Framing Statement: I chose to focus on the topic of rap narratives and legal culpability because I noticed a common theme amongst many of my favorite rap songs: the lyrics discuss social stratification. While I had an awareness of how racial identity contributes to the culture rap music, I was not informed about the origins of the musical form. Upon reading THUG for class, I became aware of the legitimate lyrical power that rap narratives hold in spreading awareness about social injustices. Once I began to investigate, I found that while the origins of rap music are immensely influenced by SES, the ultimate musical creation of the genre can be attributed to artists of color. After further researching literary and legal analyses of rap music, I noticed a racial divide between the legal treatment of rap music written by white artists and that written by black artists. Upon this recognition, I though it was imperative to use my knowledge of legal narrative and narratology to decipher the origins of this racial injustice. Ultimately, I came to the conclusion— through the lens provided by Kim Lane Sheppele, in her forward to the Michigan Law Review— that the legal treatment of rap narratives of color versus those of white artists is systematically stratified. The following writing is my argument, supporting evidence, and conclusion on the issue.
The forward to the1989 Michigan Law Review, “Telling Stories”, by Kim Lane Sheppele addresses legal narrative’s role in effectively defending and prosecuting narratives of outsiders. Sheppele defines outsiders as those with diverse identities and experiences, such as: “…women, people of color, and those with life experiences far differently than those of lawyers…” (2074). Sheppele discusses how the legal system, as it stands, utilizes storytelling through two different narrative points of view for those with diverse identities, and those with identities of the majority through what she identifies as “outsider jurisprudence” (2084). For those of the majority, first person storytelling is deployed, utilizing “us” (Keen 59; Sheppele 2084). Contrastingly, for those with minority identities, third person storytelling is deployed, utilizing “them” (Keen 59; Sheppele 2084). Sheppele argues that this contrast in narrative representation for diverse individuals indicates a further separation from the narratives of “they” and the truth, and those of “us”.
Exemplifying the unjust legal ramifications of using outsider vs. insider pronouns, rap narratives by white and black artists can be found to result in different legal outcomes when addressed by the American Legal System. The differing legal culpability of rap narratives, based on race, legitimizes the inequities affected by legal narratology’s concept of “outsider jurisprudence”, and calls for a restructuring of legal narrative. The legal culpability of rap narratives in the justice system is further informed by the marginalization of rap’s as a transgressive form of musicality— or outsider music— and disregards it’s aesthetic function as a form of social protestation. Ultimately, the narrative format of the American legal system and it’s preference for perspectives of the majority holds rap legally culpable for its inherited violence, neglecting to consider the legal responsibility of American culture responsible for inciting the content of rap narratives.
Rap music is and has been, undoubtedly, a vector for social protest since the late 20th century and early 21st in America. The music genre originated, as far as historians can tell, in “…events in the South Bronx, specifically the construction of the Cross Bronx Expressway…” amongst a vastly black and hispanic population with lower socio-economic statuses (Tsitsos 273). Musical theorists cite the disruptive construction of the Cross Bronx Expressway responsible for how rap “…’privileges flow, layering, and ruptures in line’ (39), while ‘the initial bass or drum line in rap music is abruptly ruptured by scratching’ (39).” (Tsitsos 273). Rap music’s foundation in uncontrollable environmental changes— especially within specifically marginalized communities— implicates its utilization as a form of reflection on societal oppressions. Likewise, the societal stratification of race is both the context and content of rap music. Likewise, the societal stratification of race is both the context and content of rap music. The destruction that accompanied the construction of the cross-bronx expressway procured solidarity amongst marginalized demographics, thus, rap music was used to embody their narrative in an environment that interrupted and disregarded it (Tsitsos 273-274). This use of rap music as a protest to societal oppression and reflection of it’s effects has continued to manifest as rap evolves.
