Daniel Hodge

Starting a Dialogue with Hip-Hop

Daniel Hodge — Wed, 19 Jun 2013 13:35:36 +0000

Daniel White Hodge, a blogger with ConversantLife for the past four years, is a producer with a Ph.D. In his twenties he had production credits on Bone Thugs-N-Harmony's first album, E 1999 Eternal, as well as helping to score the first two seasons of New York Undercover. With a Ph.D. from Fuller Graduate School of Intercultural Studies, he is now the director of the Center for Youth Ministry Studies and assistant professor of youth ministry at North Park University in Chicago. This interview first appeared in Christianitytoday.com.

How has your relationship with hip hop changed over your life?

I was a listener as a kid, back in the late 1970s when I first heard The Sugarhill Gang and Run DMC and started wondering how they put those words together. Until high school, I was more of a consumer. In high school I became a participant. In my early twenties, I was involved as a producer. Now I am looking at how God is involved in almost every facet of hip-hop culture, which has become more of a lifestyle, not just something in [a musical] corner.

What is the theological heritage of hip-hop?

The historical root of hip hop is self-awareness and self-consciousness. "Use your mind. See the world and see it for what it is." KRS-One or Afrika Bambaataa said there are nine elements of hip hop, but there are really ten. The tenth is spirituality. It's about connecting with God. A lot of folks say it's because we have given up on the tenth element that hip hop is in the condition it is in. With any art, when you add money and commercialization, there is the danger that the soul gets lost. You saw that with the organic food movement when Wal-Mart showed up in organic food. It's what George Ritzer calls the "McDonaldization of society." That is what hip-hop today is fighting against.

Theologically, hip-hop is about connecting with the broader supernatural world. Most hip hop heads know that we just didn't happen by accident. This isn't an accidental universe or space we find ourselves in. In many hip-hop circles, you see God in everything: the space, the art, the sky, the wind. It's really this idea that God is involved in what we are doing. I think that's ultimately what hip hop is attempting to do.

People like KRS-One will say that we even have a religious structure within hip-hop. He wrote a whole book looking at the gospel of hip-hop. The cover actually looks like a Bible. He wrote it in the same way as our New Testament: chapters and verses. Hip-hop is an outlet for people to begin to connect with something that they might not be able to connect with in a four-wall church. Concerts and spoken-word venues were powerful venues. The smaller venues are not much bigger than a classroom, but they feel transcendent and leave people saying "God is in this place." In that sense, we are having church: People's minds are being opened and people are leaving transformed.

With Lecrae hitting #1 last year, the Reformed Rap movement reached new prominence. What are your thoughts on the Christian hip hop movement?

They are a theological and spiritual breath of fresh air. I don't like to delineate between Christian and secular hip-hop because I like to look at the message and content of it, and see if it is espousing some aspect of Christ and a gospel message. When you think about the genre of Christian rap, the music for years was just bad! The beats were horrible. Although the message was pretty decent there was not that connection with kids. In my years as a youth pastor, we tried to play that music and it just wouldn't connect.

There was an artist that came out in 2000, B.B. Jay, and if you closed your eyes and listened to him, you would think it was Biggie Smalls. He even looked like Biggie Smalls. He was from New York. I loved his music. His whole idea was "I want to make Christian music but we are going to make it in a missional way, so I want to be marketed towards non-Christians. I want to be sold to non-Christians." His record company didn't get that. They said, "You are a Christian artist, why would you want to sell to non-Christians?" So unfortunately his album never went anywhere.

So to see Lecrae doing what he is doing now, and Propaganda, and these artists actually putting it out there and saying, "This is what is happening. I can be Christian, I can rap about this stuff, I can still be down, I be a part of the hip-hop lifestyle, and still be a Christian at the same time," is amazing. Part of the challenge for Christian art in general is that at times it tries to answer eternal questions. Artists like Tupac don't try to answer these questions—they just ask these questions and struggle with these things.

That's where I think Propaganda and Lecrae in particular, whom I have known since they were doing beats in their mama's basement, get it right. So to see what they have become and to have remained true to their faith is amazing to me. I'm so happy for their success and so elated to see that they have a Christian social message that is still edgy and still hard but is rooted in the gospel. And they are getting the criticism from both sides.

Do you think that the evangelical church in general is still hostile toward hip-hop?

Absolutely. I think there are a couple different factors that play into that. I think there is unawareness. And that leads to fear. Then you have the racial element. You have men of color who have gained some momentum and positions of power, so some white evangelical males are feeling disenfranchised. For those folks, it's not an intentional thing. Racism is so embedded in our psychology and everything we do in this society it's like a matrix. I don't think people even know that's going on, but nevertheless it [plays a part]. When fear, unawareness, and race combine, it makes for a deadly cocktail.

Don't get me wrong—there is a lot to be upset about from artists like Lil' Wayne. I was just reading a lyric last night from Chief Keef who said [in effect], "If I don't get oral sex from a woman, I am going to kill her." This type of nonsense is unacceptable. Rick Ross talked about putting a sedative in your drink so I can have sex with you—though he has apologized. That is maddening. And those are the things most people see. When you hear an artist that has the bass, the music, and the bravado: That's intimidating for someone that doesn't know.

What would you say to critics who say the very spirit of hip-hop is not fitting with the gospel?

I say it is no different from anything in the human experience. You need to look at Christianity a lot closer. We need a theology of celebration, but we are unbalanced if we don't look at the theology of suffering and the world surrounding that, because suffering is also an element and an aspect to people's lives.

How can Christians better engage with hip-hop?

Listen to the music and have a critical eye. Download the lyrics. Study them and look at them and say "What is this artist or author actually saying? Are they saying what I think they are saying?" That's why I like to put the lyrics up in my lectures. It's a matter of breaking it down and slowing it down. There are lyrics for anything put out in recent years where you can go and find it and actually ask "What is this artist actually saying?" And be critical.

