After observing the online battle of words between Talib Kweli and Mychal Smith of Loop21, I was inspired to revisit a topic I wrote about a few years ago. The term “conscious rappers” has been used to elevate a certain group of emcees above the fray of mainstream and “gangsta” rap while alternately relegating these artists to a niche market, effectively branding them in a way that compromises their ability to promote their work. While I don’t think there is any shame in being labeled conscious, I have grown to understand why it is not only an ineffective term, but an oftentimes inaccurate one.

A lot of folks toss the word conscious around too freely. We brand the purveyors of Afros, dreads, incense, oils, poetry, retro accessories, big jewelry and coffee shops as “conscious,” before they have done anything to prove that they actually possess any actual knowledge of anything. Granted, the odds that a kufi-wearing brother in a dashiki is more enlightened that the fella sporting a Scarface t-shirt and a tattooed teardrop might be worth betting on. But as Andre 3000 once said: “Is every (brother) with dreads for the cause? Is every (brother) with gold for the fall?”

Naw.

Conscious simply means “aware.” If you deem someone else to be conscious, but not yourself, are you acknowledging that this person is more aware than you? And that you are okay with that? And doesn’t it take a certain amount of awareness to recognize when someone else is aware? And, yet, if you acknowledge that someone else is aware and you are not, aren’t you admitting your willingness to remain unaware? Isn’t it foolish to admit that there are things worth knowing that you choose to be in the dark about?

While I acknowledge that in Hip Hop terms, “conscious” is used in reference to a certain non-homogenous group of performers that tend to eschew certain things typically embraced in the culture–it’s just not a good word choice. A lot of the same rappers who have been bestowed with the “conscious” title have spit plenty of misogynistic, sexist and/or homophobic lyrics. If simply not posturing oneself as a reformed/current drug dealer is enough to make you “conscious,” then the conversation we need to have is about how low our standards are in terms of what we consider to be enlightenment.

“Conscious” needn’t be the only C-word we use when we examine Hip Hop. I count three more accurate ones:

Criticism: This is when you point out things that are bad about something, i.e. “Dope pushing is bad because it hurts the community. I don’t do it, nor should you.”

Catharsis: This is when you have an outpouring of emotion and/or express your innermost feelings: “I feel so guilty about pushing dope, because I caused my people a lot of pain in the process.”

Celebration: This is when you hold something up as correct, good even, and shower it with praises: “Ooh, wee. I sho’ do love the drug game, because it allowed me to have all of these bitches and decorative wheel covers. BURR! Aye! Okay!”

Not all rappers who talk about selling drugs are celebrating it, the same way that not all the ones who DON’T talk about it are “conscious.” Without stepping off into the parents vs. schools vs. media argument, we do have to acknowledge that our beloved Hip Hop culture has, in fact, celebrated some of our darkest habits and behaviors. Thus, I appreciate Knight’s sentiment that we could use more rappers who embrace their ability to use their influence as a tool for mobilizing social change. However, I think it is less important for us to ask rappers to call themselves “conscious” than it is for us to question our own complicity in promoting artists who glorify our dark recesses.

For the record, I wasn’t excited about the Gucci collab either. I can’t stand that man’s music. But my real-life friends have friends I don’t like and I don’t demand them to choose between myself and them. So how can I ask a rapper to only work with folks I deem appropriate? Instead of asking a favorite artist to label himself as you see fit, ask your fellow buppie homies why they are so enamored by the music that celebrates Black pain and can’t be bothered to purchase a “conscious” record… even when their lives don’t even remotely resemble what the “thug” rappers are spitting about. Ask why White guys make up such a huge percentage of the audience when you go to a “conscious” rapper’s show. Or why so many people are quick to say Gucci is telling “the truth” about the ‘hood, but an artist like Kweli isn’t. Isn’t that a more worthy discussion than trying to force the hand of someone who has made more thoughtful, intelligent music over the years? If the dude doesn’t want to be placed in the “conscious” box, then let’s respect that.

– Jamilah Lemieux

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Jamilah Lemieux is a 20-something Chicago native and graduate of Howard University. Equal parts sass and sensitivity, she describes herself as “a Hip-Hop Denise Huxtable, who dreams of growing up to be Claire.” Her daily blog, The Beautiful Struggler: Me, Myself, An Eye gives readers an up close view of all the stunts, pratfalls, and revolutions of this artist/Earth mother/barfly/scribe.