Tuesday, September 23, 2008

When I got the assignment, I immediately thought, 'why not look at some "good Hip-Hop"' - the stuff many people talk about nostalgically as meaningful, thoughtful, containing a message, being unique, etc. (implying, of course, its superiority to other forms of Hip-Hop music, specifically mainstream) - a categorization I have also used before. And with this particular category, I'm talking about the artists that I hear others mention in this context: Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Common, The Roots, among others. These are contemporary artists who defy the mainstream image of Hip-Hop music. I think these artists are great, and I listen to their stuff, but they havesome problematic shit as well. Common's song, "I Used to Love H.E.R.," for example, has always irked me. Common is great - he talks about a lot of stuff that other rappers don't really cover, and he has been known to talk about women in a respectful manner (though even his best attempts are still steeped in patriarchy), he has a unique style, he's all about love, the list could go on. His love for Hip-Hop, in particular, is his impetus for writing "I Used to Love H.E.R.," in which he recounts the history and evolution of Hip-Hop, gendered female.
The video is mostly populated by images like these:






























These two shots show a young common coming into his room with, presumably, his first turntable. "I met this girl when I was ten years old...." In the second shot, he's rapping in front of the mirror. He's dressed in the style of early Hip-Hop. Things look good.

















In this shot, like many others in the video, he's rapping to a group of guys. He's telling them about Hip-Hop, it's all nice, and reminiscent.
















































Of course, it would be incomplete without images of all the great things that Hip-Hop offers: the four pillars, and the communal aspect, shows, etc.
But, is it really so simple? Of course not, I wouldn't be writing about it for this assignment if it were. For one, the song's lyrics, alone, are upsetting, but then what he/the director chose to do with the video add to that in some ways. There are also shots like these:

















The first time we see the woman who embodies Hip-Hop in this video, it is a camera shot panning up her legs, and resting on her butt. Hip-Hop is defined as attractive by the male gaze. There were women who were in Hip-Hop as well, but this portrayal is silencing them. By gendering Hip-Hop female, and describing her as "a dummy," unable to see the risks of selling-out to the man:
"But once the man got you well he altered the native
Told her if she got an energetic gimmick
That she could make money, and she did it like a dummy,"
Common enforces notions that women should not be given power because they, apparently, don't know what to do with it.















The next shot of the woman is at this line:
"she didn't have a body, but she started gettin' thick quick"
She is viewed from below, looking up at her butt. Before even getting into her undressing, or there being a mirror present to show her front, the lense that is used, is clearly defined by male desire. Common may be appreciating this woman, both for her external beauty and her mind, creativity, soul - all the other things he mentions in this song - but the interactions he has with her tell a different story. You see, he's in this room, watching her change:















The camera angle changes and we see Common looking at her in the mirror. He is laying down, lounging, watching these changes happen, and Hip-Hop becoming Afrocentric. But, he just watches her - they don't interact. I can't even say, for sure, if they see each other - if she's supposed to know that Common is sitting in the room with her, or if he's just a narrator and observer to her changes. If that is the case, that sets a contradiction between his love for Hip-Hop and engagement in it (actively contributing to its shaping), being a rapper, and his actions in the video, being a passive observer to her changes.

















The most recurrent scene with the woman who plays Hip-Hop, is her by the shore, dancing. She goes through various forms of dress, though none are too provocative. I don't know if it's right to say she's being sexually suggestive. She's just dancing, so it doesn't have to mean anything - though when thinking about who's telling her to dance (namely Chris Halliburton, the director) I think it suggests something more. There is clearly an audience who wants to see this woman dance around on the beach. The next image suggests a bit more, who that audience might be:















"I thought it was dope how she was on that freestyle shit
Just havin fun, not worried about anyone
And you could tell, by how her titties hung."
At this point in the video, the woman is, again, on the beach, but this time her front is shown and she is bending over, pushing out her chest. There is a correlation to the line in the song - she bends down and the camera reaches her chest as "by how her titties hung" is said. The first time I heard this song, this was the line where I was like "Whoa!? What did he say?" After which, I went through and listened again. It became clear after a few listens that there was something a bit problematic about the song, but I couldn't quite place it until recently (I've been listening to the song for years), after learning about patriarchy, gender, power dynamics, and plenty of other things.
Another thing to mention is that in the scenes where the woman is not present, mostly they are Common rapping the lyrics to a bunch of guys. There are various places and scenes like this, in the park, in a room, etc. They are all men, though. As if, women do not need to hear this story, or they don't appreciate it? And, in that case, if he's telling all men, and gendering Hip-Hop female, isn't this some sort of homosocial bonding conversation they're having? It's great to reminisce over Hip-Hop. But...that's different than just reminiscing, that's objectifying. Talking about, "did you see how Hip-Hop's titties hung?"
I think my story with the song, though, is a good indication of how this kind of message can be somewhat glossed-over and missed. In truth, I didn't see the video for this song until the assignment came up, and I was curious to see if there was anything there for analysis. It was really interesting to see Common's visual representation of Hip-Hop as a woman. It could have been much worse, certainly, and describing Hip-Hop as a woman, he is putting women up in a sacred place where Hip-Hop resides for many (and maybe women don't). This is great, or... it could be great. Common cleverly personified Hip-Hop, giving him a lot of material for metaphor and visualization. But, in the end, the visual representations of Hip-Hop, the woman, are perpetuating a lot of messages that go around about women in this society. She is a sexual object, still. She can't make important decisions (goes west to the gangster scene, sells out, talks about smoking and drinking all the time). She is a thing to be looked-at. She is not interacted with - that is...in the unedited version of the video. I think it is important to say that in the edited version of the video, the first shot of her, panning up her leg, is not present. Instead, a shot of her, dressed in African clothing, I believe, on a sunny day. She is shown, later, interacting with children, in a communal setting. She is deeper than dancing alone on the beach and undressing in her room, watched by Common and the audience.
I find it interesting that Common and these other artists are held up so much by some, yet there is sexism and patriarchy present in their work. Sure, there may be more visible issues in mainstream Hip-Hop videos, but that should not mean that other artists who are less offensive are held up as the antithesis to corporate, mainstream Hip-Hop. This won't stop me from listening to Common, but like with all music, I think it's good to listen with the critical lens that Pough suggests.

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