Christians can begin to ask better questions of artists. It's in our tendency of humans to judge what we don't know. It's going to take skills to better interpret the hip-hopper without judging. Or if there is judgment, I think its okay to have that conversation. I think it's about being able to come and have it be a dialogue rather than a monologue. So often, particularly when you are young, you get a parent, or pastor, or youth worker that is just trying to tell kids what to do. Of course, you are just going to want to go to what you aren't supposed to do.

I tell youth pastors all the time that if a song is violent or wrong, let's go right to it and see what is really at the core. Let's construct a Bible study or theological message around it and deal with that in the youth group environment. I think about youth group in particular, because where better do we want to deal with these things than inside the church where people can ask questions? As Christians we need to begin to take that broader step into culture. Now more than ever, the traditional mores of Christianity are running ashore with this generation. The "Nones" want nothing to do with religion or spirituality—not necessarily that they are against God or antagonistic toward God, they just don't want to deal with religion. I think hip-hop offers an alternative way to engage with the gospel.

Django: It Is The Narrative

Daniel Hodge — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 17:41:58 +0000

Quentin Tarantino’s (QT) new film, Django, has elicited many responses across the spectrum on race, gender, class, and even God. The film has created a type of blog/ essay sensation and many were talking about it long before it was even released. QT is no rookie to controversy; critics have railed on QT for too much violence, use of the word “nigger,” sexism, and a litany of other issues with his films. Since Reservoir Dogs, QT has become accustomed to controversy around the issues of race, class, and gender. Thus his latest, Django, is no less causing quite the stir—particularly in the cultural/ Black studies academic community.

Now, let me first say that I agree with many of the points and issues raised in the blogs against Django. I also think that the issues of violence, male dominance, the saving of yet another “damsel in distress,” and patriarchal violent retribution are all problems. David Leonard and Tamura Lomax’s interview on The Feminist Wire was right on point as an analysis of the film. And I support Spike Lee’s wishes to not see the film.

However…QT did not invent the issues of sexism and the patriarchal protagonist; QT did not conjure up the image of the violent male in film; QT, moreover, did not invent the word nigger; what QT does do is to capitalize and build a story off of those surrounding matters. Wrong? Yes and no. Those issues are confounding and a reality for sure. Genius? Maybe. What Django does is a tell a story within those violent male confines which have traditionally been reserved for White men, and give a heroic placement to a Black male (played by Jaime Foxx).

Now, let me say, second, that I loved the film. The discourse and dialog is rich and rings true to how many White’s still feel regarding Blacks (minus a few “nigger” this and “nigger” that). I found Robert Richardson’s (Shutter Island, Kill Bill, Inglorious Basterds) cinematography to be amazing as usual. QT’s masterful art of composing dialogue scenes which invoke the use of great non-verbal discourse and connotative meaning were stellar. The film is a spaghetti western and utilizes all the traits of a patriarchal male hero subject which rescues his loved, lost, wife in the end while exacting retribution and revenge on those who caused him maltreatment. For QT, the victims in his films are the ones who get the most revenge. In a film genre thematic sense, what is the problem with that? Spielberg does it. Lucas does it. Scorsese has continually done it. Where is the social outcry with them? Why can’t Django do what Stallone, Schwarzenegger, Bronson, and the many other White male protagonists who avenge their loved ones by killing the “bad guy” while “saving” the woman have done?

Here is the bottom line for me, yes, the violence is an issue. Yes, the continual use of the word nigger is an issue. Yes, the film is fiction. And yes, the male, once again, has to “save” a “helpless” woman. But that is Hollywood film; love it or hate it, it is what it is and yes, there are problems within those areas which I and many others continue to confront. But if we take Django for what it is, in its genre, then it is right on and QT does a spectacular job of placing Foxx’s character as the hero and do what many Blacks wish would have happened during this horrific time in the history of the U.S.

Moreover, QT tackles the reality that there were hot boxes on plantations, Black men were castrated on plantations, on many occassions runaway slaves were savishly torn apart by dogs, slavers in the South did call Blacks nigger…copiously, violence was like breathing in the West during this period against ethnic minorities, Blacks were seen as inferior and submissive, and the 400 years of inhumanity done to Blacks was not just atrocious but has continually been overlooked in Hollywood film by many White film makers. QT takes on a film that not only places a Black male in a standardized male role, but makes him intelligent, witty, and a hero.

One film critic in particular from NPR, Milos Stehlik, stated he had a problem with QT having Django “kill White men for pay.” The critic railed on QT for that and wondered “What message is being sent” by those actions. Really? What “message” is being sent? Were you worried about what “message” was being sent when Blacks were hunted down in films like Cold Mountain? Were you worried about “messages” being sent out when Blacks are hung like animals in the film Rosewood? Seems a bit too convenient for me. This is the frustratingly continual worldview path from many neo-liberal White critics when all of a sudden those seemingly “liberal” critics want to chime in from their generous and righteous moralism to protest and voice outrage.

In the end, we have some major problems within our media regarding race, gender, and class. QT’s film Django, however, works within those paradigms, gives us a contextualized hero, posits him in a heroic light while doing it QT style and still addresses America’s bloody past in slavery. Is it pretty? No. Does it continue on the continuum of Hollywood male heroes? Yes. And does so by vindicating—at the very least within the fictional narrative—the relentless abuse slavery had on Blacks in this country.

Again, I loved the film. It did a spectacular job of integrating third dimensional rhetoric into the script; in other words, much of the context within the language are still present today in White Black relations (e.g. the thought of Blacks as inferior, lazy, submissive; White’s as landowners and Blacks who are the ‘help’; house niggas & the comfort of the Black elite). The narrative is about empowerment of Blacks and the power to take back what was lost; that, is powerful. And in a time when many Black roles are comic relief and submissive to the dominant strucutre, that is large. Django will remain a solid film within the confines of how Hollywood defines a male hero. It brings to the table a “new sheriff” in town, of sorts, and gives the audience much to think about as it relates to slavery and the violent past that is the make of these United States.

