Chance The Rapper. Twitter. Snow on Tha Bluff. (Summer Reading in the Time of COVID-19 #2: They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us)
Starting on June 14th, I embarked on the project of reading a book every week throughout the summer. For each respective book, I decided to write something on Medium about whatever I wanted, so long as it related to the book and its message/content in some way.
Previous:
6.14: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz
6.21: They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us by Hanif Abdurraqib
I’ve opted to start my series by writing about the book I started on June 21st: They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us by Hanif Abdurraqib, whose silky smooth prose earned him superlative praise from NPR, Washington Post and the Chicago Tribune among other news outlets.
In 1982, Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five released The Message, the first real attempt from an artist in the emerging Hip-Hop/Rap industry to make a statement on society. From that point, hip-hop began to enter the sphere of social activism in a way that only Bob Dylan and progressive rock had been able to before.
Hanif Abdurraqib’s collection of essays in They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us serves as a poignant reminder of music’s ability to heal, to comfort and to incite change. Abdurraqib’s recollections are mainly based around his unique status: at the intersection of Islamic and African-American (his parents converted to Islam in the ‘70s).
While They Can’t Kill Us is, at times, an overwhelming amalgamation of the events in Abdurraqib’s complex life story, the message of each of the 30+ essays is clear and defined, organized neatly within subsections detailing Marvin Gaye’s iconic rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner at the 1983 NBA All-Star Game.
Less than 36 months after Abdurraqib’s frankly underrated exploration into the intersectionality between music and our culture, a country is in turmoil and musicians and celebrities are once again looked at as societal figureheads, as guidance and figures who are regarded with expectation.
The first essay of They Can’t Kill Us is “Chance The Rapper’s Golden Year”. Chance’s musical persona is not centred around any one vice or issue but rather the core tenant of his livelihood: the church. In describing Chance’s third and most refined mixtape The Coloring Book (2016), Abdurraqib relishes in Chance’s religious attachment, his advancement from previous projects into more complex lyricism and his ability to incorporate a community around him, whether it be the city of Chicago or the hip-hop world around him.
Still, Abdurraqib fails to recognize Chance’s progression in terms of age and maturity. Chance recorded his entire first mixtape, 10 Day (2012), while on suspension at his high school for marijuana possession and released it at 19 years old. Acid Rap (2013) was released only two weeks after his 21st birthday. These were projects centred around abrasive rhymes, lyrics and smoking weed. He was having fun, as any teenager or 20-something should, and the albums reflect his attitude. Many prefer these older albums, an objectively reasonable standpoint. Chance’s change in style from 2013 to 2016 was not an improvement of musical dexterity or lyricism. It was one of maturity.
In the 3-year hiatus between Acid Rap and Coloring Book, Chance developed into a different man and thus a different artist. Chance moved from a ‘mixtape’ artist into a ‘woke rapper’. As the son of an aide to President Obama, Chance entered his ‘real’ adulthood with a renewed purpose. It started with his charity work and youth outreach in Chicago. It was continued by his ‘Save Chicago’ initiative against gun violence. It accompanied a change in his musical direction, most easily detected in his verse on Kanye West’s Ultralight Beam (one of the greatest opening tracks of an album. Ever). It culminated in Coloring Book.
During his three year transformation, Chance helped launch the My Brother’s Keeper initiative, an attempt by the Obama administration to reform the US criminal justice system and improve the lives of black (and other minorities) youth. Among the artists joining him in meetings at the White House was J. Cole, one of the most well-established names in Hip-Hop.
Chance and Cole are regarded on similar terms on the rap scene. Cole perhaps has an edge in credibility and has been able to produce more popular and lyrical tracks, but Chance has been able to establish his name through another medium: Twitter Politics.
While Chance has established himself as an independent, he has not been afraid to voice concerns and criticisms over Donald Trump’s presidency and extend support for Barack Obama and other democrats. At the same time, he has established himself as a free thinker, irrespective of any societal expectation of conformity.
Cole, on the other hand, has less than 3000 tweets to Chance’s ~47 000 (as of July 2020). Cole tends to steer clear of politics on his twitter, although it inevitably comes up. And he was certainly unable to keep it out of his Twitter feed.
On May 25th, 2020, George Floyd was killed in Minneapolis while being taken into custody. To examine the full scope of events that came out of this event is an impossible task. So we’ll choose to look at something more specific.
