A Reflection on Boyz n the Hood

I had the opportunity to write a reflection on John Singleton’s cinematic masterpiece, Boyz n the Hood, last year in a Masters course in Urban Education. In his honor, I would like to share it with you.

So many thoughts come to mind as I think about the movie Boyz n the Hood directed by John Singleton (1991). This is such an important movie on so many levels. One of the most influential Hip-Hop albums of the past decade, good kid, m.A.A.d. city by Kendrick Lamar (2012), basically retells the movie’s story in musical form, with Kendrick going as far as to say, “I’m like Tre, that’s Cuba Gooding,” on the album’s tenth track. Its lasting cultural impact can be attributed to the authenticity with which Singleton conveyed real issues affecting many poor and oppressed communities in the United States and around the world. His efforts resulted in him becoming the first African American director, and youngest person, to be nominated for the Academy Award for Best Director. As I watched the movie back, I could not help but feel like Ice Cube should have also received an Oscar nod for his portrayal of Doughboy. This movie would launch his film career, and inspire him to co-write Friday, another immensely important film. I remember reading in an interview years ago, that Cube’s motivation to write Friday came from a desire to show another side of the hood, more light-hearted and comedic than the portrayal in Boyz n the Hood. While Friday takes a more comedic approach, there is still a strong theme regarding the lasting effects of gun violence on poor and oppressed communities, as well as the powerful influence of fatherhood.

Doughboy’s character, Darrin Baker, is a tragic one. It is hard not to tear up as he brings his brother Ricky’s body into his mother’s home, after Ricky is shot and killed. In the midst of chaos, Darrin tries to console his mother and get Ricky’s son out of the room so he does not see the dead body. But this show of concern is only met with a projection of blame by his mother, who never loved him the way she loved Ricky. Neighborhood boys in the movie claim that this is because Ricky and Darrin have different fathers. The tears again begin to form as Doughboy reflects on his brother’s death the next morning, and as he then goes on to say that he knows his mother does not love him. Despite the vengeance he took on his brother’s killers the previous night, it is impossible not to feel empathy for Darrin in this moment, as his statement recalls the moment when we met him at the beginning of the movie and his mother was telling him that he is nothing and he will never be nothing. This is juxtaposed with the previous scene of Furious Styles (Laurence Fishburne) telling his son Tre (Desi Arnez Hines II/Cuba Gooding Jr.) that he is a prince, and teaching him about responsibility. As an adult, Darrin leaves Tre’s stoop, and pours out liquor for his fallen brother; he then fades into nothing, just as his mother prophesied when he was a child, a boy forgotten by a society that, “... don't know, don't show, or don't care about what's going on in the hood.”

But the nuance with which Singleton and Cube portray Doughboy shows that he is so much more than nothing. Doughboy is interested in reading, philosophy, and religion. Doughboy recognizes the injustice in national news outlets covering instances of violence in other countries, and ignoring the violence that occurs in underprivileged neighborhoods in the United States. An injustice that left his brother nameless the day after he was murdered. Doughboy is a ferocious protector of his brother, despite the inequity his mother displays towards him. This protective nature is probably what gets him killed, as the film implies before it ends, a victim of the same retaliation with which Doughboy acted after his brother was killed. It is a miraculous cinematic feat that Singleton and Cube pull off, that as the credits start to roll you cannot help but cry for Darrin, after only minutes earlier seeing him brutally kill the three men who killed his brother. But, as Doughboy notes after leaving prison earlier in the film, he is not a criminal. He is a victim of circumstance, a victim of societal inequity, of his mother’s inequity, of his father’s absence.

As I listened to Doughboy reflecting with Tre on the stoop, and very matter-of-factly stating that everyone has to die, and he might be the one to get shot next, I thought about a specific girl in my class last year. She lost her older brother to gun violence the year before, when he was shot just a couple blocks away from the school. He was a student at the school at the time. She also lost her father to gun violence last year. He was my age; shot and killed at a party. I think of her often. I think about what it must be like to be thirteen years old, and, based on life experiences, to think that your life could be over very soon. People have difficulty dealing with midlife crises in their forties; imagine being in you teens with legitimate reason to believe that you may be at or past the midway point in your life. This past fall, around the one year anniversary of her brother’s death, this girl was experiencing a great deal of behavioral challenges. As we were problem-solving, a counselor suggested that it might be appropriate to place her in honors classes, and that the added academic challenge might motivate her to improve her behavior. The counselor and assistant principal had tried to put her into honors classes last year, but her mother denied her movement. This year they thought they would be able to convince her mom that it was a beneficial move for her daughter. We were able to successfully move her to honors classes, which has resulted in miraculous improvements. Not only is she excelling academically, but her behavior has completely turned around and she is forming more positive and productive friendships. My heart breaks for her often, though I do not let her see this. She has built up an exterior much like Doughboy’s, and does not respond well to implications that she is not strong and capable of handling herself. I am so excited that we have been able to present her with appropriately challenging academic tasks, which are helping to boost her skills and her esteem. As often as possible, I try to let her know how proud I am of her. I do not want her to fade away like Doughboy does at the end of Boyz n the Hood. On the contrary, she has already left a lasting impact on me, and I hope I can facilitate her achievement to make a lasting impact on a society which, 27 years after the release of Boyz n the Hood, still, “... don't know, don't show, or don't care about what's going on in the hood.”

