Abstract
This article contends that mission practice can learn from Hip Hop culture. The article looks to Hip Hop culture to glean tools and frameworks for missionally engaging youth and young adults. Specifically, the article describes the processes of sampling, mixing, and poiesis and, then, offers missional applications. There is an explicit invitation for youth and young adults to be involved in sampling and mixing the missional and missiological classics in order to engage in a poiesis. In providing this application there is also the positing of understanding our current societal conditions under the heading of pericolonial, as opposed to postcolonial. The term pericolonial is not offered as it is used in archaeology and anthropology. Rather the state of perimenopause is centered, as one of the foci of the article is also how mission can make space for women and marginalized voices.
Introduction
Several publications have arrived at convincing definitions for Hip Hop culture (HHC). My own dissertation (Radcliff, 2019) and chapter in Formation for Mission (Radcliff, 2022) note that concise definitions are complicated because HHC is indeed several things collectively and individually. When I speak of HHC, I am referring to the urban culture that seeks to express a lifestyle, attitude, or theology that rejects the oppression of the dominant culture and seeks to prioritize Black voices from the margins, along with their histories, experiences, realities, and perceptions. However, the primary expression of the culture is musical, poetic, and artistic in nature borrowing heavily from the African diaspora.
Most people are familiar with HHC via the popular medium of music mediated through the industry’s music charts and through particular artists with celebrity outside of the culture as well. People like Jay-Z, Kanye, and Drake tend to be the more popular artists that people outside of popular culture think of when someone mentions HHC. The point here is that Hip Hop as an actual culture or subculture in the United States is not widely understood by the larger populace, aside from a few songs or artists. The actual history may be casually identified but is often not the attention of deep reflection.
Entering into the Nixon administration there was a large focus on ‘law and order’ while enacted policies and reinforced practices continued to actively marginalize African diasporic peoples in the US. In particular, for Hip Hop, African Americans and Afro Caribbeans living in the Bronx and other boroughs throughout New York City. Political maneuvering, civil unrest, civic redlining, slumlord practices, and insurance scams for burning buildings all left those regions similar in appearance to modern-day Gaza, Sudan, or Ukraine.
In true US ideological fashion, there was more domestic empathy for communities in Vietnam than in Washington Heights. Burned and bombed out buildings became play areas for children in their formative years. Violence and brutality from militarized police units were the order of the day. Many people living in these communities experienced the harsh reality of an American dream from which they were excluded and, perhaps, by which they were hated. HHC became, in many aspects, an escape from the violence and trauma of being hunted and shunned. The culture, with its major components (deejaying, emceeing, graffiti, dance, clothing style, and street entrepreneurialism), was the space that unleashed creativity, centered humanity, and revived a vitality that was otherwise bottled up or ignored.
Most of the architects of the burgeoning cultural force were teens and young adults. These youth invented concepts and technologies that are still in use today. Connected turntables, rewired electronics, the art of scratching, dance styles, and forms of visual art are now prevalent across the globe. This movement was, again, led by young adults who saw no hope in the larger institutions and, thus, created their own ‘way out of no way.’ Their actions and creativity would eventually have the entire world take notice of them. However, that notice was not the intent. The intent was to be seen by each other and to celebrate their own cultural elements and creativity as a marginalized body exempt from full and equal social participation. Deep reflection on this aspect of Hip Hop is not as bountiful–especially missiologically–as other reflections and perspectives, yet I hold that this area is fruitful in particular ways. It is the central argument of this article that HHC can offer a methodology for centering young adult experiential and ideological realities for mission. This article will first define three key concepts for understanding some of the activity within HHC; highlighting the agency of young adults. Second, the article will discuss three important trends within the culture. After this, I will turn to the pivotal question: ‘How do we sample/remix/(re)create mission?’ I will then briefly describe some current realities before attempting to demonstrate further, using the trends within HHC, why these particular frameworks could prove helpful in our current climate.
Part I: Key concepts
For the sake of those who are unfamiliar with some of the innerworkings of HHC, I would like to introduce and define two elements of HHC and then tie them into the process of poiesis (similar to what J. Khameron Carter (2017a, 2017b) has done with the Blues).
