I’m capable of anything, my imagination can give me wings To fly like doves over the streets watchin’ many things... Every thug’s face is my mirror (Nas, Song: Thugz Mansion)

I never write to remain silent… I teach minds, write rhymes with the right sound Right now, journalists write up I write down (Talib Kweli, Song: Stand to the Side)

These potent statements reveal that the rappers feel a sense of responsibility to document the perils of the streets. Moreover, Talib Kweli’s statement that “I write down” illustrates his place as a street journalist who speaks to and on behalf of the oppressed. Although rap might be purchased by a wide array of people, the rappers in this study clearly identify their intended audience as “the masses, the lower classes, the ones you left out, jobs were givin, better livin, but we were kept out” (Tupac, Song: Words of Wisdom). The reason rappers claim to champion the cause of the oppressed correlates directly to their own life experiences. In a succinct declaration KRS-One states, “I teach y’all thugs, cause that’s what I was” (Song: Gunnen Em Down). Even though many education scholars emphasize the need to engage with hip-hop because of its relevance with teenagers, the rappers posit that it is not so much about youth culture, as it is about the struggles of people of color and/or people who live in poverty. Resonant with Smitherman’s (2000) concept of the urban griot and Kelley’s (1996) proposal that rappers are street ethnographers, the lyrics suggest that rappers consider themselves “the real t’cha” because their instruction connects to actual conditions in their hood.

Music is an influential tool used to extend the notion of teacher. KRS-

One was quite poignant when he coined the term “edutainment” to describe using entertainment to educate. When Run-D.M.C. announce, “I’ma saver spectator educator entertainer” (Song: Can I Get a Witness), they express the same idea. 24

Likewise Public Enemy explains on various albums that “To condition your condition, we’re gonna do a song. Make you all jump along to the education,” “food for the brain, beats for the feet” (Songs: Brothers Gonna Work It Out & B Side Wins Again). As these lyrics demonstrate, in order to edutain, the rappers capture the feet as well as the mind of the audience. Some rappers appear to choose this medium deliberately because of its potential to distribute ideas. For instance, one pioneer of rap music says “I coulda and shoulda and woulda, wrote a letter, but a speech that’ll reach the streets is much better” (Run-D.M.C., Song: Radio Station). Therefore, edutainment describes the strong, pulsating rhythms inherent in the style alongside the commentary available within the messages.

Through music, rap might create a virtual classroom with image and

metaphor, but its content can well describe an actual classroom or the public school system. As a prime example: “Well now you’re forced to listen to the teacher and the lesson, class is in session.” Here the class that KRS-One speaks about on his album Criminal Minded takes place not in school but between the rapper and listener. The musician-audience dichotomy is transcended when the power of media brings the force of the subject vividly to the forefront. Nas exclaims, “Fuck what they teach in class, I’ma reach the mass” (Song: Silent Murder). Since nearly every rapper I analyzed explicitly assumes the role of teacher, an inevitable question then arises: What is being taught?

Critiques of Urban Schooling

As designated educators who attempt to speak to and on behalf of the

oppressed, the rappers resemble organic intellectuals inasmuch as they use their position to cultivate consciousness. Organic intellectuals (Allman, 1988; Gramsci, 1971) openly recognize their location within the dominant ideology but use their position to instigate a critical awareness within their communities. With regards to schooling, rappers analyze the structural, material, and pedagogical forces that mitigate student achievement. For example, Too Short teaches about the importance of school, but he argues that, in practice, the majority of young people in impoverished environments do not excel academically because they are denied the skills to do so: Went to school everyday, and I still can’t read… The story’s been told one million times About a boy growin up to a life of crime… Junior high wasn’t shit but a place to fight Muthafuckas wasn’t learnin how to read and write

(Song: No Love From Oakland)

Too Short associates “growin up to a life of crime” with the school’s inability, or perhaps unwillingness, to invest in particular children and teach them to read. Similar to analyses of the opportunity gap (e.g., DeShano da Silva, Huguley, Kakli, & Rao, 2007; Flores, 2007), Too Short believes schools must take responsibility for the academic achievement of all students instead of just advocating for them to go to college while simultaneously denying them the skills to do so. As a further critique, the rappers in this study are highly skeptical of the traditional curriculum; in general they distrust what is taught in schools. For instance, Nas asserts, “Schools where I learned, they should be burned, it is poison” 26

