It was New Year”s Eve 2014. Wait, no, it was New Year”s Day 2015. At any rate, it was a party, and there was a karaoke machine.
My boyfriend”s buddy had his phone hooked up to the glorious contraption. No words were being displayed on the screen, but microphones were hooked up, and that was good enough. After wrestling one out of some unwitting singer”s hand, I made my request.
“Play “The Motto” by Drake and Lil” Wayne,” I demanded. In hindsight, I could easily define this as my ultimate diva moment.
What followed was a perfect performance. OK, I probably missed a few words, but I played it cool. Every expletive, every one of Lil” Wayne”s mumbled sexual metaphors – I recited them mindlessly. By the end, I was breathless, but proud.
The response I got: “Wait, you listen to rap?”
I am a Caucasian female from a very small Idaho town. I am a self-proclaimed nerd, and most definitely a goody two-shoes. I spend my free time reading for pleasure, drinking tea and hiking. I am the classic image of an indie folk-lover. I don”t reflect a lot of the stereotypes that define contemporary rap music. I don”t embody the stigmas that surround the industry. I just don”t fit.
But here”s the thing: that whole New Year”s karaoke experience was only a re-run of a consistent occurrence in my life, and that is the assumption that because I listen to rap I must either be trying to prove something or seriously share some ideologies with those living it up in the Young Money mansion. Neither is true.
Lyndsie Kiebert
Put simply, I just love me some rap music. Not because I relate to it. Not because I want to look cool, but because I actually enjoy it.
Let me be clear – I am in no way saying that Nicki Minaj is a good role model for young girls, or that A$AP Rocky would be fit to write an album of children”s lullabies. The stigma regarding rap is rightfully placed when considering the not-so-clean content of the music.
What I”m saying is that the music”s content should not be considered a reflection of the listener”s beliefs, and the listener should not be pinned as a poseur for enjoying a genre they don”t perfectly represent.
The moral of the story is that I just like the music – the beats, the rhymes, even Lil” Wayne”s clever (albeit vivid and vulgar) metaphors. I honestly have a soft spot for the stuff.
I spent a good portion of the summer whipping and nae-nae-ing with some of my closest friends, listening to Tech N9ne with all the windows down while driving to the lake and my high school years consisted of tracking down the edited versions of popular rap songs so I could put them on my basketball team”s warm-up playlist – so maybe my defense of the genre can be partially attributed to nostalgia.
In the end, I did not choose the thug life, and the thug life did not choose me. But that doesn”t mean I can”t love and know all the words to “The Motto.”
Lyndsie Kiebert can be reached at [email protected]