The Holy Ground of Hip Hop Tamice Spencer-Helms
United Theological Seminary of the Twin Cities Annual Symposium
Aunt Nikki had perfectly gelled finger waves on the left side of her Asymmetrical bob haircut. She was so cool. I was sitting on my grandmother’s steps in Baltimore watching her get dressed for the nightclub. All of a sudden, on the boombox, I heard a sound that would mark me for the rest of my life. Aunt Nikki grabbed my hands and we danced. Her big square- gold-toned- bamboo-hoop earrings seemed to flap to the beat as “aaash push it, push it real good!” echoed throughout the house. Salt-N-Peppa were the very first EmCee’s I encountered, I was four years old.
Itwasholyalthough Iwouldn’thaveknowntocallit that. Mypassionand appreciationforHipHop culture and music matured as I did. It still does. It went from fun fanciful music to a prolific outlet for me as an adolescent trying to find my way in the world.
I loved learning, but I hated school. I was often bullied and ridiculed about my appearance in much the same way as our kickoff presenter. In those dark days, my only consolation was the thought of going home, popping in a cassette tape, turning the bass boost all the way up on my boombox hoping that the beat would reverberate at a higher frequency than the insults and ridicule that transpired that day in
In a very tangible sense, Hip-Hop played a pivotal role in helping me navigate the chaotic corridors of junior high. Remarkably, it was a mere year after my ill-fated suicideattemptthatmy life took a dramatic turn. I can't quite explain the sudden shift in my perspective, but when the announcement crackled over the intercom, signaling the opening of sign-ups for the school-wide talent show, it felt as though Lauryn Hill herself was grinning at me from within my imagination. It was a sign, or at least it felt that way to me. In that moment, I had a crystal-clear vision of exactly what I was going to perform.
“Yeah in saloons we drink Boone's and battle goons till high noon Bust rap toons on flat spoons, take no shorts like poon poon's
See hoochies pop coochies for Gucci's and loochies
Find me in my Mitsubishi, eatin' sushi, bumpin' Fugees”
I knew every word by heart. I would stop-play-rewind into the wee hours of the night until I had written the words to every rap feature that came on the radio. I didn’t win the talent show, but I did get a standing ovation and what had been a hellish existence changed that night. What Lauryn was doing with words was magic. She sounded confident and free. She was tough and beautiful. It made me feel like I could be that too. She taught me about the “boogie-down” and in many ways, she introduced me to myself. HipHop infused me with something that made me feel fearless, it gave me wings, it made me feel seen. I saw God in the roughness and rawness and the truth of it all. It spoke to me deeply. I felt connected to something real and transcendent. I was awakening to reality and fallacy in the world.
What I loved about Hip-Hop then and now was the way it gave me confidence and taught me to love myself for who I was, not what the world wanted me to be. It told the truth about the world and the way things were. It kept my secrets too. Letting me lean into a masculinity that felt divinely planted and embrace the intersections I couldn’t name back then.
I wasn’t a girl or a guy.
I was like Hip Hop: Non-binary.
Hip Hop is holy ground.
Holy Ground transcends the ordinary, as God's voice reaches unsuspecting individuals in mundane moments. In this sacred space, clarity dawns, barriers crumble, and minds are refreshed. It is where visions are born, identities are affirmed, suffering is acknowledged, and God's presence is revealed. Here, the rejected and outcast find solace, the despised are embraced with dignity, and the unseen in society discover intimacy with a God who truly sees them.
This academic paper explores the profound connection between Hip-Hop culture and divine encounter, demonstrating how the core elements of Hip-Hop can reshape and revitalize our spiritual
journey. For me, Hip-Hop has emerged time and again as a powerful conduit, allowing me to navigate this intricate journey of faith and spirituality while preserving the essence of the past, embracing the present, and fostering hope for the future.
In The Beginning Was A Word: 1520 Sedgwick Avenue:
In the gritty heart of the Bronx during the tumultuous 1980s, a phrase echoed through the streets like a grim urban mantra: "The Bronx is Burning." This somber refrain captured the borough's descent into an abyss of socioeconomic turmoil, racial strife, and urban decay. The Bronx of that era was a battleground for a series of interconnected crises that painted a bleak portrait of a once-vibrant community.
One of the most sinister aspects of the fires that engulfed the Bronx was their racially motivated nature. Many of the arson cases were not random acts of vandalism or isolated incidents, but rather deliberate attempts to displace and disenfranchise the predominantly Black and Hispanic residents of the borough. Unscrupulous landlords and speculators, seeking to profit from insurance payouts and the devaluation of properties, often conspired with arsonists to set entire blocks ablaze. These fires disproportionately affected communities of color, exacerbating the borough's racial tensions and further deepening the wounds of systemic racism.