(Song: What Goes Around) and “They schools don’t educate, all they teach the people is lies” (Dead Prez, Song: They Schools). These assessments suggest that a dishonest curriculum operates like a disease, eroding the learning process by misguiding youth. The rappers argue that a Eurocentric curriculum, in particular, disempowers African-American students. The following quotes confront these biased lessons head on: “I tried to pay attention but they classes wasn’t interestin / They seemed to only glorify the Europeans / Claimin Africans were only threefifths a human being” (Dead Prez, Song: They Schools) and “minds in another world thinking / how can we exist through the facts written in school text books” (Nas, Song: One Love). These artists, and others, maintain that a Eurocentric curriculum disengages African-American youth, indirectly pushing them to fail. In the song, Words of Wisdom, Tupac states that the information taught in schools is not neutral, but emphasizes certain views over others for political reasons (Apple, 2004; Oakes and Lipton, 2007). Even though school is problematic, the rappers advocate for young people to get an education. They warn that “it’s a cold world, stay in school” (Tupac, Song: Shorty Wanna Be a Thug). Tupac sympathizes with the fact that the streets can seem appealing to young people, but adamantly urges them to enroll in school. He writes, “Still lookin’ for a way out and that’s OK / I can see you wanna stray / there’s a way out… / enroll in school / And as the years pass by you can show them fools (Song: Wonder Why They Call U). As has been documented, teacher practices and pedagogy are central issues of criticism and debate. Although a number of lyrics depict the way that teachers “lecture” and “beat us in the head with them books” (Nas, Song: One 27

Love) as oppressive and ineffective, the rappers deplore low expectations. This is a prominent issue: it is not simply how we teach, but our belief in those we teach, that impacts achievement. Consequently, they frequently point out one reason students drop out: “teachers never cared” (Nas, Song: 2nd Childhood) and “third rate teacher readin and talkin about, ‘I knew he’d amount to nothin’” (Talib Kweli, Song: Definiton). Nas asks, “Why you listen when the teachers at school know you a young single parent out struggling / They think you a fool / Give your kids bad grades and put em in dumber classes?” (Nas, Song: Black Zombie). Why should students care about school, if school does not care about them? Why should they engage with teachers who expect them to fail? As demonstrated, these are the kinds of questions that are unabashed and front-and-center in hip-hop lyrics. Altogether, the rappers in this study challenge the purpose of schools in precise ways. Given their analysis, the rappers contend “school is like a 12 step brainwash camp” which conditions young people to internalize their position within the economic and social hierarchy (Dead Prez, Song: They Schools). In effect, KRS-One agrees, schools are “teachin our kids which way to go, and the way that they tell our kids to go, if you listen, heads right straight to prison” (Song: Never Give Up) and that “dreams of bein a doctor will deteriorate, takin over the underworld was a clearer fate” (Nas, Song: Thugz Mansion). If, in fact, school is designed to reproduce patterns of oppression by convincing certain students that the “underworld” and “prison” is the “clearer fate,” what can be done? If, in fact, as these jarring pronouncements postulate, the purpose of school is to maintain inequity, how can art transform pedagogy? Deploring teachers’ low expectations, rappers consistently comment on 28