This student’s story, and Doughboy’s story, show why it is imperative to address the societal inequity which exists in our nation’s education system. Tre succeeded in spite of a subpar schooling experience, due to the resolve and presence of his parents. But we cannot look to the exceptional instances of student success and say, “Look; it’s possible.” We must look at the Doughboys; at the students who do not have fathers like Furious; at the students who do not defy the odds. It is not fair to ask these students to “pull themselves up.” Rather, we have to improve the odds for them. What did the world lose when it lost Doughboy, long before his implied death, and more accurately when it labeled a child a criminal and arrested him as a ten year-old? What did the world lose when it lost his brother Ricky? What would the world lose if we lost the young girl in my class? What did the world lose when we lost her brother and her father? We cannot shy away from these questions, rather we must use them as purpose for confronting the inequitable situations that have been established. We must create an education system which facilitates promising futures for the Tres and the Doughboys of the world.

The Story of Us: Jordan Peele's New Movie is an Allegory for Capitalism in the United States

“The ground is gonna open up and swallow the evil. That’s how I see it, my word is bond... and the ground is the symbol for the poor people; the poor people is gonna open up this whole world and swallow up the rich people.”

**Major Spoliers for Us to follow.

The above analogy by Tupac Shakur features in the track “Mortal Man,” on Kendrick Lamar’s album To Pimp a Butterfly. This analogy became a key frame of reference to help me understand Jordan Peele's critique of the social order presented in Us.

Us is an allegory for capitalism in the United States. The amusement park setting is critical. It represents diversion; the diversion that distracts the middle classes from the truth, by engaging them in frivolous spending and addiction to vices. Underneath the amusement park live the lower classes, who are driven insane by poverty and deprivation, kept hidden, in close proximity, from the middle classes. When the tethered girls, Adelaide and Red, first come into contact, the impoverished girl sees an opportunity to leave the tunnel for a better life, but to do that, she has to put the other girl in her place. The message in this is that "There is no innocence in capitalism." For some to enjoy the benefits of a capitalist system, others must be oppressed and exploited by it.

The middle class girl, now living in the tunnels, knows the life she is missing and devises a plan to get it back. Inspired by the Hands Across America commercial, she knows the only way she can do that is through uniting the lower classes. The red they wear is a symbol for communism, or other leftist systems such as socialism, in which the lower classes gain access to economic power through unification.

The lower class girl living above ground grows fearful when her family returns to the beach, because she is aware of the oppressed people living below the amusement park. She is aware that they could take action against the people living above ground, just as she did as a child. But she does not believe that there is an alternative to the current arrangement. For her to live the life she has above ground, someone must take her place living below ground. This is not her fault, but rather the social order put in place by those who created the tethered. Those who created the tethered represent the elite in society, who turn the lower and middle classes against each other.

When the people living below ground attack, it represents a revolution by the lower classes. The lower class girl living above ground survives because of her knowledge of the social order that she gained growing up in poverty. She genuinely loves her family, and wants to keep living the life she is living, but due to the social order, she must kill her tethered self, because only one of them can survive in the system the elite created. Peele's use of doppelgangers helps us understand that those who are oppressed in a capitalist system deserve equity. They are not just similar to us, they are us. No one benefits from an inequitable distribution of resources in society. To maintain the status quo people must ignore injustice or actively engage in violent oppression. To challenge the status quo people must engage in violent revolution. While people believe that capitalism is a system of freedom, both the middle class and lower class are subjects of control in the system created by the elite, who will abandon both classes when systems cease to benefit them. Us shines light on the precarious nature of the current economic situation in the United States.

Author's notes:

I am growing to love this movie more and more, as I continue to think about it and talk about it. I credit my good friend Akeem for drawing the comparison between the movie and the Tupac analogy, which ultimately helped me construct my current understanding of the film. Additionally, I credit conversations with my friend, Kay, and my wife, Akanksha, for providing the platform to think about this film more deeply. This is a dense film that I have many more thoughts on. What do you think of my analysis? What are your thoughts on the movie? Let's talk more in the comments!

Why Jay-Z Matters: A 4:44 Review & Career Reflection

4:44:

The Blueprint 4.

Vol 4… A New Life for S. Carter.

Jay-Z’s 4th classic.

Not a return to form, but an evolution. Not an album to prove he's still got it, but an album to reveal new aspects of one of the greatest American literary figures of the last three decades. Jay-Z’s third act magnum opus. 21+ years in the game have brought S. Carter full circle to reveal the fully formed, conscious revolutionary that has woven himself through Jay-Z’s lyrics since he first assertively noted, “All us Blacks got is sports and entertainment, until we even…” on “Can’t Knock the Hustle,” the very first track on Jay’s debut classic.

Those who didn't "just skim through it” always understood the ends that Jay used to justify the means. If you were listening closely, you knew that Jay “[did] this for the culture.” He expertly navigated a music industry that might not have elevated a rapper who “rhyme[d] like Common Sense” to a two-decade-and-running stay in the spotlight, all the while lacing his music with subtle hints of social awareness, possessing an acute understanding that, no matter how arrogant it sounded, his “presence [was] a gift.” From the beginning, the master architect was crafting "The Blueprint." Jay “show[ed] [us] how to do this, son.” How to own your circumstances, and make them work for you. How to never shy away from who you are. How to play the game of life with the hand that you were dealt, when "the win ain't in the bag." How to do it all your way, complete with multiple Frank Sinatra references for emphasis.

Jay-Z knew that many people never saw the “Che Guevara” behind the “bling,” but he never seemed overly concerned with it. He never submitted to expectations, instead using a combination of pop culture and literary acumen to seemingly bend the zeitgeist at will, throughout a career that has spanned multiple eras of Hip-Hop. In remaining at the pinnacle of one of the most influential art forms of his time, Shawn Carter provided a shining example of “Black Excellence;” a kid from the ghetto “putting up Will Smith numbers;” the ultimate role model of self-empowerment for anyone from abject circumstances, but most importantly, for Black youth in America.