Adding to the Bronx's woes, thecrack cocaine epidemicwas making its way into the neighborhood. The crack epidemic brought with it a wave of addiction, violence, and despair. Drug-related crimes and gang violence surged, tearing at thefabric of thecommunity and compounding the borough's already severe problems. The availability and destructiveness of crack cocaine exacerbated the challenges facing the Bronx, as the drug took a devastating toll on individuals and families.
Economic hardship, racial injustice, arson, and the crack epidemic combined to cast a long shadow over the Bronx. The loss of manufacturing jobs and the phenomenon of white flight had already led to a precipitous decline in the borough's population and economic vitality. Businesses shuttered their doors, leaving behind empty storefronts and derelict lots. The pervasive atmosphere of fear and insecurity further dissuaded potential investors and residents, perpetuating the cycle of decline and misery.
Then in the midst of all that nothingness.
Came Something no one had ever seen.
The Latin phrase "creation ex nihilo," attributed to St. Augustine of Hippo, signifies his interpretation of the genesis, the act of creation "out of nothing." It’s my argument that Hip-Hop, if nothing else, is “genesis ex nihilo”. A cultural movement, a creative force that sprung from urban decay. This creative explosion started with a "BOOM, BOOM, BAP!" It was August 11, 1973, Hip-Hop’s first birthday.
The creative explosion came from the speakers of a skinny kid who'd moved to New York from Kingston, Jamaica. His name was Clive Campbell. DJ "Kool Herc," as he came to be known, was asked by his younger sister to play music for a back-to-school party she was throwing. The proceeds from the party were going to go into buying school supplies, and as Herc manipulated the turntables to repeatedly play the "1! 2! 3! 4!" of his mother's James Brown album, the whole neighborhood, like Moshe in the presence of the burning bush, turned aside to see. Kool Herc lived at 1520 Sedgwick Avenue, and the way he found a way to line up the records on his turntable just enough to have the breakbeat drop while he admonished the crowd on the microphone was something no one on that block had ever seen. Something brand new was happening right before their eyes. It was desperation that catalyzed the creativity behind a grassroots movement. For the first time, young people had created their own societal lane. They realized that words could really create worlds. They improvised a pathway to freedom. They used what was right in front of them to form and to fashion beauty from the ashes of their burned down surroundings. Hip-Hop's creative explosion in the Bronx is a testament to the ability of human creativity to flourish in the most unlikely of places.
Hip-Hop became a salvific grassroots movement, carving out a unique societal niche in spite of a society that had never been true to what is claimed on paper. It transformed the five boroughs into Eden
a city with three rivers running through it the Hudson River to the west, the East River, to the east, and the Harlem River to the north-east. Young people created pockets of Oasis in the concrete where they could explore and celebrate their humanity.
Hip Hop was not just a cultural phenomenon it was a political and prophetic force, impossible for anyone to disregard. Unless of course they tried really hard.
And I did.
I first met White Jesus at a play about hell. After traveling the Romans road, I eventually found myself uttering a prayer that was said to have saved my wretched soul. Among the initial demands placed upon me, the hardest was to part ways with hip-hop.
About 11 years into evangelicalism, I had reached my breaking point. Police brutality, Chrisitan nationalism and hypocrisy drove me to a state of despair and disillusionment. feelings of defeat, disgust, and despair eradicated any tolerance I had for white Jesus, who seemed to be omnipresent – in books, sermons, music, and even as a bobblehead. I didn't want White Jesus as my savior or my lord. I was grappling with the consequences of his historical actions not only in my own life but also in the lives of countless friends who, like me, were just done.
And then I was born again, again in 2016.
Picture This:
All we can see is red at first. Then suddenly, the camera zooms in upon what looks like three white pillars. A closer look reveals that what seemed like white pillars, was actually black women all along. Voluptuous black women, of all shapes and sizes, are revealed as the audio from Martin Luther King Jr. I
Have A Dream Speech plays in the background. In formation, the women begin marching to the cadence of a military snare drum. Beyoncé is rallying the troops. This is war. Queen Bey, as she is known around the world, appears mid-stage and begins to walk in formation with women to her right and left in what appears to be a shallow pool of water. As Beyoncé starts to sing, the company of women starts running as if the Lord has just given the word, and this was the great company of women who were about to declare it. They are running hard and fast, but this is a visual depiction of the Red Queens Race, they keep running and running and it takes them nowhere. Even when they tire of running, they don’t quit, because winners don’t quit on themselves. They get back in formation again, to frolic aggressively in the water. Before the end of the verse, the company falls to its knees and strike the water with balled fists in frustration. It is apparent to those who are watching: these women are chasing freedom. They are trying to escape. At their wit's end, this company of women is joined by shirtless men who begin to stomp loudly. Once the women hear, they join in unison. Stomping and screaming in a fashion that is reminiscent of an indigenous African ring shout. In this expression or invocation?
