Masculinity in the Spotlight: Contrasting Reactions to J. Cole’s Apology and Diddy’s Troubles Expose Cultural Bias
It’s often said that rap beefs pack a punch of entertainment, flaunting bravado and a “pen is mightier than the sword” vibe when artists clash in a lyrical showdown. This time, it’s between three hip-hop giants — Drake, J. Cole, and Kendrick Lamar. If you’re stuck in the ’90s hip-hop era, these names might not ring a bell. But in today’s scene, these guys are from what’s now considered (believe it or not) the older school of rap- the old guard. They’re a few steps away from the billionaire club of late ’90s and early 2000s legends like Eminem, Nelly, 50 Cent, Jay Z, and Lil Wayne, who are mostly retired or not as active in the charts as they once were — nonetheless enough time in the game and they are inscribed in the hip-hop hall of fame.
Hip-hop beefs are renowned for driving entertainment, fueled by drama that inevitably boosts sales — let’s be real, money plays a significant role in the industry. While some prioritize creative expression, the bottom line often revolves around financial gain, power, and respect like Scarface or Griselda. However, these conflicts can carry serious consequences. The tragic deaths of Tupac and Notorious B.I.G. serve as poignant reminders of their volatility. Conversely, they can reshape careers; take the Jay-Z vs. Nas feud, where Nas’s “Ether” famously ‘ethered’ Jay-Z, spawning a new term in hip-hop. Despite this, Jay-Z rose to immense mainstream success, marrying Beyoncé and achieving global recognition. Other disputes, like Ice Cube’s departure from N.W.A. and the 50 Cent vs. Ja Rule saga, who included giants like Eminem, Dr. Dre, Ashanti and Charli Baltimore (who??maybe that’s why Ja lost) exemplify the intensity of these clashes, each leaving a significant mark on hip-hop history.
I’m not revisiting old school hip-hop feuds; what’s intrigued me is J. Cole’s apology post releasing a diss track aimed at Kendrick Lamar. The irony is palpable. Here’s the tea: Kendrick Lamar’s moan-filled verse on “Like That” ignited this recent beef. Featured on Future and Metro Boomin’s album “We Don’t Trust You,” Kendrick took shots at both Drake and J. Cole, seemingly in response to a line from their 2023 collaboration, “First Person Shooter.” In that song, Cole positioned himself, Kendrick, and Drake as the industry’s “big three,” implying they were at the pinnacle, like leaders of a new era, or reference to Ice Cubes basketball league or nuanced references to big threes in the NBA .
To me, Cole’s line didn’t seem like a direct challenge to Kendrick, but Kendrick apparently took it as one. His response? He came out swinging in his lyrics, taking clear shots at Drake and throwing a few more ambiguous jabs at Cole, showing he was none too pleased with either of the lesser members of the big three. This twist in their energies really underscores the convoluted and unexpected turns in hip-hop rivalries and unspoken indirect subtweet nature of hip hop beef.
J. Cole’s surprising response took an unexpected turn with the release of his album “Might Delete Later,” featuring a track called “7 Minute Drill.” In this song, Cole criticizes Kendrick’s musical approach and discography, implying that Kendrick’s albums are overrated and his standout verses too infrequent. (it’s true, 4 album a in ten years, I can divide — a line paying homage to Jay-Z’s diss to Nas, ironically) Such criticism in an industry valuing consistency could tarnish a rapper’s reputation. However, not everyone agreed — some fans defended Kendrick’s albums as groundbreaking and essential hip-hop. Despite this, a majority of online, barbershop, and radio discourse tends to lean toward fanatical rather than unbiased analysis, with only a small minority offering their very distorted and impartial perspectives- but what can you do?
On April 7th, during his Dreamville Festival performance, Cole walked back his previous comments. He admitted that his own response troubled him spiritually and even hinted at possibly pulling or changing the track on streaming platforms, which might just make “7 Minute Drill” a rare collector’s item in the future.
As for Drake, he hasn’t dropped a direct diss track in response to Kendrick’s jabs. That’s not really his way. Instead, he’s thrown out some subtle hints during performances and on social media, acknowledging the beef while keeping a cool, somewhat detached demeanor. This approach is classic Drake — using strategic ambiguity to keep the upper hand without getting too involved in the drama. I appreciate how Drake handles these situations; he always seems to keep his energy calm and collected.
In a “surprising” turn of events in the hip-hop world, A$AP Rocky (known for his relationship with Rihanna) took aim at Drake in a track from another Future and Metro Boomin album titled “We Still Don’t Trust You.” This development suggests potential alliances forming on both sides of the feud. Meanwhile, the rap community and fans are abuzz with discussions, especially surrounding J. Cole’s unexpected decision to retract his diss track and speculation about Drake’s next move. This debate has sparked arguments, with some suggesting that J. Cole’s backtrack doesn’t align with the behavior expected of a hip-hop mogul, prompting a larger conversation on the definition of hip-hop and what its constituents must act. (keyword; act)
Defining hip-hop is an impossible task as it’s a genre known for its lack of strict rules. While hip-hop wasn’t intended to be associated with violence or death, its history has been marred by such incidents, impacting young and aspiring artists due to rivalry, fan aggression, and personal struggles. (Shouts to Pop Smoke, the Wooo) Originally not about fashion or branching into other industries, hip-hop has evolved to encompass various artistic ventures beyond music, including fashion lines, film roles, and even ownership of basketball teams, offering artists a diverse platform for creative expression.
