Book Review: The Hip Hop Wars

Tricia Rose, professor of Africana Studies at Brown University, begins The Hip Hop Wars with a provocative declaration: “Hip hop is not dead, but it is gravely ill.” In her book, Dr. Rose offers a diagnosis of hip hop’s sickness, followed by a prognosis to regain hip hop’s health. Firmly situated within existing hip hop scholarship, The Hip Hop Wars is marketed as a take-no-prisoners, no-holds-barred indictment of the current debates surrounding hip hop.

The reality of the book is slightly less exhilarating. Following the lead of other noteworthy academics and journalists—including Michael Eric Dyson, Nelson George, Bakari Kitwana, Craig Watkins, and Jeff Chang (just to name a few)—Rose meticulously dissects popular criticisms and defenses of hip hop. The bulk of the book tackles ten common arguments on both sides of the hip hop debate, exposing their logical inconsistencies. First, Rose debunks five myths created by hip hop’s critics, ranging from “Hip hop causes violence” to “Hip hop destroys American values.” Each of these criticisms is succinctly countered with Rose’s analytical clarity and elegant prose. Rose then moves to hip hop’s defenders, challenging five frequently recited defenses of the genre. Again, Rose effectively shows us—hip hop fans and consumers—the negative effects of our blanket defense of hip hop culture. Sure, rappers are “keeping it real,” but how much “reality” is actually portrayed in their music? And whose reality are they rapping about? This aspect of the book was particularly brilliant, as Rose shows us how our defenses inadvertently perpetuate negative stereotypes of black people.

Parts of her book are incredible, such as her compelling discussion of criticisms against hip hop used as proxies for racist vilifications of blacks as a racial group. Reading the book, I nodded my head in approval. So far, so good. Yet as I read the final section of The Hip Hop Wars, outlining the future of progressive hip hop, I was left unsatisfied, perplexed, and frustrated. Rose notes the importance of “cross-cultural exchanges,” but non-blacks are interestingly (and noticeably) absent in her discussion of progressive voices and organizations. Rose’s silence on these issues of race (read: whiteness) illuminates a larger, highly problematic aspect of The Hip Hop Wars: Rose is painfully inarticulate in her discussion of white engagement with hip hop, accepting the simplistic notion of “racial tourism” at face value.

This inadequate discussion of whiteness, racial privilege, cultural appropriation and hip hop points to two glaring inconsistencies and contradictions in The Hip Hop Wars. First, Rose calls whites “invisible” in the public discussions of hip hop while she simultaneously wipes them out of her progressive agenda for the culture’s future. She arrogantly claims to expose the “invisible white consumption of hip hop,” as if whiteness and white consumption has been a secret that we, as a culture, completely ignore.

This couldn’t be further from reality. I remember lifting weights after football practice with some of my black teammates in high school, discussing hip hop. I started to engage with a debate (probably one of those “Who’s better, Jay-Z or Nas?” discussions), only to be scoffed at and told “You don’t know shit about hip hop.” My own teammates said I was “too white” to effectively articulate anything about hip hop music or culture. I then remember going to college in Ann Arbor with my Rocawear jeans and Timberland boots (the standard wardrobe in my hometown of Binghamton), only to be laughed at for being “too black.”

Here’s the thing: When whites engage with hip hop culture, race is always salient. Candid discussions among whites—hip hop listeners and non-fans alike—are omnipresent. Every non-black fan of this culture is forced, at some point or another, to answer the question, “What do you think you are, black?” To suggest otherwise, that the role of whites in hip hop consumption is somehow “underplayed,” illustrates extreme ignorance to the complicated contours of race, cultural consumption, and hip hop. Whiteness is constantly negotiated within hip hop, and racial humility among hip hop consumers is far more prevalent than Rose lets on.

