Today’s release
of two songs on the Hamilton Mixtape
a long-awaited labor of love was a bright ray of sunshine during this
cataclysmic storm of an election. My Shot (Rise Up
Remix), by
the Roots, featuring Busta Rhymes, shows definitively that Hamilton’s multiracial, up-to-the-minute portrayal in hip hop and
song of idealized, distorted history was just the beginning of its cultural
power.
Hamilton has
become a cultural legend in its year and a half of existence. Accolades and
superlatives cannot express the musical’s brilliance, beauty, and innovation; I
am joined in this opinion by so many, from the Obamas to PBS to the corporate
and government institutions funding opportunities for students to experience the groundbreaking show. Yes, I am a
grown adult, and yes, upon listening I very quickly developed the intense
fan-ship now known throughout the internet as “Hamilaria,” symptoms of which
include playing/performing the album daily in the car; spouting verses and
references (admittedly, to a possibly exasperating extent); and going into
significant debt for a ticket with an obstructed view. For many of us, the
excellent musical provided brilliant, Americana-themed escapism, especially
needed during these troubling, pre-election days.
My musical- and hip hop-loving
soul was enraptured, but my mind was still bothered about the ways in which
history’s portrayal in Hamilton can
be considered problematic or even offensive. Activist Ishmael Reed provocatively
contends that having “black actors dress up like slave traders” does not
mitigate the effects of presenting history in a way “that endowed slave traders
and Indian eliminators the status of deities” (Counterpunch, 8/21/15). In
The Public Historian (2/16), Rutgers
scholar Lyra Monteiro compellingly analyzes Hamilton’s
“erasure of black history.” The horrors of slavery, and its essential,
foundational nature to the economic success of our country, are only glanced
from a distance in Hamilton. Worse,
abolitionist impulses are aggrandized, and slave owning is ignored or even
joked about (Monteiro, also a fan of the show, has provided and interesting and
thorough analysis of this elision).
As a white educator aligned
with the goals of #BlackLivesMatter, I did not want to shy away from the
possibility that Hamilton subtly
supported white supremacy by focusing on the same “Dead White Males” treated as
flawless heroes in most American History textbooks and classrooms (Lies My Teacher Told Me by James Loewen
is a great source on this strong, nationalist tendency). Meanwhile, I’ve been
enthralled by the work of Columbia professor Christopher Emdin, who focuses on
the power of hip-hop and what he calls America’s “neo-indigenous cultures” to
provide new, effective, sometimes therapeutic practices and philosophies for educators
of today’s students.
Could Hamilton be a source of real, relevant learning about history,
values, and life for today’s diverse students? Or was it a rendering, though in
“neo-indigenous” hip hop, of elitist American history that we should all “learn
important life lessons” from? My Shot
(Remix) perhaps answered both of these questions in the affirmative. But
these questions, the song told us, are just the beginning of understanding what
Hamilton means and will mean as a
masterwork of our American culture.
Inimitable creator Lin-Manuel Miranda has
explicitly drawn connections between the historical and current struggles
embodied in hip-hop music and his vision of Hamilton.
He tweeted the lyric “I never thought I’d live past twenty. Where I come from
some get half as many” in connection with the miscarriage of justice in the
case of Tamir Rice. Analysts of lyrics have noted that “This is not a moment,
it’s a movement” echoes the language of #BlackLivesMatter. Daveed Diggs’ verse
at the BET Cypher (10/13/15) speaks volumes, in a characteristically hip hop, multi-layered,
brilliant way: “Playing these dead presidents, I’m getting my reparations!”
My
Shot (Remix) begins with the beat of soldiers marching, and the
now-familiar strains of My Shot, but
brings the musical commentary on contemporary social justice that partly
inspired Hamilton full circle. Now,
the revolutionary soldiers, the “young, scrappy and hungry” men who embody
American hopes for freedom and democracy, are cast as today’s mistreated,
misunderstood black youth: “When even role models tell us we’re born to be
felons / We’re never getting’ into Harvard or Carnegie Mellon.” Now, the
foundationally vital plans, poetry, and patriotism of Alexander Hamilton are
compared to the way that one can never give up dreams in the face of the many
obstacles he or she faces: “That’s why you hustle hard, never celebrate a
holiday / That’ll be the day I coulda finally hit the lottery.” Hip hop’s
mastery of using words to communicate multiple layers of meaning is on display
here; Black Thought references ideas from Alexander’s refusal to “take a break”
from his work in the show to today’s insistently hopeful (yet sadly desperate) widespread
practice of playing the lottery daily.
Busta Rhymes’ voice, lyrics, and persona are,
like Lin-Manuel Miranda’s mind, incomparable. Busta’s presence on the Mixtape attests to Miranda’s deep
respect for the hip hop masters who inspired him. Customary growl calmed to a
stern rumble, Busta adjures listeners to “Rise Up” today, implicating himself
and all of us as responsible to work to improve society: “When are folks like
me and you gonna rise up? Every city, every hood, we need to rise up.” Busta’s
volume and intensity rise, and marchers for civil equality, women’s liberation,
and voting rights, or against police brutality and prejudice, appear in the
mind’s eye as an unbroken chain of quintessential American-ness, as American as
George Washington and Thomas Jefferson.
The artists who created this remix evince
passion and brilliance that make me proud to (in the words of Puerto Rican
American rapper Joell Ortiz’s words, who also has a verse on the Roots’ song),
“Be American, express how [I] feel, and take the credit.” Hamilton makes clear connections between history and modern life; Busta’s
exhortation to “Rise Up” together and make a difference, despite the imposing odds
stacked against many in society and against our society itself, could not have
come at a better time.
Alison Dobrick, Ed.D. is Associate Professor of education at William Paterson University of New Jersey, and Director of the William Paterson University Center for Holocaust and Genocide Studies. She is currently working on HiPP (the Hamilton in Paterson Project) which brings Hamilton, hip hop education, and Paterson, NJ together for meaningful learning experiences in local history, hip hop music, and multiple literacies.
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