Here's to you, Afropunk.

Before it was trendy to rock monroes and snakebites, and a skateboard was a part of your swag, there were the black hardcore punk pioneers Bad Brains. Before Vans became a hit song and Lupe encouraged folks to “Kick, Push,” there were the Atlanta punks of The Slack Republic. Before Pharrell warned us about the “f*ckin posers,” people knew the band on their t-shirt because they were die hard fans. Before vests and skinny jeans were commonplace among your favorite rapper’s physical aesthetic and Mohawks became reduced to something less than a political statement, there were Afropunks.


The term was coined by film director James Spooner who, in 2003 at the Toronto Film Festival, introduced the world to oft ignored social and racial issues that are still prevalent in American (and black) society. Much like its title, Afropunk: The ‘Rock n Roll Nigger’ Experience, the provocative 66-minute film shocks its audience while presenting the “other black experience” that very many people still fail to comprehend. Spooner dedicates the film “to every black kid who has ever been called a nigger and every white kid who thinks they know what that means.”


The film succeeds in shedding a light on topics of cultural identity and acceptance that includes music from artists like Tamar-kali, The Slack Republic, Cipher, the legendary Bad Brains and more--music you otherwise wouldn’t hear on 106 & Park. The film allows audiences to observe the full spectrum of black experience that which makes us all beautiful. Afropunk has since then created a platform for discussion and provided a much-needed sense of belonging to minorities within a minority.


Even before the inception of “Afropunk,” though, there were black kids just trying to find themselves despite a world full of blueprinted expectations of them. There were individuals who were defined by their skin tone, judged by their attire, and often alienated for their lifestyle choices by whites and blacks alike. As someone who has actually been told that I “wasn’t ghetto enough,” “spoke white,” and listened to “white people music,” this feeling is all too familiar.
Something is different, though. The same black kids who ridiculed and manifested their lack of understanding towards a subculture are the same people who have recently adopted a bastardized, watered-down version of the punk rock aesthetic (Shop Boyz anyone?) in hip hop music.

This is a necessary digression that begs the question, what happened to hip hop? It’s easy to say that hip hop is transforming and evolving but it is difficult to believe when it’s starting to seem like a culture of bandwagonism, driven by ring tone sales and new dance crazes.

These days, though, 80’s enthusiasts the Retro Kidz, are rapping about a “new era” in hip hop that is basically a cheap, gimmicky version of the golden era. KRS-One, who gave a hip hop lecture at UCR last year, said it best when he noted that old school hip hop had originality and authenticity and that the hip hop acts of today are just trend chasers. No passion, just business. This is evident in the genre-hopping of hip hop artists who exploit genuine rock music in hopes of huge sales (remember Lil Jon’s Crunk Rock?). It’s no wonder that most alternative black kids have viewed this as a mockery of their culture when they were called a “fag” five years ago for wearing jeans that fit.

So this is written in appraisal to those who are judged for who they are and are still raising a middle finger to the stereotypes made of them. Anyone who is made an outcast because of their physical appearance and remain true to themselves. Here’s to you, the trailblazers, the trendsetters, the afro punks. Because, after all, being black in America is punk rock enough.




-le chat noir