Everything you're saying is the trouble of the Black experience is America cause we damned if we do and damned if we don't.
I think we honestly just have trouble being hypocritical and ambivalent about it all. Because if we are as revolutionary as we thought we'd have dumb phones, and really be militant.
I agree with most of the points and the politics of celebrities and entertainment; but then I circle back again to the problem of being Black in America being you're damned either way you choose to or not to participate
I agree, just off the sheer number of times I have been accused of “hating on Kendrick,” but I’m actually a Kendrick fan! The nuance always gets lost because of the “all or nothing thinking” that my friend mentions in the post. I just don’t think we can or should have to be all things to all people. Kendrick included.
His intervention is what it is, but if we want actual revolution, there are so many other places to look; it’s not ever going to be the Super Bowl stage or out of the mouth of a commercial artist, and that’s not Kendrick’s fault or a critique of him. He’s doing his thing.
I think the simplest solution is to take the onus off the person (the individual) and put it back on us as the people, the collective. We have to not settle for the bread and the circus. We don’t have to critique Kendrick for being limited, but it’s just as dangerous to elevate his art to somewhere it shouldn’t be. We can enjoy the show and be clear-eyed about what it is and is not without attacking or tearing down.
You know I think it's going to be the intermediation of it all to the implosion of it all to nothingness. I think I am finally understanding maybe a sect of afropessimism and honestly seeing Fanon literally hovering over the events of the present. I've been reading this book anteaesthetics and it's been (densely) challenging my mindset in a world where we have to use these tools we don't /won't ever own or be included by or be recognized in fully. I think all of this the critique, the love, the hate, the attack, the violence, the tearing down is all affection. Which is kind of thrilling... whether or not it will wake up radicalization to a point of effectual haptics idk. Idk. But something about us not being able to divorce ethics from respectability or intellectual rightness from unconventional wisdom or ancient technologies like debate and argument from the assimilation of propagandized rage. That's the shit that's scaring me, like you said... that people want to build platforms instead of actually pointing to the references and giving good faith argumentation to be in conversation. I am landing in the moments of today in— all of this is good. All of the seams that are bursting with new thoughts, points to references, us being in conversation is just is. and there may be no resolve but maybe that's the point. For everything to just be until it isn't anymore
I find the near-predictable backlash to artists’ use of revolutionary references to be necessary. The way we process art—through critique, discourse, and debate—feels like an essential part of its arc. Art’s greater purpose is to enlighten; as artists, we hope to evoke and inform, ideally through connection.
For example, many visual artists have depicted civil rights leaders, reflected on movements, and evoked cultural ties in painting, video, and photography. These works are often heralded for their depth and provocation—or criticized for lacking them—gaining traction online or acquiring social cachet. And rightfully so, because an audience invited to engage with the work is expected to question and critique it. Yet, we don’t always acknowledge the gaps in literacy surrounding these expressions, perhaps because they unfold on a global stage where the right to interpretation is freely exercised.
I think you allude to a larger issue—the unique position of Black celebrities as both targets and conduits for exaltation and condemnation. I don’t always agree that their expressions of understanding, or the ways they subvert their connections to revolutionary imagery, should be viewed as counterintuitive. The bar may be low, but that’s because we live in a country that offers very little to prop it up. Even so, their work brings awareness to the very conversations we’re having now—the discourses that energize revolutionary thought and examination.
With all that said, the critique of Judas and the Black Messiah is both poignant and necessary. It’s an interesting choice to use Fred Hampton’s traitor as a vehicle for educating the world about a true revolutionary leader and a pivotal moment in American history. These kinds of depictions carry layers of meaning—some intentional, others unconsciously insidious. The act of centering the story around the traitor is, in many ways, sinister. But I would still point to the very real possibility that such a depiction could also serve as a galvanizer, especially for those who waver in their commitment to revolutionary liberation.
The same way this framing could bring condemnation upon Black members of the movement while de-centering white villainy, it could just as easily strengthen the resolve of those who hope to never serve as a Judas to the cause. It might push some toward deeper reflection, or even toward embodying the spirit of a Hampton rather than an O’Neal. This tension—between dilution and motivation—is precisely why these artistic choices demand critique rather than dismissal.
At the end of the day, they are artists. They are painting Guernica for the people, leaving it to us to extract meaning, to apply it in ways we find useful or urgent. No, they’re not as radical as we might hope in a world we long to shape for ourselves. But we should still recognize the avenues that lead us to these exchanges and the ways their work, sanitized or not, sparks dismay and, at times, activism.
