Written for Passion Life, an online publication.

I recall a time not too long ago, of which I fondly remember as the “musical golden years” of my youth. The powerful voice of Tupac, Nas’ enlightening spiritual banter, and the radical rantings of the Fugees were featured on the radio in heavy rotation, and made me proud to embrace hip hop as my own. Queen Latifah taught me to have pride in my womanhood, TLC about safe sex, and Montell Jordan taught me the correct way to party.

I now hold fast to my belief that hip hop is full of schizophrenics.

Schizophrenia is loosely defined as a mental disorder that affects perception and reality, and is characterized by delusions and disorganized thinking. In examining the word, the connotation attached to it, as well as the definition and symptoms of the condition, I have come to believe that the term ‘schizophrenia’ is a condition that most contemporary hip-hoppers possess. As I write this, I can hear and envision different scenarios witnessed throughout hip-hop- Tupac’s shooting and eventual death, the explosion of both songs “Chicken Noodle Soup”, and “Chain Hang Low”, and the creation of rock-rap. These aforementioned examples provide a clue in to a hip-hoppers’ random and jumbled brain, deciphering and transmitting information in an uninformed fashion. In the case of Tupac’s shooting, for example, how many of us still think that he is “chillin” in Jamaica, sipping spiked cane juice, having a conversation with Elvis? And concerning “Chicken Noodle Soup” and “Chain Hang Low”- was slavery and the age of blackface simply a pesky remembrance to the artists who made these tracks?

I wonder: how do we cure this mentally debilitating disease, schizophrenia? A wise woman once told me that hip-hop and the artists of my youth will always exist for me, as long as I keep them alive, no matter the current state of the genre. While this will remain constant in subsequent generations, what will happen to the positive messages once laden in hip hop music and culture? Will we continue to have instances of the Imus slip (much like the Freudian slip, but racist)? If so, who will speak to justify the modality of hip hop culture as it relates to misogynistic banter as a means of self-soothing? It is my hope that as we prepare to witness yet another transformation in hip hop, we move less with the Shop Boyz and more with Lupe Fiasco. Besides, if hip hop turns into no more than goofy, super-synthesized, easily consumed tunes, who would we turn to satisfy and solidify our angst for the woes of society?

As hip hop is an ever-evolving, multi-dimensional culture, it will be interesting to see the direction over the next few years. I yearn to see hip hop do a 360, ridding itself of its schizophrenic state and returning to the strategically lyrical neo-nationalist banter of my youth.

Reorganized, focused and back to its roots. Hip Hop isn’t dead, it’s just a bit confused.