WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS IS A GOOD OLD FASHIONED PROTEST SONG
Circa 1989, when Chuck D's and KRS-One's words awakened a sleeping revolutionary inside of me that I didn't even know had existed until then, I envisioned the future HumanityCritic would be fighting the good fight - against injustice, black republicans, and especially "The Man." At the time, my demeanor was that of a new school version of Michael from Good Times, minus the penchant for cock and the complimentary "reacharound," mind you. I was involved in as many socially conscious endeavors as humanly possible then. Every T-shirt I owned had something to do with Black Pride. I had a vast array of African pendants and medallions that I'd sporadically wear on my daily travels. And even though I've been what you'd call a "white girl magnet" for the tenure of my lifetime - my newfound pride in my race had me resisting any vagina owner who could easily get a comb through her pre-permed hair. People currently see me as a hothead, a dude who's not afraid to tell someone off, force a clergy member to call him a "dirty cocksucker" during a friendly pick-up basketball game, a man that will knock out an elderly gentleman - heart condition or not. But those are just actions of the lunatic that I've become based on my father issues and not being able to find a woman who would let me eat hot mac and cheese off her gelatin backside. What I did in my mid-teens was the epitome of bravery in my eyes - not letting my history teacher get away with calling Muhammad Ali a "coward," expressing how I thought what he did took bravery, then breaking down all of the possible future leaders who got out of Vietnam based on who their parents were. (How prophetic was that?) Even though the first Gulf War was nowhere near the clusterfuck that our current war is, me and some of my hippie white friends held protest signs on one of our busiest streets, while being pelted with soda cans, threats, and epithets that made me feel as if I was at a script reading of Mississippi Burning.
Unfortunately, that sort of passion for change has been replaced with a passion to bitch and moan about the current state of Hip Hop, and also a deep-rooted love for low-self-esteem-having women who are talented enough to pick up one dollar bills with their glittery buttocks. The Black Power T-Shirts that I once wore with pride still fit me, in that "I think I can see your heartbeat" sort of way. The African Medallions are still around for nostalgia purposes like one of my old sports trophies or that used condom from that time I fucked one of MC Hammer's back-up dancers - and even though I have yet to bed a white woman, my lack of sexual activity over the past year has broadened my scope to the point that my new mantra is the utterly romantic "a hole is a hole." Don't get me wrong, I'm trying to be humorous but at the same time I'm disappointed with my inactivity, both sexually and civically.
I mean, when you think about the gross incompetence of this administration - you'd think that me and people of my ilk would have gotten off of our collective asses by now and done something. From this illegal war, to the willingness of our president to gamble with more American lives even though he knows we're in a no-win situation - not to mention the thousands of Bush administration scandals, Katrina, our elected officials virtually wiping their ass with the Bill of Rights and relieving themselves all over Habeus Corpus. I had to do something. Too many people - whether it's the congress, the press, or the American public - give the most unpopular president since Herbert Hoover a blank check based on our inaction. That's when I compiled some of my favorite protest songs of all time to inspire me, and you know what? It worked. Not too long afterwards, I found myself smack dab in the middle of an anti-war rally, really feeling that I was making a bona fide difference. Granted, I was partially there because I wanted to tell an "As I was hitting it from the back, I smacked her on the ass with her Birkenstock" story at a future date. But hey. It's a start.
Marvin Gaye, "What's Goin' On": This is by far one of my favorite Marvin Gaye songs. Cliche, I know, but one of my fondest childhood memories is waking up to this beautifully melodic tune on various Saturday mornings during the '80s. I tend to relate to this song even more as an adult because, despite our young men and women losing their lives in Iraq, many of us have serious issues within our own communities - not to mention any type of family issues that might be taking its toll on our psyches. Sometimes, feeling the weight of the world on your shoulders is like giving Mo'nique a brief piggyback ride - it makes you want to curse the heavens and scream "What in the fuck is going on?" Sure this song addresses the Vietnam war, but I'm sure he was also saddened by the death of his writing partner Tammi Terrell - and of course the racial climate of the time.