Sampling
Sampling is, very generally, a process in music where an artist takes an already published song–usually a very popular one–and borrows parts of the pre-existing song to create a new song or sound. They may take the melody, or a breakdown section of the song, or the chorus, and use that in the creation of a new song or sound. This concept of sampling is vital to an understanding of the early days of HHC. Music, in the genesis of Hip Hop, was not about creating new songs, per se, but it was all about existing music. The common practice in HHC was to take the break section–the part where the singing drops out and the beat is highlighted–from popular disco, funk, and Caribbean music. DJs invented equipment that allowed them to place the preferred section of the song on a loop. This extended the break-beat and allowed people to dance and enjoy a particular segment of the song without having to listen to the whole song and only enjoying the breakdown section for a few moments.
DJs also mastered the ability of finding songs, albums, and beats their audiences would enjoy. This inevitably required DJs to spend hours listening to all kinds of music, making them walking chord catalogues, audio archives, rolodexes of records, and gave them a mastery of melodies. They acquired substantial libraries of albums and vast wells of knowledge.
Sampling accomplished several things in the early days of HHC. First, it was a way of celebrating and honoring the music of the day. Second, it introduced some music and sounds to younger generations. Last, it allowed for the creation of new opportunities as the songs would blend with or lead into the next song; putting two things in conversation that would not otherwise be so.
Remixing
Another term that we need to be somewhat familiar with is remixing. Remixing is the practice of taking an existing song, keeping the lyrics, but changing the melody or rhythm. Hence, you can take a song with a Latin beat and change it to Gaana or Tamil style, or add a djembe to make it drum heavy, or use a tambourine to take it to church.
The essence of remixing is usually to keep the lyrics the same. However, the remix takes the song that was previously located in one particular genre or style and reimagines it for a completely different context. The new rhythm and melody will have creative control over what parts of the song get used and in what order. Usually, a remix keeps the previous structure of the song, but it does not have to.
Poiesis
As you can already read there are a number of missiological implications with these concepts. Before engaging them missionally, let me also explain how I am using poiesis in this article. I do not mean to infer an ex nihilo type of creation. Rather I am leaning into the production or formation aspect of the term. Architects of HHC took what was available to them and began to create something else from what existed. For example, a party host may take the cover off a streetlight and hot wire the DJ’s sound system in order to create an outdoor concert venue. Perhaps a DJ might use the community room in their housing complex to host a party to help their family pay rent. Artists without after school programs, or arts in their schools, took to painting on subway trains that would carry their braggadocious stylings into other neighborhoods.
While I sincerely doubt that any of the architects would describe their actions in this language at that time, many of them saw their acts as reappropriations and validations of their own imago Dei in the face of systems and groups that made no allowance for them or their human dignity. Amidst a literal warzone, these individuals brought life, joy, hope, and beautiful expression to their communities. And, again, this was done almost exclusively by young adults.
It is my contention that sampling, remixing, and poiesis were important parts of how HHC developed. We will return to these concepts shortly as they provide the ‘how’ for the ‘what’ this paper is proposing. For now, we turn our attention to three important trends.
Part II: Trends
There are literally thousands of aspects and trends within HHC that could be discussed with some sort of missional implications. There are three, however, that seem to be most appropriate for contemporary missiological conversations and for the theme presented in this year’s ASM conference. First, is the boom of women emcees. Second is the cyclical return, or boost, in what is known as ‘socially conscious rap.’ Third, is the shared experience of marginalization. Each of these are key, but brevity is necessary.
In the 1975 US Congress there were only 19 women elected to the available 435 positions. That is less than 4.5%. During the same period in HHC, women were driving forces. I will not attempt a revisionist history of the culture in order to paint an egalitarian society. HHC has always been, much like the US Congress, a boy’s club. However, women were respected as emcees, artists, dancers, and even as DJs–although much more sparingly in this last category. The role of women in early HHC can be seen through Sylvia Robinson who, for better or for worse, brought Hip Hop to the music recording industry. She was, at one time, the sole Hip Hop power broker. And decades before Beyoncé was asking, ‘Who runs the world?’ women like Sha-Rock, Roxanne Shante, Wendy Clark, Salt-N-Pepa, MC Lyte and others were neighborhood and industry she-roes. Throughout the more than 50 years of Hip Hop, there has never been an era or decade where women’s voices have not been prevalent and prominent; and, sometimes, dominant.