As would be expected, a cavalcade of celebrities stepped up. Ariana Grande, Halsey, Stephen Curry. Chance The Rapper, Kanye West. Their voices were heard, photos of their protesting were taken. And a sense of duty was developed in the hearts and minds of many. One of these warriors for change was Chicago-based artist Noname who criticized artists for not using their platform for change.
Poor black folks all over the country are putting their bodies on the line in protest for our collective safety and y’all favorite top selling rappers not even willing to put a tweet up, niggas whole discographies be about black plight and they no where to be found. — Noname via Twitter on May 29, 2020
The quoted tweet above has since been deleted as have all her tweets from before June 31.
Although his name was never mentioned, nor was there any specific reference to him, J. Cole took offence to the tweet, despite the fact that he had been active in protests and quite involved at that. He responded on June 16th with a surprise track Snow On Tha Bluff. There is no cohesive thought to the song. Cole, like everyone else, has had a lot of time to think and needed to speak his mind. The lyrics are clearly calculated, but an air of frustration (and confusion) creeps out from the one long verse delivered by Cole.
Cole establishes that he is ignorant of much of what is going on. He has not read much, his “IQ is average” and he is willing to accept criticism. However, he expresses his displeasure with Noname’s “queen tone” and feels that she is projecting herself as “better” than him and figures like him. He then offers “one more suggestion respectfully”:
I would say it’s more effective to treat people like children
Understandin’ the time and love and patience that’s needed to grow
This change is inevitable, but ain’t none of us seen this before
Therefore, we just gotta learn everything as we go
Interesting… Fast forward to the next morning. *eagerly rubs hands together in anticipation*
J. Cole doubled down on Snow On Tha Bluff with this series of tweets:
Controversy ensues:
From who other than our golden boy of social awareness: Chancellor Bennett aka Chance The Rapper! Chance is good friends with Noname. They are both from Chicago, born in the early ’90s, rappers who found inspiration in and devoted themselves to slam poetry. She appears on the track Lost off of Acid Rap and contributes a verse to Finish Line/Drown on The Coloring Book. All this before she released her own first mixtape.
Naturally, the very next day (6/18), Noname releases Song 33. One minute and nine seconds of pure unadulterated prose. Naturally, she seems to allude to Cole and his comments. Naturally, just days later, she tweeted the following:
i’ve been thinking a lot about it and i am not proud of myself for responding with song 33. i tried to use it as a moment to draw attention back to the issues i care about but i didn’t have to respond. my ego got the best of me. i apologize for any further distraction this caused — Noname via Twitter on June 21, 2020
Wait, what? No clap-back? Well, what did Cole say? Did he respond with a full-out diss track? Did he engage in a twitter war? What’s that you say? He… He apologized too?
Oh. Well, he promoted her song.
Ultimately, reconciliation was found. This is important in repairing our world which is, as Noname observes on Song 33, “in smokes”. Peace, cooperation and love. A tense interaction of three highly aware artists gave us a pensive moment in the long road to racial equality.
Maturity, as Chance achieved through Coloring Book, is an oft underappreciated aspect of what we have and what we do. No one here was entirely right and no one here was entirely wrong. Instead of squabbling and ‘beefing’ like children, we saw resolution and black artists lifting each other up, an example which should be carried to people in all walks of life in all scenarios.
Cole failed to ‘read the room’. Noname’s actions felt somewhat combative. Chance came to her defence, fists up.
At the end of the day, who you side with or identify within this exchange is not a matter of right or wrong, moral or immoral, racist or anti-racist, liberal or conservative. The procession of this exchange was a matter of personality and the way in which one carries out their business. Many have tried to dissect a winner, but… How can there be a winner when Cole and Noname are on the same side, fighting for the same overarching goal?
Abdurraqib doesn’t fail to mention the issue of police brutality in his book, even years in advance of the moment that sparked a nation into action. After all, the killings of young black persons were not a new concept found in the craziness that 2020 has brought. Music, the broad focus of They Can’t Kill Us, is an industry that has seen significant African-American influence and success. Naturally, Abdurraqib touches on Trayvon Martin, on Eric Garner, on the nature of America.
What he fails to touch on are steps to move away from this. While there is no, and should be no, expectation for how African-Americans are to act in the face of continued prejudice and oppression which has existed as long as we have known to hate, the general attitude of love and acceptance radiated in this exchange is heartening.