Check out Joseph Boston's thoughts on Django: Django: Black Jesus Unchained

Read Aisha Harris' piece on the film: Conservatives Freak Out About Django

NPR's Fresh Air Series interview QT

Gee Joyner has an excellent posit on Django too: That Damn Django!

Samuel Jackson's Response

Django's Press Release:

Jovan Belcher: Do We Men Really Want to Talk About This Though?

Daniel Hodge — Thu, 06 Dec 2012 04:38:16 +0000

As I read the incoming tweets and Facebook chatter, I realized this was going to be bad. A pro ball player killing his girlfriend and then taking his life; to add to the multifaceted problem, he goes to his place of work to commit suicide. I have to admit, I was not that surprised at the events. Appalled? Yes. Saddened? Of course; at least two sets of families have lost their loved ones. Angered? Yes, of the continued culture of silence that we as men—particularly Black and Brown men—live in on a daily basis. While I am not a minimalist and do not want to abate the sequence of events that led to this tragic killing, men who live in silence and do not talk about and deal with their problems are volcanic time bombs waiting to erupt; it is just a matter of time upon whom they will erupt on and how large that eruption will be.

Like the buildup in an automotive engine, when we as men leave matters unattended to, unsaid, hurts gone unchecked, and a life of pain pushed inside the shit builds up (please excuse the stronger discourse) and causes social, emotional, and psychological viscosity break down. In other words, men in Greco-Roman Western society have managed to define manhood into compartmentalized, silenced, and rage reservoir milieus which can detonate in multidimensional ways; in Jovan’s case being the most violent means.

But do we as men really want to have an emotional, gut wrenching, psycho-spiritual conversation that moves beyond the customary sports, women, sex domination, and money exchanges which tend to dominate our vernacular moments? Do we truly want to hear the pain existing in many of our lives? Do we really want to engage the mess that is called manhood and the gender performance indicators which trap all of us at times? Do we really want to enter those spaces in which men find themselves emotionally stuck, such as in sexuality, relationships, issues with our parents, sadness, and fear? Can we move beyond labeling and thinking of other men as gay, bitches, pussies, punk asses, bitch made niggas, and soft girly men who want to be emotional, open, and transparent with their feelings?

Because in my own journey to become what Mark Anthony Neal calls a “New Black Man,” I have encountered many of my own patriarchal tendencies and stereotypical male gender roles that I have been taught to believe, act out on, and come to know as “normal,” and not only wanted to turn back, but to stuff them into the nether regions of my psyche. I have had to deal with my own issues of depression, suicide, and rage and come face to face with who the real me is. It is not always a pretty sight; and I had a lot of help along the way.

I was fortunate to have another man walk with me through the process. I was lucky to have another group of men who wanted to also “go there” with me—who were not afraid to cry, laugh, yell, pray, and cry some more with me openly. I was privileged to be in a setting where my Blackness, Browness, and maleness were looked at with different lenses; instead of the ones I was always told to see those areas through. I was blessed to have a wife who stood by me and encouraged me to do all of this. The journey was hard, painful, and discouraging at times; but it was worth it and I am continuing on it.

But in all these socio-cognitive travels, I have not met many other men who are willing to join with me in the journey. Sure they get part way, but then are uncomfortable by the issues and want to solve them (both for them and me)—after all many men are taught to “duct tape” life’s problems. Partner up the manifold of religion and you have men who want to “solve” every problem you have with “God”; throw in a bit of ageism (especially men who are older than me) and you have a group of men who simply want to lecture me on what to do—of course because God gave them that word. Most men end up back in the same spaces that they began only the new maledom apartment has pretty window coverings called “just go to church” and new paint whose color is “talk about problems only with solutions” there are also chairs by the designer “don’t complain about issues” and plenty of food to go around that says “man up” every time you take a bite. In the end, much hasn’t changed.

Jovan, what happened? Was Costas right? What if we had talked about some of these issues five, ten, fifteen years ago? Would that have helped Jovan and his partner in any way? Would we, as the public, have truly been open to deal with his pain? After winning the NBA Championship with the Lakers, Ron Artest thanked his therapist for helping him; the social media and blog world went wild; he himself even made light of the situation. When Jessie Jackson Jr. was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder many questioned whether or not he had it or not (yes, I understand the political setting for all this; nevertheless). As I have worked with young men from urban contexts over the last twenty years, not one of them has ever liked being called a bitch, soft, sissy, a punk; yet were quick to use those labels on other men who even displayed the smallest amount of emotion and / or what they described as being “un-manly.” So Jovan, I get it. I get that we live in a culture that does not warrant and allow men to be that open. I get that we are surrounded with labels and mental tapes that do not shut off easily. I also get that violence is, wretchedly, a graspable means of communication for many men and that it is reinforced on a daily basis.

The other night I was leaving the restroom of a Chipotle restaurant when I see my wife outside talking quite fiercely to another man. Curious and a bit on edge, I made my way out to see what the ruckus might be. I quickly ascertained that the man had physically roughed up his wife; my wife—as boldly as God made her—stood in between the man and his wife and allowed the woman to leave safely with her friend. To make a brief long story short, I momentarily spoke with the man to try and bring some sense into his worldview, but it was clear that his thought process, male socio-history, and gender performance could not allow him to see things in another way; his response to my wife and I was, “That’s my wife; I have 3 children with her; I pay my bills and I work hard…I can do what I want with and to her!”