This does not mean that HHC has always been a safe space for women–misogyny, abuse, and hypersexuality continue to abound. It does mean, though, there has always been space for the various representations of women’s perspectives. There have always been voices of women that range from extreme respectability politics to overt ownership of all aspects of women’s sexuality. Joan Morgan’s, When Chickenheads Come Home to Roost (1999), is an iconic piece on Hip Hop feminism that covers this better than I could. HHC is a space for all of these voices to be present and to be heard; even when they are at odds. At its core HHC centers marginalized Black voices; and the voices of Black women specifically, and woman of color broadly, are some of the most marginalized. Yet, women have always found (and created) space in Hip Hop in every generation.
The second trend involves what is known as ‘socially conscious rap.’ Given the discussed particularities of the socio-political realities of HHC, much of the verbalized and visualized artforms (lyrics of emcees and paintings of graffiti artists) called out injustice and oppression. This was happening regularly within the culture in the days of its inception. Once it was introduced to the industry, however, label executives made decisions to only produce certain kinds of Hip Hop. This resulted in a major schism, not unlike The Great Schism of 1054, where many believed the Hip Hop industry was a capitalist appropriation and that HHC happening in the communities was the true Hip Hop. The latter contained artists that were speaking out against war and abusive social conditions. Their opportunities to receive recording deals, to make their messages mainstream, were limited by an industry that did not want to pay artists to critique the very systems from which the industry was profiting. They were soon labeled ‘socially conscious’ and there were active attempts to sideline this form of Hip Hop.
Every generation, however, sees a resurgence of this kind of prophetic lament against systems and ideologies that deny the full humanity of others. In the first generation we had Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five and their song, ‘The Message’ (1982):
Broken glass everywhere
People pissin' on the stairs, you know they just don't care
I can't take the smell, can't take the noise
Got no money to move out, I guess I got no choice
Rats in the front room, roaches in the back
Junkies in the alley with a baseball bat
I tried to get away but I couldn't get far
Cause a man with a tow truck repossessed my car
Don't push me cause I'm close to the edge
I'm trying not to lose my head
It's like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under
About a decade later we had a group named Public Enemy who dropped, ‘911 is a Joke’ (1990):
I dialed 911 a long time ago
Don't you see how late they're reactin'
They only come and they come when they wanna
So get the morgue truck and embalm the goner
. . .
If your life is on the line then you're dead today
Late comers with the late comin' stretcher
That's a body bag in disguise y'all, I betcha
I call 'em body snatchers 'cause they come to fetch ya?
With an autopsy ambulance just to dissect ya
So get up, get, get, get down
911 is a joke in yo town
You can fast forward again to Lauryn Hill’s, ‘Mystery of Iniquity’ (2002):
Enter the Dragon, black-robe crooked balance
Souls bought and sold and paroled for thirty talents
Court reporter catch the circus on the paper
File it in the system not acknowledged by the Maker
Swearing by the Bible blatantly blasphemous
Publicly perpetrating that ‘In God We Trust’
Cross-examined by a master manipulator
The faster intimidator receiving the judge's favor
. . .
Legal actors, Babylon's benefactors
Masquerading as the agency for the clients
Hypocritical giants, morally non-compliant
Orally armed to do bodily harm
Polluted, recruited and suited judicial charm
And the defense isn't making any sense
Faking the confidence of
Escaping the consequence
If you skip forward again, you will find artists like Donald Glover (aka Childish Gambino) who gave us, ‘This is America,’ or people like Lecrae, Kendrick Lamar, and T.I. who constantly reflect on systemic racism and injustice. Within every generation, these unpopular popular opinions rise and are championed by men and women who are often relegated to a category of ‘socially conscious.’ But in the words of Maya Angelou, still they rise. This has been seen most publicly over the last few weeks in a ‘rap battle’ between two of the more well-known emcees in HHC. Many people believed this was a battle between that constant schism; the more commercialized Hip Hop represented by Drake, and the more street-level Hip Hop represented by Kendrick Lamar. Strategies and content aside, the majority of the culture overwhelmingly leaned towards Kendrick Lamar. This is also symptomatic of yet another resurgence of socially conscious rap.