And he was already all of those things well before 4:44, as early in his career as The Black Album. If that really had been his swan song, his career up to that point would have been enough. He had already racked up three unanimous classics, at distinctly different moments in his “Life and Times.” He had already defined Hip-Hop and it's evolution; but he wasn't finished. Post-The Black Album, Jay would deliver another arguable classic in American Gangster, a very timely and underrated album in The Blueprint 3, which attempted to define the Black experience as America entered the era of its first Black president, and is probably more sonically and stylistically innovative than it gets credit for, and Watch the Throne, an often underappreciated and misinterpreted collaboration with another arguable GOAT.

But even after all of this, there was still a “truth” he felt he owed “all the youth who fell in love with Jay-Z.” He offered “Nickels and Dimes” of this truth on Magna Carta Holy Grail. That album proved what we all knew: when Jay teams up with the group of producers that helped him define the sound of Hip-Hop at various points in his career, he can make a technically sound album that sounds like Hip-Hop is supposed to sound in the modern era. Sprinkled throughout that album were Jay’s attempts to redefine what it means to be “cool”: investing in art, being married, being a father, leaving a legacy. But the album as a whole was void of excitement, and it felt like the first time in his career that Jay was reacting to the sound of Hip-Hop, rather than attempting to redefine it. It was clear that Jay-Z had game to give and wasn't content with simply dropping American Gangster sequels for the rest of his career, but it was also clear that Jay hadn't quite found his footing in the modern Hip-Hop landscape.

This is where the brilliance of No I.D. and the one-producer model help 4:44 be the album that Magna Carta Holy Grail is not. Rather than craft a sonic backdrop that falls in line with the Hip-Hop of 2017, No I.D. has composed a soundtrack for Jay-Z’s life in 2017, built from Jay-Z’s own playlist. And thus, 4:44 is an album that only Shawn Carter could make, and No I.D.’s compositions are the canvases for Shawn to reveal his “truth.” Confiding in No I.D., Shawn Carter is finally able to soften the “armor” that is Jay-Z, and reveal to us his newest blueprint: instructions for what to do after the hustle, after survival, after triumph; instructions for how to build community and leave a legacy. In doing this, for the first time in his career, Jay sacrifices technical skill for a message. But technical skill is of little concern, as this album is an intimate conversation with the fans who have been along for the 21+ year journey. We know how Shawn Carter became the hustler. We know how Jay-Z became one of the Greatest Rappers of All-Time. Jay-Z has told those stories. What we need to hear now is how Shawn Carter becomes a husband, a father, a good son, a leader. 4:44 tells these stories. Far from a reflection on a career that is coming to an end, 4:44 is the next chapter in the career-spanning epic of Shawn Carter’s struggle against poverty and institutional oppression. This time, he sets out to defeat the persona that he created to triumph over those things, in order to be the man that he needs to be for his family and those who look up to him. All it takes is a return to that first song on Reasonable Doubt to remember that Jay’s fight has always been “for the culture,” and thus, his victory on 4:44 is for the same.

How Lucha Underground Made Me a Wrestling Fan Again

“When you stop having fun out here and stop enjoying things like you did when you were a kid, your life gets boring. I’m going to watch wrestling forever.”

— A$AP Yams; via http://www.complex.com/music/2015/01/asap-yams-obituary

I remember reading this quote when A$AP Yams, of the highly innovative and entertaining Hip-Hop collective A$AP Mob, passed away in 2015, and being disappointed in myself. It had been nearly a decade since I felt that way about professional wrestling. Professional wrestling to me had become the equivalent of what Hip-Hop was to Common when he rapped "I Used to Love H.E.R." I used to love every entrance, every match, every finisher. I used to wrestle with my brother, getting rug burns on the living room carpet. I used to make up my own personas, back stories, and moves, cutting my own promos and conducting my own locker room interviews, practicing the move sets on worn out mattresses. I remember the props I got from my classmates when I wrote and recited a poem for my freshman year poetry project titled "Get the 'F' Out," about the WWF to WWE name change. Wrestling was a pervasive aspect of the formative years of my life.

But sometime shortly after I wrote that poem, I began to lose interest. As I progressed through high school, wrestling became less exciting to me. I would still tune in occasionally to keep tabs on The Rock, or Stone Cold Steve Austin, or Rey Mysterio Jr., but it was nowhere close to the voracious consumption that characterized most of my youth. I no longer had the desire to sit down and watch a whole episode of WWE RAW or SmackDown (I don't remember ECW being easily accessible on TV at this time). The feuds and the premises for the matches began to seem petty to me and difficult to buy-in to. The promo to wrestling ratio seemed unbalanced, and I felt like wrestlers spent more time talking than fighting. I have no empirical evidence to back these feelings up, just the somewhat sudden and inexplicable loss of interest in something that had been a huge influence in my life up to that point. Ironically, this is the same time that I began to grow in my love for comic books, something also associated with perpetual youth. But the battles that played out in the comic book panels seemed so much more epic and important than what I was seeing play out in the WWE ring.

When I read the above quote by A$AP Yams, it evoked a nostalgic admiration for his perspective, but I never thought I would feel that way about wrestling again. Then, I discovered Lucha Underground, the original professional wrestling program on Robert Rodriguez's El Rey Network (a brilliant channel devoted to exploitation style action, horror, and martial arts flicks). 

