Cole raps about his weakness when it comes to love. Many times in hip-hop culture, manhood is reduced to a mountain of sexual exploits and the thought of women being expendable. Cole’s struggle, like the struggle of many rappers, is tied to his tainted view of masculinity. He speaks on men being raised by their mothers and hurting sisters because of a poisoned self-image. He pleads for men to heal from these wounds. Not to mention unquestionably destructive to women in their proximity. “Too many niggas in cycle of jail Spending they birthdays inside of a cell We coming from a long bloodline of trauma We raised by our mamas, Lord, we gotta heal We hurting our sisters, the babies as well We killing our brothers, they poisoned the well Distorted self-image, we set up to fail I’ma make sure that the real gon’ prevail”Īs Cole expresses in these lines, there is an undeniable connection between the absence of fathers, emotional trauma and men suppressing that trauma in ways that may be destructive to themselves and their communities. Look no further than his Grammy-nominated 2019 single Middle Child for an example of this. Nevertheless, he uses music as a tool to inform and hopefully inspire change and doesn’t seem to take his platform for granted. Even with a fair amount of chaotic toxicity baked into this consciousness I mean, he’s still human. One of the things I respect most about Cole is his commitment to expressing a message. From the war on drugs to generational wealth and international conflict. In a relatable way, Cole frequently addresses issues that affect the black community in his music. His openness is a tool that helps him connect with the masses. Sharing their emotional bruises for the world to see while simultaneously acting as an ointment for the healing of others.Ĭole might have shifted focus away from mainstream singles but he’s retained the same commercial success while continuing to deeply resonate with his fans. This is a heavy weight to carry for someone admittedly broken, in part, by their past. What’s ironic about this, is that the rappers themselves are unfairly labeled as role models and thrust into a position to speak to and for young men with arduous circumstances about them.
Reflections on their father’s presence (and lack thereof) or the proposition of their own fatherhood understandably evokes great emotion.
Tracks about fathers tend to show us rappers’ most vulnerable and sensitive sides. For better or worse, the matter of fatherhood has always been a fixture in hip-hop. Like 2 Pac, J Cole and Jay-Z – many rappers have shared their stories.
Later, his music explored how the fractured relationship with his father may have compromised his ability to raise a child by planting seeds of doubt about the rapper’s capacity to truly love. With seemingly apparent enmity, HOV frequently mentioned his father in verses during the early parts of his catalog. “He passed away and I didn’t cry, cause my anger wouldn’t let me feel for a stranger.” Likewise for Jay-Z, who on “Hova Song” shares the absence of his father as well: “Retrospect, ain’t been the same since I lost my dad/He still alive, but still f*** you don’t cross my path.” Jay-Z has been open about the love for his children, his struggles with fatherhood and the challenging relationship with his own father. Proof of this theory can also be found in iconic lines from emcees like 2 Pacs in “Dear Mama.” “No love for my daddy ’cause the coward wasn’t there,” raps Pac. Frustration boils over in facing an everyday reality pivotal figures weren’t there to help navigate the web of social complexities that exist for life as a black man. Rappers frequently spew malice-filled bars as a displaced mode of expression. The absence of male influence and subsequent chain of events breed toxic hyper-masculinity in the form of destructive behavior and rhetoric. Cole and Sonic Beats off his critically acclaimed album Forest Hills Drive. A theme he addresses on his multi-platinum single “No Role Modelz,” produced by J. Jermaine’s words regrettably reflect a recurring theme in urban America and hip-hop. I reflected on my younger days When it was just me and my brother and my mother played Father, ’cause no other man bothered Not even my biological, it never seemed logical But I accepted it ’cause I ain’t know no better Thought I was brighter than a Polo sweater No pops was like Martin with no Coretta So many things you could have told me And saved me the trouble of lettin’ my mistakes show me I feel like you barely know me And that’s a shame ’cause our last name is the same That blood type flowin’ through our veins is the same
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