Niggas in Paris

“One would have to hold in the mind forever two ideas which seemed in opposition. The first acceptance, the acceptance totally without rancor, life as it is, and men as they are: in light of this idea it goes without saying that injustice is a commonplace. But this did not mean that one could be complacent. For the second idea was equal power: that one must never in ones life, accept these injustices as commonplace, but must fight the with all one’s strength.”  [1] - James Baldwin

 “I am where art meets commercial, the sweet spot between the hood and Hollywood, having a conversation with Karl Lagerfeld and Jay-Z within the same hour. When we're in Paris dressing all crazy at fashion shows, we listening to Jay-Z. Jeezy in Paris, that's what it is.” – Kanye West

Young black and wealthy, Kanye West and Jay-Z take Paris by storm. They dominate the music scene representing a black identity of self-determination and hyper visibility. They move with authority, seizing the adoration of screaming French fans and the respect of the market which mimics their aesthetics, including language, body comportment and fashion. The black man has finally been deemed worth of celebration.  Or has he? While many in the black and white community look to artists like Kanye and Jay-Z as evidence of the changing racial landscape, when compared to James’s Baldwin’s account in Notes of a Native Son, it is clear “Niggas In Paris'” politically hallow performance of power is simply the new iteration of the world’s fascination with the nigger, and Kanye and Jay-Z’s acceptance of a role shaped by racist understandings of black identity.  They are indeed “native sons,” in every way Baldwin deplored the term, unleashed upon the public via the hip-hop music scene.  Though Baldwin asserts, The world is no longer white, its black citizens assimilate, participating in response to white supremacy that pervades their experience, even in the midst of individual wealth and fame, and often to their own detriment.

Armed with power as ambassadors of capitalism and the influence it provides, Kanye and Jay-Z play the part America has taught them to play- the role of the nigga, concerned with “money, hoes and clothes,” and ecstatic to be chosen to do so. With microphone in hand and the opportunity to give whatever manner of message to the world, these men betray the art form which Baldwin states has been the faithful medium in which black people could tell their stories, and instead tell the story given to them by a racist culture, labeling themselves as niggers. Preoccupied with appearance, flaunting their wealth, and believing these accouterments give them license to abuse women, ‘Ye and Jay make themselves synonymous with the ghost of Bigger Thomas—Niggas to be reckoned with. Have we not yet moved beyond these trivial and destructive desires? Unfortunately as products of American society and capitalism we have not. Even many in the black community celebrate these kinds of displays as genuine proof of “the evolution of the negro.” However, these images maintain the stagnation of black progress, and demonstrate that collectively, white people will only celebrate black men in the position of  “nigger.”

The nigger, celebrated when he has enough money to be a consumer of white products, and influential enough to peddle white supremacy in black face (see Jay-Z reppin’ for Tom Ford), is still considered inferior on American soil. While he can be used to boost sales in the market, he is not considered worthy of partnership in the market.  The black man unable to attain hip hop status proves even less successful. Though he may be lauded for his “swagger,” he remains inferior in the eyes of white America, which keeps him unemployed, undereducated, ridiculed, incarcerated, targeted for violence by the police, preyed upon by banking institutions, kept under surveillance, and assumed the worst of, making him so full of hopelessness, bitterness and rage that every relationship that he has is compromised by this oppression, including his self concept.

Kanye and Jay-Z’s freedom to listen to rap music while traipsing through Paris, while white onlookers become enraptured and escape into their difference, can be likened to Baldwin's experience of white people desiring to run their hands through his woolly hair, their desire to shake their bums to the seductive beats of hip hop are comparable to, them touching Baldwin's hands to see if in fact the black might come off. All of it speaks to the spectacle of blackness. It does not speak to a change in the minds of white people about the status of black people. It is simply those of the dominant race wanting to exploit blackness for their own fantasies. This fascination with black culture does not improve the life of the common black man. If anything it further distances him from real relationship with those who wish to apprehend the pleasurable aspects of his experience. Moreover, the idea that someone who looks like him has “made it” makes him hungry for the same kind of success, which he attempts to imitate through the performance of consumerism, bravado and misogyny, further isolating him in bitterness, assimilation, and dysfunction.

But Kanye and Jay-Z are not solely to be blamed.  The public offense of one’s country of origin refusing to see him as human or equal is enough to make the most tenderhearted person bitter, hopeless and hating.  Despite their legitimization as Americans on European soil, the realities of the many black men seen as a problem in their own hometowns remains unchanged, and that European vacation where they might be privileged with “the truth of their Americaness” is the stuff of fantasies.  Their reality is weighed down by the American sense of blackness—the inferiority, savagery, and domination that many have adopted as the truth of their existence.

This distance is the preparation Baldwin speaks of that preserves black people in the midst of being despised, but at what cost?[2] Adoption of an identity that does not belong to them—A two dimensional representation of the thoughts, essence, feelings and existence of blackness? Broken relationships between fathers and sons, public displays of violence, the demeaning of one’s female counterparts for the privilege of feeling a taste of the abuse and domination that you too have been a victim of? This is not abundant life. Rather it speaks to a sense of shame and an adoption of the view of white society that blackness is in fact less civilized, less sacred, less worthy and an acceptance of its ways.  This protective armor of bravado betrays its wearer, revealing him behind the clothes, the bitterness, the rage, or the demeaned women as no more than a helpless pawn muttering in the darkness, “Who am I?” Baldwin contends, “one of the reasons people cling to their hate so stubbornly is because they sense once hate is gone, that they will be forced to deal with the pain.”[3] Contemporarily the hatred with which Black people wrestle manifests itself in two ways –rage and assimilation. They accept the identity American society has constructed for them to avoid the discomfort of fighting against injustice and because they have bought into the notion that their identity is unacceptable. Neither is an appropriate strategy for survival. As Baldwin says, “bitterness is folly,” yet so is attempting to play the white man’s game in black face.  In many ways both responses yield to a paradigm in which white supremacy is real, ultimately surrendering to one’s own destruction because such a paradigm always maintains the inferiority of blackness.[4]

In order for black people to begin thrive, they must challenge the narrative impressed upon them. This fight, Baldwin says, begins in the heart, keeping it free of hatred and despair. This means functioning outside of the racist system of domination America pushes as the means to power and asserting for themselves a new system of worth. But art, especially music that promotes that kind of alternative message never has the influence of the hot beats white music companies can procure, or the access they can provide.  These songs and their lyrics, as  “Niggas in Paris” mocks, have little meaning, but they get the crowd going. Unfortunately, it is "going" in the same old direction.

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[1] Baldwin, James. Notes of a Native Son, Bantam Books :1964, p.95

[2] Ibid, 89

[3] Ibid, 85

[4] Ibid, 95