Not Dead but Undead: Hip Hop as the Zombi
Disclaimer: This article includes brief discussions of Haitian Vodou and the concept of the zombie, both of which have been historically sensationalized and vilified by Western media. As I lack the expertise to fully explore the Vodou religion and its complex history, I encourage readers to research these topics on their own. YouTuber Intelexual Media’s video essay A History of Zombies is a wonderful starting point.
I swear, for as long as I’ve been alive, there’s been somebody saying that Hip Hop is dead. Or dying. And they’ve never been right. Mostly, they’ve just been angry old heads, too stubborn to admit that Hip Hop ain’t for them anymore. Hip Hop has always been an inner-city youth culture. From its birth, Hip Hop’s driving voices and most ardent supporters have always been young people—angry at the flaws of a world they did not build and hungry for the power to change it.
However, I’m not one to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Hip Hop’s relative youth also means that now is the first time we’ve really had elders who grew up creating and consuming the music we love. There is wisdom to be found in their words, even if it’s buried beneath outdated attitudes. So, in thinking about why people can’t help but say that Hip Hop is dead, I got to thinking about the zombi.
That’s not a misspelling, by the way. The shambling corpses of ‘The Walking Dead’ or those terrifying Clickers from ‘The Last of Us’ aren’t what I mean. Instead, I think there’s something to be learned about Hip Hop through the original concept of the zombi, coming from Haitian folklore and the religion of Vodou. Before Hollywood got a hold of it, the zombi was a slightly different—and arguably more terrifying—figure: a living human whose soul, or a piece thereof, was stolen by mystic means, condemning them to unending servitude at the bidding of their reviver. One of my new favorite artists, MIKE, actually includes a reference to the Haitian zombi on the album Showbiz!:
“This classic zombi was very much a living human who through drugs.
Religious ceremonies and behavioral manipulation would be convinced that they were dead
And that their soul had been taken from them”
Showbiz! is still one of my favorite albums of the year, partly because it’s covered in intellectual gems like this discussion on the Haitian zombi—a topic that enthralled me in my Africana studies courses. Furthermore, it couldn’t be more perfectly placed, sandwiched between poetic explorations of life and death. On “Strange Feeling,” MIKE rambles to himself about the work it takes to make the most of the moment:
“Nothin’ goin’, might just make a wish above the cut goat
The jump rope of life I’m tryin’ to skip, I got to jump more
And put my life into this shit, it’s only one go.”
MIKE’s closing bars conjure the image of a sacrificial offering as a reminder to put his entire being into his art. This life is the only chance that he has to live his truth and to speak a message that might improve the world around him. Conversely, Zombie Pt. 2 opens with a discussion of death:
“I got to thinkin, ‘Am I alive, if I’m shrinking?’
Lookin at the sky, blinkin
Once I was blind, couldn’t see shit”
MIKE is now meditating on what it means to really be alive in his new position—at something of a pinnacle in the underground rap scene. He’s reached a level of success that few ever see and that he may have never imagined for himself, and he could very well live comfortably for the rest of his life if he plays his cards right. But what kind of life would that be? Does the mainstream success that seems to be flowing toward him demand compromise? Are you really an artist, are you really Hip Hop, are you really alive if you shrink yourself to make sure the checks keep coming?
I think that question is why people can’t stop saying that Hip Hop is dead—not because there’s a correct answer, but because so few are even asking. Part of why MIKE slid a quote about the Haitian zombi onto his critically acclaimed album, I think, is to bring that question back to the forefront. Interestingly, the Western cultural zeitgeist surrounding the zombie is a massive factor in the vilification of Haitian Vodou and the constant denigration of Haiti as a whole. Much of the religion focuses on healing practices but, like with Hip Hop, mass media magnifies the aspects of Vodou that deal with death and suffering to further distort public perceptions of Blackness. The mainstream images of both Hip Hop and Haiti are framed by forces that already hate both.
So, I won’t accept that Hip Hop is dead—but I might accept that it is undead. Killed by corporate interests and forced to perform as a husk of what it once was. But this zombi is not beyond saving. In some stories, salt can free the zombi, allowing them to pass on in peace or seek revenge on their creator. Perhaps all Hip Hop needs to be free is some bitter truth.
