THE HIP-HOP AGENDA

Can Recording Stars Help Mobilize Young African Americans Toward A National
Movement For Social And Political Change?

More than 20 years after rap started in New York, steeped in protesting the
social and economic conditions of black people in America's ghettos,
hip-hop is returning to its activist roots.

Hip-hop culture has infiltrated entertainment, shaping how we dress, talk
and see the world. A fledgling movement is under way to use that influence
to create a social and political agenda for young African Americans.

"A generation is coming of age and starting to come into its own," said
Bakari Kitwana, author of "The Hip Hop Generation: Young Blacks and the
Crisis in African-American Culture."

"Politics and being involved in activist issues is seen as something that
is a part of being involved in hip-hop," he said in an interview. "The
importance about activism and hip-hop is not so much the artists themselves
as it is the generation of young people and hip-hop being a medium in which
to communicate."

Hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons is mobilizing hip-hop fans into a grassroots
movement with political clout. With commercially successful artists, such
as Will Smith and Sean "P.Diddy" Combs, in attendance, he launched the
Hip-Hop Summit Action Network in New York last year.

"A lot of the leading artists were more than willing to become politically
active," said Benjamin Muhammad, who heads the network.

The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People is also
teaming up with Simmons in a bid to attract younger members who see them as
the voice of their parents, out of touch with problems facing today's young
blacks. The 93-year-old organization tapped rapper Reverend Run of Run-DMC
as a special guest for its youth banquet at the July convention.

Kitwana, 35, defines the hip-hop generation as African Americans born
between 1965 and 1984, who have grown up in post-civil rights America. They
share "thoughts about family, relationships, child-rearing, career, racial
identity, race relations and politics" that inform their outlook, he wrote
in his book.

Some young African Americans are running for political office, registering
voters and bringing attention to local issues. They are more interested in
reparations and repealing mandatory-minimum prison sentences, than
boycotting South Carolina over the Confederate flag.

"The age of the protest movement is over," Kitwana said. "It's not going to
be a generation of protest and rallies. That would be a step backwards for
us. We have to be a generation that is going to seize serious political
power and use it."

Protest Anthems

Though rap started at New York block parties, the art form grew into
protest music in 1982 when Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five released
"The Message." This unflinching look at urban ills hit a nerve with its
chorus of "it's like a jungle sometimes/it makes me wonder how I keep from
going under."The group was one of the first to use rap for social
commentary instead of simply party music. Public Enemy, KRS-One, N.W.A. and
others kept the spotlight on urban problems, but inner city poverty and
crime were not their only targets. Civil rights gains, such as affirmative
action, were under attack, and the policies of Reaganomics were hurting
many poor and working-class blacks.

Public Enemy's "Fight the Power" became an anthem for black youths
struggling to find jobs while crack cocaine decimated poor black
neighborhoods. N.W.A's "F--- Tha Police" elevated the problem of police
brutality beyond Compton's ghettos, making it a rallying cry for black
youth across the nation. These songs sparked considerable controversy, but
rappers demanded to be heard.

"Our freedom of speech is freedom or death/we gotta fight the powers that
be," said rapper Chuck D in "Fight the Power."

Commercial rap took a turn in the late '80s, and in many ways became more
profitable, with the advent of gangsta' rap -- a glorification of violence,
greed and misogyny. By the mid-'90s, it dominated radio and videos, largely
pushing social commentary aside. While some groups such as Poor Righteous
Teachers and Gang Starr continued rapping about social issues, their voices
were ripples in an ocean of gun-toting, moneymaking, weed-smoking braggadocio.

Still, the voices of social consciousness were not silent. A group of
well-known rappers, including Queen Latifah and KRS-One, lent their talents
to a collective effort to curb black-on-black violence with the song
"Self-Destruction."

Mumia Abu-Jamal, a convicted cop killer who claims he was railroaded,
became a symbol of unjust incarceration and of the disproportionate number
of black men in prison and on death row. In 1995, KRS-One penned "Free Mumia."

When Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan sent out the call, also that
year, for a million black men to attend a day of atonement in Washington,
rap stars such as Sean Combs, Ice Cube and Ice T., answered.

Beyond Entertainment

Simmons, who helped make hip-hop a $5 billion dollar industry that crosses
racial lines, hopes to channel hip-hop's influence into political action
and clout. He's recruiting hip-hop celebrities to encourage people under 30
to become politically active and involved in social causes.

In June, Alicia Keys, Jay-Z, Wyclef Jean and others joined Simmons at a
rally to oppose budget cuts for New York city schools, drawing 20,000 to
100,000 protestors.

Simmons' Hip-Hop Summit Action Network, which funds social programs and
political candidates, consists of rap stars, record company executives,
civil rights stalwarts and grassroots groups with a variety of agendas.

