Where Br'er Rabbit Meets Nas: Michael Jackson, the Lyrical Trickster

Michael Jackson: The Writings on the Wall

by Diana Ozemebhoya

The King of Pop’s greatest hits were penned by the King of Pop himself. On the one-year anniversary of his death, The Root takes a look at Jackson’s lyrical prowess.

Read the Full Essay @ The Root

***

Moonwalkin' in the Briar Patch:

The Trickster Legacy of Michael Jackson

by Red Clay Scholar

The trickster figure in folklore uses his wits and cunning to remove himself from difficult situations, to teach a lesson, or instill awareness to those around him. (In this case) He was unable to be restricted to a rigid space and often found comfort (and identity) in difficult situations. The Br'er (Brother) stories/fables often showcased the antics of Br'er Rabbit, the original "one-upper." In slave stories, Br'er Rabbit not only outwitted his fellow animals but also the white farmer, whom he taunted consistently and fervently. In "Tar Baby," Br'er Rabbit is tricked by Farmer (or Brer Fox or Bear, depending on the adaptation) and gets stuck to a tar baby (doll made out of tar). Facing death, Br'er Rabbit begs and pleads for his captors not to throw him into the nearby thorny briar patch because it would be a tortuous demise. Pleased with the thought of (finally) harming Br'er Rabbit, Farmer throws him into the briar patch waiting to hear the sounds of Br'er Rabbit's slow death. Instead, Farmer hears Rabbit's laughter and taunting, stating his comfort in his birthplace, and escapes.

While the briar patch suggests a problematic, often impossible space to navigate, Br'er Rabbit signifies the ability to do so. Br'er Rabbit was a folk hero, able to do the impossible - get over on the white man. His creation and comfort to navigate those spaces speak to the black experience in white America and slaves desire to rebel against the social hierarchy that viewed them as inferior. Toni Morrison's Tar Baby (1981) stretches the Tar Baby plantation story to construct and contextualize black masculinity. Morrison creates her own Br'er Rabbit in Son, a young black man who manipulates both racial and gender spaces on a plantation on La Isles de Chevaliers and New York in order to progress and survive. Son performs whatever role is placed on him - charmer, bad nigger, buck, abuser, manchild.

Michael Jackson both aggrandized and fell victim to these spaces. Through one lens, Jackson transcended both his blackness and even genre to become the King of Pop Music. I guess King of R&B was being held hostage by Bobby Brown at the time of crowning. MJ's ability to blend and deconstruct musical genres to produce a new sound or concept only rivaled the genius of Prince. Jackson pushed the envelope, refusing to be restricted to static indicators of black music. Collaborations with artists ranging from Mick Jagger and Paul McCartney to Guns N' Roses Slash shook the spirit, captivated the mind, and left the listener breathless.

Read the Full Essay @ Red Clay Scholar

Hip-Hop's Shifting Masculinity?

President Drake: Hip-Hop's Shifting Masculinity

by Regina Barnett

Jimmy raps?!

Aubrey “Drake” Graham’s been around for a minute. He’s not some cat who just magically appeared and became a celebrity overnight. I remember my cousin harassing me on MySpace to check him out. I liked what I heard. But I really didn’t take him seriously. He was Jimmy. From Degrassi.

He’s being taken seriously now. One of the headliners of Weezy’s Young Money Clique, Drake is changing and has changed the game. His flow is nice. Aside from lyrical performance, is it possible that he is changing the branding of manhood in the rap game?

The folks over at Makin’ It Magazine struck up an intriguing conversation of Drake as rap’s Barack Obama. It’s not the first time President Obama has entered the Hip Hop realm. Byron Hurt created a fabulous dichotomy of President Obama and 50 Cent titled Barack and Curtis. I don’t know if the president has rhymes, but it is a fascinating topic to present the Barack/Drake masculinity dichotomy. In other words, can Drake be the Barack Obama of Hip Hop?

Read the Full Essay @ Red Clay Scholar

Ego Trippin' Something (Sasha) Fierce:

Ego Trippin' Something (Sasha) Fierce:
Musings on Black Women in Music
by Regina Barnett

Music has always proven a viable outlet for any representation of blackness whether gendered male or female. The blues, for example, provided a voice for women of color to talk about those things too worldly for the church walls. Ma Rainey, Bessie Smith, and Ella Fitzgerald were dangerous. They spoke to their passions, their pain, and their experiences of black womanhood. These women carved out a niche for the blues women depicted in literature– Shug Avery in The Color Purple, Ma Rainey in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, and Ursa in Corregidora are only a small sampling.

