Memoirs of a Wigger

Being a white hip-hop head in the early ‘90s

I was branded a “wigger” in 8th grade.

I’ll never understand why it happened, other than because I was popular and people knew I could take it without getting mad about it.

The people calling me it were reciting every line from Doggystyle and watching “New York Undercover” every week, so it’s not like I was being profiled by a bunch of Cobainiacs. In fact, the grunge kids were cooler about it. Their feeling was, “Do whatever makes you happy.”

Moreover, I wasn’t dressing like this:

It’s different now. Hip-Hop culture is everywhere and influences everything. Big-budget Hollywood films use rap songs in the trailers and, every year, Forbes (not The Source, not Vibe, but Forbes!) publishes a “Hip-Hop Cash Kings” list of the richest hip-hop artists. The most successful musician of the 2000s was a white MC that wore doo-rags.

But 20 years ago, immersing oneself into the hip-hop culture (rather than being a detached fan of only the music) made you different. Liking Outkast made you an outcast.

I wore Champion hoodies and baggy jeans, but it’s not like those were bold fashion choices in 1994. Hip-Hop became a multibillion dollar industry because of white kids that didn’t live in cities like…