Kendrick and Drake and Will and Chris and Tupac and Biggie and….
Even a rock-ribbed optimist can feel dispirited sometimes. And I am not proud to admit that this is one of those times. A hip-hop snob who literally grew up with the culture has no business taking a side in a rap beef in 2024. #1 I am pretty sure I am almost old enough to be both of these guys’ fathers, and #2 I haven’t paid money for a rap song since Public Enemy dropped He Got Game in my last year of law school. The guys are, of course, Kendrick Lamar and Drake, and I do have a daughter old enough to date them. So I am way out of my depth engaging in a discussion about who said what about who, and what it was supposed to mean, and all that other bullshit that we discuss like it means absolutely everything when in fact it means absolutely nothing.
I am dispirited by the big picture of what has gone down here and what this says about Black men as we approach another critical crossroads in our march toward becoming full equity partners in the American enterprise. The headwinds haven’t been this strong in my lifetime and, like rap music itself, I turned 50 not long ago.
While the nation we call home can’t figure out if it wants to lock us all up, kill us all off, or just banish us back to the societal margins from which we emerged, we are tearing each other apart over…. what exactly? Who is a better rapper? Who…
