Defining "Hip Hop"

To define a subject as broad and varied as “hip hop” within three words without making enormous generalisations and yet doing the entire culture or genre justice is practically impossible. So naturally, here we go. Hip hop is raucous. It is a specific style of dance and it is a community spirit. Hip hop is raucous because the vast majority of ‘hip hop music’ is made to be loud – it’s not background music but rather what you blast through your car’s stereo with the windows rolled down for everyone to hear. It is raucous because hip hop music causes adrenaline to rush when people hear it (especially live) and seems to some sort of wild behaviour in its audience. Finally, it’s raucous because it has become the genre most associated with protests and riots around the world. Hip hop is a specific style of dance because that percussive, staccato way of moving is associated almost exclusively with hip hop music. You will only rarely – if ever – see a ballerina perform to hip hop music or a breaker dance to jazz or classical. The genres simply clash. Lastly, hip hop is a community spirit because it was born of a culture that values togetherness, it is developed in groups and with supporters, and it is consumed by many.

One of the locations on the UF campus that interacts with my definition of hip hop is the Ben Hill Griffin Stadium. During football games and pep rallies it is full of students, alumni etc. from all kinds of backgrounds that come together for a common reason and then proceed to get very loud very quickly. At practically every event hip hop music is played, whether through the loudspeakers or by the marching band, and the spectators in the stands join in the music by singing along. A sense of community is built up in many ways; through shared high fives after touchdowns by our team and groans after touchdowns by our competition, through chants and singing the fight song, through linking up to sing “We Are the Boys” after the third quarter, etc. The sense of community continues at the stadium throughout the week with many dance crews and organisations holding their practices there. On any given evening from Monday through Friday, you can see groups practising their moves under the stands with hip hop music blaring from laptop speakers. Students critique each other and help each other improve but, mostly, they share their love of hip hop music and hip hop dance.

Kanye West's "Runaway" - The Teacup Scene

This scene seems to show Griffin pulling the Phoenix fully from her naïveté and innocence in the garden. There she was entranced by everything around her and clearly knew practically nothing about Earth. It could be argued that the scene “All of the Lights” portrays her shedding that initial innocence and being shown everything from fairly ordinary pleasures (such as fireworks) to some of the evil in this world (in the form of the KKK) to her own apparent sexual awakening. It follows, then, that this scene with the teacup may be interpreted as her being shown that now that she has some knowledge of the ways of the world, she has to conform to some of the rules of the society that governs it.

The black panelled wall behind her and the vignette style lighting of the scene are suggestive of a stage and could indicate that she is learning to put on a façade or to act in a way that would not come naturally to her. The objects on the table (which include multiple white candles, gold and white porcelain, and a bowl of roses) all display, to some extent, how man controls his environment. The candle flames are smaller, controlled versions of the explosion that the Phoenix caused when she came to Earth. They might represent any rebellious or wild facets of her nature that are now being pulled into line by Griffin. The porcelain represents society; seemingly beautiful, yet cold and unforgiving. There is only one correct way to use the porcelain, as shown by her attempts with the teacup, and similarly, society is portrayed as having only one correct way for a person to fit in. Finally, the bowl of roses signifies man’s dominion over nature; he decides what parts of it are beautiful or useful and discards all of the rest.

The physical placement of the characters in this scene also communicates control to the audience. The Phoenix is perched on her gilt chair and seems to be uncomfortable or ill at ease in her surroundings – she constantly twitches and flinches when handling the teacup and offers unsure glances and smiles to Griffin. He, on the other hand, stands stony-faced behind the other gilt chair and is not seen for the majority of the scene. It appears that he does not move either to leave or to offer help to the Phoenix. The difference in their levels and the Phoenix’s constant deference to Griffin is a clear indicator of where the power lies in their relationship.

The lesson being taught to the Phoenix in this scene is clearly learnt before the start of the next as her demeanour has changed entirely between the two; she enters the banquet wearing (man-made) jewellery and shoes, exuding confidence and sits like a regular person rather than in the crouching position of the previous scene. Despite this, her feathers cannot be hidden and it is this aspect, rather than her acquired “humanity” that everyone notices. In this way, it is shown that one’s inner self can never be entirely hidden.

PE Life Lessons

One of the worst PE (physical education) lessons I have ever had was when I was five years old. At this point "PE" meant a class of five-year-olds playing games in a sports hall with a couple of teachers directing us. For the most part, it was a good lesson - what made this lesson so terrible was that my teacher decided that I needed to learn how to jump rope and jump ropes, quite frankly, terrified me. While I could hula-hoop with the best and hang upside down from the monkey bars longer than anyone else in my class, jumping rope was a skill that evaded me completely. I would either jump too soon or too late, the rope would get tangled up in my feet and I would fall over. I tried to explain this to my teacher but what ended up coming out was; “I can’t do it. I can’t do it.” She, of course, still wanted me to try and I, being a sensitive child, burst into tears. At this she finally got frustrated, declared that if I was going to act like a baby then she would treat me like one and walked away, leaving me standing with the jump rope handles in my hands and tears streaming down my face.

Years later, when I had mastered the jump rope, I remembered that lesson and realised what a little fool I had been. I was so convinced of my inability to do something that I refused to even try. I realised that no matter how silly I might have looked trying to improve, it would never match up to how silly I was in obstinately refusing help. Had I let my teacher coach me through it instead of crying, I might have learned to jump rope when I was five.