Beenie Said Knock You Out. (And That's Not The Half Of It.)

Reggae star's lyrics say that lesbians should be hanged.

So the link goes to an article from the UK Times Online that concisely introduces the “new” story of overt homophobia in reggae and dancehall songs from Jamaican artists. I feel the need to cavil just a tad because this sort of story really isn’t new at all, and I’m disappointed that some publications are just now picking up on it. I took a class last fall called “Homophobia in the Black World”, and the professor had us listen to some songs, including the Beenie Man songs named in the article. Although the reporter calls this a “new offence”, it seems like it’s been in the homophobia discourse for easily a decade and probably longer.

But, anyway, it’s an interesting part of cultural homophobia. While it’s really easy for me, for some reason, to grumble about the homophobic lyrics of Eminem and other U.S. hip hop artists, I have a little more difficulty with these reggae artists. I mean, the lyrics are reprehensible to be sure. There is little to like about “Hang lesbians with a long piece of rope,” and the “Batty Man Fi Dead” lyrics had me agape when I first read them. (And I can’t find them anywhere now to reference. I’ll work on that. Needless to say? Scary stuff.) But music is such a rich part of Jamaican culture, or at least that’s what I gathered from my professor who is from Jamaica and has done public health work there. It brings up questions of what is considered a form of art, and can it still be art if it is hateful? I don’t know if I would call Beenie Man’s songs art per se, but I can’t stand it when people make overarching statements about reggae or hip-hop music being so awful because it’s homophobic (or misogynistic). I think it denies the artistic merits of those genres to do that, and it denies the homophobia that are present in other music genres.

So it’s clear that homophobia, in the example of these songs, is operating at a fairly broad, cultural, and explicit level. Explicit, at least, for those in Jamaica, and it doesn’t exactly seem like the best place to be out about being gay there. Not to say that the things expressed in these songs are characteristic of the culture, but it’s my sense that there is a homophobia there that operates more overtly and menacingly than what I am familiar with in the U.S. Okay, now I feel like I’m digging myself into a hole here. I guess I have to honestly say that I have some presumptions about Jamaican culture vis-à-vis homophobia. Much of it is because of music like this. I think it’s good that gay rights activists are fighting against homophobia in popular music, but I have this overwhelming feeling that maybe attentions should be focused…elsewhere maybe? Maybe it’s just that I don’t feel like the oppression I receive is from homophobic lyrics; it’s more about the overall lack of positive and honest gay representation in entertainment media. However, because music is such a part of Jamaica’s culture, it makes sense for gay activists to work within that area there. I just wonder if efforts should be made to build alliances in Jamaica, though, since change might be more effectively if it’s not coming from activists based in other countries. Homophobia is everyone’s fight, but I think change in a culture is most valuable from the people in that culture.

Culture Shock

If I may share a personal experience, I always feel a bit of a conflict when I go home for the holidays. Being from central Pennsylvania, I often experience a small amount of culture shock when I return home from New York or my previous residence in Ann Arbor, Michigan. I wouldn’t exactly say that the people in central PA are cultural troglodytes compared to my peers in New York or Michigan, but I definitely set my expectations high for my friends and family in terms of political correctness and sensitivity around issues of social identity.

So the first incident happened while I was driving to a gay club with my friends, who are all hetero-identified. One of my closest friends, K, commented that she was glad another friend, A, was going with us to the club because, “That way [K] won’t be the only dyke-y looking one there.” I was more than a little jarred by K’s language, but not as much as A who was also in the car at the time and was far from happy with the comparison. After seeing A’s reaction, K apologized for offending her, and I didn’t say anything about K’s choice of language because the atmosphere was already uncomfortable enough. At least, that was how I rationalized my decision at the time.

The other, much less incendiary comment that I heard while at home was made by my older step-brother. Truthfully, I don’t remember what warranted the remark (football?), but he called someone or something on the television “queer”. I didn’t say anything, and no one else seemed to react, though I think my mother was a little uncomfortable if only because I was in the room. My lack of response, I think, came from my natural aversion to confrontation as well as the fact that I don’t know my step-brother very well since I only see him one or two days a year.

So these are both clearly examples of individual-level, vocal acts of homophobia, though I would hesitate to call either my friend or my step-brother actively “homophobic” since I know them fairly well. As I continue to think about these comments, I’m increasingly unnerved by the lack of reactions from the people who were around me at the time. But, of course, I did not show much of a reaction either, so is it really my place to admonish my friends and family? I guess, I don’t think I should always have to defend myself, and I consider my peers to be at a level where they should be able to confront or intervene in the overt instances as well. For example, my mother has told me about how she will not put up with homophobic language at her office, and she will even throw my name out as a reason why she is personally upset by certain words. Nonetheless, I realize this is an area for me to work on. I think that if I was to vocally express how such language affects me, like my mother does at work, it would provide more of an incentive for my friends and family to confront instances both when I am present and when I’m not. In fact, it makes me wonder how often my friends or my extended family say things when I’m not around, and if they are reining it in while I’m in the room or the car or whatever.

Taking my weekend at home as a whole, I guess I feel a little uncomfortable when I’m out of my usual, safe, very gay and gay-friendly milieu. The context of homophobia is certainly worth considering when looking at one’s decision to confront or not to confront certain overt acts.