Credence Clearwater Revival, "Fortunate Son": The one thing that almost caused my head to basically explode during the 2004 election, was how Bush supporters found ways to criticize John Kerry and his so-called "treasonous" actions. People bitched about his anti-war stance after the Vietnam, him throwing his medals on the White House lawn, lied about him wounding himself for medals - and at the Republican Convention, they desecrated the memory of every soldier that ever served this country by mocking Sen Kerry by sporting adhesive bandages with small purple hearts on them. (I guess that "Support the Troops" motto only applies to the ones currently in combat.) I was always baffled that people could attack Kerry, but at the same time support Bush, a man that obviously got out of service by who his father was - and the walking heart attack that is Dick Cheney, who had something like seven deferments. If John Kerry was smart, he would have had this song playing whenever Bush was pictured in one of his commercials - motherfucking chicken-hawk.
Stevie Wonder, "You Haven't Done Nothin": I'd say that even a casual observer of politics can see the similarities between the Nixon administration and the Bush administration. Both tried to scare the proverbial crap out of the electorate, attempted to silence dissenters and claim that they were anti-American - not to mention the stubbornness of going ahead with a wildly unpopular war. Even though Stevie Wonder wrote this song in response to the blistering incompetence of Nixon - it plays today as if Stevie himself penned it with a picture of George W. Bush in front of him. (I know he's blind, you knew what I meant!)
Nena, "99 Luft (Red) Balloons": One of the best things about being raised in the '80s, besides using mental images of Sheila E and Lisa Lisa as nightly masturbatory material - was my exposure to music that other generations weren't exposed to. The only benefit that came from MTV not playing black videos was me being introduced to groups like Flock of Seagulls, A-HA, Berlin, Culture Club, and groups of that ilk. I distinctly remember checking out Nena and her song "99 Luft(Red) Balloons" at the time. Sure this was a protest song, about the "escalating rhetoric and strategic maneuvering between the United States and the Soviet Union" (so says Wikipedia), but I just remember sporting more wood than a batting cage over Nena. I don't know, something about German chicks really does it for me - me imagining a scenario where my sexual exploits force my lover to nickname my phallus a "Bratwurst" or a "Kielbasa."
Sam Cooke, "A Change is Gonna Come": This song has always given me the eeriest of feelings. Forget about the fact that this is the track Spike Lee used in the movie Malcolm X as El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz walked to impending doom at the Audubon Ballroom. Listening to this track, you hear the inner turmoil of Cooke escaping your speakers, from the racist episodes he had experienced - to his 18-month-old son's death from accidental drowning. Initially the song was inspired by Bob Dylan's "Blowing in the Wind." Cooke was amazed that such a song addressing racism came from a white man.
Billie Holiday, "Strange Fruit": If my family finds out that I'm talking about a Billie Holiday song they are going to shit rabbits - based on how many times my grandmother subjected my family to her drunken episodes, downing "Old Milwaukee" like it was Gatorade, while playing classic Billie Holiday songs, loud. But I can't front. The haunting imagery of ugly racism in the form of lynching in "Strange Fruit" will stick to the listener for an eternity. If a white person ever asks you, "You say the N-Word, why can't I say it?" just play their silly ass this song. Originally a poem by Abel Meeropol, Billy Holiday recorded this classic despite the fact that her label was against it, and despite her own fears of retaliation. Some of her bandmates recalled that Billie Holiday would always break down after she performed that song.
Public Enemy, "Fight the Power": Some people would argue that this isn't a protest song at all - but I'd have to disagree with them while beating that person to death with my coveted PE discography. This song reminded black people that challenging authority was OK, that fighting to the death for what you believed in was the only course of action - and that dissing dead fucking racists like John Wayne and Elvis Presley can bring together an entire people. (Albeit momentarily.) I know that Rosie Perez is married and all, but I would give her all of my worldly possessions if she danced naked for me while this song played - and if she thought that I was pitiful enough to throw some "mercy ass" my way. I wonder if she'd call me "Mookie" mid-stroke?
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