Kendrick Lamar, Beyoncé, and others like them aren’t heroes—they’re artists. And in the same way we’ve allowed a litany of artists to channel ancestral energy, keeping us grounded and mindful, we should grant them that space as well. If our oppressors benefit from these displays, that speaks more to our imposition than our expression. And if we start policing what can and cannot be referenced, aren’t we engaging in the very same restrictive actions that our oppressors do?
Thank you for this piece and I am sorry for the longwinded response. This sparked quite a bit in me. The whole display and discourse is something worth living for.
You can click the link for the full quote, but of note: "I countered that all of my personal interactions with Thompson had been positive, that I appreciate his work, and that although I am critical of his theory and practice, this did not mean that I did not like him. I share this anecdote because it exposes the extent to which intellectual and academic communities in the United States often cannot distinguish between a critique of ideas and a personal attack... These critical dialogues must take place if progressive commitment to ending domination of the basis of race, gender and class within the academy is to become a reality on all levels, in our teaching, our writing and our working relations." These conversations are important because they expand our thinking.
At the same time, they do make apparent, the gaps in literacy and nuances of visual politics. This is what I was writing/thinking through in this post.
I'm following up with a piece later this week (I think) where I share how Huey P. Newton checked me a bit from the other side because I came across a quote from him: "I dissuade Party members from putting down people who do not understand. Even people who are unenlightened and seemingly bourgeois should be answered in a polite way.. I try to be cordial, because that way you win people over. You cannot win them over by drawing the line of demarcation, saying you are on this side and I am on the other; that shows a lack of consciousness. After the Black Panther Party was formed, I nearly fell into this error. I could not understand why people were blind to what I saw so clearly. Then I realized that their understanding had to be developed." -Newton.
Of course, I wasn't completely trying to put folks down, but in my initial response, I was frustrated and annoyed with where people were with their binary and reductive takes, as opposed to being compassionate. We're all coming to interpret this media text from different vantage points, and to your point about the precarious position of the entertainer, we all have different roles to play in this fight/movement toward revolution, so where one person lacks, the next person should be there to stop the gap (ideally).
I appreciate Kendrick for even making the attempts, especially on that stage, and as someone mentioned earlier, it's like he's damned if he does, damned if he doesn't. Overall I'm happy he did.
Oohhh I have so many thoughts about this. One of my biggest pet peeves is when society presents celebrities and public figures (especially minorities) as great thought leaders simply because they have a platform. It's an insult to, and distraction from, the activists on the ground who are fighting for real change.
It's also annoying because I'm at a point where I don't want or need a rapper or athlete to share their *heavily scripted and censored* political opinions. I want them to entertain me. That's it.
As you said, I have no beef with Kendrick. He's doing what he has to do. But I refuse to co-sign the empty platitudes and pretend like these moments are actually moving the needle forward. Great write-up, I'll be reading this again and probably have more thoughts!
This was such a great and needed read, Brooklyne. As always, it’s thrilling to decode the symbolism in a Kendrick Lamar performance, but after marinating on it a few days I don’t think it has enough bite without a call to action (as you said.)
What’s interesting though is that, in my memory at least, “Alright,” wasn’t presented with a call to action, it was simply adopted in the streets as a chant. As a rallying call. I think “HiiiPower” might have been the last Kendrick song with what could be interpreted as a call to action (please correct me if I’m wrong.) Also the hook on the album version of “i” is wild and maybe the closest he’s come.
Even in my most generous interpretation of the performance, that he is saying this country has become a clown show, and we need a revolution to dismantle the circus, I’m not sure the clowns have enough self-awareness to receive the message.
I watched the halftime show with my parents and my dad summed it up when he said, “This type of art is wasted on someone like Trump.” But he also said that to him it still has value, that art with political messaging (no matter how subtle,) still plays an important role in the act of getting free. My dad is about to turn 76, mind you.
Knowing that most of the people watching lack any semblance of a progressive political education, I wonder how much can really be done in those 13 minutes. But, like you, I remain hopeful.
The show was incredible. I loved it. But the folks who think the artistic expression in and of itself is a political act worry me.