In the late nineties, the group N.W.A’s song, “Fuck Tha Police”, protested discriminatory police brutality. The song begins with the lyrics:
“Right about now, N.W.A. court is in full effect
Judge Dre presiding
In the case of N.W.A. versus the Police Department
Prosecuting attorneys are; MC Ren, Ice Cube
And Eazy-motherfucking-E.”.
Framing the song within the context of a legal narrative demonstrates a resistance to the prescribed roles of the common legal narrative, and exemplifies what Sheppele identifies as “perceptual fault lines”— or the ability for narrative truth to morph based on the experience of it’s narrator (2083). In this case, the N.W.A. is protesting the oppression of young people (especially men) of color by the legal system’s systematic criminalization of their identity. The N.W.A.’s narrative form adopts the legal narrative perspective of “us”, transgressing “outsider jurisprudence” by claiming the narrative form of the majority.
However, the aesthetic of protest within N.W.A.’s song “Fuck tha Police” is furcated by the genre’s— gangsta rap— perceived context of violence. The song does include several references to violent acts, like when Ice Cube raps that he:
“…will swarm
On any motherfucker in a blue uniform…
Huh, a young nigga on the warpath
And when I'm finished, it's gonna be a bloodbath
Of cops, dying in L.A”.
These lyrics demonstrate the perceptually less symbolic, more violent forms of protest that the narratives of gangsta rap commonly utilizes to convey messages of societal distress (Watts 45). In his article, “An exploration of spectacular consumption: gangsta rap as a cultural commodity”, Watts also attributes the profession of violent resolution in gangsta rap as a representation of how black culture implies that masculinity manifests in physical aggression (45). Contrastingly, Richardson and Scott in their article, “Rap Music and it’s Violent Progeny: America’s Culture of Violence in Context”, explain how the violent content of rap music is another example of how rap narratives mirror their societal context, writing:
“America has nurtured an environment that some have come to call a culture of violence. If there is in fact a culture of violence, the true parent of rap lyrics is America herself, who financially rewards the glamorization of behaviors deemed socially unacceptable. Rap music, in this context, is merely another creative expression that is an outgrowth of prevailing entertainment practices.”
(Richardson & Scott 2)
In the article, “Rap as a Threat? The Violent Translation of Music in American Law” the author, Lily E. Hirsch, discusses how the violent connotation of rap music associates it with “Outsider Jurisprudence”, through analyzing the 2013 case, Commonwealth of Pennsylvania v. Jamal Knox and Rashee Beasley (483). The case pertains to the prosecution of two young rap artists of color for “terroristic threats” found in lyrics of their song “F* the Police” (Hirsch 483). The case resulted in the sentencing of the two rap artists on the basis that they included the names of specific police officers when violently threatening them, as the judge, Judge James J. Henley Jr., who oversaw the hearing is reported to have stated:
“‘I don’t profess to totally understand the culture of violence that is rap music, but I accept it as part of the genre … If not for the specific references to the officers… I could almost accept everything they said as bluster and attempt to sell records on their behalf.'”
(Hirsch 485)
In addition to Judge Henley’s self-proclaimed ignorance of the significance of rap music’s violent context, the Judge also refused the use of a history of rap music as relevant evidence (Hirsch 487). Through the flattening of the aesthetic purpose of rap music, as well as it’s societal context, the Judge sanctioned the messages of the rap music to the narrative perspective of an outsider (Abbott 133; Hirsch 483). Judge Henley’s decision was thus made on the basis of “perceptual fault lines”, which discredited the potential truth of Knox and Beasley’s rap music as an aesthetic form of protest (Hirsch 483; Sheppele 2083). Instead, the artists’ lyrics were not protected by the first amendment, and their rap narrative protesting police brutality was utilized, effectively, as a confession of criminal conduct.
