For years, critics have challenged the right of suburban white kids to listen to hip-hop. Long before commercial rap became the voice of my generation, my classmates and I would say things like, “Rap isn't music.” Of course, those days are long gone; most of us eat up whatever Lil Wayne, Dre, or 50 release. Between the years of absolute ignorance and absolute triviality, however, was a short period of time when I frequently heard what I call the Argument from Difficulty. Not far removed from the Argument from Music (i.e. rap is not), this argument often took the form “I could do that.” There is a strong possibility that the truth of the negation of this claim is self-evident. Several obvious counter-claims are “Let's see it then,” “No you couldn't,” or “Well, I guess you'll be wiping your ass with gold leaf paper soon.” Good production and lyricism are both rare talents, and although many commercial artist possess neither, the Argument from Difficulty is only an indictment of the entire genre if you're in seventh grade and simple-minded.
There is, however, a much stronger argument that I've heard during the last couple of years. The Argument from Authenticity (or Identity), or the “Hater's Thesis” if you prefer, runs something like this: If you are a white kid living in the suburbs, then there is no subset of your life experiences that is also a subset of the experiences expounded in rap lyrics. Therefore, your interest in hip-hop music is inauthentic. You are a poseur. At first glance, this argument seems sound. I have, countless times, had no good answer to the question “How do you identify with this?” Neither have I ever offered any persuasive substantiation of the universal value of hip-hop beyond the general observation that the beats are dope and the lyrics are poetic. To the charge that the lyrical content is irrelevant, I have had no answer.
But upon closer examination, I have gained confidence that there is more to be said. While the conditional “If you are a white… then there is no subset…” seems like a reasonable generalization -- that is, while some suburban white kids might have experienced gun battles, hardcore drug trafficking, or imprisonment, I and many others have not -- the conclusion “your interest in hip-hop is inauthentic” does not immediately follow. The notion of “authenticity” is operating as a denotation of what might be called a sympathetic relation. If you have killed someone, then your affinity for gangster rap is authentic. Take film, for example. How, then, can white suburban kids believe that The Godfather and Goodfellas and Scarface are great movies? Those same friends of mine who question the relevance of hip-hop have never snorted a pile of cocaine nor have they had someone executed, etc. How can they identify with novels about Vietnam? In fact, how can any of those white suburban kids appreciate any art, except for perhaps paintings of diners, Clueless, and Dave Matthews Band?
With the articulation of this question, the matter is already getting confused. Surely most people would agree that it would be ridiculous to criticize a white suburban kid for enjoying Lolita because he had no experience with pedophilia or pedophiles. The pedophilia is operating on a more superficial – or at least a different – level than is the content that appeals to most readers. On a different, presumably more "universal" level, the novel is about desire, beauty, sexuality, among countless other things. So perhaps the Lolita case is not analogous to the case of 50 Cent, whose lyrics lack a level of content with "universal appeal." But this last conjecture is blatantly contradicted by record sales. That 50 Cent's music has sold remarkably well among the demographic comprising people whose experiences are utterly dissimilar from those described in the songs is evidence that either the lyrics have value beyond the superficial or there is more to rap than simply identifying with the lyrical content.
There are countless hypotheses that one could devise; for example, that suburban white kids chafe at the mundane and conformist lifestyle practiced by most of their suburban town and seek an expressive outlet for their frustration. In this particular explanation, rap is the new punk. Indeed, Kurt Cobain claimed in 1990 that “rap music is the only vital form of music introduced since punk rock.” Just as punk was quickly appropriated by the commercial engine of mainstream culture, so too has rap music been re-imagined as an integral part of the identity of the common suburban white kid. This indeed is my main point. Music is, for reasons not here explored, seemingly the most readily utilized by its consumers for purposes of identification. It is more portable and transmissible, is briefer and cheaper, and requires less attention (or at least more easily produces desensitization or complacency through familiarization) than other mediums like film, literature, or visual art. Whether or not these differences adequately explain the phenomenon, it is clear that music is the most relevant artistic social currency (excepting perhaps fashion). Is this why my classmates have sometimes expressed scorn or confusion at my appreciation for some hip-hop artists – that they think the motivations for my, or more generally the white suburban male's, consumption of hip-hop music are opportunistic or manipulative? Am I trying to make the images of remorseless thuggery adhere to my reputation?
From one perspective, this seems intuitive. If music is associated directly with public identity, then for someone who only hears rap music at parties or on the radio and registers nothing but the explicit lyrics, the identification of rap music with someone of similar background to the casual listener is incongruous. “How could a fellow suburbanite who differs from me only marginally, trivially, in other respects choose to identify with 50 Cent rather than with Dave Matthews? It isn't [authentic, real, sensible]!” In the case of a trust-fund kid blasting Eminem from the sub in his Escalade, perhaps mockery is deserved because it is transparent that he is relating to the lyrics at some removed level, whether in response to the marketing of machismo or fantasy or something else. I think it is unreasonable, however, to assume that everyone who listens to hip-hop and music in general does so with an eye toward sociocultural identity rather than an ear for artistry. Undoubtedly, I cannot relate to the immediate subject of most rap lyrics as closely as can someone with a personal history more parallel to the MCs, but there is certainly a level at which I can appreciate the music without being disingenuous or inauthentic or detestable.