Yesterday, I saw someone post a graph of Target's stocks plummeting since they announced they were moving away from DEI efforts, superimposed with a snippet of Kendrick Lamar at the Super Bowl rapping, "They tried to rig the game, but you can't fake influence," as if to suggest a correlation. There are so many issues with this commentary-- the neoliberal positioning of DEI as something we want rather than a full dismantling of the systems that oppress us and keep us out of certain spaces and places; the false equivalency of assuming there is a correlation between Lamar's Super Bowl performance and Target's bad marketing decisions; but most importantly when I see a meme like that I see a desire for political action and change, but a failure understand what its supposed to look like.
Kendrick's artistic contribution is very necessary, but the limitations of popular music and, therefore, his platform are clear. He's an artist who is working through his thoughts on the cultural extraction of the music industry and racial capitalism without these academic or political frameworks. When I hear, "It's a cultural divide. This is bigger than the music," I hear someone alluding to something without the language to describe said thing. He knows it because he's living it, but political education brings a language to express these lived experiences clearly.
This language is simple and easy to digest, so it works for a crowd who can interpret it in various ways, but then what? When the stage darkens, and the spark toward enlightenment (the spark Gil Scott Heron argues will not come from mediated spectacles) and political action is still not there, then what?
One thing I can say about Kendrick is that more than any other artist, he does tend to "go there." I appreciate him for that because we could've just gotten another even more sanitized Super Bowl show. I just wonder what that would look like with a little more political education and bite behind it. Another academic friend shared an article, "Suppose James Brown Read Fanon: The Black Arts Movement, Cultural Nationalism and the Failure of Popular Music Praxis," by Michael Hanson, which I felt got at a little bit of what I was trying to say. Like Kendrick, James Brown gave us one of the best protest mantras of their respective time: "Say it Loud, I'm Black, and I'm Proud" to "We gon be alright." Cool, but the aesthetic can't take presence over calls to action/action.
Another thing I love about Kendrick is that he's always been very genuine. He is not using the protest politic aesthetic to advance his career; I believe he genuinely cares about the issues he alludes to. But what if he had the political education to match the aesthetic? How powerful would he be?
Are your youtube playlist’s public? I would love to dive into what you have saved.
They're not public but I'm considering sharing it in a future post.
I’ll be tuned in!
Everything you're saying is the trouble of the Black experience is America cause we damned if we do and damned if we don't.
I think we honestly just have trouble being hypocritical and ambivalent about it all. Because if we are as revolutionary as we thought we'd have dumb phones, and really be militant.
I agree with most of the points and the politics of celebrities and entertainment; but then I circle back again to the problem of being Black in America being you're damned either way you choose to or not to participate
I agree, just off the sheer number of times I have been accused of “hating on Kendrick,” but I’m actually a Kendrick fan! The nuance always gets lost because of the “all or nothing thinking” that my friend mentions in the post. I just don’t think we can or should have to be all things to all people. Kendrick included.
His intervention is what it is, but if we want actual revolution, there are so many other places to look; it’s not ever going to be the Super Bowl stage or out of the mouth of a commercial artist, and that’s not Kendrick’s fault or a critique of him. He’s doing his thing.
I think the simplest solution is to take the onus off the person (the individual) and put it back on us as the people, the collective. We have to not settle for the bread and the circus. We don’t have to critique Kendrick for being limited, but it’s just as dangerous to elevate his art to somewhere it shouldn’t be. We can enjoy the show and be clear-eyed about what it is and is not without attacking or tearing down.
You know I think it's going to be the intermediation of it all to the implosion of it all to nothingness. I think I am finally understanding maybe a sect of afropessimism and honestly seeing Fanon literally hovering over the events of the present. I've been reading this book anteaesthetics and it's been (densely) challenging my mindset in a world where we have to use these tools we don't /won't ever own or be included by or be recognized in fully. I think all of this the critique, the love, the hate, the attack, the violence, the tearing down is all affection. Which is kind of thrilling... whether or not it will wake up radicalization to a point of effectual haptics idk. Idk. But something about us not being able to divorce ethics from respectability or intellectual rightness from unconventional wisdom or ancient technologies like debate and argument from the assimilation of propagandized rage. That's the shit that's scaring me, like you said... that people want to build platforms instead of actually pointing to the references and giving good faith argumentation to be in conversation. I am landing in the moments of today in— all of this is good. All of the seams that are bursting with new thoughts, points to references, us being in conversation is just is. and there may be no resolve but maybe that's the point. For everything to just be until it isn't anymore
I find the near-predictable backlash to artists’ use of revolutionary references to be necessary. The way we process art—through critique, discourse, and debate—feels like an essential part of its arc. Art’s greater purpose is to enlighten; as artists, we hope to evoke and inform, ideally through connection.
