Imus, NHHs and Hip Hop

B-words and N-words and Nappy-headed hoes, oh my! Of late, US media has been embroiled in conversations about racism, sexism and the power of the word. Seemingly, correctives to what people say will somehow change a nation birthed out of struggles for power, control and dominance. Manifest Destiny (God wants us to have this land); The Atlantic Slave Trade (God wants these people to work for us). Loving vs. Virginia (God doesn't want these people to marry). These narratives of limitations illustrate perpetual power inequities.

Strikingly, contemporary issues seem ungrounded from their particular historical trajectories. Such is the case with Imus, Hip Hop and the ruckus about words and freedom. The arguments I see on television, read in print and hear on the radio are generally of this wise: who shall we blame for the flagrant (ab)uses of demeaning terminologies? A boxing match has been waged publicly with Don Imus in one corner and Hip Hop in the other. These are the only two choices we have been given, putatively. Unfairly positioned against each other, Hip Hop is bound to lose against a single man. When construed this way, it seems that Hip Hop is the aggressor, unfairly attacking Imus, making him victim of a violent, misogynist, homophobic cultural expression that is Hip Hop.

My issue with the Imus vs. Hip Hop discussion is that it is generally ahistorical. This discussion arises out of an illusive antithetical pairing of modern day race discourse of who gets to say what words against modern day popular black music. I put forward this working hypothesis: language inclusive of hoes, b-words, n-words, and nappy-headedness is not a resultant or a creation of Hip Hop.

Through my studies in performance theory, I believe that context matters when one is (ab)using language. As such, it is a necessary enterprise to explicate the intent of particular utterances. Successful redeployments of language are possible. Such is the case with the LGBTQ community reclaiming the word "queer," which at one time was demeaning but is now embraced by queers as celebratory. However, language can be violently reinvoked; such was the case with Imus.

Imus's words were not a result of listening to Hip Hop or hearing it in popular discourse (which many have been wrongfully claiming). Rather, his usage of the words "nappy-headed hoes" was a particular consequence of race and gender oppressive ideologies, aimed at black women's bodies, with the intent to say something about their "place" in the world.

The context through which Imus spoke is quite clear: he has a history of radical statements that dismiss black folks in ways that are both continually racist and sexist, patently. At one time, he called Gwen Ifill a "cleaning lady" for the White House. I can't think of any Hip Hop song discussing women as such but I do recall several films and products of popular culture that perpetuate black women as cleaners and caretakers. Think: Mammy. Think: Aunt Jemimah. In 2001, he said that Venus and Serena Williams had a better chance of appearing in National Geographic than in Playboy; he has said that Venus is an animal. There is certainly a historical, racist ideology buttressing that idea as well.

Thus, the quip of nappy-headed hoes does not seem to come from an Imus character that overindulges in the vain musings of Hip Hop. There is no doubt in my mind that Hip Hop should deal with its issues of misogyny, homophobia, heterosexism, classism and the like. However, to put forth and perpetuate this mythic Imus character allows the country continually to shirk the historical roots of racism and sexism while concurrently violently dismissing Hip Hop without critical engagement or analysis.