NAACP President Kweisi Mfume sits on the network's board and the
organization will work with the network on "Rap the Vote 2002," which will
feature artists in public service announcements urging young people to
vote. The network is also launching a literacy program with the Urban League.

These activities expand the definition of hip-hop beyond entertainment.
Along with performers, fashion moguls, breakdancers and graffiti artists,
hip-hop is also college students, young political candidates, teachers,
professionals, entrepreneurs and community activists eager to move the
struggle beyond the fight for civil rights.

In April, Simmons and Combs co-chaired "UrbanAID2," a benefit to raise
awareness about AIDS and promote safe sex, but few artists acknowledged the
issue during their performances. This type of grandstanding elicits
criticism that the artists promote themselves more than the causes. Plus,
certain performers' involvement raises questions about contradictory
messages. It's difficult to believe Jay-Z promotes safe sex when he
consistently raps about his sexual conquests.

And will the public accept commercially successful rappers as leaders of
social change when their music often focuses on money, self-promotion and sex?

"All hip-hop is not gangsta' rap, all hip-hop is not bling-bling," said
Muhammad, former NAACP president then known as Ben Chavis. "The pendulum is
moving toward the positive."

Kitwana and others say Simmons, 44, and his backers, Muhammad, 54, and
Farrakhan, 69, are too old and it's time to let younger people lead.

Kitwana also worries Simmons represents the music industry and personal
ambition. His Rap the Vote 2000 campaign coincided with the launch of his
now defunct Web site. The Hip-Hop Summit Action Network is primarily
financed by the record industry. Thus far, the network's biggest
accomplishments have championed artists' rights, which does little for
ordinary African Americans.

S. Craig Watkins, a University of Texas associate professor of radio,
television and film, doubts artists, such as Jay-Z and Ja Rule, can sustain
a movement.

"How can they manage becoming signs of popular culture and then also be a
part of something that's more substantive?" asked Watkins. "I'm not so sure
it's their duty, their responsibility or even calling to assume a strong
political role."

But it's not unusual for artists to lend their fame, fortune and talents to
social and political causes.

In the 1950s, Harry Belafonte was a familiar face alongside Martin Luther
King, Jr., in many civil rights marches and fund-raisers.

In the late 60s, folk singers like Joan Baez and Bob Dylan were voices of a
generation seeking to end the Vietnam War among other cultural changes.
Dylan's songs "Blowin' in the Wind" and "The Times They Are A-Changin' "
became anthems of the peace movement.

In 1980, Stevie Wonder released the hit single, "Happy Birthday," urging a
holiday in King's honor, a proposal put forth four days after King's
assassination in 1968. President Ronald Reagan in 1983 made King's birthday
a federal holiday.

U2's Bono recently teamed with an unlikely ally in N.C. Sen. Jesse Helms to
focus attention on AIDS in Africa.

Small Movements

But Kitwana and other hip-hop observers say that too much attention in this
budding political movement is focused on the entertainers.

"People are having such a difficult time getting past rap," said Kitwana,
former executive editor of Source, the definitive hip-hop magazine. "It's
an emerging political movement among people in this generation that have
been influenced by hip-hop. It's a generation, not just the rap industry."

The rappers have a role to play by lending financial and vocal support to
grass roots organizations and political campaigns. Hip-hop generationers
such as spoken-word artist and school administrator Ras Baraka, who
unsuccessfully ran for mayor in Newark, N.J., and N.Y. city council
contender George Martinez, aka Rithm, are making serious bids for elected
office.

Throughout the country, members of the hip-hop generation spearhead
community efforts, Kitwana said. On college campuses, hip-hop clubs are
forming the way black student unions did in the '70s and '80s.

"It is a trend that represents the continuing maturation of hip-hop
culture," said Watkins. "It's not just people in the music industry. It's
not just the people who can capture the immediate attention of local and
national media."

Kitwana sees these smaller efforts as components of a national movement
that could articulate a hip-hop agenda focusing on education, employment
and worker's rights, reparations, economic infrastructure in urban
communities, youth poverty and disease, anti-youth legislation and foreign
policy. Hip-hop generationers must use the political system to pass
legislation to address these issues, he said.

Little of this national movement has trickled down to the Charlotte area.
The hip-hop generation here has yet to articulate a political agenda, but
weekly open mike nights at local clubs allow young African Americans to
express frustrations and aspirations through spoken word.

Durham-based minister Paul Scott leads an Internet-based effort to make
hip-hop more socially conscious. He called for a national boycott of
gangsta' rap on Father's Day, but few in Charlotte knew about it. Simmons'
Hip-Hop Summit Action Network hasn't garnered much attention here either.

Nevertheless, Jason Bailey, of the Charlotte-based record label Baifam
Entertainment, which promotes clean artists, is optimistic.

"The movement is starting to happen," he said. "It's still real infantile.
It's almost like the little spots throughout America are going to have to
connect."