Hip Hop: We Have a Problem
Hip-hop’s global impact runs through individuals like Dr. Dre, Russell Simmons, and Nas. These men, and countless others, have been accused of rape, domestic violence, and predatory behavior towards women, casting a neglected cloud on hip-hop’s legacy as it celebrates its 50th anniversary.
Cassie’s recent lawsuit/settlement with Diddy further complicates its proximity to domestic and sexual violence. The victims are often equally in the public eye and connected to hip-hop’s success, with Lil Kim and Megan Thee Stallion each suffering at the hands of men in the industry. Despite the decades between their encounters with domestic violence, our indifferent treatment of abusers and lack of support for victims remains, largely, unchanged.
Before holding figures like Diddy accountable, the crucial first step is admitting hip-hop has a problem. Amplifying this systemic issue is made more difficult by the absence of credible music publications, journalists, and most importantly rappers willing to speak out. Rap’s media landscape is fractured and increasingly dominated by trolls who show no regard for women (DJ Akademics) or artists with a history of abusive behavior (Joe Budden and Talib Kweli).
Regarding Diddy, the immediate and challenging question is what accountability looks like. Large brands have begun distancing themselves from him, but it remains unclear if his cultural influence will take a noticeable hit. The continued success of Nas and Dr. Dre suggests Diddy will suffer minimal reputation damage.
Diddy won’t be the last icon in hip-hop to face such serious accusations. The hope is Cassie’s courage inspires others to speak their truth and protect someone unknowingly in an abuser’s crosshairs.
I won’t pretend to know the best way to hold abusers accountable, but it is time we confront what has been ignored for too long within hip-hop. We’ve dismissed these tough conversations, fearing what they might reveal about the artists we love and ourselves.
In my case, they reveal my selective outrage and hypocrisy. It’s easier for me to disavow artists I feel no connection to, yet I continue to listen to Freddie Gibbs, who was arrested in 2016 for an alleged rape.
I am equally responsible for hip-hop’s problem. How can I expect change if I’m not willing to sacrifice for it?
Now more than ever, it is crucial we ask uncomfortable questions of ourselves and others. If not, hip-hop’s next 50 years will be marred by abusers empowered by history and our collective ability to look away and say nothing.
