How Hip Hop Has Changed Me

Before I start writing this post, let me start off by saying something because I know the creatures of the Internet like to unnecessarily jump down people's throats: Whatever I write after this paragraph, is how I feel, they're my experiences, and I'm not saying that other types of music can't have the same effect on someone else. I write what I know and I speak on my own behalf, not anyone else's. I also of course understand that what I write is not applicable to every song that falls under the broad category of "rap" and "hip hop," but it is applicable to the rap and hip hop I listen to.

So before I tell you how hip hop has changed me, I suppose it's important for you to know what I was like before this change.

The ages 12-15 in my life were not the best years of my life, which I'm sure many of you can relate to as well. They're the "awkward years," you're in-between just beginning to grow and fully blossoming. But I found these years especially hard because I wasn't just awkward, I didn't understand any part of my identity. I was this first-generation Indian-American who was bad at sports, decent at school, and introverted. I had no clear group of people I belonged with. From what I've experienced there are two kinds of first generation Indians, the ones who are really connected with Indian culture, language, dress, etc. and the ones who are "white washed," who barely associate with anything Indian, and are considered just "American." I was in-between the two really, because I love my culture, but I leaned more towards the latter.

The trouble with being an Indian who isn't really considered Indian, is that you can feel every cultural difference between you and the rest of the world weighing on you. Where do you fit in? Not black. Not white. Not Spanish. Not Indian "enough" to be considered a "true" Indian. As a result, I felt completely isolated. I didn't feel like I could connect on any level with most people.

I listened to a lot of sad music at this time. It was all I listened to really, songs about other people's pain and sadness and how they were so absorbed in it they had to express it in minor chords and depressing lyrics. I took their sadness and made it my own.

Until one day, my brother gave me his old iPod and instead of immediately deleting his music off of it, I scrolled through. I came across some songs and artists I recognized and some I didn't. One song I didn't recognize but I felt inclined to listen to was Erase Me by Kid Cudi featuring Kanye West. Basically, it's just a song about how a girl Kid Cudi is no longer with wishes she could get away from him, but he's everywhere because he's "in the magazines, on your TV..." and basically just super successful and famous. This was the first time I'd heard a break up song from a different perspective. It wasn't about the artist missing someone or crying over that person being gone. This time the artist was the object of affection, he was the one in power, the one who was confident, living his own life.

Something like that could seem insignificant to the casual listener. But to me, at that time, at that point in my life where I surrounded myself in sadness, my ears perked when I listened to it. I dove deeper and deeper into the sounds and lyrics of hip hop and rap. All of the artists I listened to sang about success, they rapped about the struggles of reaching that success, about the people who told them they couldn't make it, about the people who supported them, about celebrating life in its entirety, of being blessed for starting out so low and ending up so big. I couldn't escape all of this positivity, this unwavering faith in one's self regardless of the circumstances.

But even more than that, I came across artists who rapped about being alone, not fitting in with their surroundings or the people around them, but still believing that they themselves were the greatest thing since sliced bread. 

Big Sean raps, "You write your name in sharpie, I write mine in stone. I knew the world was for the taking and wouldn't take long."

Kanye West raps, "Ya'll don't know my struggle. Ya'll can't match my hustle. You can't catch my hustle. You can't fathom my love dude."

J. Cole raps, "We don't look nothing like the people on the screen...but we got dreams and we got the right to chase 'em."

And so on and so forth. It was such a shift in perspective for me. These guys rap about the hard times in their life like it was a necessary step to move forward. The music I used to listen to talked about the hard times in life as if it was defeating them. As if they were hit with bad luck over and over again.

Further than the lyrics to the song, the way this music makes you want to move is unlike any other. Most rap music isn't very "dance-y" per se, but the body language is so dominating, so powerful. In so many rap videos, rappers are raising their arms up, legs wide apart, the "boss" stance. These guys (and ladies!) don't just rap about being successful. They embody their image of success, they paint the scene of lavish lifestyles, and lives that were unlike the ones they had before things got better.

When I listen to this music and I see these artists live in concert, I'm on another level. I'm consumed by self-love, power, confidence. I'm not Priya from Small Town, NY. I'm Priya from Small Town, NY who is going somewhere, who is constantly moving forward, whose sadness isn't perpetual but is just part of the process of becoming great. 

Some of you may be saying, "Ok... but what in the world does that have to do with anything you said in the beginning about your identity?" Fair enough, I can answer that. Before I had this paradigm shift, so to speak, every part of me that was different from the people around me felt like something that was wrong. But when I listen to rap, they never talk about the part about themselves that held them back initially as a bad thing. On the contrary, it's something to capitalize on. Kanye West rapped, "I'm trying to right my wrongs, but it's funny them same wrongs helped me write this song." 

It didn't bother me any more that I didn't fit in to any one group because that meant I couldn't be defined by one group. I'm glad for that now. As a result of "not fitting in" in any one place, I fit in everywhere. The hardship of not knowing who I am wasn't a perpetual hardship like I thought it would be, it was just a step towards finding my strengths and learning how to capitalize on those weaknesses.

So yes, people can go on bashing rap and hip hop for being tasteless and vulgar or whatever else people who don't give rap a chance say. But let me tell you, The Beatles never made me feel as alive as Kanye West does. So say what you want, but I'm grateful there are people out there who are willing to make music based off their own cockiness and ego because in turn it made me realize there are things about myself that I can be cocky and have an ego about, shamelessly.

Who knew? You can find love for yourself in the most unlikely of places. I'm grateful for that and I continue to search for anything and everything that can make me the way rap makes me feel.

I wish you all the most beautiful and blessed week!

Good vibes,

Priya

*Bonus* Here's some of the music I used to listen to. I'm not trying to imply in any way that it's bad or that people who listen to it are wrong. It just wasn't the right music for me.

Three Days Grace - Pain
Scary Kids Scaring Kids - The Bright Side of Suffering