What the blues women started to fight, female rap and R&B artists continue to battle today. This constant struggle could be considered part of that call by Ursa’s mother in Corregidora to “make generations.” Generations of black women have tussled between the demand of communal, if not ritualistic obedience to social expectation and the desire to express themselves. Beyoncé Knowles is not immune to that toil. Her 2008 release I am…Sasha Fierce proves that.

The dual CD, which caters a disc a piece to Knowles’ performance personalities of Beyoncé and Sasha Fierce, represent the extremities of black women’s sexuality. There’s the ballad driven Beyoncé and the booty and body poppin’ Sasha Fierce. Here’s my question, folks: what, exactly, besides performance, is fierce about Sasha Fierce? A friend jokingly told me that Sasha Fierce is a drag queen’s dream because of her intricate dance routines and flamboyant attire. He made me think specifically about the music video for “Video Phone.” Lady Gaga didn’t stand a chance.

Read the Full Essay @ Red Clay Scholar

"Queer Eye for the Black Guy"

"Queer Eye For the Black Guy"
by Regina Barnett

"Don't Laugh, America." --Rollo (The Cleveland Show)

So, this is not a note to diss The Cleveland Show. As a matter of fact, I could have spearheaded the initiative for Cleveland (from Family Guy fame) to get his own show. I was ecstatic! Needless to say, last night’s episode, “A Brown Thanksgiving,” shot down the last shreds of my optimism. What started as a parody of Tyler Perry ended up a nightmare and a re-entrenchment of whiteness and its influence on black manhood.

Dominant culture’s obsession with black masculinity in American popular culture is certainly not a new phenomenon. The often grotesque fascination with not only the physical body but what the body represents – hypersexuality, menacing intentions, and the straight up “bad nigger” – are often the consumptive domain for many black male characters on television. Cleveland Brown, however, goes in the opposite direction; he’s lovable, goofy, and downright non-threatening. One could argue that he is the reconstruction of an Uncle Tom or Coon figure seen so often in minstrel shows at the end of the nineteenth and early 20th centuries.

What strikes me as odd about Cleveland, however, is his laughing in awkward situations when, say, expressions of anger, frustration, or despair would be more cognitively appropriate. Whether intentionally done by the producers or not, what is highlighted is a lack of available discourse for black men to relay a healthy emotional response to crisis-moments. If Cleveland were a real person, he’d have hypertension, high blood pressure, and a zero chance of making it to retirement age. He’d also be in line for going postal. Indeed, Chris Rock used to joke that white folks were afraid of the wrong Negroes. The visibly hostile black men were virtually harmless, Rock quipped, compared to those unassuming and genuflecting, old black men that white folks always see as fun-loving and easy-going. Rock reported that underneath all of those toothy grins and warm handshakes were some of the bitterest, white-folk-hating black men on the planet.

Chris Rock’s observations aside, Cleveland’s laugh is especially prevalent in this episode of The Cleveland Show. The central focus is Auntie Mama, the matriarch figure of Cleveland’s wife Donna. Voiced by Kym Whitley, who is often the sexual Jezebel in most of her performances (which is a discussion for another day) Auntie Mama excuses her sexually explicit actions with “I’m Outrageous!” This is a double entendre – outrageous as in shock value and outrageous as in “I’m offensive and exaggerated.” She is literally sketched like an animated Muh Dear – grey hair, big breasted, and big boned. In short, Auntie Mama refigures black womanhood and black women’s sexuality. While she appears to be a 2009 Mammy figure, she laces her verbal exchanges with sexual escapades with various men. Off the rip, Auntie Mama could be Madea’s folk. Tyler Perry’s wildly popular envision of the strong black matriarch, Madea too distances herself from the traditional mammy caricature with sexual innuendos, a piece, and a girdle.

In similar fashion to Perry, Auntie Mama’s character is the matriarch of the family, portrayed as the savior figure of the black family. And, in similar fashion, both characters are men dressed in drag. The question begs to be asked: is the queering of the black male body in this episode a backdoor way – pun intended – for black men to affirm normative black manhood on the figurative backs of pathologized black women characters?

Read the Full Essay @ Nation of Cowards