This type of worldview is deep, nefarious, and intricate. Many men believe they own women. Many men feel as though they have earned a space to assert control over women if other socially accepted genres are being filled (e.g. bills, home). Many men also feel as though women owe them in certain regards (e.g. sex, more sex) if those said genres are filled (and often even if they’re not). These are areas that we, as other conscious men, need to help other men understand are not normal and are part of the male hegemony that dominates facets of our American society (yes, even church). It’s not going to get better until we as men take a stronger role in educating other men about these issues, and what I mean be educating is a walk along side another man; just like another man did for me for almost eight years.

This is not a five step, workshop style, conference flair, believe and it will get done type of solution. We as men, in America, and among Black and Brown men, have serious, complex, and strong gender, emotional, psychological, and spiritual issues to contend with. Jovan’s issue is not an isolated event that was “that brutha’s problem.” It is our entire problem as men. It is time we step up and deal with the issues at hand, but in a way that brings healing; in a way that does not have a simplistic answer for every problem; in a way that allows men to speak, in private and public spaces, about their issues. But are we ready to hear that though?

Check out my other thoughts on these issues here and here

Why the Conversation about Gabby Douglas Matters

Daniel Hodge — Wed, 08 Aug 2012 21:52:41 +0000

There I sat, anxiously awaiting the final scores for the women’s gymnastics all around. Gabby had done an amazing job and so did the rest of her team. She had already won a gold medal for her team performance, but now, was the individual gold. It finally came in. Gabby had won! Now, in times past I normally could care less about the Olympics; they take up valuable TV time and make me miss my favorite shows. But, since I got married, a lot of “things” have changed in my viewing appetite—this of course being one of them. I was floored. She actually won! Amazing. Stupendous. Unreal. And then, the racial construct ideology hit me seconds later. I wondered, how long it would take before Gabby’s racial milieu becomes the topic of conversation. So, I decided to do a little experiment, I grabbed my phone and set the timer to see how long it would take before something about Gabby’s “Blackness” (and all the social pathologies associated with being “Black”) would come to the forefront to shadow her success.

It took just over an hour for the first article to surface about her hair. Within three, there were articles discussing her “poor” mother. And within 24 (After which I shut the timer down) there were over a dozen news articles commenting on either Gabby’s hair or how her mother had filed for bankruptcy. Fox News even exclaimed how she was not “patriotic enough” because she didn’t wear the American flag—or some kind of mess like that.

So, why does all this matter? Why should we care? Doesn’t this happen to anyone who is famous and in the spotlight?

To start, I’ll answer my last question first. No. No, this does not happen to everyone who is famous. Yes, there is always “dirt” on people, but the way that dirt is handled in the media is different if you are Black, Brown, or Asian. It is just that simple. We didn’t hear how Raisman was having a “bad hair day.” No one commented on Maroney’s parents and their financial history. Yet, when Gabby wins the gold and does so in a decisive manner, the Black “pookie story” runs wild. Moreover, Gabby is continued to be looked at as less than in subversive passive manners blind to most without the critical eye of racial awareness. Bankruptcy, hair, not being patriotic enough, barely getting to the Olympics because she was “poor,” and of course the discussions on her father all take center stage when your Black; these are the racial narratives most Black athletes who do not fit the social stereotype of an athlete have to contend with.

Because if you are Black, aggressive, male, tattooed up, loud, from the ‘hood and play either basketball or football and/ or run track, that is an acceptable form of a “Black Athlete” because that is what “Blacks do” and it fits the stereotype. But Gabby does not fit that social script. In fact, since Dominique Dawes, she is the first African American female to compete in the Olympics; and Dawes was back in 1996—that right there needs to sink in for a minute. To add more insult to racial injury, Bob Costas on NBC read off a scripted discourse that said there were no barriers anymore for Blacks and that the “field is wide open” for Blacks, but that they still needed to announce that Douglas was the “first” to win the all-around competition nevertheless. Whoever wrote that needs to study the savage racial inequalities in the U.S. just over the last century alone.

So why does this matter? Why should we care? Because, we live in a time where it has been suggested that racism is dead. It is a “post racial” society (because of the “Black president”). We should not be talking about racial issues anymore because they are a figment of our imagination. These are all socially constructed myths which are debunked when someone like Gabby does what she does and is then grilled over the racial coals. Anytime you have the first of any type of racial/ ethnic group, we have not “made it.” That is merely the beginning of a very long road ahead and that person then becomes pioneerial. Gabby is that a pioneerial persona who is opening up doors to many other Black athletes. This matters because as someone who works with and in youth culture, the racial component is a big one and it is easy for many White’s to ignore it because they themselves do not have to endure such comments which then get thrusted back onto the rest of the culture, race, and ethnic group as a symbol of the whole. This matters because Gabby is the face of many teens in the ‘hood, suburbs, and rural contexts that do not get the credit for having the amazing attitude, personality, drive, and spirit that they do. Black kids are typically stereotyped and I am here to exclaim: Gabby is not an anomaly among Black youth!

Lastly, this discussion is important because it continues to reveal the deep seated racist interpretations toward Blacks that the media has and has had for decades; it merely reveals itself in passive ways. We have to remember, the “Devil” (in whatever form it may take) never comes at us with the full entourage of horns, red face, glowing eyes, goat legs, and a whipping tail. If it did, then we would all run in the other direction. No. What does come forward is the passive, back seat, back room, and subversive racial suggestions which come at us daily in the form of commercials, ads, and sound bites which divulge racial bias’ that many of us accept as “normal.” Gabby Douglas is that example.

Blacks & Atheism

Daniel Hodge — Wed, 18 Jul 2012 19:36:54 +0000

Within African American culture, it is widely know that Christianity is the main religion, culturally speaking, for African Americans. Yet, how do other religious practices such as atheism, Gnosticism, and even unbelievers get dealt with? How does a Black atheist navigate a culture with such strong religious mores? Check this video clip out below—from the National Black Programming Consortium and internet series on Black people Don’t:…-- as the conversation continues on issues such as these. Fascinating stuff!