For example, many visual artists have depicted civil rights leaders, reflected on movements, and evoked cultural ties in painting, video, and photography. These works are often heralded for their depth and provocation—or criticized for lacking them—gaining traction online or acquiring social cachet. And rightfully so, because an audience invited to engage with the work is expected to question and critique it. Yet, we don’t always acknowledge the gaps in literacy surrounding these expressions, perhaps because they unfold on a global stage where the right to interpretation is freely exercised.
I think you allude to a larger issue—the unique position of Black celebrities as both targets and conduits for exaltation and condemnation. I don’t always agree that their expressions of understanding, or the ways they subvert their connections to revolutionary imagery, should be viewed as counterintuitive. The bar may be low, but that’s because we live in a country that offers very little to prop it up. Even so, their work brings awareness to the very conversations we’re having now—the discourses that energize revolutionary thought and examination.
With all that said, the critique of Judas and the Black Messiah is both poignant and necessary. It’s an interesting choice to use Fred Hampton’s traitor as a vehicle for educating the world about a true revolutionary leader and a pivotal moment in American history. These kinds of depictions carry layers of meaning—some intentional, others unconsciously insidious. The act of centering the story around the traitor is, in many ways, sinister. But I would still point to the very real possibility that such a depiction could also serve as a galvanizer, especially for those who waver in their commitment to revolutionary liberation.
The same way this framing could bring condemnation upon Black members of the movement while de-centering white villainy, it could just as easily strengthen the resolve of those who hope to never serve as a Judas to the cause. It might push some toward deeper reflection, or even toward embodying the spirit of a Hampton rather than an O’Neal. This tension—between dilution and motivation—is precisely why these artistic choices demand critique rather than dismissal.
At the end of the day, they are artists. They are painting Guernica for the people, leaving it to us to extract meaning, to apply it in ways we find useful or urgent. No, they’re not as radical as we might hope in a world we long to shape for ourselves. But we should still recognize the avenues that lead us to these exchanges and the ways their work, sanitized or not, sparks dismay and, at times, activism.
Kendrick Lamar, Beyoncé, and others like them aren’t heroes—they’re artists. And in the same way we’ve allowed a litany of artists to channel ancestral energy, keeping us grounded and mindful, we should grant them that space as well. If our oppressors benefit from these displays, that speaks more to our imposition than our expression. And if we start policing what can and cannot be referenced, aren’t we engaging in the very same restrictive actions that our oppressors do?
Thank you for this piece and I am sorry for the longwinded response. This sparked quite a bit in me. The whole display and discourse is something worth living for.
I saw someone share a reminder from bell hooks about the necessity of critique within academia, which I think extends to this conversation: https://substack.com/@whitneynipsey/note/c-93954994
You can click the link for the full quote, but of note: "I countered that all of my personal interactions with Thompson had been positive, that I appreciate his work, and that although I am critical of his theory and practice, this did not mean that I did not like him. I share this anecdote because it exposes the extent to which intellectual and academic communities in the United States often cannot distinguish between a critique of ideas and a personal attack... These critical dialogues must take place if progressive commitment to ending domination of the basis of race, gender and class within the academy is to become a reality on all levels, in our teaching, our writing and our working relations." These conversations are important because they expand our thinking.
At the same time, they do make apparent, the gaps in literacy and nuances of visual politics. This is what I was writing/thinking through in this post.
I'm following up with a piece later this week (I think) where I share how Huey P. Newton checked me a bit from the other side because I came across a quote from him: "I dissuade Party members from putting down people who do not understand. Even people who are unenlightened and seemingly bourgeois should be answered in a polite way.. I try to be cordial, because that way you win people over. You cannot win them over by drawing the line of demarcation, saying you are on this side and I am on the other; that shows a lack of consciousness. After the Black Panther Party was formed, I nearly fell into this error. I could not understand why people were blind to what I saw so clearly. Then I realized that their understanding had to be developed." -Newton.
Of course, I wasn't completely trying to put folks down, but in my initial response, I was frustrated and annoyed with where people were with their binary and reductive takes, as opposed to being compassionate. We're all coming to interpret this media text from different vantage points, and to your point about the precarious position of the entertainer, we all have different roles to play in this fight/movement toward revolution, so where one person lacks, the next person should be there to stop the gap (ideally).