The last trend can get a bit muddied, and that is the shared experience of marginalization. While it is true that centering marginalized experiences is part of the core identity of HHC, it is not true that it is always the lived experience of the individual artist. One of the fallacies of the culture is that the artist telling the story is doing so autobiographically. The narratives portrayed in Hip Hop do not always belong to the artist. There is a very delicate balance of representation, embellishment, and authenticity within Hip Hop. An artist may be allowed to tell their own story, the story of someone they know personally, a story that is representative of a group, or a story that is complete fiction. An artist may also be able to tell either of these stories from a stance where they are portraying it to be their story, implying that is theirs, or being explicit or vague about the origins. What is vital, however, is the artist’s credibility within the culture to tell a particular story. This is what is meant by authenticity.
It is a complicated dance to say the least. Yet it offers some form of explanation for how some people see a White artist born into US poverty as having more authenticity that a Black Canadian-born artist that grew up middle or upper-middle class. The same can be said in reverse. Some artists speak on behalf of communities that do not have widespread representation. Some artists speak on behalf of their own communities. Some artists speak on behalf of larger concepts. This opens the doors for conversations around appropriation vs. appreciation, authenticity vs. tokenism, shared power vs. manipulation. It is common in HHC, though, for lived realities of marginalization to be centered and for the authenticity of the voices to be debated.
Part III: How do we. . .?
What would it mean to sample missionally? What would it mean to remix missionally? What does poiesis look like missionally?
To sample in the context of mission would mean that we begin to listen afresh to the entire corpus of mission thinking and practice; not just classics or dominant voices. It means that we must also become familiar with the trends and demands in the culture; not for the sake of appeasing, but for the sake of appealing. It means mission must invent new equipment and utilize new technologies, in order to extend the missional segments–the break beats–that invite all people, particularly youth, to enjoy and experience the practices of mission and engagement with the missio Dei. When we sample, missionally, we invite young adults to participate in the play of mission, the dance of mission, the creativity of mission. As long as mission is viewed as the dictates of institutions, newer generations will likely see mission and the institution as synonymous, and harmful. I will say more to this later. However, sampling allows us to take parts of our own traditions and present them to youth. In doing so, we invite them to hear our ‘jams and classics’ in new ways. More importantly, we invite them to participate in the sampling; to take parts of the tradition that speak life to their generation. This is somewhat counter-intuitive for many that have been indoctrinated into theological and missiological products of enlightenment that compel us to lean into the most contentious and argumentative parts of our faith. In a divisive and argumentative world these impulses are likely also counter-productive to the good news.
Remixing is key for those of us who have a more traditional stake in the concept of orthodoxy. Remixing is taking the core truths of the Gospel and allowing them to be set to new rhythms and new melodies. One may argue this is simply translation, adaptation, or contextualization. While this is a great topic for further debate, the response is exactly part of the issue at hand–control. The proper terminology for the process is less vital than the invitation to an inclusive process; we must relinquish some measure of control. One of the things that made radio disc jockeys and music aficionados abhor HHC was the fact that they scratched the records. This was seen as sacrilegious at that time. But in physically ‘handling’ the records, the DJ was able to achieve something new, appealing, and inviting.
Which brings me to poiesis. Both sampling and the remixing are invitations to imagine; to create. Essentially, engaging young adults in this fashion is about providing freedom for creation and then engaging in conversation about the creation; rather than trying to control the process of creation itself. These missional creations will be different than the practices of previous generations; and thank God! Instead of placing our adult obsession with control on the creation, I offer that we, instead, focus our energies on the sources. By providing the source material for young adults, we help to influence the outcomes in ways that can be healthy and less restrictive.
