icymi: talib kweli is still a narcissist
randomities, vol. 8: sometimes, people who think they’re showing solidarity don’t know they’re feeding narcissism.
I’m not sure exactly how many days it’s been, but I know Talib Kweli has been harassing Maya Moody on social media for over 40 days. When you talk about the phrase “die on that hill,” Talib Kweli is a zombie. I can’t even listen to him right now.
His antics aren’t just an example of how fast your ego can torpedo your legacy, but perhaps more importantly, they frame the ease in which people can cloak their narcissism in pro-Blackness and be celebrated instead of tuned out. He’s framed this entire crusade as about protecting the perception of his wife’s “Blackness.” When he defended himself on IG live, he referenced pro-Black women songs he made in the past. But none of his previous work negates his current abuses.
When Kweli announced his move to Instagram (after being banned from Twitter), and his plans to put more content on Patreon, he basically did so with what amounts to positive buzz. He felt he had been aggrieved, and it was time for his fans to rally around a strong Black man and support him. To this day, he’s attacking Maya by claiming she insulted various people’s Blackness which will of course rile his pro-Black advocates. The people who think they’re showing solidarity don’t know they’re feeding narcissism. But he does.
You can know a lot about systemic oppression and have the desire to help people, but that can’t offset harming other people. Manipulating pro-Blackness as a catalyst for abuse brings all of your political intentions into question.
Even if Kweli genuinely felt he was justified for that tweet that set all this madness off, he’s cognizant of the way his fans are harassing Maya and her family and doesn’t have the empathy to tell them to let up. He’s still considering himself as the victim. He expressed that he has the endurance to keep this predicament going, and is framing himself as a hero who’s standing by his convictions against all enemies — including the ones who just want him to stop harassing a Black woman).
As some of you know, I’ve been writing for UPROXX since 2017. He has a podcast that UPROXX is affiliated with. To be transparent, for better or worse, I now feel like his antics have me in a predicament where I’m conflicted about how my writing, and that of my peers, is perceived or engaged with in proximity to him. I know his affiliation with UPROXX trumps mine public perception wise. And it sucks to know that the stiff-arm people are giving him and his affiliations extend to us at UPROXX, for now. Narcissists don’t care about how their actions affect other people.
Everywhere I’ve turned this summer, I’ve been in junctures where new opportunities, or continuing current ones, came with some sort of moral qualm. Including a recent personal-ish situation that delayed this newsletter today. Maybe that’s a self-indictment, I don’t know. It just goes to show me that in a capitalist, patriarchal society, it’s hard to do anything without running up against someone in a position of prominence doing some fuck shit with no accountability. It’s disappointing, and a reason why it’s best to just do for self if you can.
quick takes
I was randomly thinking this week about having a professional obligation to listen to everything in the purview of the outlets I write for and how that affects the way I engage with music. I’ve found that the number one thing for me to actually put an artist in my personal “rotation” is being “compelling,” in some fashion. Too many people use the same flows, be different. But being “compelled” is relative. For me, it implies I need them to catch my attention because I’m listening to sooo much. That’s not their problem. That shouldn’t factor into an artist’s creative process, but I think it does. I was listening to an artist this week that I know is solidly talented in a vacuum, but I rarely listen to them personally. Would I listen to this artist more in my own time if I didn’t get music fatigue? Would I perceive them differently? How does bandwidth play into the way critics evaluate artists vs. fans?
This week I wrote about the need to stop letting numbers have too much sway of our perception of cultural relevance. I had a headache writing this piece because I wasn’t sure exactly how I wanted to challenge such an inherent idea, or what my “solution” is, but I know that the metrics are created by the same people who are oblivious (if not resentful) about Black culture, so they don’t deserve to have value. That probably sounds hypocritical from a writer who depends on clicks from high-selling artists for their income, but it’s true. We have to fundamentally shift how we evaluate art, and that comes with trying our best to compartmentalize numbers from quality or influence. I get that’s really hard to do with consumerism, hysteria, and groupthink though. One small reason why it’s time to abolish capitalism altogether.
bars of the moment
“Men love to lie about their favorite female rappers to hide their misogyny failing to realize their reasoning only makes them more misogynistic lmaaooo”
- @NotLaja
It’s interesting seeing how ppl are solely blaming social media AKa Instagram and IG baddies for creating unrealistic beauty standards when they existed before social media and our own families try to uphold them too
Only time will tell whether I’ll play any of these songs again in the future. But however my tastes change, their attachment to moments in my life—from the foundational to the banal—will always remain. Even if none of the songs I’ve mentioned seep out of my speakers ever again, they’ve imprinted themselves and become key moments I’ll always cherish.
- Dylan Green in Plotting Life’s Key Moments Through Songs piece
Over the past four decades in hip-hop, candid sexual anthems have been an arena in which female rappers — with or without vaginas — and queer artists vocalize their standards for sexual satisfaction. They’re sharing their own carnal sermons. Their ministry is for those who want to hear their words, which often incites a camaraderie between free-loving ride-or-dies shaking their asses on one another while rapping along in electrifying praise.
Dalyah Jones in “Let’s Have A Sex Talk”: The Eras Of Sex Talk By Black Women In Hip-Hop piece
artifact
New Nas coming tonight. Here’s a link to an early interview (not sure if/doubt this is his actual first interview). But my favorite part of this is when he says which artist he aspires to work with, then has second thoughts.
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Venmo: Andre-Gee