I appreciate Kendrick for even making the attempts, especially on that stage, and as someone mentioned earlier, it's like he's damned if he does, damned if he doesn't. Overall I'm happy he did.
Oohhh I have so many thoughts about this. One of my biggest pet peeves is when society presents celebrities and public figures (especially minorities) as great thought leaders simply because they have a platform. It's an insult to, and distraction from, the activists on the ground who are fighting for real change.
It's also annoying because I'm at a point where I don't want or need a rapper or athlete to share their *heavily scripted and censored* political opinions. I want them to entertain me. That's it.
As you said, I have no beef with Kendrick. He's doing what he has to do. But I refuse to co-sign the empty platitudes and pretend like these moments are actually moving the needle forward. Great write-up, I'll be reading this again and probably have more thoughts!
Art has a role in movements and movement-building, but acting like art is the most important thing or the only thing is a problem, always.
I have a lot more thoughts too haha
This was such a great and needed read, Brooklyne. As always, it’s thrilling to decode the symbolism in a Kendrick Lamar performance, but after marinating on it a few days I don’t think it has enough bite without a call to action (as you said.)
What’s interesting though is that, in my memory at least, “Alright,” wasn’t presented with a call to action, it was simply adopted in the streets as a chant. As a rallying call. I think “HiiiPower” might have been the last Kendrick song with what could be interpreted as a call to action (please correct me if I’m wrong.) Also the hook on the album version of “i” is wild and maybe the closest he’s come.
Even in my most generous interpretation of the performance, that he is saying this country has become a clown show, and we need a revolution to dismantle the circus, I’m not sure the clowns have enough self-awareness to receive the message.
I watched the halftime show with my parents and my dad summed it up when he said, “This type of art is wasted on someone like Trump.” But he also said that to him it still has value, that art with political messaging (no matter how subtle,) still plays an important role in the act of getting free. My dad is about to turn 76, mind you.
Knowing that most of the people watching lack any semblance of a progressive political education, I wonder how much can really be done in those 13 minutes. But, like you, I remain hopeful.
It was fun to watch tho !
The show was incredible. I loved it. But the folks who think the artistic expression in and of itself is a political act worry me.
Yesterday, I saw someone post a graph of Target's stocks plummeting since they announced they were moving away from DEI efforts, superimposed with a snippet of Kendrick Lamar at the Super Bowl rapping, "They tried to rig the game, but you can't fake influence," as if to suggest a correlation. There are so many issues with this commentary-- the neoliberal positioning of DEI as something we want rather than a full dismantling of the systems that oppress us and keep us out of certain spaces and places; the false equivalency of assuming there is a correlation between Lamar's Super Bowl performance and Target's bad marketing decisions; but most importantly when I see a meme like that I see a desire for political action and change, but a failure understand what its supposed to look like.
Kendrick's artistic contribution is very necessary, but the limitations of popular music and, therefore, his platform are clear. He's an artist who is working through his thoughts on the cultural extraction of the music industry and racial capitalism without these academic or political frameworks. When I hear, "It's a cultural divide. This is bigger than the music," I hear someone alluding to something without the language to describe said thing. He knows it because he's living it, but political education brings a language to express these lived experiences clearly.
This language is simple and easy to digest, so it works for a crowd who can interpret it in various ways, but then what? When the stage darkens, and the spark toward enlightenment (the spark Gil Scott Heron argues will not come from mediated spectacles) and political action is still not there, then what?
One thing I can say about Kendrick is that more than any other artist, he does tend to "go there." I appreciate him for that because we could've just gotten another even more sanitized Super Bowl show. I just wonder what that would look like with a little more political education and bite behind it. Another academic friend shared an article, "Suppose James Brown Read Fanon: The Black Arts Movement, Cultural Nationalism and the Failure of Popular Music Praxis," by Michael Hanson, which I felt got at a little bit of what I was trying to say. Like Kendrick, James Brown gave us one of the best protest mantras of their respective time: "Say it Loud, I'm Black, and I'm Proud" to "We gon be alright." Cool, but the aesthetic can't take presence over calls to action/action.
Another thing I love about Kendrick is that he's always been very genuine. He is not using the protest politic aesthetic to advance his career; I believe he genuinely cares about the issues he alludes to. But what if he had the political education to match the aesthetic? How powerful would he be?