My ascension into the multiple dimensions of the hip-hop realm manifested like an unshaken addiction fueled by gateway rhythms, rhymes, and reasons. While 80’s pop culture had influenced my perspectives of fashion, music, and ideologies those who lived beyond the walls of my guarded abode, were captivated and living the lives spewed by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five in The Message. My surroundings mirrored images painted by the extensive word play, “Broken glass everywhere. People pissing in stairwells you know they just don’t care,” yet I was still submerged in a world of neon colors, pop sounds, and MTV dreams. The divide among my neighborhood peers and I was vivid, and beyond living in the same housing project and attending the same school a commonality in interests failed to exist that is until the summer of 1985 when mutual ties were created by lyrical lines.

“My radio believe me I like it loud.

I’m the man with the box that can rock the crowd.

Walking down the street with the hardcore beats

While JVC vibrates the concrete,”

And with that one verse and the bass that stroked it my proverbial, rap hymen was broken, and a seed of interest was implanted into gray matter once white washed by images projected by MTV. The seed instantly manifested into a dire need to rekindle the rush created by the acoustic orgy that had just occurred in the inner sanctuary of my eras.

Ear drums once teased and titillated by Pop and Rock were being pounded and penetrated raw by hard core beats, synthesized sounds, and urban tales spewed by a skilled, cunning linguist. With limited exposure to the sounds and words that were surrounding me, I was vexed and perplexed by this intriguing sound. Embarking on a mission to discover the origin of the sound, I was led to a group of neighborhood teens rocking Adidas and Jordache gear hanging out on the side of my building dancing frantically while reciting the words that had guided me to them. Normally I would bypass them out of fear of ridicule, but on that day I did not care. I needed to who and what they were listening to. I felt as if the music was beckoning me, and I had to answer it. Unfazed by the results of previous encounters with my neighborhood peers, I inquired about their music, fashion, and dances. On that fated day LL Cool J’s voice emerged from a dual cassette JVC Blaster with the built in amplifier and lead me to open arms of a culture that would continue to embrace me for years to come.

In one day, I had been exposed to LL Cool J, Doug E Fresh, the Juice Crew, and a host of other hip hop artists. The dynamics and the inner workings of Hip Hop had been bestowed on me. I felt empowered with the knowledge that I know possessed, and before I made the succinct journey back to my home to revile in my new found acquaintances and leanings , a gift that meant more to me than any expensive, lavish items was placed in my open palm. A Sony cassette tape containing the music that in the near future would repetitiously be played and mimicked was my partying gift. On that day a Hip-Hop head was created.

The cassette tape was the catalyst for my immersion into a cultural movement that dictated trends, fashion, vernacular, dance, and attitude. Like a scholar I studied and researched the culture. Movies such as Wild Style, Beat Street, and Krush Groove served as a medium to witness and experience the descent of the hip hop culture on urban society. The sounds of Cyndi Lauper, Duran Duran, and Madonna that once dominated the sound waves of my second floor bedroom were now infiltrated by the sounds of Sweet Tee, Doug E Fresh and the Get Fresh Crew, Salt and Pepa, Boogie Down Productions, and Eric B and Rakim. Allowance money was used to purchase Right On and Word Up magazines to gain more information and insight about the music and artists Posters of Heavy D and the Boys, LL Cool J, and Roxanne Shante now grace egg shell covered walls. Friday Nights once reserved for watching Friday Night Videos were now designated for recording Marty the One Party’s Full Moon Block Party on 90.1WNAA on Memorex cassette tapes which later would be used to memorize, analyze, and fantasize about the lives of the urban elite. Within a year a shift had occurred in the life of a young girl who was once misunderstood by her peers. I had transitioned into a trend-setting, free-styling, hip-hop junkie with the attitude and dialect of a B-girl.

I no longer emulated hip-hop, I was hip hop. From fashion to vernacular and from dances to perceptions, I was the walking embodiment of hip-hop. As I matured, the culture evolved into a phenomenon only contained within the boundaries of the inner city, eventually making its way to the mainstream media. The culture once taboo was now accepted and being raped and exploited by commercialism, but my commitment to it remained strong.

The Hip-hop culture has continued to evolve, mature, and exemplify the ideologies of a generation. From being, political to sexual, controversial to party-starting Hip Hop has continuously consoled, enlightened, seduced, and entertained those such as myself who valued and continues to value the personal impact hip-hop has had on their lives. The elements of hip-hop whether a verse, a dance, or slang serve as reference points when I reflect on my emotions, dealings, and dwellings during various stages of my life. Just as in relationship, turbulence may have surfaced, yet my commitment to hip-hop has allowed me to remain by its side as sporadically tries to find its direction. A chance meeting between a cultural movement and a slightly impressionable young girl manifested in a torrid relationship that has surpassed expectations. Twenty years later, a movement that many considered a fad still stands strong, and I proudly stand by its side as the world has learned that hip hop is more than music. It’s a movement.

Written by Lotticia Mack