Lacking a cable subscription, I did not see a full episode of the show until midway through it's second season, but when I did, I fell back in love instantly. I immediately sought out all the Lucha Underground content I could find, watching all of the Fight of the Week, Featurettes, and Weekly Highlight videos on El Rey's YouTube channel, reading the comic books, researching the wrestlers and their histories, and reading and watching breakdowns and reviews of previous episodes (my favorite of which are AfterBuzz TV's weekly reviews). I even bought my first wrestling t-shirt in about 15 years. By time Ultima Lucha Dos (Lucha Underground's season finale and biggest event) aired, I had consumed more professional wrestling content in a three month period, than at any point in my life. Not only had I fallen in love with wrestling again, I loved it in ways I never knew I could. For me, Lucha Underground was not simply capturing the feeling of professional wrestling's glory days and repackaging it. LU was pushing professional wrestling into all new territories. It did something I had never seen a professional wrestling promotion do before; it completely and unabashedly bought into its own mythos.

Lucha Underground is sports entertainment with the epic scope and feel of comic books. LU grounds its show in myth, and not reality, one-upping Vince McMahon's acknowledgement that wrestling is scripted drama. In doing this, it has found seemingly endless inspiration for stories and conflicts. Have a character that dresses up like a dragon? Promote him as an actual dragon who spits venom, breathes fire, and even transforms and flies away in backstage segments. Have a character named Aero Star? Bill him as being a time traveling astronaut from the cosmos. Have a terrifying big bad who goes by the name of Mil Muertes? Turn him into the actual embodiment of death, who presides over the promotion in Shao Kahn style fashion, establish a conflict in which this embodiment of death repeatedly faces off with Fenix, a character with the ability to reincarnate, and build to a climax where life literally defeats death by stuffing him into a casket in a "Grave Consequences" match. And honestly, this is just the tip of the iceberg. One of the promotion's greatest matches involved a character named Killshot, with a background as a Marine, fighting in a "Weapons of Mass Destruction" match, with actual military weapons and props (his opponent, Marty the Moth, even walked to the ring with a machine gun). What was even more impressive about this match is how great it was, despite these two characters really only playing supporting roles in the promotion up to this point. I could go on for days: a teleporting ghost; a ninja skeleton; a hunter from the Highlands of Guerrero Mexico; a vampire master who pulls strings from the shadowy depths of the temple (the setting of the wrestling promotion); Rey Mysterio Jr!!!!!; a hometown hero from Boyle Heights who may or may not be an actual puma (and is the actual best independent wrestler in the world: Ricochet); the baby brother of the promoter, who is a face-eating, god-embodying, serial killer kept locked in a cage until it is time for him to fight. If you've imagined it, or haven't, it probably wrestles in the Lucha Underground Temple.

Maybe more important than the diversity of these characters is the diversity of their portrayal. The Lucha Underground roster is a mix of wrestlers from Mexico's AAA promotion, former WWE and WCW competitors, Japan's Stardom promotion, and wrestlers from the independent circuit. Women fight right alongside men in matches that progress in very believable ways. The promotion even crowned its first female champion in Season 3. On top of this, the show is set in Boyle Heights, Los Angeles, while lovingly drawing inspiration from Mexican mythology. There are a variety of characters with depth and complex motivations and a wrestler and a story for everyone to relate to. Lucha Underground is providing a template for the future of sports entertainment.

But most important is the fact that the wrestling is incredible. A true hybrid of Mexican, American, Japanese, and every style in between, Lucha Underground thrills match after match. With a one hour weekly run time and a seasonal filming format, the show gives you just enough to keep you wanting more. A barrage of "Holy Shit!" moments flood the screen, with dazzling displays of technical wrestling, groundbreaking moves, and characters jumping off of and being thrown through things that were only reserved for Pay-Per-Views back when I watched wrestling as a kid. I do not believe that I have the authority or knowledge to claim that LU is better wrestling than WWE, NXT, or the independent circuit, but it does capture and maintain a death-defying pace and approach that I have never personally experienced in my wrestling viewing history. LU consistently leaves me wondering how they will top themselves next week, and then they consistently do.

By this point, hopefully I have you intrigued about what has become one of my favorite TV shows, because Lucha Underground is on the brink of something huge. Lucha Underground Seasons 1 & 2 are scheduled to begin streaming on Netflix on March 15, 2017. This gives you time to catch up on all of the action prior to the show returning to television for the second half of its 3rd season, May 31, 2017, on El Rey Network. This may be a good opportunity for you to fall in love with professional wrestling all over again too. 

Avatar: The Last Airbender Vs. The Legend of Korra: Ranking the Books

First airing in 2005, Avatar: The Last Airbender, was met with near universal acclaim and has been held up over time as a beloved animated television series. The show was commended for its diverse characters, expansive universe, and complex stories. The follow-up series, The Legend of Korra, aired in 2012, and managed to uphold the legacy of its predecessor, while pushing the franchise forward into new territory. In this article, I will countdown the 7 seasons, or books, of the two shows to establish the best and worst seasons of the Avatar Franchise.  

**Spoilers for all of Avatar: The Last Airbender and The Legend of Korra  to follow**

7. The Legend of Korra; Book 2: Spirits

My Favorite Episode: "The Beginnings, Part 1 & Part 2"; Since "The Beginnings" episodes also serve as a stand alone origin story, I will include another episode: "A New Spiritual Age."

Book 2: Spirits ranks at the bottom of all the seasons of Avatar mostly due to unrealized potential. If we're perfectly honest, it was good, but it could have been great. Spirits facilitated a massive expansion of the Avatar universe. It included two of the best episodes of the entire franchise, in "The Beginnings, Part 1 & Part 2." It introduced fan favorites such Varrick, Zhu Li, Bumi, Kya, and Eska, and reintroduced one of the most beloved Avatar characters of all-time: Iroh. Not to mention the Dark Avatar concept, a villain concept so groundbreaking for the franchise, that it made you rethink everything you knew about the Avatar universe.

