On the night of April 8, 2006 I participated in a rap battle that took place on campus. These “battles” feature two lyricists who go back and forth insulting each other to essentially win the crowd over, thus winning the battle. The insults are presented in lyrical form and are in most cases (as was the case that night) improvised.
During this battle, I recited lines that were overwhelmingly misogynistic, perhaps the most egregious of which was the following: “your [my opponent’s] girl has more seeds in her mouth than watermelon.” Prior to this evening, I would never have thought lines like these could ever come from me, whether improvised or not. Nevertheless, they did come from me, and that was a signal of deeply rooted issues, specifically an unawareness of the true ramifications of oppressive language.
Shortly after the battle, I was approached and confronted by a good friend of mine who expressed her disdain and disgust with what I had said and with me. She was just as shocked as I was about what I had said. Even then, the true gravity of my words did not sink in until I spoke to a woman for whom I have an incredible, insurmountable amount of love. She explained to me that my words were not only hurtful and shocking given my character, but also disempowering. That word is one I hear often on campus, but its true meaning is never more felt than when someone you love tells you that they feel vulnerable and uncomfortable around you because of your actions. For all of the “work” I do and claim to do on myself, trying to figure out the ways in which I oppress others, there was still a disconnect between knowing what things are “fucked up” (read: oppressive and disempowering) and knowing how they truly affect people: deeply and devastatingly. While I knew that what I said was fucked up and openly admitted it, I was still grossly unaware of the extent to which my words could hurt someone. Regrettably, it was a lesson I had to learn through the heartbreak of someone I love unconditionally and I am unsure whether the damage I have wrought can ever be truly healed. It is a sickening thing to realize that actions such as these, no matter how provoked, isolated, or uncharacteristic they may be, can cause such pain to someone you love.
So, the lesson I take from all of this is that saying things and even acting in ways that are progressive is only one step; it is by no means an end. It is wholly unacceptable to simply say “I am not ______ist; look at all the things I do and say,” because no matter how conscious I claim to be about “the issues,” there still needs to be an awareness of the human aspect of things. One cannot simply call themselves out (e.g. “yea, that was fucked up”) and expect that to solve everything. Our actions have real consequences on people, though we may not always see it firsthand but through a Wespeak or some other informal channel. Nevertheless, when we are made aware of people’s reactions to our fucked up shit, we must be respectful and unequivocal in our compassion towards that person, whether it is a loved one or someone we have never met. It will never be enough to simply admit our wrongs. We must connect our actions with the very real consequences. Otherwise, we will be defensive and insensitive to people’s reactions, which only worsens things.
P.S. I love you carter and I hope there is something I can do to take steps towards making you feel comfortable around me again.
P.P.S. I apologize profusely to anyone who felt disempowered, disenchanted, offended, oppressed, or just plain bad about what I said during that battle — regardless of whether you were there or not. I welcome your comments, criticisms, etc. You can contact me at jl****@******an.edu.
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