How does this play out in real time, in real space? Instead of planning an overseas mission trip to a particular destination to do a particular thing this particular church or denomination does, one could teach about Jesus meeting the needs of people he encountered. Then invite young adults to brainstorm about needs they see in the world (near and far). Then take it a step further and ask how they would like to respond to one of those needs in a way that honors God and models what they see in Jesus. This simple act provides the source material of the Gospels and invites young adults to ‘handle’ the Biblical records. They get to find the spot where the rhythm speaks to them, as they listen to the track. They get to decide what beat (method/practice) would be great for this section. They get to create mission that is meaningful. Similar projects can involve listing previous outreach or mission initiatives of a church or agency and engaging in similar processes. Perhaps it is the actual creation of music, dance, and art that will give expression to their missional poiesis.
In research done through the Pannell Center for Black Church Studies we asked young adults to imagine what theological education should be for their generation and what they hoped for the church. Respondents discussed wanting an experience that took seriously issues of diversity and justice. When it came to the church, they reported a large disconnect between the needs of their communities and the activity of the church. In these cases, the creative control–the poiesis–laid solely with the older generations. There was no room for sampling, and remixing; only replaying the same sermons and evangelism models the previous generations had already sanctioned. Borrowing these suggested tools from HHC would allow that gap to be bridged and for young adult participation beyond specific labor needs in the congregation. Again, part of the appeal of HHC, then and now, was that it served as a creative expression giving voice and visualization to the existential realities of young adults. The lived narratives expressed through the creative processes of young adults were at the core. That expressed contagion has spread across the globe. How, too, might the contagion of the Gospel be spread and incarnated afresh if young adults have creative control over the rhythms and melodies of expression?
Part IV: Realities and trends
Let us discuss, for a moment, a few contemporary realities before we finally return our attention to the trends previously mentioned with regard to HHC.
Pericolonialism
Some have argued that we are in a postcolonial era. I would like to offer an alternative expression. My wife is teaching me many things as we journey through this stage of life together; and as I journey with her, more specifically. I was aware of menopause and post-menopause, but my wife is educating me on a stage known as perimenopause. This stage is immediately prior to menopause. A vital point is that perimenopause has its own set of symptoms and characteristics. Many of them are connected to symptoms of a menstrual cycle, but some are unique to this stage while tied to the cycle. Perimenopause does not officially cease until a woman has gone 12 months without a cycle. Postmenopause, then, refers to the stage after cycles have ceased. Some physicians would add that the person’s normal physiological responses to their cycle must have ceased as well.
I submit that we are not in a postcolonial world. Still today, the rhythms and cycles of systemic oppression, national violence, dehumanization of groups of peoples, and the taking of land and labor continue with great force and regularity. I suggest that while the most visible and widespread colonial activity has ceased, we are not postcolonial. Yes, the traditional colonial powers have ceded most of their colonies, but the embodied trauma and continuation of colonial ways of governing and being have not ceased. Perhaps we are pericolonial. We are still dealing with the global existential realities of colonialism. Sudan, Ukraine, Gaza, the US border, the list goes on. We are still experiencing colonial patterns of land grabbing by force, genocide, and brutality in the name of a superior group who claims ownership of land they did not create nor originally inhabit. Pericolonial, no doubt. Until we have gone through a generation where the stubborn demon of colonialism has been exorcised to the point the rhythms and remnants are powerless, we cannot (in good conscious and full meaning) call our era postcolonial. Some may argue that neocolonialism, as a term, captures our era. I do not think we are seeing a new manifestation of colonialism. I see this period as the time between colonialism and postcolonialism that has similar and new characteristics and symptoms; but the root is the same. I offer pericolonial as more than just an anecdotal analogy. Rather, I hope to spur deep reflection on whether colonialism has sufficiently ended so that we may examine it in totality from the rearview mirror.
Youth decline
Within this pericolonial dispensation we are seeing, nonetheless, serious paradigmatic shifts. Here in the US we are seeing a distinct decline in young adult engagement in church and mission. Some of the research by the Pew Research Center (Mohamed et al., 2021), the Pannell Center, and Jacqueline Darby’s Black Millennials: Identity, Ambition, and Activism (2020), demonstrate several factors for disengagement specifically within the context of African American millennials. Although Black American Christians are still more active than the overall US population, many young adults in the demographic are looking for churches that are inspiring and influential, and that take justice seriously. Not to be overlooked is that younger Black Christians are also, statistically, more open to alternative views on gender and human sexuality and find their institutions are not. The decline being documented among our younger generations has much to do with them seeing older institutions as out of touch and harmful. Data does suggest, however, that African immigrants in the US are more supportive of the traditional churches and institutions.