Unfortunately, the Dark Avatar concept is also the point when you start to realize everything that Spirits could have been. Spirits should have ended the series. The Dark Avatar concept should have been introduced in Book 1 of The Legend of Korra. Vaatu should have influenced all of the Korra villains' attempts to bring chaos and darkness to the world, growing stronger as the Harmonic Convergence neared. Finally, after Korra faced all the lesser villains and the world was on the brink of plunging into 10,000 years of darkness and chaos, Korra should have faced UnaVaatu, restoring Balance at the end of the series. That would have provided the overall cohesion and pacing that sets Avatar: The Last Airbender (as a complete series) just a notch above The Legend of Korra (as a complete series).  

But the conception of Korra was disjointed, preventing a huge arcing story like in The Last Airbender. Korra was never supposed to be four books long. Book 1, Book 2, and the collective of Books 3 and 4 were all ordered separately, hence the disjointed stories, awkward pacing, and the greater continuity between Books 3 and 4, than between any of the other books. And we can't judge Spirits for what it could have been; we have to judge it for what it was. And what it was, was poorly paced, kind of disjointed, and a little boring. Not to mention that the protagonist went so far left in her character development that a lot of fans began to hate her. All of these things combined to form a dense fog around Spirit's flashes of brilliance.

6. Avatar: The Last Airbender; Book 1: Water

My Favorite Episode: "The Siege of the North, Part 1 & Part 2"

Book 1 of Avatar: The Last Airbender falls at number 6 entirely by default. Avatar is a franchise that got better with time, and therefore, as great as Water was, things only got better from there. Water had yet to see the introduction of great heroes, such as Toph, and great villains, such as Azula. Zuko, one of Avatar's best characters, was still very early in his character arc. The universe was also very small at this point, and the show's capacity to amaze expanded as its universe grew. But Water laid some solid foundations for the franchise. We were introduced to a cast of diverse, well-rounded characters, in an animated show with a lot of heart. Episodes like “Jet” and “The Blue Spirit,” presented a moral gray-area, setting the stage for complex conflicts in future seasons. When Aang, Katara, and Sokka reached the Northern Water Tribe in Episode 18, viewers got a glimpse of the potential for expansion in both the physical and spiritual worlds of the Avatar Universe, a potential that we would see fully manifest over the next six seasons.

5. The Legend of Korra; Book 1: Air

My Favorite Episode: “And the Winner Is…”

Book 1: Air saw the Avatar reincarnate like Michael Jordan coming back to wear the 4-5. Fans of the series were introduced to a drastically different protagonist than Aang, which ensured that The Legend of Korra would be much more than a retread of what we saw in Avatar: The Last Airbender. The shortened run (a mere 12 episodes, compared to the 20+ in each season of Avatar: The Last Airbender) resulted in a localized focus and a more cohesive, cinematic story. An engaging conflict between Benders and Equalists created meaningful tension throughout the season, leaving the viewer craving resolution at each episode’s cliffhanger. As an antagonist, Amon was terrifying, and yet, his struggle was relatable. Everything was set for Air to help Korra achieve a truly legendary status, and then Book 1 failed to bring home the hardware.

The reveal of Amon as Tarrlok’s brother Noatak, was where things started to unravel. It felt rushed, it felt shoehorned in, and it discredited the merit of Amon’s struggle, seeing as Noatak was actually a Bender. Maybe this could’ve been remedied with a longer show run, but as is, the final two episodes of Air just aren’t as satisfying as the ten episodes leading up to them. There are a few other issues with the finale as well, most notably, Korra and Mako’s kiss (the whole relationship felt unnecessary) and Korra regaining her bending abilities almost immediately after losing them, and subsequently entering the Avatar State. While it would’ve been weird to never see Korra enter the Avatar State in Book 1, especially since the production of future books was not a guarantee yet, it happened so quickly that it didn’t feel earned. Still, there’s a lot to like about Air, and its success definitely warranted the three additional seasons. If the Avatar franchise ever gets a second shot at a live action movie, I hope they make Air, as long as they can remedy the finale episodes’ shortcomings.

4. Avatar: The Last Airbender; Book 3: Fire

My Favorite Episode: “Sokka’s Master”

Fire highlighted the strength of the characters and the universe that Avatar creators Bryan Konietzko and Michael DiMartino created, because Fire is almost entirely filler, and yet it’s incredibly engaging. By the conclusion of Book 2: Earth, nearly everything that was supposed to happen, had already happened, and now viewers had to wait 21 episodes for Aang and Firelord Ozai to finally square off. Fire meandered longer than it should have, even teasing a showdown mid-season. And yet, there was so much universe to explore, and so much development for the characters to go through, that it was all worth it. Book 3 epitomizes the idea that the journey is about much more than the destination. When Aang and Ozai did finally throwdown, it was everything fans hoped it would be, and the way they drove home the ideal of teamwork, by having nearly every major character play a role, made it even more satisfying. But without everything that led up to the finale, fans would not have been as invested. The beginning of Book 3 found the series creators ahead of the game, with a season’s worth of fun to be had, and fans were lucky to be along for the roadtrip.

3. The Legend of Korra; Book 4: Balance

My Favorite Episode: “Korra Alone”

Book 4 shook up the world! When Korra and Asami held hands and walked into the Spirit World to end the series, the world was presented with one of the most powerful images yet to be shown in a mainstream animated series. The confirmation of that meaningful relationship felt like it changed everything. On top of that, it capped off a season that explored some very complex issues of governance and revolution that felt like they had a lot of real world applicability. Korra vs. Kuvira was not a simple matter of Good vs. Evil. It was an intellectual debate which culminated in a non-violent resolution, demonstrating immense growth on the part of Korra. What keeps Balance out of the top 2 spots is the fact that it was essentially an entire season of falling action. Nothing quite seemed to reach the climax that was Book 3: Change. It was great to witness the fallout of the showdown between Korra and the Red Lotus, but Kuvira’s mission just wasn’t as exciting as Zaheer’s was, and thus Balance wasn’t as exciting as Change.

