N.W.A. - Fuck tha Police

Because No One is Ever Mad to See the Fire Department

*This piece contains potentially offensive and racially charged language. I’m using it to accurately describe conversations that happened. I am not using the language with the intent to offend.*

1. I once asked my mother why she hated Hip-Hop music so much. The conversation went like this:

   “What’s your issue with Hip-Hop, or as you say, Rap, mom?”

   “It’s just… nigger this and nigger that,” she responded which a bitter sneer and a dismissive wave of her menthol cigarette.

   “Mom, YOU use that word to describe Black people.”

   “Yeah, but I don’t want to hear them use it.”

   That’s how encoded racism is on my mother’s side of the family. My mother and her siblings can drop the N-Bomb, but the people referenced can’t use it because it’s offensive to her. (That’s gotta be a new dimension to White privilege.) You’d think she’d be into songs that drop that particularly charged word because she enjoys using it so much. It’s like she’s standing on a playground with her siblings shouting “That’s OUR word. You can’t take our word and use it. That’s RUDE!” And then she throws her sucker in the dirt and stomps off.

   That side of my family reacts hilariously - if racism can be hilarious - to matters like these because as people they’re so socially inept and clueless their rationalizations are babble. They don’t make any sense. In fact, their explanations make negative sense - they take away from healthy rationalizations and contribute such stupidity their arguments transcend to a higher plane of idiocy. On that plane, one can either weep or laugh. I’m taking the Mel Brooks route.

2. The N.W.A. song Fuck tha Police presents a difficult logic problem for that side of my family. The men in N.W.A. were rapping about systemic racism and violence inherent in police departments across the nation. They’ve been victimized time and again because of their skin tone. My family says “fuck the police” because the cops are in positions of authority and my family detests authority with the red-hot intensity of a thousand suns. They are the personification of “You’re not the boss of me!” They pride themselves on being bandits, hooligans, and shit-disturbers. One particular story illustrates this well. When I first heard it, my journalistic gonads started firing memos into my brain and I had to investigate further. The long and short of it is this: I have two uncles on that side of my family, and one was incarcerated. My other uncle made it a point to visit regularly, but on one occasion he was short on gas money and between jobs. Naturally, he stole a car and drove it to the prison to visit his brother. His logic was beautiful and difficult to argue against. “Who looks for a stolen car in a prison parking lot?” It’s incredibly difficult to find fault in that rationale. It’s very obviously a crime, but that makes it hilarious.

   Given that pedigree and their determination to throw middle fingers in the face of law enforcement, one could easily see how my family should LOVE Fuck tha Police, except N.W.A. is entirely comprised of Black men. Now we get to the logic problem.

   Once upon a time, the Hells Angels and members of the gay community found themselves on the same side of the protest against the obnoxiously flaming fuckwits of the Westboro Baptist Church. See, that shit-stain excuse of a church was protesting dead service members’ funerals because America lets homosexual couples marry. The two issues are obviously related (Eye rolls so hard my neck cramps)… The Hells Angels were founded by service members returning from WWII so you can see why they have beef against the Westboro shitbirds. The gay community disagrees vehemently with the Westboro bleeding hemorrhoids because they’re opposed to the church’s stance on homosexuality. For a brief but beautiful period, the most notorious motorcycle club on the planet stood side by side with the gay community in solidarity against a common opponent. Both groups viewed their opponent as being so fucking vile they were willing to unite against Westboro. My family cannot do that. It’s a racial bridge too far. They can’t love Fuck tha Police because it was made by Black people and in their minds they can’t side with “the Blacks.” There’s a spectrum that must be respected, and that spectrum dictates they must always be held in higher regard than the Black community and are never to align themselves with prominent Black people. There exist exceptions to this. For my mother, it’s Motown and other soul musicians. For my jailbird uncles, it’s Jimi Hendrix.

3. Some time ago I was watching the 1991 film Boyz in the Hood which co-stars N.W.A. founding member Ice Cube. It occurred to me, that despite the modern setting, Boyz is a Western. At its heart, Boyz in the Hood is about a man on the edge of the California desert seeking revenge for his brother’s murder. This story plays regardless of what kind of hat the antihero wears. If it’s Clint Eastwood, it’s a cowboy hat. If it’s Ice Cube, it’s a classic Detroit Tigers hat with the Old English D. No one wants to accept Boyz in the Hood as a Western because White America loves outlaws but doesn’t want to accept Black outlaws. That’s a racial bridge too far.

   We make movies and write songs venerating Billy the Kid, John Dillinger, and Al Capone. We rarely venerate Pat Garrett, Melvin Purvis II, or Eliot Ness - the men who captured or killed Billy, John, and Al. We love our outlaws unless they're Black. My family LOVES the outlaw label, but they detest Black people who would celebrate outlaw culture alongside them. Country music suffers the same issue. I argue 9/11 was the worst thing to happen to Country because artists weened on outlaw Country turned into jingoistic jackwagons with no sense of history. Johnny Cash wrote an entire album about America’s shitty treatment of indigenous peoples called Bitter Tears: Ballads of the American Indian. Willie Nelson’s creative apex was a concept album about a man of god who goes on a killing spree (Red Headed Stranger). Steve Earle’s Copperhead Road celebrates bootleggers and pot farmers. For the sake of fuck, America’s favorite racing sport was built around transporting illegal booze. America’s collective memory forgets its history in favor of racial dividing lines because it’s okay to be an outlaw if you wear a cowboy hat and boots, but not if you wear a fitted cap and some Jordans.

   The most hilarious part about this is that genuine creators and artists love each other. Art transcends nonsense, and the finest ones work hard to bridge the gap. Those gaps are constructs that can just as easily be destroyed as built. Snoop Dogg and Willie Nelson are best of friends if you need proof.

   Now, the question is, are we Rock & Roll? And I say you goddamn right we Rock & Roll. Rock & Roll is not an instrument, Rock & Roll is not even a style of music. Rock & Roll is a spirit. It’s a spirit. It’s been going since the Blues, Jazz, Bebop, Soul, R&B, Rock & Roll, Heavy Metal, Punk Rock and yes, Hip-Hop. And what connects us all is that spirit. That’s what connects us all, that spirit. Rock & Roll is not conforming to the people who came before you, but creating your own path in music and in life. That is Rock & Roll, and that is us.

   Ice Cube, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction Speech

   That side of my family doesn’t talk to me much about anything that matters. They don’t want holes poked in their bullshit. If I’m being honest, they’re too fucking stupid to tolerate. Some of them are going to see this. They’re not going to actually read it, because again, that’s a racial bridge too far. Let’s see, shall we?

   N.W.A.’s legacy endures. My family’s legacy will not.