Some of the post-Grammy conversations suggested that Macklemore didn’t really belong in the rap category but was more suited to the pop realm. Most conversations about who “belongs” in rap are rooted in race, and this one is no exception. In fact, Macklemore himself has explored his role in the genre in the song “White Privilege” (the first one—we’ll get to the second one in due course!):
I see so many people lost who really try to pretend
But am I just another white boy who has caught on to the trend
When I take a step to the mic is Hip-Hop closer to the end?
'Cause when I go to shows the majority have white skin
[…]
Where's my place in a music that's been taken by my race
Cultural appropriated by the white face and we don't want to admit that this is existing
So scared to acknowledge the benefits of our white privilege
White privilege is akin to whiteness as property, which I’ve written about in a previous post; in short, Macklemore has the property of whiteness, and it is valuable. He has been able to move through hip-hop culture—and, to bring hip-hop culture to a wider (read: white) audience—in ways that most rap artists cannot. This can also lead to the kinds of problems that the Grammy Awards laid bare: see Drake’s comments that I quoted in the first post in this series. Even though Macklemore benefits greatly from his whiteness, it was working against him in his quest to be viewed as a legitimate rapper—in the hip-hop economy, his whiteness was of little value—and he needed to find a way to address this.
Proximity to whiteness is valuable to those who may not be phenotypically white. Proximity can be the result of colorism (i.e., favoring light-skinned actors or models), actions (i.e., conservative politics), or some other circumstances. The closer one is able to get to whiteness, the more likely they are to be included—they are afforded the property of whiteness and all that comes with it. Or, to frame it the other way, the closer one is able to get to whiteness, the less likely they are to be excluded. I wrote a bit about Young Jeezy and proximity to whiteness in my JPMS article from last year.
Loren Kajikawa’s book looks at the way rap music has “sounded” race throughout its history. In the final chapter, Kajikawa explores how Eminem had to negotiate whiteness in order to fit into hip-hop culture, which is predominantly a black art form. Kajikawa refers to Mickey Hess’ notions of imitation, immersion, and inversion. Vanilla Ice is the paradigmatic example of a rapper who used the imitative strategy: it is rarely successful. Rappers who immerse themselves in the culture are far more likely to be successful: examples include the Beastie Boys, Eminem, Machine Gun Kelly, and others. These artists have studied hip-hop, respect the culture, are true to themselves and their origins, and often engage in anti-racist action. Kajikawa writes that in order for Eminem to succeed, he and his producers needed “to cultivate a musical strategy that would be capable of transforming his whiteness from a liability into an asset (125).” To do so, Eminem used what Hess calls “inversion”: “Parodying common understandings of whiteness, Eminem advanced a white identity both at ease with black culture and humble before it.” Kajikawa continues, noting that Eminem successfully integrates aspects of class struggle into his persona as well, “allowing him to cast himself as the ultimate underdog (125).”
I would contend that Macklemore is immersed in the culture: he clearly knows his history—check out “The Town” from 2009, which surveys the history of hip-hop in Seattle—and really is a pretty skilled rapper. In terms of inversion, he calls attention to his whiteness in a very different way than does Eminem. Macklemore’s understanding of his whiteness is different from Eminem’s in two significant ways: first, Eminem preceded Macklemore, and it would be anathema for Macklemore to imitate Em. Second, Macklemore’s ideas about whiteness come from a different class perspective—a very middle-class, “progressive” view of race (and whiteness) that is common in the Pacific Northwest (and no doubt the result of his time at Evergreen State College). It’s the kind of conversations about race that Robin DiAngelo writes about in her book White Fragility.
Macklemore openly acknowledges his white privilege, but seems much less “at ease” or “humble” than does Eminem, and I think this insecurity leads to many of the more performative aspects of his identity: to revisit my earlier aphorism, Macklemore has made a career out of apologizing for being Macklemore.