Some People Hold You Down, And Some People Hold You Down

Reporting to you live from the… Murder capital, where we murder for capital. A quote by Chicago’s own Kanye West prophetically utters those words that not only echo through the airwaves but the blood-filled streets of Chicago. Unfortunately, many young and talented rappers from Chicago have lost their lives due to senseless gun and gang-related violence. I came from that and unfortunately, I’m a product of that to a certain degree. Some of the hip-hop artists and rappers who’ve died from gun violence in Chicago include OTF Nunu, L’A Capone, Lil Jeff, CantGetRight, Lil Marc, Lil Mister, Lil JoJo, Young Pappy, Blood Money aka Big Glo, Brick, FBG Duck and most recently King Von.

This whole thing that we have going on right now really hits home for me. While I understand that these events have put a spotlight on this culture and city that I love so much, it literally hurts my heart to see another young man not fulfill his purpose in life. The climate in my city while being on the brink of the temperature dropping also coincides with the state of our minds, and the conditions of the hearts of the people whom I share this city with. Cold. In the midst of us deciding and arguing over our next president of the United States, I feel that there is a more serious matter at hand that resonates more and will impact legacies way further than the presidency. My city has become accustomed to murder. Gangster personas and pimp reflections are the narrative that is seemingly weaving their way into the DNA of The Chi. My heart goes out to those families that were expecting to celebrate life, the fruit of their labor, and the spirit of thanksgiving only to lose loved ones to senseless violence.

Many of these occurrences come from drill rap artists in places where young men and women fight for an invisible piece of the pie located in an area that they don’t even own. It is not my intention to respond as an angry and bitter middle-aged hip-hop artist and enthusiast, but from afar it feels like I’m watching a strung-out family member assuring me that they’re ok, but it’s obvious they are not. There is definitely a deficiency in the family structure department of our society, and we continue to see the repercussions of that. It is an outcome that I and many of my fellow Chicagoans have become familiar with. As we cope with the unfortunate death of Dayvon Bennett, I continue to grow weary of being optimistic that things will eventually change. I mean how do you hope for the best in the worst of times when times continue to get worse? As I look for inspiration daily, I can’t help but see the constant detour from destinies and dreams deferred. Many of these young people overcome extremely difficult and challenging circumstances only to never take the escape route and swallow their pride for the sake of provision. While we can go back and forth to make sense of why this is going on, whether it’s the environment, upbringing, or culture, it’s starting to become more and more apparent that the focus of our society is all wrong. While many of these unfortunate casualties will only be noticed for a New York minute, the effect will continue to defecate on the so-called American dream of my peers and predecessors. There’s a saying that says, “show me your friends and I’ll show you your future”, and sadly we’re seeing the result of that. This revelation continues to be pertinent today.

Most of these misfortunate events have been accredited to relationships and affiliations. The blatant disrespectful threats and prideful retaliations are not only being displayed violently and verbally via social media outlets but it being instigated through links of allegiance. This generation is emotionally malnourished, and they feed that hunger and appetite with destruction. We have somehow upgraded from having a crabs-in-the-barrel-mentality to kill or be killed philosophy. Rappers nowadays boast about how their crews hold them down and have a love for them. Confidants claim loyalty only to end up being selfish and greedy as we watch these journeys play out. I witnessed like millions of others how following King Von’s untimely death, those who claimed to be his friends robbed his home of his most prized possessions for the world to see. It raised a spiritual self-check in me. If I died in a spiritual sense, would my people do me the same way? Some of the biggest names in rap confess in their music how relationships and friendships change when one emerges from the ruins of poverty and dysfunction. This leads me to my reasoning for a response. While I cannot change what has happened, what can I personally learn and apply to my own life? What lesson can I learn from these instances that plague my community and generation? My takeaway is that I have to be mindful of whom I allow taking this journey with me. What vibes do my antennas pick up to those who confess loyalty? Are my commitments to chosen allies beneficial in both parts?  Lessons Not Learned in Blood Are Soon Forgotten. The Lessons from Which We Have Not Learned, we are Destined to Repeat. So ask yourself, are people holding me down, or are people holding me down?

1 Corinthians 15:33-34 The Message

30-33 And why do you think I keep risking my neck in this dangerous work? I look death in the face practically every day I live. Do you think I’d do this if I wasn’t convinced of your resurrection and mine as guaranteed by the resurrected Messiah Jesus? Do you think I was just trying to act heroic when I fought the wild beasts at Ephesus, hoping it wouldn’t be the end of me? Not on your life! It’s resurrection, resurrection, always resurrection, that undergirds what I do and say, the way I live. If there’s no resurrection, “We eat, we drink, the next day we die,” and that’s all there is to it. But don’t fool yourselves. Don’t let yourselves be poisoned by this anti-resurrection loose talk. “Bad company ruins good manners.”

Someone is out there holding their breath waiting for you to fail. Make sure they suffocate!