Amidst the decline in particular demographics and in particular geographic areas (mostly in the West), we must acknowledge that Pentecostalism is growing globally. We must also acknowledge, however, that Pentecostalism in the past has not done a sufficient job of addressing justice and human dignity. In the US the racialized motives of the Assemblies of God departing from the Church of God in Christ, and the exclusionary creation of the Pentecostal Fellowship of North America, were not nationally addressed by the bodies until the Memphis Miracle in 1994. Even outside of the US some of the pneumatological focus and eschatological escapism embedded in much of Pentecostalism’s theology appears globally. Pew research (Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life, 2006) on Pentecostalism in South Africa during apartheid revealed that many White Pentecostals supported apartheid, and many Black Pentecostals were generally apathetic in regard to political engagement. In West Africa and Central America, Bryant Myers (2015) notes the shift in Pentecostalism in the 1980s and 1990s that many have labeled Neo-Pentecostalism. This third movement of Pentecostalism is marked by certain distinctives that separate it from the orthodoxy and orthopraxy of its predecessor. One of the biggest distinctives is a commitment to social ministries. In short, previous iterations of Pentecostalism had not been widely concerned about issues of justice and providing services; much of that was seen as political, social, and a-biblical.
Summarily, there is a marked decline in the engagement of younger generations in our churches and denominations. Churches and mission have been previously seen as out of touch. Even in this pericolonial, or postcolonial if you insist, moment many young adults do not see the church as responding to the felt needs of their communities. Which, for me, is where the trends in HHC can be a fruitful source.
Trends
The trends mentioned earlier in this paper demonstrate that HHC has a proven track record of responding to the very things young adults are reporting as missing from the church. Todd Boyd (2002) and others have written about how HHC, in the late 1970s and into the 1990s, took over the prophetic mantle in the African American community. As a result of the migratory movement of ethnic groups in the nation, financial systems of oppression, and civic systems of restrictions, churches and members in the African American community began to move and, post-civil rights era, spoke less about the lived realities of Black Americans in cities. In the wake of that silence, HHC spoke up. Hip Hop centered the marginalized experience, made room for women, and had a regular rhythm of raising up socially conscious voices–no matter the cost.
HHC met a need for inner city youth. So much so that for some it was a religion; a savior. It offered visibility and voice to many who felt invisible and muted. It may not have immediately changed circumstances, but it validated humanity for many. This is part of the global appeal of HHC. Hip Hop can be found on every continent and in nearly every nation. It resonates with those who, as Howard Thurman would say, have their backs against the wall.
I argue that we need mission that makes space for the voices and leadership of women. Even the discomfort many readers experienced going through the section on perimenopause is indicative of the male normative expectations of academic models. God forbid that a process natural for, centered in, and important to women be the analogous center of missiological discussion. I also argue that we need to speak to and respond to social realities of the day. Whether they be issues of human sexuality or trafficking. Last, I would argue that we need to hear the experiences of those on the margins.
Conclusion
I offer HHC–specifically the concepts and trends set forth in this paper–not as a novelty, but as a deep consideration. Colonialism is not in the rear view; or at least not as far in the rear view as we may suppose. Numerous lived experiences today require a robust examination of what the good news of Jesus Christ may say to them in ways and in rhythms that are meaningful to them. HHC provides scaffolding for addressing painful realities of oppression and marginalization in complicated spaces and in complex systems. HHC reminds us to center the voices of young adults and allow them to participate in mission via poiesis–sampling and remixing. HHC comes preloaded with impulses to hear the voices of women, to speak to social realities, and to share experiences of marginalization.
Perhaps the words of a young man in Gaza named MC Abdul, can say it better:
They wanna occupy this land. Won’t let ‘em occupy my mind.
I stay occupied inside, as I write about my life.
Because my only mission is to make people listen.
Footnotes
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