In hip-hop culture, apologizing, especially for men, is often seen as a sign of weakness. Unfortunately, apologizing is often viewed as a sign of weakness, particularly in a world where men may struggle with expressing themselves and coping with depression. This aspect of traditional masculinity seamlessly blends into hip-hop culture, albeit with a twist. Here, it morphs into a form that allows nothing but competition and conflict, intensifying the pressure and challenges men face. It’s a tough concept to accept in a culture where such actions are viewed as unmanly or even submissive — echoing larger societal issues with toxic masculinity. But what if we rethink what it means to surrender? It doesn’t necessarily imply defeat; instead, it could represent overcoming challenges like addiction or shedding harmful habits to build a stronger, healthier self. This perspective could revolutionize our understanding of masculinity and personal growth, challenging old norms and stereotypes- but I won’t hold my breath for when that time comes.
I’ll put it out there: J. Cole’s apology deserves applause and reflection. Men of color often face a intricate set of expectations where apologizing or deviating from the norm is labeled as weird, soft, feminine, or even worse, submissive, and in some circles even worse, the G word. (gay 😱). His willingness to step outside these confines and show vulnerability is a move that should be respected and examined more deeply. It challenges entrenched norms in the community and could pave the way for healthier expressions of masculinity within the community. I get it, men often thrive on competition, not just in rap battles, but in all arenas — whether it’s a physical contest, a strategic game of chess, online gaming, financial challenges, or even racing down the highway at dangerous speeds late at night. Some of it is risky, some downright foolish, but at times, it feels necessary — at least it did to me when I was younger. Back then, you couldn’t convince me otherwise. I felt this surge of energy that I believed had to be channeled through these high-stakes activities to truly feel manly. I was unstoppable, or so I thought; only death could hold me back.
Here’s where I really struggle with it all. It’s like nobody cares when people get hurt, or even die. When someone’s bashed or overdoses, the usual response is “I wish we could’ve done something.” Then come the RIPs, a spike in streams, and some cash flows to the family for a while, but that’s simply it. Nothing ever really changes. And it’s not just a hip-hop thing; this happens across the board in the arts. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, Amy Winehouse, Whitney Houston, Mac Miller, Juice WRLD, Prince, Sid Vicious, Michael Jackson, Elvis Presley, Lil Peep, Tom Petty, Chris Cornell, Chester Bennington, John Belushi, Heath Ledger, River Phoenix, Chet Baker, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Hank Williams, Billie Holiday, John Bonham, Keith Moon, Dolores O’Riordan, and Brad Nowell. The list can literally go on forever.
But here’s where we really let everyone down: We consistently and explicitly ignore the blatant ironies within the hip-hop community. I’m not looking for perfection, nor am I looking to reason. But the eerie failure to confront these ironies needs attention — it needs to be studied. What J. Cole did epitomizes hip-hop at its core — it’s inclusive, encompassing everything that defines a hip-hop artist because it’s that engaging and open. And when a person of color stands up, bucks the historical trend, and says, “This isn’t right for me, I want to stop. I can stop this.” Totally fucking acceptable. That deserves not just applause but deep respect, and not just as a hip-hop artist, or a artist, or a writer, but more importantly as a person of color, a man, in America. It should be analyzed, praised, and remembered as something monumental — talked with the same intensity as Ice Cube’s ruthless “No Vaseline” or the tragic, violent ends of Biggie and Pac.
The differing responses in the hip-hop community to J. Cole’s apology and Diddy’s legal issues highlight significant ironies warranting closer scrutiny. J. Cole’s choice to apologize for a diss track faced ridicule and criticism, reflecting a broader hip-hop culture that often perceives apologies as signs of weakness. However, I can’t accept the notion that a man following his heart is wrong, unless it involves extreme violence or egregious behavior. This incident underscores a stigma against vulnerability, particularly among men of color in the industry, where maintaining a tough facade is often valued over emotional honesty — ironically, a trait for which Drake is frequently criticized, despite his willingness to express emotions and vulnerability, challenging the stereotype of the relentless “rap titan”.
Conversely, the serious allegations against Diddy involving sex trafficking, sexual assault, and drug-related accusations have elicited a very different public reaction. Despite the severity of the charges — which include orchestrating sex trafficking rings and drugging innocents to control them — some responses have veered into making light of his predicament or dismissing it as another celebrity scandal. (News alert; I have always maintained that Diddy has psycho energy 😌) This reaction starkly contrasts with the condemnation of J. Cole’s apology, suggesting a cultural double standard where actual harmful behaviors are normalized or treated flippantly, while emotional accountability is scorned.
These ironies point to a deeper issue in communities of color and the hip-hop culture: a troubling normalization of toxic behaviors and a simultaneous contempt for vulnerability. The fact that Diddy’s alleged actions — some occurring over decades — are joked about or viewed as less shocking than a simple apology highlights a troubling dismissal of serious wrongdoing, while underscoring the impossible levels of difficulty men in these communities' face when they attempt to step away from traditional, often toxic, masculine norms that don’t do anyone any good. Ever.
By examining these reactions, we can better understand the mechanisms at play regarding masculinity, power, and accountability in the music industry and beyond. It’s important to challenge these cultural norms that discourage open emotional expression and critically address the ways in which we respond to allegations of serious misconduct, particularly when they involve influential figures. There is nothing greater to the rising of healthy men than to tell them it will be okay and that they don’t need to resort to violence no matter what the Gladiator crowd is screaming. Are they not entertained? This could potentially house healthier dialogue that promotes both accountability and emotional honesty, reshaping what it means to be a man in the hip-hop community and in wider society, or what is and isn’t “hip-hop”.