innate abilities, aspirations and capabilities. Highlighting this point, Tupac writes, “Knew I was a genius” (Song: A Day in the Life) and 50 Cent Cent explains, “When I die, they’ll read this and say a genius wrote it” (Song: Patiently Waiting). Further, Nas asserts that he is “A modern Shakespeare reincarnated, brains are elevated” (Song: It Ain’t Hard to Tell). These statements reflect the self-assurance rappers have as artistic producers of knowledge, and they proffer similar expectations for all students, affirming the capabilities of young people. For example, “How I see it / Anything you wanna be you can be it / If your mind can perceive it” (Dead Prez, Song: Score) and “I see a place where little boys and girls are shells in the oceans not knowin they a pearl (KRS-One, Song: Where Do We Go). Clearly there is encouragement and prompting for achievement. Attempting to create a space where children accept this, Nas brings the voice of youth into his song to reinforce that they “can be anything in the world” but “it takes much practice” (Song: I Can). It is relatively simple to urge people to recognize their potential, of course. For rappers, this expectation is reinforced by an insistence on self-knowledge and an awareness of one’s roots, key components of hip-hop culture. Talib Kweli explains, “I feel the rage of a million niggas locked inside a cage. At exactly which point do you start to realize that life without knowledge is, death in disguise? That’s why, Knowledge of Self is like life after death” (Song: K.O.S.). And Dead Prez asks: “What you know is who you are, who are you? Do you know who you are in the world? What is your world view? What do you go though? What has life showed you? What are you learnin in this so-called life?” (Song: Dem Crazy). Talib’s statement, like the introspective questions above, emphasize an awareness and sense of agency that connects learning to identity development and resistance. 29

In order to be relevant, school must connect to reality. Consider KRS-One’s

song R.E.A.L.I.T.Y (“Rhymes Equal Actual Life in the Youth”), where he advocate for an education that liberates: The truth is that police must serve and protect REALITY is Black youth is shown no respect The truth is government has a war against drugs REALITY is government is ruled by thugs With all this technology, above and under Humanity still hunts down one another Rappers display artistic cannibalism Through lyricism, we fight each other over rhythm Through basic animal instincts, we think So the battle for mental territory is glory, end of story.

Although this song was released in 1995, the critique is contemporary and apropos. Tupac builds upon KRS-One’s verse about REALITY. In an interview while he was in high school, years before he became famous, Tupac pointed out the need for classroom lessons to be rooted within a social context, including the real world of poverty. Describing the imbalance between school and education, he remarked, “I think that we got so caught up in school being a tradition that we stopped using it as a learning tool, which it should be” (Dyson, 2001, p. 76). If irrelevant subjects do not adequately address the needs of his community, Tupac proposes a curriculum that will benefit his peers: “There should be a class on police brutality. There should be a class on apartheid. There should be a class on racism in America. There should be a class on why people are hungry” (p. 77). Although Tupac was unable to reconcile the hypocrisies he witnessed and eventually dropped out in his senior year, he was an avid reader with a deep love for learning despite his trouble with the public education system. Throughout his momentous career he remained convinced that schools must be based on the needs of the people and must directly help youth confront the ills affecting them.

ARTIVISM IN EDUCATION Art cannot change the world, but it can contribute to…changing the consciousness and drives of the men and women…who could change the world. - Marcuse quoted in Coreno, 1994, p. 189 I’m not saying I’m gonna change the world, but I guarantee that I will spark the brain that will change the world. - Tupac

When rap music first exploded into popular awareness with messages from Chuck D and others to “fight the power that be,” there was a rush to claim that this would be the music of liberation. After many decades, the socio-political movement long prophesized by idealists that would ignite from rap music has not yet come to fruition. In the above quotes, Tupac and Marcuse both assert that art can spark change, but will it? Well I surmise that it really depends on how the music informs and inspires our actions. Despite the political and structural environment of schools, today’s teaching demands courage, creativity, and commitment—because for us, the crisis in education has a name. In fact, it has too many names. It is the names of the youth in our classrooms who are not excelling, and who thereby show us how deeply we need new pedagogies. Hip-hop is a tool of artistic resistance and needs to inform teacher practice. My analysis brought over 1,000 lyrics to the forefront of investigation to push and prod the parameters of what is deemed adequate knowledge. Quite simply, I entered into conversation with these lyrics to demonstrate that rappers are creators of literary text and often embody a street-based literature that is critical and profound, timely and provocative.