There is an important clarification to be made about the culpability of rap music in the court of law: the flattening of rap narratives as testimonies of violent intent is unique to rap music created by black artists. This racial injustice can be exemplified by the legal treatment of a federal court case involving Marshall Mathers— commonly known as the rap artist Eminem. The case ended when “A federal judge found the hip-hop magazine The Source in contempt of court for violating an order not to publish racially charged lyrics from a recording made by rapper Eminem as a youth.” (“Hip-Hop Magazine”). Judge Lynch, who oversaw the hearing is reported to have defended Eminem, stating:
“Mathers has been accused of exploiting black culture,” he wrote. “He in turn has asserted his respect for his black role models and peers and has maintained that he comes by his hip-hop success honestly.”
(Eliscu, Gitlin, McDonell-Parry, & Scaggs)
While Eminem has been marginalized within the Hip-Hop community due to his race— rap music is primarily composed by people of color— having the race of the majority allotted him fair jurisprudence. Instead of occupying the narrative perspective of “them”, his racial identity allowed his narrative to to be told as “us”. Thus, his narrative was more readily perceived as truth, because it didn’t fall outside of Sheppelle’s “perceptual fault lines”. To further explicate the unjust treatment of rap narratives based on their racial affiliation, the comparison of Knox and Beasley’s condemning lyrics should be compared with Eminem’s. In Loren Kajikawa’s article, “Eminem’s ‘My Name Is’: Signifying Whiteness, Rearticulating Race”, the author discusses how Eminem’ song, “My Name Is” gained popularity because of how it addressed coping with shifts in cultural understanding of whiteness (341). Kajikawa’s analysis of the song’s context adheres with the traditional use of rap music as a form of lyrical reflection on societal disruption, however, her critique also implies that the content of the song reflects whiteness (346). Notably, this representation of whiteness takes place within the context of violence, as Eminem raps:
“Well since age twelve, I've felt like I'm someone else
‘Cause I hung my original self from the top bunk with a belt
Got pissed off and ripped Pamela Lee's tits off
And smacked her so hard I knocked her clothes backwards like Kris Kross.”.
Eminem’s lyrics include, like Knox and Beasley’s, a violent act committed towards a named person. The violence in “My Name Is” proves an exception to the claim made by Watts, that violence in rap music is concurrent with black identity. In fact, the differing context of the two songs is the manifestation of conflict with one’s own identity . In Knox and Beasley’s song, like in the N.W.A’s, the subject matter of their lyrics addresses the oppression of their identity by societal injustice (i.e, police brutality). Contrastingly, Eminem’s lyrics represent an internal conflict with his identity. And while Eminem’s song still reflects on changing perceptions of whiteness, it lacks a role in attributing such conflict to an external/societal perpetrator. Thus, his lyrical acts of violence are not forms of protest, but rather expressions of internal discontent. Ultimately, the contrast between Eminem’s music the criminalized music of Knox and Beasley, demonstrates a fundamental difference in the aesthetic legitimacy of rap narratives told by rapper of color and those who are white.
Angie Thomas’ book, The Hate U Give (THUG), demonstrates an important shift in the narrative perspective surrounding rap music by artists of color. Instead of utilizing rap as an opportunity to criminalize black narratives— or force them into an outsider perspective— THUG proposes using rap narratives to elucidate the shortcomings of current legal storytelling. In a conversation between the main character, Starr, and her friend Kahlil— which takes place immediately before he gets shot by a police officer— The narrative of the rapper, Tupac, is utilized to cope with their reality. Khalil tells star:
‘Listen! The Hate U – the letter U – Give Little Infants Fucks Everybody. T-H-U-G L-I-F-E. Meaning what society give us as youth, it bites them in the ass when we wild out. Get it?’
‘Damn. Yeah.’
(Thomas 69-70)
This conversation between Khalil and Starr depicts using Tupac’s rap narrative as an effective forms of reflection on identity-based experiences. In a similar way to how rap music was created to publicize an “outsider” narrative on societal oppression, Thomas uses the lyrics of Tupac to spread an “outsider” narrative on the relevance of rap narratives. Throughout the book, Thomas resists the criminalization of rap narratives and their violent context. Instead, she represents the use of rap narratives as a way to cope with the reality of the societal pressures that oppress young people of color. In THUG, Thomas legitimizes the aesthetic protest of rap narratives by depicting their use outside of their violent connotation and within the narrative perspective of “us”. Ultimately, Thomas’ narrative in THUG upholds the use of rap narratives to incite solidarity despite oppression.
