about us | contact | links | archive
music_gif  

Ahead of Its Time

Words: Emily Youssef

Image: Matthew Porter

Represent!

 

We don’t all have hooked-up rides and expensive jewelry, but if there’s one thing every member of the hip-hop community owns, it’s an opinion. Hip-hop was founded as a voice for the marginalized who shared not only a desire for the craziest beats and flows, but goals of empowerment and improvement. For many, this culture is the American dream realized, one of the few accessible routes to financial stability and social acceptance. So we coddle this vehicle, exceeding regular maintenance by shining every spot and losing sleep over the smallest squeaks. But we spend so much time discussing video chicks and which artist has the hottest club banger, we’ve forgotten how urgent it once was to build a unified community that asserted and proved the existence of the identities within it.

There have always been gay rappers. The GLBT (Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transsexual) population has always existed within hip-hop, from fans to those who play powerful, determinate positions. The number of hip-hop supporters has grown exponentially since its inception, and simply because it’s rarely discussed doesn’t mean there is no gay representation. You’d be a fool to discredit any MC with essential mic skills, gay or not.

Caushun, a Bed-Stuy raised artist, made waves a few years back by calling up one of the most influential urban radio stations, NYC’s Hot 97, announcing himself as “The Gay Rapper” and freestyling on air. Thousands of phone calls followed from listeners requesting to hear more from the tongue-in-cheek MC. He’s received the most press of any gay hip-hop artists, but he is not alone. Phat Family is an international organization of artists based in San Francisco exploring the complexity of the community and its GLBT contributors—via music and a yearly hip-hop summit. Members from the US and Europe are collectively forging a new path in a largely homophobic culture, and do so with unquestionable talent.

One former Seattleite, dubbed Andre “the Urban Hermitt,” has taken matters into his own hands. As an accomplished MC, spoken word artist, zine creator and novelist, Andre has watched doors close and opportunities crumble. “Even the drum and bass DJ I was MC-ing for told me that I rap too much about [my] sexuality and people don’t want to hear that. ‘Maybe [you] should rap about weed.’ Would he have said that if I wasn’t queer?” This mentality has closeted many key players in the industry, including those behind the scenes who push some serious weight. Many have spoken with the media under the condition of anonymity. Street credibility is the most important professional reference in hip-hop; the careers of these giants would likely be slaughtered if they came out. “I can see why a lot of them keep it on the DL because they want to keep their careers and be respected,” Andre notes. “But it’s really fuckin’ sad that it has to be that way.”

While everyone is busy trying to figure out who these cats are, there are intense, underlying systems of racism and discrimination occurring in both the hip-hop and queer circles. “Mainstream gay America is white and bland. It’s focused on gay cruise lines and Melissa Etheridge instead of focusing on minorities, poverty, disability... Thought provoking queer hip-hop isn’t going to fit into that box,” suggests the Urban Hermitt. Writers and activists have long explored what it is to be a “dual minority” and the consequences suffered by those who live compartmentalized lives. In ethnic communities where homophobia is notorious, many hide or downplay their sexuality in an effort to remain accepted and to protect the familial structures in place for eons. The most sobering issue, Andre states, is that “The people in power are probably laughing at minorities fighting with minorities.”

Hip-hop will remain dominant because of its potential; it has outgrown a section of the record store into an entire culture, complete with its own set of faults and ambiguous inconsistencies. Once called “the Ghetto CNN,” early artists implemented this medium to share and validate the impact of where they came from and what action needed to be taken. If hip-hop is the face of the discarded and their struggles, then why is the GLBT community’s voice not being heard? By continuing to represent, talent is bound to outlast bias. “I don’t have the time or patience to teach and explain to everybody... I’m here to rap!” Andre proclaims. He continues to drop science through his rhymes and writing, but looks to the day when the mainstream straight hip-hop takes notice. The “check engine” light is on, but hip-hop needs more expert opinions before it can be the vehicle to take us to a higher level.


  • Peace Out East is an international gathering of GLBT hip-hop artists and supporters being held in NYC July 16-18 2004. For performers and venues see phatfamily.org/peaceouteast.
  • Andre’s novel, “The Flow Chronicles” can be found at microcosmpublishing.com.
  • For more discussion, check out the gay hip-hop forum at mrmaker.proboards1.com.



All content of Tablet is © 2005 by Tablet, LLC and may not be reprinted without expressed written permission.