The Same Old Song - The Remix

I've been meaning to write about this for a while, but the characters of my psyche have been at war with each other on the issue...

Blame it on my love of Hip Hop, or my convictions about an artist's right to create, but part of me wants to give Kan-yizzy the benefit of the doubt. His Monster video was jarring, and thought provoking; all great elements of great art. I even want to impose my own interpretation and believe that the half naked, white, female bodies hanging from nooses, stuffed under couch cushions and laying dead in beds (to be positioned for Kaye's pleasure), were images used to amplify and critique societies perception of Black men as sexual predators and murderers, with an insatiable appetite for the white woman's body - or more appropriately, that which belongs to white men. If that were the case, I might laud the video as brilliant.

In a world where media masquerades as art and influences us more than most would care to admit, I desperately desire to assign such an interpretation , unfortunately, I don't have enough confidence in Kanye to believe what I'm pushing. His antics in the past, have demonstrated that he is a man of impulse and frivolity rather than intention. In fact, his ego-maniacal and often oxy-moronic rantings suggest Kanye doesn't stand for anything, except maybe Kanye. While these glaringly disturbing images could be considered art, or a statement, I liken them to a dog who takes a dump in your favorite shoes, a ploy for attention. This parade of flesh, glam and hubris was not a critique of racial, sexual politics - well... not intentionally. It was just another iteration of the same old song - "I'm Worthy - Cause Girls Will have Sex with Me" that's played every day in our media. In fact this was the extremely glossed up, depraved remix - "I've Made It - Cause Skinny White Women Will Play Dead While I Touch Them." Like I said, the remix, but the same old song nonetheless.

My intention is not to argue that Kanye hates women, he needs them far too much. The presence of these pale, white, lifeless bodies in the Monster video doesn't represent creativity, but in fact the opposite. They are the formulaic strategy for getting the world to take note, and the fetishizing of the gruesome and the feminine in the media world.

These elements of the video come as no surprise in a society where women are feigning agency as they step into roles constructed for men's fantasies. These constructs are dangerously at work in Monster as all the dead bodies in the video are women, save two, while the only people exacting violence in the video were female as well. The principal men in the video do not engage in the eating of human flesh, or the stabbing of human bodies. They just sit around looking stylish in Italian suits and the latest fashion, against a backdrop of lurid perversion. Yeah, I said it perversion. How strange that I feel funny even using the word perversion for fear of being called a bible thumper(which I proudly admit to, by the way), but what else can you call scenes that imply necrophilia, cannibalism, violence,and yup I'm gonna say it, MISOGYNY. (I was trying so hard not to let the little feminist out. I'm still not comfortable with the label) Watching the Monster video, I had somehow stumbled into a world where women were both victim and villain, principle bait and expendable accessory.

This is best displayed in Nikki Minaj's portion of the video. A featured rap artist, like Kaye and Jay Z, Nikki's scenes differ greatly from the cool, collected and designer treatment the men receive. Instead, Nikki is the villain, binding and gagging a more feminine version of HERSELF. (scratching my head)Boy has she made it! Comparable to her contemporaries who saunter about scantily clad, women in the music industry, even the heavy hitters like Beyonce and Lady Gaga have had to turn to adopting deviant alter egos that abuse and degrate themselves in order to be considered relevant. The supple reality of femininity and authentic sexuality is no longer enough to titillate or satiate the masses. Deviance is the order of the day.

As Nikki writhes on the ground, in her lace tights and thong, with a full moon shot of her backside at the close of the video, it is clear that though she gets to come along for the ride, her agency must fall in line with the perception and perspective of the industry in which she functions - An industry where women are accessories, used in the building up of men's images. What's even more alarming - In today's society, the more macabre, the more twisted, the more detached from reality these accessories, the better.

I'm reminded of Lauryn Hill's 1997 song Superstar:

Come on baby, light my fire
Everything you drop is so tired
Music is supposed to inspire
How come we ain't getting no higher?

Ever Higher!
CB

Getting Back in the Race

I used to be a runner. It started out as a vanity thing. I was literally running from the sloppy spread that often accompanies one's twenties. However, weekly runs soon morphed from merely penance I paid the piper for my indulgences in ice cream, cheese and potatoes, into something much more beautiful and sacred.

I am not really sure how it happened. In some ways I think I might have Tye Tribbet and his crazy antics to thank, but somewhere between my Aruba Ready Runs, to my Punta (as in Punta Cana) Prep, my treadmill became an altar of sorts. You see my runs represented about 50-60 minutes of mandatory time - By myself. Don't be mistaken, I love me, and can crack myself up better than anyone I know, but after minute 17 on a treadmill, I'm "over me" and looking for new distractions. My solution - Hardcore runners playlists.

My career as a DJ (Yes, in my mind the creator of an Itunes playlist that will get you moving is in fact a DJ!) began with the hardest, base driven beats hip hop could offer. I rocked out to Method Man, Eminem, Busta Rhymes, Jay Z, but as I matured, in age, or throug more involvement in church, the messages my musical motivation offered seemed more detrimental than the pounds I was trying to shed. Gradually, my playlists swapped players, pimps and thugs for sanitized pop stars, and finally, gospel and Christian rap artists.

In part, the evolution of my playlists were a direct reaction to my understanding of how vulnerable I was mentally, during my runs. Running had become a time of introspection and meditation. It was the one part of the day when I could tune out, uninterrupted, and reflect on everything that was important to me. That reflection seemed compromised when bathed in the tenor of violence, rage or gratuitous profanity. Interestingly, the more gospel I listened to while I ran, the greater my worship, my walk and my stride became. It was as if I had invited God along for my runs, and He was overjoyed to come.

Running with God made exercise - prayer, sprints - somatic songs of praise, and stitches- lessons in pressing through discomfort because victory was certain. I learned so much about myself, my will power and the deep, abiding and comforting presence of God. Isaiah 41:30's "They shall run and not grow weary," took on a whole new meaning. I looked forward to my run. They had become my devotional time, where the boost of endorphins was eclipsed by awesome encounters with the Holy Spirit. I swear sometimes I felt like the treadmill was glowing when I was done.

But sometime last year, I learned a new, really effective weight loss method, and I stopped running. In the excitement of pain free weight loss, I forgot the real goal, the real prize I was chasing. Along with my weekly runs went 4 hours of time with God a week. Not only had my body stopped moving, but my spirit had become stagnant. I'd stopped running in the race towards Christ and had become comfortable in my year long water break of sorts.

Interestingly it was an encounter with some old school Missy Elliot and Beyonce's "Who Run the World" single that began beckoning me out of retirement and back to the treadmill again. Surely not the most holy of songs, but they reminded me of that sweet time of communion God and I had shared so many times, at our favorite meeting place. And so, I plan to get back in my running shoes and back into the race... both of them! For the prize and the journey are too exquisite to stop now.

Ever Higher!