While THUG by Angie Thomas represents the use of literary narratives to support the validate the social importance of rap music, the supplanting of rap narratives into legal settings is still affected by the racial identity of the artist who wrote them. Instead of understanding rap lyrics as protests to societal pressures and stratification, the legal understanding of them cannot move past the polarization of the artist’s racial identity. Additionally, the association of violence with intent is more strongly associated with artists of color, as their rap music is flattened through the “perceptual fault lines” present in legal narrative— despite violent contexts transcending racial affiliations in rap music. When held accountable in court for potentially illegal messages found in rap music, the expanse of the American legal narrative disallows for the imperative contextualization of rap narratives within the unjust society they were written. Ultimately, the dissonance between legal understandings of rap narratives as criminal or artistic is based on the race of the artist. This systematic racial injustice demands further understanding of how rap artists of color are refused their right to jurisprudence by the narrative structure of the legal system. Until then, the first amendment rights of rap artists of color are being violated by the same system expected to uphold them.
Works Cited
Abbott, Porter H. “Character and Self in Narrative.” The Cambridge Introduction to Narrative. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, United Kingdom, 2008.
“Hip-Hop Magazine Runs Afoul of Law in Eminem Case: [Final Edition].” Prince George Citizen, 2004, pp. 25.Fron-25 / Front. Global Newsstream, ProQuest One Academic, https://une.idm.oclc.org/login?url=https://search-proquest-com.une.idm.oclc.org/docview/361749080?accountid=12756.
Hirsch, Lily E. “Rap as Threat? the Violent Translation of Music in American Law.” Law, Culture & the Humanities, vol. 14, no. 3, 2018, pp. 482-500, https://doi-org.une.idm.oclc.org/10.1177/1743872114556858, doi:10.1177/1743872114556858.
KAJIKAWA, LOREN. “Eminem’s “My Name is”: Signifying Whiteness, Rearticulating Race.” Journal of the Society for American Music, vol. 3, no. 3, 2009, pp. 341-363. Cambridge Core, https://www-cambridge-org.une.idm.oclc.org/core/article/eminems-my-name-is-signifying-whiteness-rearticulating-race/2E62BDCA6816AF711EB789EC9E0CA36C, doi:10.1017/S1752196309990459.
Keen, Suzanne. Narrative Form. Palgrave Macmillan, New York, New York, 2015.
Ralph Mark Rosen, and Donald R. Marks. “Comedies of Transgression in Gangsta Rap and Ancient Classical Poetry.” New Literary History, vol. 30, no. 4, 1999, pp. 897-928, https://muse.jhu.edu/article/24489.
Richardson, Jeanita W., and Kim A. Scott. “Rap Music and its Violent Progeny: America’s Culture of Violence in Context.” The Journal of Negro Education, vol. 71, no. 3, 2002, pp. 175-192, http://www.jstor.org/stable/3211235, doi:10.2307/3211235.
Thomas, Angie. The Hate U Give. HarperCollins, 2017.
Tsitsos, William. “Race, Class, and Place in the Origins of Techno and Rap Music.” Popular Music and Society, vol. 41, no. 3, 2018, pp. 270-282, https://www-tandfonline-com.une.idm.oclc.org/doi/abs/10.1080/03007766.2018.1519098, doi:10.1080/03007766.2018.1519098.
Watts, Eric K. “An Exploration of Spectacular Consumption: Gangsta Rap as Cultural Commodity.” Communication Studies, vol. 48, no. 1, 1997, pp. 42-58, https://doi-org.une.idm.oclc.org/10.1080/10510979709368490, doi:10.1080/10510979709368490.
