The Ballad of Kanye West and Candace Owens

Are these two Uncle Toms or Attention Starved?

While addressing attendees at his YZY SZN 9 presentation in Paris, France. “Rapper” and producer Kayne West wore a shit with the message, “White Lives Matter” on his back. The term started as a response from racists who did not support the organizing of Black Lives Matter activists. It has since evolved into a white supremacist group whose mission is the “promotion of the white race and taking positive action as a united voice against issues facing their race,” They describe those issues as, “homosexuality”, and Inter-racial dating. As sad as it is to say, I am not at all surprised that Kanye would do something like this. He made it clear to the world a long time ago that he was not invested in Black people. But as much as I dislike his behavior, and no longer feel a need to support him, I think it’s important to understand what would compel him to do such a thing.

While some folks may argue that Kanye is making a political statement, I think that would be giving him too much credit. Kayne does not have a political agenda, more than likely, he doesn’t even know about the racial undertones of “White Lives Matter,” we are not witnessing a “musical genius” pushing the boundaries of respectability. This is nothing more than an insecure man trying to be seen. In some ways, it reminds me of myself. I’ll explain.

When I was 13 years old, I realized something, I wasn’t the best-looking or most charming guy in my school. Sure, I was better looking and had more swag than Kareem, but that was only because Kareem wore natural deodorant. The minute his parents allowed him to use Old Spice, his stock would rise significantly. As a result of my low standing, catching the attention of girls was close to impossible. I wasn’t light-skin with nice eyes, like Lavelle, I couldn’t get my waves to spin like Andre, and my family was too poor to buy me Jordans. If I wanted to avoid the status of class cornball, and maybe get a girlfriend before I got to high school, I would need to do something to stand out. I decided to be the class clown.

At first, this decision led to a major boom in my social capital. The cool kids wanted to sit next to me, the girls started to pay attention to me, and suddenly I mattered. The class clown gig seemed to be my ticket to success, but there was only one problem. While I could be funny and enjoy a good joke, I wasn’t prepared for the expectation that came with that title. After a week of playing the part, I ran out of funny things to say, and the act ran out of steam. With nothing else to laugh at, I became the joke.

Initially, even that was ok, because at least the popular kids were still talking to me, and if I played my cards right, I could use my notoriety to get a hug from the prettiest girl in my class, Desire. There were two problems with this plan. For starters, Desire was in a serious relationship with an older guy attending Thomas Jefferson Highschool, secondly, becoming the class punchline didn’t endear me to her, it just made me look pathetic. After smiling through weeks of jokes about the way I looked, dressed, talked, and acted, I decided that no level of popularity was worth my dignity. And at the tender age of 13, I learned the value of not trying to perform for others.

Black people have spent our entire existence in this country fighting the institutions of racism. Whether it was the nightmare of slavery, the apartheid Jim Crow era, or the current struggle against “All Lives Matter” and “I don’t see color.” We have been forced to be in a perpetual state of “coping.” While everyone chooses how to deal with the impacts of white supremacy and anti-Black racism, people like Kanye and Candace Owens choose self-hate and delusion. How else could you go out in public with a “White Lives Matter” shirt, when Black people are slaughtered in cold blood every single day? For them, the price of acceptance into whiteness is one they are willing to pay. Does that make them Uncle Toms's? I’m not sure, but I do know one thing; for some people, dignity is a fair price to pay for access, even if it means turning your back on everything you are.