The Pain of it All from a Hip Hop Context

Daniel Hodge — Wed, 27 Jun 2012 21:10:40 +0000

Theory Hazit is a profound rapper discussing some serious issues of pain. Hazit has been known to engage with controversial subjects, and the video below is nothing less than stellar.

What Hazit does is contextualize pain within a Hip Hop context. He grapples with the current issue of bullying and being GLBTQ through music. If you’re not familiar with Hip Hop’s deep connection with pain, check out this excerpt:

Hip Hop defines suffering in one of five ways. 1) Suffering because of circumstances that you cannot control (e.g. financial hardships, family drama, physical ailments, mental disabilities), 2) suffering for a cause in which you believe deeply in (e.g. socio-political issues, social justice concerns, racial matters), 3) suffering because of the individual personhood (e.g. people hate you because you have money, fame, prestige, or simply doing well in life), 4) suffering as a result of something you as a person have done in life and or something someone has done to you (e.g. past mistakes, current mistakes, life errors or for something good that you did but are now being persecuted for it, and or the good and bad within intimate relationships), and 5) suffering as a result of social, political, and or spiritual oppression (e.g. beginning a new mantra of belief or creating new paradigms for people to see the world differently and society not dealing well with that).

These five suffering contexts come in many different shapes and sizes. They can overlap each other and are extremely fluid. For example, DMX talks about the struggles of forgiveness in his song “Look Thru My Eyes.” He states:

Lost all control, my shoulders hold a lot of weight

Just like first I'm sold an eight, then told it's not an eight

But then it's out of state, and it's too late for changes to be made

That's what I get for f***ing with strangers in the shade

This is it, that n**a's got to give me a place

For the same reason that fate, chose to give me away

Take away hate, now I'm supposed to love the one that cursed me

The one that wouldn't give me a cup of water when I was thirsty

It was always his versus me, but now I gotta teach him

Personal feelings put aside, cuz now I gotta reach him

What I'd like to do is turn my head, like I don't know him

But it seems like I've been called on to show him

So I'ma show him

And if you never met me, then you've no right to judge me

I've got a good heart but this heart can get ugly

In this part of the track we see DMX dealing with having to forgive a person that has been adversarial towards him. Now he has to enact some type of forgiveness. He ends the verse and song, by letting the listener know that his life is a conflicted one; one that has a good side, but also a side that struggles with the “ugly.” This type of suffering and pain is a mixture of suffering because of the individual personhood and suffering for something, you as a person have done in life. This is complex, yet DMX continues to challenge his listeners to see life is not only hard, but also full of paradoxes.

Want to read more? Check out my chapter on Hip Hop’s theology of suffering in my book The Soul Of Hip Hop (Chapter 3, IVP; 2010). Then, check out Hazit’s video and begin to ponder the implications he is posing here.

The Black Church, Obama, & Gay Marriage

Daniel Hodge — Fri, 18 May 2012 21:19:35 +0000

While I plan to get deeper into this particular subject, I felt it important to at least engage, albeit briefly, on the subject matter.

The Earth cracked, just a bit, for many Black pastors and Christians when President Obama announced he was in support of gay marriage. This tore open a slice in the gender constructs within Black cultural milieus that has, especially in Christian circles, gone unengaged with for decades. Sexuality, sexual orientation, its twin cousin gender performance is a continual issue for many Black Christians. The idea of how do I act as a man; how do I act as woman; role performance; femininity; masculinity; sexual awareness, are all issues that tend to be seen as very binary for Black Christians—generally speaking. For example, you are either having sex within marriage, in a heterosexual, monogamous relationship or you are “sinning.” Therefore, when the President made his announcement it caused a deep stir for many Blacks—just go to Twitter or Facebook and take in the heated—at times even destructive—arguments that are occurring. Everything from complete support to renouncing Obama as both a president and Christian are being had.

Now, this is not to say that other ethnic groups are not also debating and discussing this very issue as the LGBTQ discussion is far from over with among Evangelical Christians. However for Blacks, this comes at a time when the election is very important, the continuing significance of race is a growing concern especially with the coming Obama campaign, and the struggle to maintain a voice in the public sphere for Blacks is dwindling (See here how a Black UCLA professor is dealing the racist tendencies toward him). Therefore, many Black Christians would appear to be in tension between their “Biblical beliefs” and their “political views.

For me, the bigger issue is this: it is overdue that we put away the binary arguments of sexuality and engage with the very real issues of sexual orientation, sexual identity, sexual development, and sexual role performance within the Black community which has gone overlooked for far too long. Moreover, it is high time that our arguments move beyond the basic understanding of the Bible and move to see the grander historical, cultural, and social context in which the Bible was written in. As Anthea Butler reminds us, “It is high time to for the leaders of the black church to ‘put away childish things’ and to engage in a real conversation about sexuality, same-sex marriage, and the homophobia embedded in the black church community. Pontificating and posturing props up preachers, and does little to edify congregations.” I cannot say it any better.

I am about loving my neighbor as Christ commanded me to do. I am about equality for all—regardless of whether I agree with them or not. I am about engaging with conflict and being ok with disagreement. I am about diverse and vast views of the Bible while still maintaining my spiritual journey with God. And I am about the spiritual ethos laid out by Billy Graham at the 1996 inaugural luncheon of then President Bill Clinton when a reporter asked him why he was in the presence of an obvious “sinner” such as Clinton; Graham stated: “It is God’s job to judge. The Holy Spirits job to convict. And my job to love. I’m here doing my job.”

I leave you with that as you ponder these videos moving forward.

The L.A. “Riots” 20 Years Later: Toward A Theology of Action by Any Means.

