Introduction

H. Breezy

[This is what my friends called me in high school. Well, some still do. But I like it because I float along, go with the flow, and I’ve been told that I have a buoyant spirit about me.]

I’d like to practice all elements of hip hop. DJing because I always have ideas for some great, old songs to sample for new tracks. MCing because according to De La Soul’s “Supa Emcees,” there’s a need for some revival in that department and I enjoy homonyms: “Emcees be needing dough while I make bread like Wonder.” B-Boying because you gotta have the “hop” in hip hop. If I could graffiti, I’d incorporate it into my album cover, potential clothing line, and I’d tag every place I performed.

          I remember playing hopscotch and dodging jump ropes in double dutch on hot asphalt in the summer to the tune of Notorious B.I.G.’s “Hypnotize.” In the evenings, my dad would play Blackstreet’s “No Diggity” on the cassette tape and I would rap every word of Queen Pen’s part, despite having no idea what it meant to be “fakin’ jacks” or what Cartier frames were. In the morning before school, before lacrosse games, shower radios, any chance I got, I’d be listening to hip hop.  
          Nappy Roots, “Good Day” can turn the worst hungover morning into a sprightly start to my day. Jay Z’s “On To the Next One” makes me run faster. People Under the Stairs’ “Acid Raindrops” eases my mind and I’ve cried once while listening to the acoustic version of Tupac’s “Thugz Mansion.” Sometimes it feels as if life is a musical and hip hop is my soundtrack.
          Something I appreciate about hip hop is its way of recycling music from many genres, quotations, and history into its form. They say (and by “they,” I definitively mean Wikipedia) that the artist Keith Cowboy coined the term, “hip hop,” in an effort to onomatopoeically taunt a friend who’d just joined the army back in the days when what we now call hip hop was referred to as “disco rap.” Once Keith Cowboy dropped those lyrics while performing, they entered the vast hip hoposphere, a place in which any beat, phrase, or melody is subject to chopping, screwing, and being expanded upon.
           This is what I love about hip hop music. I understand and agree with the argument that many rappers lay messages of materialism, power, and self-promotion over their beats. However, if one listens closely even to the most mainstream rap on the radio, woven in between the Benjamins and the Benzes are references to important moments in Black history backed by cherished melodies and harmonies from various genres of music.
            I’ve worked in education within lesser privileged communities. The common thread I find, whether it’s in Los Angeles, Philadelphia, even Puerto Viejo, Costa Rica is hip hop. Definitely thousands, but more likely, millions of adolescents’ lives are dictated by hip hop in ways small and large. Jeff Chang mentioned in “Can’t Stop Won’t Stop” that rappers had the attention of his son and if a famous rapper styles his clothes a certain way, a significant part of the world’s population will follow suit. The change I wish to see in the world is rappers coming to understand the power of their influence for progressing and improving lives, especially in poor communities, but potentially in them all.

Note: Thank you to everyone who has sat through Hot Cheetos and Takis at my will.