In addition to this awkward discussion of whiteness, there’s considerable slippage in the underlying argument of the book: the idea that white desires “drive” the market for stereotypical images of blacks. At three different points in the book, she makes three very different statements about the proliferation of commercial hip hop. At one point, she blames white consumers:

White interest and consumption drive the mainstream commercial success of black thugs, gangstas, hustlers, pimps, and hoes (p. 233).

At another point, she adds the role of media conglomerates:

Many who claim that hip hop hurts black people conveniently leave out…the extensive role of corporate power and white desire as key ingredients in creating the centrality of self-destructive ideas and images in commercial hip hop (p. 85).

At yet another point in the book, she emphasizes the role of the media, independent of white desires:

We must pull back the veil on corporate media’s manipulation of black male and female artists and the impact this has on fans and the direction of black cultural expression (p. 155).

So which argument of causality is it? Is it white consumers, internalizing racist lust for images of black death, or is it media manipulation impacting the tastes of hip hop fans? The actual answer is probably a combination of both; a mutually reinforcing process in which media conglomerates create a market for stereotypical images that trigger preexisting racial stereotypes. Blacks and other racial minorities—many of whom are (gasp) also consumers of hip hop—are additional actors in this process, both in shaping and conforming to images in the market. But Rose never makes this type of sophisticated argument, and instead assumes that her readers will blindly accept her unproven arguments about the primacy of racist white consumers. As critical hip hop scholars, I think we can do better.

I read this whole section, thinking, Where the hell do I fit in? I’m an educated, progressive, outspoken critic of white privilege. I wondered what Rose would say, how she would place me in this discussion of “ghetto tourism” and white racial privilege. It’s as if Rose is saying, “I know you’re not racist, Jeremy. It’s just the majority of hip hop consumers and media conglomerates that are. When I talk about the racist lust inherent in the white consumption of hip hop, of course I don’t mean all whites.” Coincidentally, I’ve heard this line of reasoning used in other settings. You know, like the argument “I know you’re not a bitch or a ho. So when MCs rap about bitches and hoes, of course they don’t mean you.” Byron Hurt effectively shows in his documentary Beyond Beats & Rhymes that, indeed, rappers are talking about female listeners when they rap about bitches and hoes. Similarly, Rose is talking about me when she waxes philosophical about white cultural consumption patterns. And I don’t exactly think it’s fair, or grounded in any convincing evidence.

Simplistic comments made in passing about white consumption are void of critical analysis—implying that the reader should just know this “universal truth.” Spare me. Her evidence is at best anecdotal, and at worst a ridiculous assumption pulled out of thin air. The standard of proof here is considerably weak.

Moreover, a critically engaged love of hip-hop means a critical engagement with hip hop consumers, regardless of race. In fact, it means a critical engagement with hip hop consumers because of racial differences in consumption. Our goal should be to educate, not alienate. I believe that hip hop can be used as a powerful vehicle for social change, but excluding non-blacks from the discussion doesn’t take us in the right direction.

Parts of Rose’s analysis are spot on, and brilliant. Other parts are simply more drivel masquerading as systematic analysis under the cloud of her prestigious title. It reminds me of the tremendous gaps in hip-hop scholarship, particularly in regards to critical race analysis. Rose tackles the issues that BET’s Hip Hop vs. America special inadequately addressed, as well as those pressing concerns that the special failed to address altogether. She very forcefully continues the conversation, and pushes us as readers to continue thinking. But, it’s as if debates over hip hop began and ended with the BET special. We’ve added intricacies and nuance to these debates; hip hop scholarship should catch up.

At the end of Rose’s public lectures on The Hip Hop Wars, she states, “So the question we have now is this: What kind of community do we want to make in hip hop?” What kind of community, indeed. The Hip Hop Wars skillfully dissects contemporary debates in hip hop, but fails to produce a realistic progressive agenda. We need more rigor from serious, scholarly analyses of hip hop. The Hip Hop Wars is certainly a good addition, but we still have a long way to go.