Daniel Hodge — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 21:00:45 +0000

Twenty years ago one of the largest insurrections occurred in Los Angeles California. I was 18, angry from the tirade of police brutality, enraged from a lifetime of racism growing up in Texas, prepared to give my life for justice, and in shock to the “not guilty” verdict just handed to me on the closed circuit television in my senior English class. I could almost literally see the world around me turn red. I was infuriated that, once again, White’s would “win” and Blacks—for that matter all ethnic minorities—would have to take a backseat, yet again. The anger rose, filled the room, others looked around, and in an almost joint accord we—the student body—decided to go out and discuss this issue of racism in a more “public” setting. One by one, each of the classrooms began to empty out as word of the verdict spread. My friend Larry pulls out an American flag and begins to burn it. My other friend Tyrone picks up a trash can and throws it toward the quad. Another friend of mine begins to yell, “No justice, no peace!” Friends of mine are visibly crying. And the mood of everyone is that “How much longer can we take this?” I corralled several friends of mine; we packed up heavy weaponry, our bullet proof vest, and made our way down into South Central Los Angeles to physically manifest our disgust, not just with the not-guilty verdict, but with the continued mistreatment of ethnic minorities in American history.

For some of you reading this, it is difficult to imagine the type of rage that would befall you in a situation like this. You have to realize, this type of indignation does not happen in a vacuum or as a result of someone’s low morals. This was the result of a lifetime of injustice, oppression, and racism. It is also in combination with what Pablo Freire refers to in his landmark book Pedagogy Of The Oppressed, as conscientização (critical consciousness)—learning to perceive social, political, and economic contradictions, and to take action against oppressive elements of reality. For those of you who have lived, what Soon-Chan Rah calls a “Theology of Celebration” will find it not only challenging, but almost awkward to grasp when one is willing to take up arms as a means to bring justice (even if it is in God’s will).

In his work Peace, Walter Brueggemann begins to address the differences between, for example, Shalom for the haves and have-nots: “A theology of blessing [celebration] for the well-off ‘haves’ is very different from a theology of salvation [suffering] for the precarious ‘have-nots.’” Rah once again contends that, “The tension between the theology of celebration and the theology of suffering is the tension between the now and the not yet” (The Next Evangelicalism: Freeing the Church from Western Cultural Captivity p.146). The “now” represents what you already have—“justice” is now; you have it; while the “not yet” is something you are waiting for; justice is still coming. But I ask myself, “How long do I have to wait for this justice and what measures might I have to take to attain it?” Therefore, we have a great gap between these two theological paradigms. Both are needed, but I would argue that a theology of suffering is one that we need to hear more of and learn from in these trying days.

What the “riots” were (as they became labeled, although we knew what the hell we were doing), was a symbolic—while violent—response to that question I posed. Moreover, April 29, 1992 represented a culmination of many ethnic groups who decided to not take the “passive” approach any longer. It was about seeking justice. It was about responding to the continual “blind eye & ear” approach America has had on issues of race, gender, and class for centuries. More importantly, it was a time to truly envelope Howard Thurman’s opening question: “Why is it that Christianity seems impotent to deal radically and therefore effectively, with the issues of discrimination and injustice on the basis of race, religion and national origin? Is this impotency due to a betrayal of the genius of the religion, or is it due to a basic weakness in the religion itself” (Jesus and the Disinherited)?

Where is God twenty years later? Why is there not more outcry from prominent White evangelicals on the continuing significance of racism in America? Why is it, twenty years later, we still have a Trayvon Martin, Oscar Grant, Mitrice Richardson, Troy Davis, the continuing obliviousness of undocumented peoples, and the widening wealth gap go literally untouched and unexamined by many Christians? Why is it that a “life” is worth something in the womb, but once it is out, it needs to “earn its keep” or perish? I have a hard time believing that these issues are not beating at the heart of God. I have an equally hard time believing that by pursuing justice, I am, by default, scheming some liberal, left-wing, pro-Satan agenda.

Twenty years later and yes, we have made some progress. Police beatings can at least be recorded (however not in all locations as police lobby to make recording them an “illegal” action) and used in court. And there are certain laws in place that say you cannot, at least openly, call me a “nigger.”

But what has truly changed since that week long invective of looting, violence, and social deviance? Have we convinced ourselves that “Things are just better” therefore, we can ease up a bit because “at least it’s not that bad anymore?” Or have we turned a blind eye to the issues until they reach our doorstep? As a young White foreclosed homeowner told me not too long ago, “I shouldn’t be losing my house. I’m not Black.” I see some of the same conditions swirling and culminating in our society that I did back in 1992 which fueled the lead up to the insurrections. What makes this social storm cell so much more dangerous is the three ring circus of injustice complicity, social unconsciousness, and abstract racism.

These three areas culminate to create a veil over a person’s eyes which, when reinforced by media, create an ethos which says: the world is fine, we are better off now, things are good, one or two incidents do not make a national epidemic—we’re ok. Slavoj Zizek tells us that to engage in reality, we must first begin in the shit. The funk. The mire. In order to truly understand, comprehend, and grasp the reality we are in, we venture into that theology of the profane.

I continue to have flash backs from that week of mayhem. And even continuing to deal with my own post trauma, I still stand by my decision to act rather than to sit and complain. I still view militant action as a means of social action and part of the Gospel message. And while I do not advocate for us to start with violent means, condone senseless viciousness, appreciate anyone being harmed by ignorant groups of people, I do reserve 2% of my own “just war theory” for physical action. Still, I now have a family to consider when social action calls and twenty years ago I did not have the influence and networks I have now. Yet, I still believe it is part of our theological heritage to engage the powers that be when they oppress and continue to ignore the voice of the people. I owe it to my daughter to stand up against racism, White supremacy, sexism, classism, and the evils that take on human form against people of color. Because the alternate is to accept my current situation as normalcy and to condone the oppressor’s actions as welcoming and friendly. Once again, Freire reminds us that, “As long as the oppressed remain unaware of the causes of their conditions, they fatalistically ‘accept’ their exploitation” (p. 51).

