No More Heroes
Common’s ‘Be’ has long been a cornerstone in my musical journey, offering profound insights into religion, love, and introspection. This album has been pivotal in my life, offering a range of perspectives on religion, affection, introspection, and more. Common has always portrayed himself as a protector of the commonly neglected and abused. He even has a track called “A Song for Assata,” where, in the intro, he says:
“In the Spirit of Assata Shakur
We make this movement towards freedom
For all those who have been oppressed, and all those in the struggle.”
However, I received a disappointing message when I posted an Instagram story celebrating the 19th anniversary of ‘Be.’ A friend commented on how Common has taken a middle-ground approach regarding Diddy’s (Sean Combs) recent controversies. Diddy faced lawsuits and allegations, including a disturbing video of him assaulting Cassie Ventura, which prompted a reaction from Common that left me disheartened. Covered in a video by TMZ, a journalist at HotNewHipHop, Lavender Alexandria, notes, “He reveals that he avoids things with negative vibes and instead chooses to focus on positivity. When asked if Diddy should get another chance in music, he humbly suggests that it isn’t his place to judge and that he has no authority on the situation.”
My good friend Alex Lewis touches on this adherence to the status quo in his article “Big Brother: Black Men & Celebrity Culture,” where he addresses the multitude of times Black men allow strange or predatorial behavior to continue if a prominent figure has a resume of work that is considered a classic. Lewis argues that Black men often grant immunity to their mentors, overlooking harmful behaviors due to the mentors’ significant contributions and influence. He states, “For many Black men, we’ve been taught to look at older Black male mentors in our lives as ‘big bros.’ These can be men we know or public figures we only have parasocial relationships with — either way, we’re not only expected to listen to these men no matter what, but we can often extend a certain level of immunity to them because of their importance in our lives.”
Having idolized many celebrities and many members of my community, I understand where this need to upholster Black men and where this “big bro” idealism comes from. It’s needed more than ever to have positive Black role models to dismantle prominent white supremacist thinking that has intertwined itself in American culture. The problem occurs when the “big bro’s” goal isn’t for the liberation of all Black people. This selective focus not only undermines the broader fight for equality but also perpetuates harm against marginalized groups within the Black community, such as women, queer, and disabled individuals. Ironically, by upholding those same white supremacist ideals they claim to challenge, they become something worse than pseudo-revolutionaries or “armchair activists,” which both Huey Newton and Bobby Seale felt stagnated their drive for revolution. These “big bros” have the knowledge or ability to obtain the knowledge to respond to the harm they see accurately. Instead, they keep the appearance of a revolutionary, parading quotes and photo ops with prominent Black thinkers to bolster their image. In reality, they are vapid and care less about Black liberation than about maintaining their image. As I learned more, my idea of liberation changed, and the people I trusted to guide me to that vision also changed. Writers and great revolutionary thinkers like bell hooks, Cedric J. Robinson, Thomas Sankara, and many more showed me how to protect and instill Black liberatory rights while still uplifting and holding arms with those who are marginalized.
We can’t keep idolizing those who wear the visage of a revolutionary but cower to the altar of white supremacy. Reflecting on Common’s music and the recent disappointments, I’ve realized the importance of holding our role models accountable and ensuring their actions align with their values.
