Planting the Seeds of Hatred: Antisemitism in Hip Hop
The Written Testimony by Jay Electronica via Wikipedia
Owen Peterson
In 2018, Jay-Z released one of his most powerful tracks to date. “The Story of O.J.” was a powerful, poetic song that had a clear message towards the black community. “Financial freedom, our only hope / f--- living rich and dying broke.” He convinces his listeners that despite the strides African-Americans have made, they are all in vain if they cannot invest and thrive in their own communities. It is poignant and rich in its delivery and deservedly was awarded three Grammy nominations. Yet, in his argument as to how black people in America can achieve this financial freedom, Jay-Z resorts to painting an inaccurate and harmful stereotype of Jewish-Americans. “You ever wonder why Jewish people own all the property in America?” he sings. His intentions to give his listeners a goal to strive for perpetuate centuries of harmful rhetoric; an unfortunate, yet common occurrence in rap today.
For nearly half a century, hip-hop and rap have been powerful tools for the most disenfranchised and marginalized in America to take arms against their oppressors. However, when Kanye West, a man with a legitimate claim of being the greatest rap artist of all time, began to spew antisemitic rhetoric on a whim, many were taken aback, but close listeners of his saw this as simply saying out loud what many of his most popular songs had implied. In an early appearance on a radio show, Kanye trivialized what would eventually tarnish his legacy when he sang, “I'm tight with my doe like my family Jews / Uh! I said ‘Jews, my career is screwed.’” These off-putting lyrics go beyond West’s discography, however.
Jay Electronica’s Grammy-nominated debut album, The Written Testimony, with features from the likes of Travis Scott, has vocals throughout from Louis Farrakhan. Farrakhan is the leader of a known hate group as classified by the Southern Poverty Law Center, infamous for their praise of fascist leaders. He begins Electronica’s album with a full verse pushing anti-Zionist conspiracy theories, setting the precedent for the rest of the project and staining any of its musical accomplishments permanently.
Although these two examples feature themes that are antisemitic in nature, the majority of antisemitic language in rap comes from one-off, off-color comments. Examples of this could be seen in Nardo Wick’s “Me or Sum,” where he says, “I get money like I’m Jewish,” which has over 100 million streams; or Lupe Fiasco’s “N.E.R.D.,” where he has lyrics referring to his publishing agents as “dirty Jewish execs.”
The point is that regardless of how heinous or how frequent these comments are, they are not being talked about or condemned. These songs and albums contain dangerous language that translates to very real acts of violence against a marginalized community. Works of art that contain this language continue to be celebrated, simply because the artists creating them are also from a frequently oppressed community. No matter who says it, these words need to be acknowledged and condemned by those who consume and distribute them.
Although some have questioned the ethics of Electronica’s Grammy nomination and Kanye West has lost a major brand deal, the symptoms of this problem are being treated and not the disease. Until the root problem is addressed, these problematic lyrics, from one-off comments to blatant antisemitism, will be a common occurrence in the world’s most popular music genre.
Hip-hop is an instrument that has been used throughout the past half century to bring about change and spur positive social unrest. Hip-hop has been marred as of late by a misrepresentation of its ethical standards. Hip-hop owes itself and its community to be better and stand for nobler values.
