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Hip-hop at a crossroads

As rappers face a new wave of criticism, BET explores the impact of their lyrics and videos

BY RAFER GUZMÁN | rafer.guzman@newsday.com

12:12 PM EDT, September 23, 2007

Not too long ago, it seemed that hip-hop and mainstream America had finally reached an uneasy peace.

On the one side, the music industry had made concessions: Radio stations bleeped out offending words, MTV blurred objectionable imagery and record companies printed advisory warnings on CDs hoping to mollify outraged parents and politicians. From the other side came a grudging acceptance that hip-hop -- violence, sexism and all -- was likely here to stay.

But these days, the cease-fire has ended. In the wake of the Don Imus controversy, the Rev. Al Sharpton began pressuring record executives to purge racist and sexist language from hip-hop albums. Hip-hop station Power 105 launched an effort to curb material potentially demeaning to women, and the NAACP even held a symbolic ceremony in Detroit to "bury" the N-word. Congressional hearings into rap music's lyrical content -- titled "From Imus to Industry: The Business of Stereotypes and Degradation" are scheduled to begin tomorrow.

Protesting the messenger

Now the BET network is entering the fray, attempting to address hip-hop's controversies even as it's being attacked as part of the problem. In BET's upcoming two-part series called "Hip-Hop vs. America," nearly two dozen panelists square off to tackle various hot-button issues -- violent imagery, sexually explicit videos, offensive language -- that have plagued rap music nearly from its beginnings. The hour-long shows air Tuesday and Wednesday at 8p.m., with a third installment available via the network's Web site, bet.com, following Wednesday's broadcast.

At the same time, though, BET is being pulled into its own story. On Sept. 15, a Maryland-based group called the Enough is Enough! Campaign held a rally outside the Washington, D.C. home of BET chairman and chief executive Debra Lee to protest the channel's "derogatory media images of black men and women." The rally drew about 500 people, according to news reports, and organizers have vowed to gather every weekend until BET addresses the issue. The group's leader, the Rev. Delman Coates, said there are plans to hold similar rallies in New York.

A letter from Lee to the organization, dated Sept. 12, emphasized the cable station's commitment to "balance and diversity" in its programming, and cited "Hip-Hop vs. America" as one example. But Coates said that a one-time series like "Hip-Hop vs. America" doesn't make up for raunchy videos and ongoing shows like "We Got to Do Better," which has drawn fire for its portrayals of low-income blacks. (The show's former title was "Hot Ghetto Mess.")

What's more, Coates said, a televised panel discussion is just another way for the black community to navel-gaze rather than actively solve its problems. When gay groups blasted .Eminem for his seemingly homophobic lyrics, Coates noted, "There was no forum on whether he had the artistic freedom to do that. He had to change. And the next thing you know, we saw him performing with Elton John. Black people are the only people where we have to come around and discuss whether we have the right to put our own selves down."

A timely debate

That such debate is raging before "Hip-Hop vs. America" has even aired points to the show's timeliness. In this post-Imus climate, "it was important that BET, which is a major figure in the hip-hop community, have its own discussion," said Jeff Johnson, a co-host and producer of the program. "We needed to be involved in a discussion on what the good, the bad and the ugly is in the hip-hop community."

Filmed in June, the shows are billed as a kind of hip-hop town-hall forum. Among the guests are the rapper Nelly, whose racy "Tip Drill" video drew fire for its erotic use of a credit card; Kim Osorio, former editor in chief of The Source magazine, whose multimillion dollar sexual-harassment lawsuit against her own publication opened a window onto hip-hop's gender politics; and even Sharpton. Topics range from misogyny to violence to offensive words, including, of course, the N-word.

"Hip-hop sits right at the fault lines of race, class, gender and economics in this country," said Selwyn Seyfu Hinds, executive producer of the program. "At the end of the day, hip-hop is driven by young people of color," he added, and their music addresses "the truth that the rest of America isn't necessarily comfortable with."

Both Hinds and Johnson agree that Imus provided the catalyst for the series. In April, Imus referred on-air to the Rutgers women's basketball team as "nappy-headed hos," a wisecrack that turned into one of the year's biggest news stories. Perhaps because the word "ho" seemed lifted from hip-hop terminology, politicians and the public alike began asking: Why should an offhand comment cost Imus his job when rappers freely use much worse language in their hit singles?

The Imus affair, Hinds said, "just focused the media lens, and it focused the culture's lens as well."

Both sides speak up

In "Hip-Hop vs. America," the rappers on the panel often find their chairs becoming hot seats. When Nelly touts his work with nonprofit foundations, writer Nelson George counters that Nelly's videos have far more impact on young people than his charities. Later, when T.I. comes under attack for rapping about drug-dealing, he responds, "I really have done these things, and I'm just giving my testimony -- no different than a preacher on Sunday."

The discussion often centers on whether rappers are role models or mere entertainers, a dilemma that has dogged hip-hop ever since gangsta rappers like N.W.A. and Ice-T made violence and thuggery a major part of their lyrics and personas. One panelist tells T.I. that as a single mother she has "the hardest job in the world," and his music only makes her job harder.

But to turn rappers into role models is to encourage self-censorship, Prince Paul, the Amityville rap producer and father of a 4-year-old daughter, said in an interview. "I would never say, 'Hey, you better not use that word because the kids are watching.' When you say you're a role model, that causes you to censor your art, and you have to watch what you say and what you do."

Not surprisingly, rappers on the program say it's parents' responsibility to teach their children right from wrong, and fantasy from reality. On that point, one vocal opponent of offensive language in rap, Charles Fisher, leader of the Manhattan-based Hip-Hop Summit Youth Council, agreed with the rappers. "You can't make the church, the schools, the rappers or the Internet responsible for your kids," Fisher said in an interview. "The fact remains, they're your kids."

"Hip-Hop vs. America" may not arrive at any solutions, but Johnson of BET said the program may help illuminate the wider social, political and racial problems reflected in the music. "Hip-hop, because it's the most aggressive and vocal image that we see, oftentimes is the one that ends up being blamed for the entire condition," he said. "Let's hold hip-hop accountable for what it has done, but let's not blame it for the conditions that were around in the first place."