March 2020

On February 6, 2016, Beyoncé dropped the undeniably pro-Black single Formation, paired with a music video. This would set the precedent for the following day’s Superbowl performance, in which she and her backup dancers performed onstage in costumes designed in the likeness of the ones worn by members of the Black Panther Party. The following week, Saturday Night Live premiered a satirical sketch called “The Day Beyoncé Turned Black,” in which white people reacted to the single, and were forced to come to terms with the fact that Beyoncé is, in fact, a Black woman. While the sketch was simply jokes, it bore some connection to reality. The sketch made a clear point: white consumers of Black art like their artists quiet and palatable (to them). Beyoncé had been in the public eye for about 20 years, and had never had a song so central to race. This did not mean that she did not align herself with any pro-Black movements; she and her husband Jay-Z have both physically and financially supported protesters in the past. It seems as if it only became a widespread issue when she incorporated it into her music.

Grant Farred states that vernacularity occurs when the political and the popular mix. Within the vernacular, the popular is always political, but the political is not always popular. Vernacularity, according to Farred, is a prerequisite of political effect for Black intellectuals. Beyoncé’s Superbowl performance is an example of her acting as a vernacular intellectual. The combination of pro-Black themes while wearing costumes paying homage to a politically targeted organization and a public, extremely popular platform that attracts millions of viewers forced viewers to become conscious of race in America, whether it made them feel validated, uncomfortable, or some other reaction.

Beyoncé’s Superbowl performance received criticism from two separate ends. The first was from aforementioned white consumers, who thought that a.) her performance was too political, and b.) the Superbowl was not the place to bring that kind of performance. The second was from Black activists, who felt like Beyoncé’s performance was an aestheticization of the Black Panther Party without truly living up to and amplifying their beliefs. They felt as if this was a sudden shift, and wondered why now?

If one looks at Beyoncé’s performance from the second lens, it seems like this would be an observation of an inverse form of the vernacular, in which the political has become popular. While the vernacular intellectual adds a political layer of complexity to popularity, the inverse removes the political layer from it, stripping it of a layer of complexity, and more often than not leading to appropriation and/or commercialization.

While Beyoncé’s case is of a different context and therefore requires deeper thought, another example of this inverse phenomenon could be the prevalence of hip-hop over the coming years. In 2017, hip hop officially passed rock as the most popular genre in the United States. While this in itself can be seen as a good thing, one must observe the background that shaped the genre. Hip-hop was born in the 1970’s to Black and brown youth in lower-income and neglected neighborhoods in the Bronx. The subculture emerged from Black joy at its core, despite the systems in place to stifle it. This in itself was a radical act, because as LaKisha M. Simmons put it during our final class, “Black joy is political.” Hip hop gained widespread recognition in the late 70’s and as the genre developed, it grew into a vehicle for political speech. It is in this moment that hip hop became a prominent platform for many vernacular intellectuals, who still manage to exist, be born, and thrive today.

However, when the political becomes a commodity, the nuance behind its growth then becomes a bit shrouded. Even in its popularity, there exist beliefs that rap music specifically is not as complex, that it requires less talent than other genres. The concept of personal expression is what makes music, regardless of genre, a universal language, so there should be no question of that with hip hop. Somewhere along the way, however, when people realized that rap music and rap aesthetics were profitable, they began to adopt qualities and aesthetics, dropping it and picking it up when it was convenient.

Take, for example, the case of Miley Cyrus. The child actress and singer-turned-just singer needed a rebrand and a shift from her pop rock and country roots, and in order to achieve this, she began collaborating with rappers and adopting Black aesthetics. When she had regained a fanbase and commercial success, she made disparaging comments towards rap, and suddenly returned to her country and pop rock roots: “I love that [Kendrick Lamar record, HUMBLE] because it’s not ‘Come sit on my dick, suck on my cock.’ I can’t listen to that anymore. That’s what pushed me out of the hip-hop scene a little.” This sweeping generalization is one that often follows rap artists, and is one that rarely gets attached to artists of other genres who discuss similar content. Singer Billie Eilish was criticized for a similar reason, claiming that a lot of rappers told false stories. Rap fans found this comment to be distasteful, claiming that Billie Eilish’s aesthetic often seemed to mimic streetwear worn Black people, especially Black rap artists.

This shift of the rap artist from a vernacular intellectual to an aesthetic commodity, a costume that can be donned and discarded without a second look, is what the risk of long-standing popularity can bring. The conversation of appropriation versus appreciation constantly rears its head, only for the dialogue to never reach conclusion. What happens when the vernacular intellectual only becomes a figure, stripped down and reduced to palatable qualities by people outside the initial audience? How can the inverse vernacular be reversed?