Theologizing Tim Tebow

Daniel Hodge — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 21:06:09 +0000

Faith and religion within the public sphere has an interesting personality. A personality which has race and culture at the center fueling its character. Therefore, with the recent rise in fame of Denver Broncos’ quarterback Tim Tebow, I find it interesting how his faith and spiritual notions are being played out in the public arena. Allow me to first say that I have no problem with him “performing” his faith in a public manner. Yet, the frenzied imposition of meaning on the power of his “religious convictions” (e.g. the Broncos are winning as a result of his prayers) includes, but transcends what Wade Clark Roof refers to as civil religious rhetoric in his article American Presidential Rhetoric from Ronald Reagan to George W. Bush: Another Look at Civil Religion. This type of religio-political rhetoric tends to create myths and fantasy within the public arena, which in turn create meaning, cultural mores, and social reality for the people who believe it. Myths are powerful types of vehicles for any people group and society.

Meaning, societal norms, and identity are often times rooted in mythology. Roof reminds us that, “Myths are the means by which a nation affirms its deepest identities and frames its rationale for political action; they are the elementary, yet profound, stories giving meaning and purpose to the collective life of a people; they evoke the imagination…” (2009: 87). Tebow hyper-religious performance invokes the mythic notions in our civic religion and politico-religious imagination that ties into the long standing narratives in the American religious discourse which generates these ideological truths around work, life, ethics, love, and of course, the American Dream; all rooted in a culturally informed view of a national God.

Charles Long, signs, symbols, and images of religion scholar, tells us that the term myth, “usually refers to the fanciful imagination of the human mind” (in Alpha: The Myths of Creation 1963: 11). Long continues on that myth, in form, is not lies, falsehoods, or even untruths. Myth is a “true story—the myth is a story about reality” (11-12). In fact:

It is impossible to understand the reality and being of people, unless one understands their reality in relationship to the myth. When we speak of understanding their reality, we are speaking of their reality in the precise sense of their human presence, their specificity and qualitative meaning in time and space (11-12).

Further, the classic work of Benedict Anderson comes into play here. In his now archetypal book, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, Anderson examines the ‘imagined communities’ of nationality and explores the processes which create these types of communities such as the territorilization of religious faiths, the decline of antique kinship, the interaction of capitalism and print, and changing conceptions of time and space. For example, the discourse within print media and faith is a powerful creator for identity and meaning. But, how do those images, in turn, come from a culturally contextual perspective? In turn how might those images, great for a period of time, then transcend time and become the “standard” for faith? Couple that with transmediated content—such as Tebow’s visible “faith”—and you have a commanding and authoritative message being communicated.

G. Van Der Leeuw says that religious experience is concerned with a “somewhat” which forces itself upon human kind as “something other” (Religion in Essence and Manifestation 1938: 1). This type of approach emphasizes the fact that in myth, expression is being given to man’s reaction to life as a source of power, being, and meaning (c.f. Long 1963: 12-13). Thus, it is imperative to explore this mythological essence which is acted out in our public spheres. To look at this another way, it would be easy for some to dismiss sacred stories of deity for, say, Buddhists; how could those stories be true? How could that story even make sense? It is easy to snicker at Christian Scientists and their “weird” customs. However for Christians, it becomes difficult to discuss this meaning making myth within our own story.

As a consequence, is Tebow a fake then? Is this “mythology” I discuss a lie for Tebow? Of course not. Tebow is every bit convinced that his faith is real; moreover, I believe it for him. But the effects that his “praying” has while on television create this space which makes it easy for someone to say, “Man, Tebow has led the Bronco’s to these victories because of his faith.” Or worse, “GOD through Tebow has led the Bronco’s to these victories because of Tebow’s faith.” Particularly in a sport like football which already encompasses superstitions, jinxes, good luck charms, and fairytale like stories in its cultural DNA (just ask any player who has been in a championship game and their own ideological stance on “lucky shoes.” In fact, Michael Jordan would chew the same piece of gum during the entire playoffs because he felt it “won” games and did not want to jinx the game). That is the mythology I am talking about. Once again Anderson asserts that the difficulty in this is that “one tends to unconsciously hypostasize…” these issues and then “classify ‘it’ as an ideology” (p. 5).

It would be fine if that stayed in the mythological arena. But it does not. It pours out into the rest of society as truth and standard. In fact, in an interview on ESPN, Tim Tebow even admitted that he did not think God was “rooting” for their team; especially when there were five other guys on the other side praying back at God to help them win. Yet, this goes unnoticed and the myth continues and galvanizes support to “join in” on prayer—not that this is a bad thing, but that brings us to the next point.

What if, in the words of my colleague and friend Earle Fisher (Who is also a Christian pastor and professor), Tim Tebow was a Black, fervent Muslim who prayed to Allah openly at the beginning and ending of every game? How might the religious discourse be taken then? How might the allure of that earlier mythology discussed, now seem sour, irreverent, and trite? Thus, it would stand to reason that a Black Muslim Tebow would find it difficult expressing his faith in the public sphere. Moreover, it was NBA Chris Jackson (Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf) who, in 1996, refused to stand for the national anthem because he said the U.S. had spread tyranny and oppression and that standing for the anthem would be a conflict of his Islamic beliefs; Jackson was suspended for one game and received an exponential amount of criticism and hate mail—keep in mind this was long before the world changed after 9/11.