Hip-hop is a dominant force within youth culture. To effectively understand students’ interrelationship with rap, teachers need to be reasonably informed about its complex character, including its historical roots, its contradictory messages, and its creative usages. Teacher education programs, for example, could provide a cultural and academic context that addresses several shortcomings in this area. Insight into the reasons for the crisis of urban education, depicted in rap lyrics, could easily ratify the phenomenon of rap as legitimate knowledge. Armed with a comprehensive understanding—and as a pre-condition for effective implementation—the rapper’s observations and descriptions concerning school, learning, and knowledge can be integrated into curricula. The education-related statements embedded in rap music come in many forms–narrative accounts, personal advice, and harsh guidance–yet the teachings are quite similar. Though the rappers in this investigation are highly critical of, if not disgusted with schools and their inadequacies and injustices, it is equally clear that school is still a viable option. So rappers are not dismissing schools entirely; rather, they recognize the lack of opportunities for young people in urban environments, and advocate that schools be reformed, or better yet, revolutionized. As a form of artistic resistance, the rappers’ calls for liberation through learning are loud and urgent: “I’m tired of the traps within, sometimes your brain’s your cell, prison’s the skin you in” (Public Enemy, Song: House of the Rising Son). Unlike schools that reproduce patterns of social and economic inequality, a school that directly addresses high expectations, knowledge of self, and relevance can truly transform students’ lives. Rappers are eager for a realistic, community-based education because school has the potential to contest subjugation and ignorance; it is 32

the weapon of the masses (e.g., Fanon, 1963; Freire, 1970; Woodson, 1933). Rappers, as artistic orators on the public education system and its role in society at large, are in a confrontational relationship with teachers in traditional schools who do not face up to the injustices embedded in their daily discipline. According to these rappers, the crisis in urban education exists because it is allowed, condoned, and accepted. Further research is still needed on hip-hop and education. One the one hand, we need to better understand the ways students make meaning of lyrics, images, and concepts within the music. On the other hand, students can become the creators and producers of this cultural art form both in and out of school. As a tool of education and artistic resistance, urban students can critically document their own experiences (Irby, Hall, & Hill, 2013; Love, 2013; Miller, Hodge, Coleman, & Chaney, 2014; Soep and Chavez, 2010). The voices of disenfranchised youth—whether within youth culture or in the traditional classroom—is essential to real school reform because these teenagers have profound insight into their own lives, the systems that affect them, and ways to initiate change in their communities. While rappers are on the public stage for all to hear, many students remain silenced by school. As critical teachers, how do we help some of our students cope with (and even heal from) the hardships of growing up “amongst a dyin breed” (Tupac, Song: So Many Tears)? Schools rarely try to cure such ailments. We test students and band-aid the problems that arise, but we seldom acknowledge the root causes of inner-city strife and nihilism (Ginwright, 2004; 2015; West, 2008). This reality is center stage in hip-hop, yet these topics rarely make it into sincere conversations in the teacher’s lounge or the copy room—let alone the classroom. Perhaps it is not our job to solve society’s problems but, according to rappers, to the extent we call 33

ourselves educators, it is our duty. Declarations within rap music resonate with youth, and their voices of resistance and transformation are valuable and relevant to teachers. Educators can learn from rappers as well as use lyrics inside the classroom; the key is to learn from the content instead of simply commodify the genre. To do this effectively, we must continually ask ourselves, are we genuinely listening and learning from the art, heart, and hope of the hip-hop generation?

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EDITOR-IN-CHIEF LynleyShimat Lys CO-EDITOR Sashily Kling CO-EDITOR Tina Togafau CO-EDITOR Marley Aiu DESIGNER Jimi Coloma

Educational Series SERIES EDITOR LynleyShimat Lys ADMINISTRATIVE & TECHNICAL SUPPORT University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa Student Media Board Mahalo nui loa to Jay Hartwell for his guidance! Hawaiʻi Review is a publication of the Student Media Board of the University of Hawaiʻi at Mānoa. A bold, student-run journal, Hawaiʻi Review reflects the views of its editors and contributors, who are solely responsible for its content. Hawaiʻi Review is a member of the Coordinating Council of Literary Magazines and is indexed by the Humanities International Index, the Index of American Periodical Verse, Writer’s Market, and Poet’s Market. CONTACT: hawaiireview@gmail.com SUBMIT: hawaiireview.org

Artistic Resistance: Creating a Transformative Teaching Praxis Through Hip-Hop

Dr. Vajra Watson Director, Research and Policy for Equity Founder, Sacramento Area Youth Speaks (SAYS) University of California, Davis