I have two more counter-storytelling exercises that I like, and they're a bit of a deeper dive than those in part I of this series.
I often introduce my students to the Black Panther Party at some point in my rap classes. Tupac's mother and other family members were active members of the party, and its influence looms large in the lives of other artists as well. One of Tupac's first songs, released before 2pacalypse Now, was called "Panther Power." Typically, we watch these two clips (clip 1 and clip 2) from Eyes on the Prize. In other classes, I've shown Stanley Nelson's Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution or had them read Robyn Spencer's The Revolution has Come. I ask them to complete the following sentence: "Although J. Edgar Hoover, the director of the FBI at the time, called the Black Panthers 'the single greatest threat to the internal security of our nation,' the Panthers were really..."
Another challenging counter-storytelling activity involves hip-hop's own origin story. Typically, the story goes something like this: hip-hop started in the South Bronx in the 1970s as a combination of graffiti, breakdancing, MCing, and DJing. Some discussion of Kool Herc, Grandmaster Flash, and Afrika Bambaataa usually follows before moving on to "Rapper's Delight" and the Sugar Hill Gang. But what are some ways we can challenge this narrative? Joe Schloss examines the origins of breakdancing in some depth, suggesting that there was similar dancing going on elsewhere at the time. Before TAKI 183 in New York, Cornbread and Cool Earl were writing graffiti in Philadelphia. What about Fatback's "King Tim III," which was released before "Rapper's Delight?" Jennifer Lynn Stoever writes about the important role that women played in the early days of hip-hop, and Juan Flores and others were writing about the erasure of Latino contributions to hip-hop as early as the 1990s. What would a revised history of hip-hop's origins look like, given what we now know?
Rap music also has a habit of telling its own story: listen to the stories that unfold in the "Bridge Wars," which involved MC Shan and KRS-One, or Common's "I Used to Love H.E.R.," Cypress Hill's "Kronologik," and more. What motivations to these artists have for documenting their own histories?
In the next post, I'll move on to the second part of Kishimoto's approach to pedagogy, creating an anti-racist teaching environment.
I often introduce my students to the Black Panther Party at some point in my rap classes. Tupac's mother and other family members were active members of the party, and its influence looms large in the lives of other artists as well. One of Tupac's first songs, released before 2pacalypse Now, was called "Panther Power." Typically, we watch these two clips (clip 1 and clip 2) from Eyes on the Prize. In other classes, I've shown Stanley Nelson's Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution or had them read Robyn Spencer's The Revolution has Come. I ask them to complete the following sentence: "Although J. Edgar Hoover, the director of the FBI at the time, called the Black Panthers 'the single greatest threat to the internal security of our nation,' the Panthers were really..."
Another challenging counter-storytelling activity involves hip-hop's own origin story. Typically, the story goes something like this: hip-hop started in the South Bronx in the 1970s as a combination of graffiti, breakdancing, MCing, and DJing. Some discussion of Kool Herc, Grandmaster Flash, and Afrika Bambaataa usually follows before moving on to "Rapper's Delight" and the Sugar Hill Gang. But what are some ways we can challenge this narrative? Joe Schloss examines the origins of breakdancing in some depth, suggesting that there was similar dancing going on elsewhere at the time. Before TAKI 183 in New York, Cornbread and Cool Earl were writing graffiti in Philadelphia. What about Fatback's "King Tim III," which was released before "Rapper's Delight?" Jennifer Lynn Stoever writes about the important role that women played in the early days of hip-hop, and Juan Flores and others were writing about the erasure of Latino contributions to hip-hop as early as the 1990s. What would a revised history of hip-hop's origins look like, given what we now know?
Rap music also has a habit of telling its own story: listen to the stories that unfold in the "Bridge Wars," which involved MC Shan and KRS-One, or Common's "I Used to Love H.E.R.," Cypress Hill's "Kronologik," and more. What motivations to these artists have for documenting their own histories?
In the next post, I'll move on to the second part of Kishimoto's approach to pedagogy, creating an anti-racist teaching environment.