Musicology, White Supremacy, and Kendrick Lamar
They’re not like us
If I had a compass to measure what direction too much white opinion would go, it would always head toward the valley while they claim to scale the mountaintop. They’re screaming bloody murder, saying DEI is horrible, blaming it when planes fall from the sky. Doesn’t matter that those same planes were flying safely for the Biden years when controlled by the very same people.
And if I hear another BS excuse that starts with “not all,” I will be the one screaming bloody murder. Because even those liberal sheep who bleat “not all” were notably silent when the worse ones complained about the seemingly all-black Kendrick Lamar extravaganza. “There was not a single white person on the stage,” a MAGA denizen whined.
But the white progressives had our backs this time. As MAGAs howled, white hip hop fans grinned and said, “So, now you want diversity and inclusion?” And because we’re the kings and queens of petty shores, we added “He simply picked the best. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
I rarely play my musicology card, but I had to put actual analysis based on more that just some foolishness that white privilege urged these keyboard kommandos to spew.
Remember, these are the same ones who mocked Paul Pelosi’s injuries, ignored Melissa Hortman’s death, and excused school shootings because, as their second-coming of Jesus, Charlie Kirk said:
I think it’s worth to have a cost of, unfortunately, some gun deaths EVERY SINGLE YEAR so that we can have the Second Amendment… (emphasis mine)
Meanwhile, a white MAGA guy allegedly shoots another white MAGA guy, and black colleges are receiving threats. Make it make sense!
A gathering of us black folks on the internet just sat back and chuckled about the halftime thing. “Are there any souls here that wish to speak?,” I heard the universe inviting. And fools rushed in.
I rarely play my musicology card, but I had to include actual analysis based on more than just some foolishness that white privilege urged these keyboard kommandos to spew. I mention my credentials in historical musicology, with an emphasis on dance and theater history. My experience reviewing music, theater, and dance programs stands me in good stead as I cram tons of observations into two word-limited posts.
I point out the excellence in concept and execution in the choreography, staging, costuming, lighting and sets. I spotlight the smooth transitions interweaving humor, pop culture, and more profound references dotted through history. And the fact that I’m not a huge hip hop fan confirms what I tell music appreciation students:
It’s not my job to teach you how to like music — nobody can do that. It’s my job to help you appreciate it by understanding what the composer was aiming for and discuss whether or not they achieved that goal.
There was no pushback online. The same bold privilege that has, of late, assured them their ignorant opinions assume public value equal to informed opinions melted away, their frozen bubble pierced by the light-rays of actual expertise. Maybe someday they will see or, as the spiritual goes, maybe they’ll understand things better by and by. But in the meanwhile…
They’re not like us. They don’t know how dreams work, that dreams may come in the midst of manual labor as it did on that Superbowl stage or back in the day when black women were on their knees scrubbing white folks’ floors, after we’d been promised forty acres and a mule and got nothing. I’m sure some black woman once said, “My knees feel like I’m on the way to the promised land.”
These days, it seems we may have to fight once again for the freedom we’ve never completely won. As Langston said
O, let America be America again
The land that never has been yet
And yet must be
Our weapons will be the focused laser of passion, expertise, determination, and pure ornery cussedness. Oh, and the ability to sit back, smile, and watch as they dig pits for us and fall into them (Psalm 57:6; David was a musician, too).
Our little barbs of petty humor will shepherd them on their way to a new land. And in that land, the sun will rise over and thaw an ocean frozen from hate. And while they sing in A-minor, we’ll crip walk on the other side.