The answer is made clearas a hoodedKendrick Lamar, in combat boots, is summoned, and ascends to the stage, and opens his mouth to flow. Kendrick's verse is centered on the challenges of the Black man in America. He preempts the verse with a spoken word that brings the years of reconstruction to mind. There is no doubt that this is purposeful. He promises the revolution will be televised. There are subtle high-pitched notes that seem to affect of the type of whistle or coded sound only a particular people are inclined to hear. It is like the days of old, the days when our ancestors’ hid messages in body movement (the stomping and screaming) and secret sounds. Then Kendrick counts down,
Ten Hail Mary’s I meditate for practice, channel 9 news tell me I’ve moving backwards, 8 backs left death is around the corner, seven misleadin' statements 'bout my persona six head lights flashing in my direction, five-o asking me what’s in my possession. This is a countdown to a revolution and it WILL be televised this time. The wordplay is filled with vivid depictions of the daily experiences of black men and ends with an exhortation to his mother telling her not to cry. That "Freedom" will come even if it comes in the form of an epitaph on a gravestone.
At the end of the oracle, the dancers lie flat on their backs in the water a nod to the die-in protests that had taken place earlier that year. Beyonce' and Kendrick, the last two standing, stomp, splash, and kick they've paid respectand homage to Martin and the ancestors, butitis clear that this is a new moment, and it calls for a new movement. The embodiment demonstrated at this point in the performance suggests, "we will not be wading in the water this time; we have come to stir it up."
Even though the pursuit of freedom killed them, though their bodies lay motionless and lifeless in the water they are free. They've justrevealed their theology on the concept of resurrection itis notabout life after death; it is about life from death.
Once again HipHop came through once again with new wineskins, cleared space for me to encounter the divine within. It conferred a calling and inspired a message of self-love, inhered resilience, and magic that confronted the empire of its day. I again found myself on holy ground. Holiness, at its core, pertains more to one's posture and motivation than proximity to a designated sacred space. God told Moshe their name was I AM. Wherever God is that’s the Holy Place and I always found God in Hip-Hop.
To unearth the holy ground within Hip Hop, it is essential to deconstruct the artificial boundary of sacred and secular, recognizing it as a counterproductive binary.
My upbringing in white evangelicalism indoctrinated me with the belief in binaries. It claimed that the gospel possessed omnipotent efficacy,capable ofpenetrating any heart andconforming it to the likeness of Christ. However, when confronted with my unashamed embrace of my own fatness, queerness, holiness and blackness the realities overwhelmed the myth and white Jesus evaporated from my concern, my worship, and my attention. out of my life forever. His abstract gospel could not address the profound challenges of being racialized as black in America. And it most certainly was not good news. In fact, any gospel that seeks to erase or silence the divine in me is a false one.
Just as the 2016 BET Awards performance by Beyoncé and Kendrick Lamar was a form of visual poetry. An aesthetic for the mad and marginalized. In both the performance and the broader context of HipHop, the pursuit of freedom is palpable. From the dancers' relentless and relatively futile questfor freedom,
mirrors the struggles faced by Black communities in America. The incorporation of spoken word, symbolism, and metaphors in the performance underscores the power of words and creativity to inspire change and resilience.
The embodiment and the dance ultimately convey a profound theological message: that freedom can emerge from the depths of struggle and despair, echoing the concept of a concrete resurrection. Not after death, but from it.
Hip-Hop taught me how to excavate treasure from trash. It taught me that holiness is ultimately about honesty and authenticity. It gave me confidence when I needed it most, and an outlet when I needed to rage. Hip-Hop gave me a new life when I didn't feel like living anymore. It will always be a place where I encounter the divine in the fullness of who I am and the unique way I live, move, and have my being in the world.
Hip-Hop is a functional hermeneutic and a liberative theology that seeks and finds the divine in unexpected places. It has the potential to inspire, empower, and bring to life.
Hip Hop is holy ground.
“Hip hoppers literally mapped onto the consciousness of the world a place and an identity for themselves as the originators of an exciting new art form. They created value out of races and places that had seemed to offer only devastation.” -Marcyliena Morgan