american political poetry in the 21st century - STIBA Malang

CONTESTATORY URBAN AGENCY 159
agency—notably the Whitmanian tradition, here closely allied with
the tradition of west African griots—Lif departs from J-Live in his use
of an authoritative, confrontational figure of voice. If J-Live is careful
to say 9/11 was tragic, Lif—as Amiri Baraka (LeRoi Jones) once
wrote in “Black Art”—writes “poems / like fists” 2 that make neither
qualification or concession. In the song, Lif works against an artificially
constructed consensus that prohibits dissent. Like J-Live, he
critiques American capitalism, but more venomously. Lif claims that
the role of the current administration is to increase the rich’s wealth
and to protect American monetary interests—“their only function is
to keep the funny money where it’s at.” 3 After a history lesson on U.S.
interests in Afghanistan, Lif questions the U.S. intervention: “Bush
disguises bloodlust as patriotism.” This base substitution “demonizes
Afghanis / so Americans cheer when we kill their innocent families.”
The brutal, unapologetic imagery reaches a denouement in a recontextualization
of 9/11: “You can wave that piece of shit flag if you
dare / but they killed us because we’ve been killing them for years.”
Here Lif seeks to undermine the flag, represented following 9/11 as
a symbol of American unity and freedom. The flag, for him, is not a
symbol of innocence. Instead, it shrouds killings and justifies further
killings. Unlike J-Live’s lamentations for the 9/11 dead, Lif’s lyrics
contest any declaration of American innocence. He attempts to reveal
the duplicity of American imperial identity and to attend to socioeconomic
conditions in Muslim countries partially created and sustained
by American foreign policy.
In “Home of the Brave,” Lif assumes a voice common in hip-hop,
especially in the politically conscious late 1980s and early 1990s.
First, he references black historical figures and compares himself to
them, rapping that he has the “mind of Mandela and the heart of Rosa
Parks.” After establishing this activist revolutionary link, he moves to
an agenda to dispel illusion. When he raps “here’s what your history
books won’t show / you’re a dead man for fucking with American
dough,” he engages an emceeing tradition that flows through Chuck D,
KRS-One, Paris, X-Clan, Poor Righteous Teachers, dead prez, Talib
Kweli, and others. A substantial part of hip-hop’s contestatory urban
agency is its truth-teller function. Many rappers feel charged with the
role of liberating listeners from lies and illusions perpetrated by the
government, corporations, the military–industrial complex, public
school curricula, and the police. They redress historical inaccuracies
that slight black achievement and educational imbalances that maintain
racial inequalities and the “official story.” Part of this technique is
an occasional indulgence in conspiracy theories, many of which are