More importantly, there are numerous Black and Brown NFL players who are Christian, ordained ministers, and or active church members of a church community who rarely, if ever, get the exposure that Tebow has gotten over the last few months. Why? A large part of this is because Christianity, especially here in the U.S., is still seen as a White stylized religion; while there is some diversity shown, even the “diversity” continues the White mantra of aesthetics (suite & tie, “speaking clearly,” domesticated) in Christian theology. Race and religion are tethered, unfortunately, in this country’s history. We rarely hear of “White Christian theology,” it is always simply “theology.” Yet, there is Black theology, Islamic theology, Hip Hop theology, Queer theology, Latin Liberation theology, Asian theology, and the such. Each one of these comes with its own set of mores, ideological frameworks, historical criticisms, and cultural hopes—including White theology (I highly recommend looking at Soong-Chan Rah’s work The Next Evangelicalism: Freeing the Church from Western Cultural Captivity for a further examination of this phenomena). After the 2004 election of George W. Bush, Time magazine released an issue looking at evangelicalism in the U.S. out of the twenty five evangelicals listed as “influential” only T.D. Jakes was represented as a Black authority. Thus, Tebow fits the bill. His prayers are welcomed and “fit right in” with the cultural standard of what is considered a “Christian.” Couple that with the mythological mantra and you have a meaning structure that will rouse people to create this phenomenological status of both Tebow’s faith and prayers. Moreover, Tebow becomes this mythical like figure of outstanding ethics, morals, and strong character as a result of his public prayers—nothing wrong with that in principal, but what about the Black, Brown, and Asian individuals who do this as well? How do their prayers, faith, and ethics also play out?

I remember having a conversation with a colleague of mine who works in the inner city. For years he had a White suburban evangelical church come out to his neighborhood to do “missions” with his kids. Over the years transformation happened for both those communities. As it would seem, the “ghetto kids” grew in their walk with Christ, while the suburban youth drew further and further away from their Christian faith. When my friend came to the pastor of that church to suggest that they, the inner city group, come out and possibly return the favor by coming out to “witness” in the suburbs, he was met not only with disdain, but also with malice for even suggesting such a preposterous thing; “Why would we need your help? That wouldn’t look good.” (A direct quote)

Tebow’s theological mythology creates a sense that only “Whites” have direct access to God. The resulting worldviews of this only stand to maintain long standing systemic structures of inequality rooted within the Church. As James Cone so eloquently asserts “Until we can see the cross and the lynching tree together, until we can identify Christ with a ‘recrucified’ black body hanging from a lynching tree, there can be no genuine understanding of Christian identity in America, and no deliverance from the brutal legacy of slavery and White supremacy” (Introduction to The Cross and the Lynching Tree, Orbis 2011).

As I have long said…we have much work to do.

Film Review: Thunder Soul

Daniel Hodge — Wed, 28 Sep 2011 01:44:53 +0000

Mentoring is messy. There is no other way to say it. If you are doing it right, then it is very mess. Moreover, the time it takes to be involved in a person’s life while they live out their own drama can sap all of your energy. Yet, every once in a while we find a person like Conrad Johnson who embellishes all of the finesse of a great mentor yet is able to instill the rigors of real life into his mentees like a drill sergeant does with their cadets. Someone who is able to live with the person, in their drama, yet pushes them not just through it, but beyond it; that was Conrad Johnson.

If you are not familiar with whom Conrad Johnson is, then you must see the new film directed by Mark Landsman (Skylab 2005; Peace Of Mind 1999), and produced in help from Jaime Foxx, titled Thunder Soul. It chronicles one of this countries great music educators who developed a high school stage band into a world renowned jazz-funk powerhouse in the early 70’s. Johnson was able to do what many other teachers, were not able to do, which was instill self-respect, identity, and self-esteem within his students in order to create a legion of band members who would reshape the very essence of high school stage bands.

Thunder Soul is a documentary that inspires those of us who work with young minds. It is structured to demonstrate that even within the demoralizing annuls of racism—particularly the depth at which African Americans faced it during the late 60’s & 70’s—there is still hope and the pursuit of “life” in the midst of madness.

Conrad began with the raw talent of anxious high schoolers in Houston Texas (Kashmere High School) filled with talent yet to be discovered. He began by building in them self-belief prior to any notes being played. Conrad even said, “…if you get a person to believe that they can play as good as a professional; and get them to really believe that they are someone, then you’ve begun to build that person up and the music will flow.” Within music there is a space for people to connect. No one understood that better than Conrad Johnson who was able to not just take notes on a paper and turn them into music, but to transform lives for a lifetime.

The film is focused around the 35 year reunion of band members at Kashmere High School. Most of the former band members had not played an instrument since they had left school. Yet, Conrad says, “They were taught so well, it’ll come back to them.” And it did. That says a lot about the teaching and education that took place in that band hall.

Conrad was able to tap into a person’s core identity and help them to realize, through music, that they are a force and sound to be reckoned with. Conrad took this high school band around the world and shattered the competition. They combined dance, a full horn section, keyboards, bass, and even vocals at times to produce some of the best jazz-funk music that was around—all from high school students!

The brilliance of the documentary is that it allows the people to speak and tell their narrative. There is little to no narration and the voice of “the people” comes through at every level. The timing could not have been better to actually have Conrad Johnson, in his twilight, discuss the context in which he was able to work. Moreover, you are shown that these former students of Johnson not only “learned music” but took with them lifelong lessons of camaraderie, community, inspiration, and a knowledge that they could accomplish something big—and at the end of the day, all of us want accomplishment at some level.

Thunder Soul—which was the name Johnson gave to the band—is a film worth watching because many are not even slightly aware of who Conrad Johnson is. Yet, he was one of the most brilliant, talented, and gifted musician who focused his talent at the grassroots level with the people; never won a well-deserved Grammy; never lived in a mansion; and was never on the cover of Rolling Stone. Yet Johnson did something far greater than social accolades. He was able to change the course of young people’s lives and give them hope—something money cannot buy. The film demonstrates how, now adults, were able to build on what Johnson taught them though music and apply that to their personal lives.

Check out Thunder Soul, the Christological parallels are astounding.