The Grammys Taught Me That Icarus Was Actually A Black Man In America
“You can make white people think, but never make them mad.”
I’ve watched Kendrick, Kanye and The Grammys recently, and I’m reminded of two things. Foremost, I think of the story of Icarus, the Greek mythological figure with wings made of wax who was warned by his father Daedalus to not fly too low or too high, so the sea would not dampen his wings or the sun melt them. Famously, when Icarus decided to fly too close to the sun, his wings melted and he plunged to his death. As well, I’m reminded of what my mother has told me consistently for the past 25 years: “You can make white people think, but never make them mad.”
Kendrick Lamar simultaneously broke free from literal shackles and was ensnared by metaphorical ones at the 2016 Grammy Awards. Lamar’s 2015 album To Pimp A Butterfly is one of the most important releases in modern black American history. He performed tracks from said album at the show, in such a way that he recalled the Black Panthers, Reagan-era black imprisonment, black Americans’ pre-slavery African heritage and Niggaz With Atttitude, too. However, when it came time to put that album in the pantheon of other great albums that defined greatness in terms of music, politics and popular culture, The Grammys failed. Instead, that moment felt as if white America paused, smiled politely at Kendrick, and awarded the Album of the Year to lanky white female Taylor Swift’s album 1989. Icarus was actually a black man in America.
Recently, Kanye West tried really hard to encapsulate the spirit of black religion, black ambition and black expression as the most ultimate (read as, better than white) form of expression in the world, but fell short with newly released album The Life of Pablo. He then proceeded to tell the white people who attempted and failed to provide (in his opinion) nuanced and/or fair reviews of his black music for black people to kiss his ass. Upon being aired out by Taylor Swift at the aforementioned 2016 Grammy Awards for saying “bitch I made you famous” on said album, Kanye’s pretty much killed his pop musical career dead in the water. Icarus was actually a black man in America.
As the flames literally burned onstage behind Kendrick Lamar at the Grammys, white Americans stared at the stage in angst and shock. The lesson we learned on Sunday night about Kendrick’s album is that, again, as my mother told me when I was 13 years old, “you can make white people think, but never make them mad.” When Kendrick Lamar’s album was this streamable thing floating through the air for white people to hear, it was a vivid think-piece available for polite discussion that made salient points in hooks, bars and choruses. When Kendrick’s album was performed in small concerts last year, it advanced into being a great moment for white people to scream “we gon be alright” alongside their black friends, a moment to let them know that they knew that their lives mattered. However, on prime time television in front of a global audience white people finally had enough. In what is the most honest statement regarding the nature of race in America in 2016, we finally saw white people face-to-face with a damned near perfect expression of black American creativity. What followed said performance though spoke volumes. Icarus was actually a black man in America.
“As the first woman to win album of the year at the Grammys twice, I want to say to all the young women out there: there are going to be people along the way who will try to undercut your success or take credit for your accomplishments or your fame. But if you just focus on the work and you don’t let those people sidetrack you, someday when you get where you’re going. You’ll look around and you’ll know it was you and the people who love you who put you there and that will be the greatest feeling in the world.”
- Taylor Swift, Grammys 2016
In one moment spent accepting her Album of the Year Grammy for 1989, Taylor Swift intentionally did more for white people holding back black excellence in America than any perceived thing that Donald Trump could ever conceivably do if elected as President in November 2016.
Taylor’s 1989 single “Bad Blood” is a funny thing. It’s the biggest selling single on what is now the Album of the Year. “Bad Blood” is sonically based in very southern and very black trap-rap. Furthermore, it also features verses from black rapper Kendrick Lamar, who in the video is referenced as the character “Welvin da Great.” Welvin is a persona snatched from a black internet celebrity whose claim to fame is in part due to the fact that he’s lampooned due to speech deficiencies linked to his mental disabilities. Seen through this light, Taylor Swift winning a Grammy over Kendrick Lamar (with a single on said album aided by Lamar’s talents in a supporting role) sparks a whole different type of consideration. On one hand, we’re okay with the black rapper playing a funny character in the midst of a near all-white presentation. On the other hand, when the black rapper speaks caustically as a solo artist about the sad nature of his true humanity, he gets to fall short. Icarus was actually a black man in America.
As for Taylor clapping back at Kanye, on one level, her statement is absolutely correct. However, on another level, there’s a certain sensitivity that one must have to a black man making black music for black people in 2016 that Taylor should be showing, but that she’s likely unaware how to given that she doesn’t likely understand the difficulties inherent in black people’s modern existence.
This era’s an especially confusing time for black musical artists in general, but specifically for black males. We’re billionaires in an industry that was built on oftentimes robbing us blind. We’re pop dominant, but it’s at a time where music is literally worthless. We’re ubiquitous, but in all industries seemingly being controlled by a lily white one-percenter population, we still feel creatively unseen. Thus, when we’re granted even the slightest moment of being “seen,” we’re acting out in incredible ways. When they get opportunities, black women are turning up and getting wild in our stead, and accepting the same threats and angst that we accepted for generations from confused and angry white people. Icarus was actually a black man in America.
Taylor Swift taking Kanye to task in the manner in which she took him to task is possibly the most clueless and unfeeling thing to do at this time. The wages of being black and awesome at a time where being black and awesome is hard are clearly wearing at Kanye. Mr. West is reaching out for help, and sadly, because he has no black hands to reach out for, he’s reaching out to white ones and looking crazy in the process. Taylor validated that insanity. Blend this notion with the idea that non-famous black people’s lives already don’t matter, and we perpetuate the idea that black folks are entirely lost, headed into maniacal panic as a race, and that there’s no solutions, either. Icarus was actually a black man in America.
You can make white people think, but never make them mad.
Icarus was actually a black man in America.