2. Avatar: The Last Airbender; Book 2: Earth

My Favorite Episode: “The Chase;” I know. I know… “Zuko Alone,” but the tension that was built and sustained in “The Chase” was incredible. It still gets me when I watch it, even though I know how it ends.

Toph; Azula; Zuko’s character arc; Earth saw Avatar hit its stride, and maintain it for 20 episodes, in what is one of the best single seasons of animated television that I have ever seen. Toph provided much needed personality to Team Avatar. Azula provided a terrifying villain, that added a layer of depth to the already mature cartoon. Zuko became the most relatable character in the franchise. The Earth Kingdom was vast and provided an exciting variety to the season; from swamps, to deserts, to urban locales. The action, the tension, the gravity; everything that happened in Earth had weight and meaning. In addition to this, there were life guiding philosophies and principles present. In “The Swamp,” we learned that, “Time is an illusion, and so is death.” In “The Guru,” we saw Aang knowingly turn away from the lofty spiritual ideal of enlightenment, in order to protect someone who he cared about. Throughout this season, characters grapple with concepts such as duty, destiny, obligation, and, ultimately, empowerment.  In Book 2: Earth, Avatar became more than a children’s show and demonstrated the potential of animation to do much more than entertain.  

1. The Legend of Korra; Book 3: Change

My Favorite Episode: “Venom of the Red Lotus”

Korra had a lot to prove going into Book 3. The finale of Book 1 and the entirety of Book 2 were a mess. But Book 3 proved that Korra was fit to hang with Aang and then some. A great story, a complex central conflict, incredible action; Book 3 worked on all levels. Book 3 put the viewer in a choke hold of tension and tightened it the entire season. With the re-introduction of Airbenders and the development of the character of Zaheer, Book 3 continued to expand the universe that Book 2: Spirits had blown open. The creators became completely untethered to take the show to incredible new heights. The finale saw the death of Korra and the end of the Avatar cycle as legitimate possibilities. The battle that ensued between Korra and Zaheer rivaled that of Aang and Ozai, and had irreversible consequences that Korra and the world would have to cope with all the way through the end of the series. The game-changer that was Book 4 would not have been nearly as powerful, and The Legend of Korra would not be one of the best animated series of all-time, without the masterpiece that was Book 3.  

"Black Jesus" Save Us

Why Black Jesus is the most important thing to happen to Christianity since the Bible.

**Spoilers to follow**

The world, or at least the United States, needs Black Jesus now more than ever. The past few years have seen Hollywood completely disregard historical evidence pointing to more accurate ethnic origins of the characters in its Bible epics, instead white washing every major biblical character to hit the big screen. Son of God looked more like the Son of Oden, Noah resembled an installment in The Hobbit series, and Bruce Wayne facilitated the Exodus of the Jews from Egypt. (While not a biblical character, but in a similar vein of ethnic blasphemy, Angelina Jolie is slated to play the African queen Cleopatra, currently in development). This exclusion of minority heroes couldn’t come at a worse time, as racial tension in the United States seems to be higher than at any point since the 1960s. The murders of Trayvon Martin, Jordan Davis, Mike Brown, Eric Garner, and countless others have polarized Americans, and made many minorities feel as if simply existing makes them a threat to the rest of the country.

Cue the immaculate conception of Black Jesus, a live action sitcom from The Boondocks creator Aaron McGruder. The birth of a Black savior in the realm of American popular culture. But Slink Johnson’s portrayal of a modern day Jesus, in McGruder’s show, does more than provide us with a Black hero at a time when our country needs one the most. At a time when Hollywood is attempting to create epic biblical heroes, Black Jesus takes a very different route, and simply creates a relatable one. In doing so, Black Jesus provides us with, what might be, the most spiritually authentic depiction of Jesus Christ, since his depiction in the Bible. This Jesus doesn’t need you to come to church in a suit and a nice car, or to sing praise songs while dressed like a Hollister model, or to make your First Communion and Confirmation in a temple with stained glass windows. This Jesus doesn’t need you to protest abortion, or LGBT rights, or universal healthcare. This Jesus just wants you to be yourself and do the right thing, and hopefully, in the end, you will be a better version of yourself.

This Jesus is accessible. He doesn’t speak in Shakespearian English, or ask you to dwell on his death on the cross, or abstain from everything that brings worldly pleasure. This Jesus speaks in the dialect of the people he is trying to help. This Jesus has a sense of humor. This Jesus drinks and smokes, just like many of us do. Probably most importantly, this Jesus doesn’t demand that you be a “Christian,” in order to walk with him and gain salvation. In the entire course of the series, Black Jesus doesn’t try to convert anyone, at least not in the sense that we have come to think of conversion. This Jesus just wants to, “smoke, drink, and chill."

While the miracles that occur in the series indicate that McGruder wants us to interpret Black Jesus as the actual son of God, Black Jesus is completely human. Black Jesus has a strong sense of faith, but he is not omnipotent. Black Jesus doesn’t have all the answers; like us, he figures it out as he goes. Black Jesus breaks man’s law, but never breaks God’s law, as established in the Bible. Black Jesus works for his own benefit and the benefit of others. Black Jesus loves everyone, but some people, “only by default.” Black Jesus helps his enemy, although sometimes grudgingly.

