Track 3: Saving Hip-Hop Lives

In 2000, the U.S. State Department began to take notice of the social and political work that many underground hip-hop artists in the U.S. were doing around the world. Toni Blackman, an actress, poet and activist, is one of pioneers of hip-hop theatre, and was the first U.S. hip-hop cultural envoy. I asked her to share her observations about her work in Dakar in 2001.

TONI BLACKMAN: Experiencing hip-hop in Senegal saved my hip-hop life. It revived my passion for the music and culture at a time when hip-hop in America was being suffocated by corporatization. Hip-hop artists in spoken word, theatre, dance, etc., were all working together to bring some definition to this thing that we do called hip-hop theatre and performance. In Senegal, hip-hop was an integral part of what was happening in the arts scene. I remember hearing that there were at 2,000 rap groups in Senegal! My role in Dakar was to use hip-hop as a bridge for relationship-building and to engage younger audiences. I was also there to show another side of hip-hop—a more positive side, different from what mainstream media and pop culture offered at the time.

Hip-hop music in the U.S. hearkens, in part, to this rich griot/griotte tradition in West Africa. In Dakar, hip-hop is a means of expression. It is a vehicle for voices to be heard. You can see the connection from the U.S. to West Africa. I love that hip-hop is self-possessed there. This is such a beautiful thing. There’s so much creative energy and talent bubbling. I mean, combine those sabar drums with break beats and add in some popping and locking, and then pause the music for a monologue as dancers are entering from the back of the venue, and voila! There’s hip-hop theatre in Dakar. I have these visions in my head of ways to blend traditional instrumentation, story, dance and lyrics in Wolof with the boom bap!

That said, Blackman notes that most Senegalese artists don’t use the label “hip-hop theatre,” but that is not surprising—labels do not apply to the work of many artists in Dakar. Art for social change need not fit simply into only one category.

American artist and activist Danny Hoch predicted this in his 2004 hip-hop arts manifesto, when he argued that hip-hop arts are “now branching out from the fundamentalist elements and rules.” Hip-hop theatre in the U.S. has grown over time; it is also very different from hip-hop theatre in London, and now in Dakar. Right now, the form is a veritable mix-tape of performance. “Hip-hop is America,” Hillary Clinton said in her much-touted interview with “CBS This Morning”’s Tracy Smith in 2010. But despite hip-hop’s American roots, it is also Senegal.

Track 4: Living Lessons

The Senegal-America Project provides another vantage point in the debate among artists and scholars about hip-hop’s role abroad. This cross-cultural exchange program, created by Tony Vacca and master drummer Massamba Diop of Senegal, began in 1995 as a musical exchange to promote youth self-determination and political consciousness. Vacca speaks eloquently about his work with Dakar artists and his recent collaboration with the legendary Abiodun Oyewole, one of the founders of the Last Poets.

TONY VACCA: Hip-hop in Senegal is a living lesson in world music, world culture, globalization and West African geopolitical history. Even more important to me, it’s an illustration of how our innate desire to share our stories as a means of survival can grow into a global phenomenon, connecting young people across any and every conceivable impasse.

What I love about Senegal’s hip-hop scene over the past decade—and especially right now—is that so many of its artists haven’t lost sight of the power of words to bring us together, to illustrate our common ground, our shared humanity, and to use what they can of ancient values to shape Africa’s future. They have become 21st-century griots, this time owing allegiance to the people and committed to their visions for a self-determined nation and continent. I’ve heard it in every conversation with these young performers—they want to have the support and understanding of young and old alike in shaping the future of Africa and the world. They see their place in the world as well as their place in their village, in their neighborhood, and in their nation. They are global citizens, and their songs, videos and live performances have become the street theatre of their generation.

Oyewole also offers his reflections about working with the Sénégal-America project.

ABIODUN OYEWOLE: I had the pleasure of traveling to Senegal in December 2013 as one of the artists in the Senegal-America Project. There were seven of us from America, all musicians, poets and storytellers. We were there to do workshops, concerts and appreciate the culture of the Senegalese people. When I first arrived in Dakar, some of the young rappers referred to me as the ‘Daddy Rapper.’ Many of them knew about my group, the Last Poets, being one of the foundational groups of hip-hop. It became very apparent to me that hip-hop isn’t really new in Africa. The term may be new, but the art form is ancient. The griot has been around forever, and all he did was spread the news, good or bad, with the aid of some kind of instrument like a kora or a drum.

The last leg of our trip was spent in Dakar, where we had a press interview on the island of Gorée. This was the island where over four million Africans were forced into slavery, put on ships and sent to the Americas. I got emotional about being on the island and seeing the slave dungeons. It was during this time that I wrote one of the most beautiful songs I’ve ever written.

My experience in Senegal was very positive. I did, however, have to verbally spank some of the rappers for being too casual with the word “nigger.” At our final concert, at the Hip-Hop Academy, I decided to address the crowd about my concerns. I said in French, “Tu n’est pas niggers. Tu es Africans.” The crowd applauded and cheered. Many of them had no knowledge of the history of the word and how it was created to dehumanize black people. We had a chance to set the record straight and raise the bar for humanity. It appears America has good diplomatic ties with Senegal. Hip-hop has become the crowned ambassador.

The connection of the word “nigger” to histories of subjugation and oppression in the U.S. is directly connected to post-colonial subjugation—and to hip-hop. Oyewole’s visceral response to the use of the word and his visit to the island of Gorée highlight the disconnect between African and African diasporic subjects through the atrocities of the transatlantic slave trade. Reconnections and disconnections are remixed through the use of the word in a hip-hop context.