I Protest & So Does My Music
I love listening to music. Hip-Hop has oftentimes guided me through some of the weirdest, saddest, and most turbulent moments of my life. Before basketball games, I would play songs to hype myself up; play “Touch the Sky” by Kanye West and Lupe Fiasco, or Eminem’s “Lose Yourself”. It gets my blood boiling and my heart racing. They fuel me and push me to be the best that I can be: to get to the basket, to write that essay, to win.
So, when I post on social media or go to present my opinion on what’s going on in the black community, I have my music for that too.
I like to dive into the throes of music history to unleash the best of me, or what I really feel. There isn’t a lot of things that I don’t listen to, as I don’t limit myself to only Hip-Hop and Rap.
When I protest or write to stand up for the rights of my brethren, I listen to “Strange Fruit” by Nina Simone. As when I stand up and holler, I stand for those who are hanging from the poplar trees. For that song wasn’t written as an ode to nature on a somber note, but to denounce the act of lynching people of color. The lynching has evolved from hanging people in the trees to choking them out on the streets. Or shooting them with their back turned. Or gunning them down in drug raids.
When I protest or write to stand up for the rights of my brethren, I listen to the new-jazz funk of Gil Scott-Heron. For I am not able to stay home, plug in, turn on and cop out of my skin, as the revolution will not be televised. The revolution that we are currently living through will not get rid of the nubs. “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” but it will surely be seen on our smartphones and computers, as cops continue to shoot down and kill Black, Indigenous, and People of Color on the streets that we toiled for.
When I protest or write to stand up for the rights of my brethren, I’m going to continue to listen to the “Words I Never Said” by Lupe Fiasco, as I contemplate the fiasco that is the situation that we are in. In the middle of a global pandemic, we don’t talk enough about the number of doctors who are lacking in personal protective equipment because the police look more like the army these days. Ironic as the streets have become the warzone that we walk in every day. If not for the dangers of the cops, the other hands present a clandestine drug war that has imprisoned so many people of color. Just to see rich people getting rich on those same drugs now that they have been legalized. Nice.
When I protest or write to stand up for the rights of my brethren, Black Thought will resonate in my speakers as I say the name of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Trayvon Martin, Mike Brown… I’d write them all if my tears could allow me. As I walk the streets with my fist raised high, I’ll think of Elijah McLaren as he walked home. I’ll eat skittles and wear my hoodie as I pray for Trayvon’s family, who don’t get to hug their son, brother, friend. Tell me when does any of this end? When do we get to be ourselves, and not have to cry as our friends Rest In Power? If I could change matters, I would spare their lives. Our lives. My life.
So as I protest and raise my fist in unity, my music will be loud. The screaming I will do will be loud. My heart will be loud. It’s been heavy for so long. Let’s do better.