While, on paper, this Jesus may seem to have a typical stoner philosophy, Black Jesus is anything but your typical stoner. He is guided by a strong sense of responsibility and community, along with an occasionally wavering, yet unbreakable sense of faith. Black Jesus’ relatability is bolstered by the context in which his teaching occurs. He is not battling the Roman Empire in an attempt to save the whole world. He is just trying to grow a community garden in Compton, CA. This humble goal sets the stage for strong character and community development. In the end, the community garden fails, but Jesus, and everyone around him, is a better person for having strove towards its development. Most importantly, they are all better in subtle and completely believable ways. They did not have to change who they are, they just got better at being who they are.

And that is the reason Black Jesus is such a powerful depiction of the Christian savior. Aside from the miracles that occur for the sake of entertainment, Jesus and his “disciples,” do nothing that we ourselves are not capable of. They do not forsake everything of value to them and retreat from the world. They continue to embody the traits that make them unique individuals. They don’t face life-threatening persecution in the name of religion. They face everyday problems and conflicts, and through striving to do the right thing within those conflicts, they become better people. They find a way to better their community, while working towards their own desire to “smoke, drink, and chill.” By the end of Black Jesus, McGruder convinces us that, if more people subscribed to that philosophy, the world might be a much better place.

Check out Black Jesus, streaming now on adultswim.com.

16s On Sunday Review

Back in August of 2014, I decided to challenge myself creatively with the "16s On Sunday" series. Every week I would write a 16 bar verse, and perform and record it on Sunday. This came at a time when I had finished up all the writing and most of the recording for my upcoming album, and we were working on some of the more technical aspects of preparing it for release. In the meantime, I wanted to keep my pen game tight.  The goal wasn't necessarily to gain exposure or create a super polished product, but to become better at writing, memorizing, and performing. I made the process public simply to hold myself accountable.

Over the span of 4 months I recorded eleven 16 bar verses, which became Season 1 of "16s On Sunday." While that's not exactly one a week, it was a super productive time for me, and it helped me to continue to sharpen my skills while we were finishing production on the album. The ultimate test will come when I submit my audition tape for the www.teambackpack.net cyphers, later this month. That video will serve as the Season 1 Finale, and hopefully will stand as a testament to my progress throughout the process. Before the Season 1 Finale airs, I wanted to take a look back at Season 1 and critique my work. Please join in the convo and leave comments. I appreciate all the support and feedback!

16 Bar Challenge

My favorite bars: "In the 'Age of Extinction,' I transform like Optimus/ Spit a 'Fantastic Four' when I flame on like phosphorus/" (These are bars #3 and #4).

This is where "16s On Sunday" was born. As a response to a call-out, I wrote and recorded this verse. This got a lot of love on Facebook before I posted it to YouTube, and I am grateful to everyone who checked it out and expressed support. Lyrically, I am very happy with this verse. If I have one critique, it is in the performance. I was trying to go hard in the spirit of competition, but when I look back on the video, I'm just shouting the whole time.

"Woosah, dude."

BET Hot 16 2014

My favorite bars: "Bars hit your throat like an elbow off the top ropes/ But the flow touch your soul like a Pac quote/" 

This was my submission for BET's Hot 16 2014 competition. The winner of the competition would be featured in one of the BET Award Show Cyphers. The beat is the one chosen by DJ Drama, for all contestants to rap over for the competition. Initially, I had a hard time liking this video. But I also had a hard time figuring out what specifically was wrong with it. I'm sure I was just being hyper self-conscious, due to thought of DJ Drama judging my performance (based on the number of submissions, I'm sure interns sifted through most of the videos). The more I look back on it, the more proud of it I am as a solid submission. I think the writing, energy, and performance were all solid. If I could go back, I would turn up the volume of the instrumental, to get a better mix between the vocals and the music. I also have some issues with my breath control (my breaths seemed really loud), but I think turning the instrumental up would control for some of that.

Episode 1 "Be"

My Favorite Bars: "Dopeness eminating out the speakers, y'all should soak it up/ Or spray it your hair and let your Soul Glo/ In lion skin, looking like I'm James Earl Jones, bro/ Which would make me the Mufasa of these Pridelands/"

This is the first official entry in the "16s On Sunday" series, which I decided to begin after doing the previous two videos. For the beat I went with "Be" produced by Kanye West, off of Common's classic album "Be." I picked it because it is one of my favorite intros of all-time. This entry is a little bit of a sore spot in the series for me. I love the writing here, and the bars above are some of my favorite of the entire series. But for me, the performance leaves a few things to be desired. At this point I was still having issues working out the proper volume of the instrumental, so the vocal/music mix isn't as balanced as I'd like it to be. While I love my charisma and energy, I also look a little stiff, and I think you can hear it in my delivery too, as I could've been a little more nimble on the beat. Finally, for me, the delivery of the last two bars is cringe-worthy. And why did I say, "... braaaaand new," like that? Progress is a process.

Episode 2 "Two Words"

My favorite bars: This one really needs to be experienced as a whole, but "Got me boxed-in, like I'm Happy Wok take-out/" was some nice wordplay.

This is the first of two story telling verses in Season 1. It is also without a doubt the most emotional entry in the series. While this examines the relations between citizens and the police, and I wrote this in the midst of all the coverage of the Mike Brown shooting in Ferguson, MO, I wasn't trying to draw any comparisons, or present this as any type of commentary, in regards to that incident. This is more directly a nod to the Bob Marley classic, "I Shot the Sheriff." To me, "I Shot the Sheriff," is an extremely powerful song about integrity, and abiding by a moral code (in which self-preservation is a pillar), even if that moral code is not always consistent with human law. For some reason, probably related to all the Ferguson coverage, I was feeling really moved by the song that week, and decided to write something inspired by it. I chose the beat for "Two Words" by Kanye West, off his album "College Dropout," because I thought it fit really well with the sentiment of the story. 

