Victor Pontes-Macedo “Exposition” RIP

It can open your eyes, but it can’t see for you.

— Exposition: Sketches of Pain

Hip-hop opened my eyes and taught me to see the world for myself.

I grew up a fan of hip-hop. A white male born in 1980 who grew up in western Canada, I didn’t have the same struggles I listened to, but I knew the messages that made my head bob when I heard the beats were more than words that rhymed.

Those words were about the struggle of inequality, and inequality is something anyone can understand with a bit of effort, if they don’t already.

Those messages and those beats still have the same effect on me today, but I am better equipped to understand them than in 1991 — when hip-hop entered my life.

Growing up on the edge of the Pleasant Hill neighbourhood of Saskatoon, SK in the 90’s wasn’t a country club, but I still grew up privileged. I was exposed to racial tensions despite my ignorance to them. At an age that left me incapable to fully understand the inequality I was surrounded by, I was still able to identify that life for me was different than it was for my native peers I went to school with.

Full comprehension of a lot of difficult subjects weren’t achieved for me as a young man, but I could see something wasn’t right. I saw inequality, but never had the guidance to explore and understand it better.

Now, as a 36 year old man, I am more capable than ever of understanding that struggle, and more importantly, capable of doing my part.

I’ve carried this weight my whole life, and only recently have I began tooling myself to begin dealing with it. It has been bubbling below the surface for a long time, and I am no longer willing to ignore it. The first step — to listen.

Listen to those that have struggled due to systemic inequality.

Listen to those that have fought an uphill battle their whole lives because their skin isn’t white, or they aren’t male, or live with a mental health issue, or…, or…, or.

Listen to an entire peoples history to understand how deeply these wounds dig. And there are more than one peoples history that needs to be listened to.

I recently regained access to a hard drive with my entire library of hip-hop music. On that hard drive is a little known album outside the underground hip-hop scene from over a decade ago, The Metro by Audible Mainframe front man Victor Pontes-Macedo, AKA Exposition.

Other artists before him spoke the same message, and many have since talked of the world around them, and shared their struggle. But it was Expo in 2004 that I was first capable of fully relating to. It was Expo’s message, at the age of 24, that pushed me toward higher education in an attempt to see the world for myself. University wasn’t exactly what I thought it was going to be, but due to a few very important people I met there, my world changed none the less.

I was able to see for myself.

Listening to the album today, I can see why it triggered something inside of me. I understand the stories from this superb philosopher and artist that speaks about the inequality in the world hiding in plain sight.

The inequality Expo spits on The Metro is succinct and simple. When I first heard the album, I was able to translate his struggles to the issues I saw in the world.

A lie hidden and perpetuated by those in power. A lie that I want to help expose for others to see.

How that will happen? I have no idea. All I know is that the choices I make, and actions I take going forward , will be pointed in that direction. Directed at the system in place that I believe keeps inequality creatively hidden in the shadows of broad daylight.

Expo passed away on April 8th of 2012, and with his passing, the light that shines on this planet, on inequality, became dimmer. What isn’t gone are his words. These words. These stories will live on forever; long past Victor’s time, and my time on planet earth. But I will use his words — and many others’ — to inspire and guide me through my journey. My journey of understanding, respect, and education.

For that, over ten years and Expo’s lifetime later, I want to thank-you Victor. Thank-you for reaching a young man at 24, and again at 36. Thank-you for delivering a message in a language I finally understand the nuances of. The language of inequality.

I scribble down the madness with this body’s eyes
It seems like my life is one big retrospective
With separate events instead of one collective

— Exposition: My Story

I can only conversationally read and understand the language of inequality right now, but one day, I want to be able to speak and write it fluently — as one succinct message.