This is the only video which features a separate intro/outro, because I couldn't bring myself in and out of the story fast enough to do it all in one take. I think the performance is really heavy, and I like that about it. It's a heavy story. I really wish I would've turned the instrumental up, because it is essentially drowned out by the vocals. This hurts the performance because I think it makes it come off a little more over-zealous than it actually was. That's probably my only complaint here. Eventually I'd like to make this into a song with some original production.  

Episode 3 "Feelin It"

My favorite bars: "Aroma of the conversation mimics that of travelers/ Familiar with the Gaza Strip or pyramids in Africa/ But when it comes to passports, a lot of us are lacking 'em/ Some even legality, INS is tracking 'em/" I love the idea that a conversation can have an aroma.

To me this is the first week where everything really comes together. The vocal/music mix is balanced, the story fits the Ski Beats production from "Reasonable Doubt" nicely, and the laid back energy of the performance ties everything together. This is the second story telling verse, but I guess it really isn't telling a story at all. It is creating an ambiance. Maybe some day I'll write a story to fill that ambiance.  The only thing I can critique is the fact that this wasn't written during the time of the series. This is a verse I had written a few years ago, for a feature that fell through, and I was dying to use it for something. 

Episode 4 "Greek Fest"

My favorite bars: "Grab the microphone and I wield it like a weapon/ As long as I'm breathing, fighting with the force of Tenzin/" I was all in my feelings over the thought that Tenzin, a character in the show "Legend of Korra," may have died in that week's episode (Book 3: Change; Episode 11).

A verse I had written the day before, spit over the festival music at the local Greek Orthodox Church. I should've been rapping a little louder, but for something relatively impromptu, and with no control over the surrounding noise or music, I'm pretty happy with this one.

Episode 5 "Triumph"

My favorite bars: All the bars from my H&C brethren.

The only Episode to feature guest spots, and the only other time I recycled a verse written for something else. We recorded this in a Mickey D's parking lot in Dekalb, IL, after our performance at the House Cafe that night. This features emcees from my group Hustle & Culture, TRIM Forte, Akeem Kizart, and The ImFamous KenFlow B, as well as H&C affiliates Kid Ape and Loyd N Space. 

We spit over the classic posse cut "Triumph" by the Wu-Tang Clan. My verse is something I wrote for a Hustle & Culture cypher that was supposed to take place years ago, when I first joined the group. That cypher never happened, so I figured I would use the verse for this one. Another reason I used this verse over the "Triumph" beat is because the way I deliver the bars, "I sting like a manta ray, Bruce Banner gamma ray/ Hulk Smash Abomination, fly like I'm Santa's sleigh/" reminds me of when Inspectah Deck said, "I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses/ Can't define why I be dropping these.../" I didn't do that consciously at the time I wrote the verse, but I think it definitely speaks to Wu-Tang being a strong musical influence.

I love the way this went down. We didn't rehearse the performance, so the beat actually finishes and starts over during the last two bars of my verse. I tried to stay on rhythm despite the unexpected shift. Next time we need a DJ!

Episode 6 "Backseat Freestyle"

My favorite bars: "Kill an emcee, then go for lunch at the taco truck/" ... All in a day's work for the Wordbender.

This one. This one is everything I wanted the series to be. Even though I wasn't doing this for views, I'm a little bummed out that the views started falling off at this point, because I think this is when everything came together for the next four episodes. I think this is hands down my best performance of the series. I look loose, and that came across in the delivery. Of course after Kendrick demolished this Hit-Boy beat, I wasn't going to try to spit anything that remotely resembled his verse. I attacked it in my own way, and achieved what I feel is a good balance between braggadocio and social commentary, with some nice wordplay. If someone saw this video as an introduction to my rapping ability, I wouldn't be mad at it.

Episode 7 "Re: DEFinition"

My favorite bars: "And you wanna be a leader, but you cling to the fear/ If you electrify the people, then they'll give you the chair/ I mean look how they did Barack, and then/ Go ahead and tell me how I'm s'pposed to change world with some hope and a prayer/"

Straight political and social commentary here. The verse references Kanye West's "Jesus Walks," but it was too obvious to also use the beat (Plus, I had already used several of Kanye's beats). So I took it way back to a Hi-Tek instrumental from one of my favorite albums, and probably one of the most influential albums in my personal artistic development: "Re: DEFinition," from Mos Def and Talib Kweli are Black Star. I know instrumentals like this are from a by-gone era, but I love rapping over beats like this.

Episode 8 "My Philosphy"

My favorite bars: "Way these rappers singing, you would think that this was 'Frozen'/ Wordbender bring the heat like I'm Firelord Sozin/"

I was challenged by a friend to rap over this beat. It felt good to get down over the jazzy production of "Boogie Down Productions." This is another one where it felt like everything clicked and I had really hit my stride with the series. The writing was tight and the performance was loose. Did you hear the shout out to Mrs. Portis!?! My fellow West Warriors know.

Episode 9 "0 to 100"

My favorite bars: "My aura so Maasai on the plains of the Serengeti/ My posture straight, even though the chain is heavy/"

I made a conscious effort to pick a current beat here, because my tendency is to lean towards more Boom Bap era production. I have tremendous respect for Drake and what he brings to the game. In an era when it's harder than ever to be a mainstream Hip Hop artist, the dude released a Top 40 song with straight bars, no hook, and no 4x4 bassline. That's pretty impressive. Anyway, I wasn't trying to channel Drake in this one, but I had fun rapping over the beat. My performance was a little tighter than I would've liked, but the writing was on point. I didn't intend for this to be the last episode, but I got so tied up in the album production process and video production, that I haven't done another "16s On Sunday" since. Thank you for taking the journey with me. This is all about artistic and creative growth, so I would love to get your feedback in the comment section! Be on the lookout for my Team Backpack audition soon!