Expanding the Limits of Protest: Rap and Social Media in the Wake of George Floyd’s Death

By Hannah Strong

Music and social movements have historically gone hand in hand, but now that technology has become more accessible—body-camera and bystander footage capture more police brutality, and songs can be released online instead of in-store—the relationship between the two has changed, uniting protest and music in a different way.¹ With the prevalence of streaming services and the ability for music to be available almost immediately after recording it, the role of music in social movements has shifted. Shortly after George Floyd was murdered by police, three prominent rap and hip-hop artists responded swiftly, releasing four songs that address both Floyd’s murder in particular and more ubiquitous examples of institutionalized racism and oppression.² In fact, within two days of Floyd’s death, musical responses became prevalent on streaming services and social media platforms, such as Facebook, Twitter, Youtube, Spotify, and Instagram.³ Run the Jewels, H.E.R., and Lil Baby each released an album or song to honor Floyd’s legacy. The rapid release of this music—combined with the myriad ways that consumers can stream, share, and replay songs with overt references to Floyd in the music—shifts the role of the listener in the context of contemporary protests. They can listen to brand new music about Floyd’s death at the same time that protests against the same murder begin. In this paper, I argue against a binary of protest or inaction; rather, I suggest that protesting can exist in shades of gray. In this analysis, I will build on protest scholarship by Andrea L. Dennis, Rachel Vandagriff, Jozie Nummi et al, and Shana Redmond, specifically in relation to the murder of George Floyd and social media protest. I examine the taxonomy of modes of protest, and the production of meaning in these four songs and, more generally, in the Black Lives Matter movement. Ultimately, this paper examines social media activism, both in its form and function, as a corollary to protest music, theorizing that the limits of protesting sonically can include listeners.

Protest: a Definition

Before continuing, it is important to define “protest,” as it has many connotations but a relatively unified definition. According to Merriam-Webster, “protest” is a verb that has three important definitions: “to make solemn declaration or affirmation of,” “to execute or have executed a formal protest against,” and “to make a statement or gesture in objection to.”⁴ Similarly, the Cambridge Dictionary defines “protest” as “a strong complaint expressing disagreement, disapproval, or opposition.”⁵ Both of these sources imply that the action of protest is verbal or physical, and they further insinuate that protesting is an active, rather than a static, choice. Though “protest” is impossible to connotatively define, it is clear from both sources that it is an action that one takes or does not take, which implies a binary of protest: one engages in protest or does not. These definitions do not suggest any gradients in the form of protest, including the subject of this paper, listening to music. Indeed, listening to music would fall outside of the bounds of these definitions; however, as I will discuss, listening to music that “expresses disagreement” is still a choice, and may encourage active thought that can lead to executing “formal protest.”

Additionally, it is important to define “protest song/music” before proceeding with this discussion. “Protest song/music” seemingly evades a concrete definition. The opening line of the Grove Music Online definition underscores this problem: “There is little agreement on what constitutes a protest song.”⁶ The article proceeds to provide a brief history of protest songs in the U.S., specifically noting that such have “always been a part of American musical culture.”⁷ Rodnitzky, the author of this entry, does not attempt to provide a clear definition but raises several important characteristics of protest songs: they have “appeared across the spectrum […] to lodge musical protest against social and political developments.”⁸ It is important to note that this article has not been updated since 2013, which was clearly in the timeline of using social media as a platform for protest and sharing protest music. Sociologist Rachel Vandagriff similarly avoids a strict definition, noting initially that “Music does not create change—people do. But music inspires people to take action.”⁹ She goes on to provide a clearer goal: protest songs “describe events against which the artist protests and in which the artist can explain his or her reasons why he or she protests.”¹⁰ Additionally, William F. Danaher associates protest music with how music functions within social movements, as a whole, noting how music operates to create collective identity.”¹¹ This discussion does not come any closer to defining protest music; however, it does pinpoint several characteristics that are important.

Protest in the 2010’s and After

In the age of Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and many others, social media and increased access to cellphones and computers have changed the way that the world interacts. They have also changed the way that people participate in social movements, perhaps even redefining social movement participation overall.¹² Before Facebook and other social media giants became so ingrained in modern daily life, participation in social movements largely involved letter-writing, marching protests, and teach-ins. While these still occur, they do so less frequently. Instead, Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram activism often enables people to engage more and become more educated about social movements.¹³

This type of online activism, however, faces critiques that it does not require much commitment or energy; “[al]though many people post on social media with the belief they are making a significant difference, some critics suggest that this is a rather low level of participation, one described by some as ‘slacktivism.’”¹⁴ This criticism of “slacktivism” raises a significant question about activism in general: what is the goal? Legal scholar Andrea L. Dennis defines a social movement as one that engages “marginalized groups using continuous, collective action to publicly challenge the existing social structure and demand power holders and government authorities make changes.”¹⁵ Social media enables protest to be continuous, collective, and public in the name of change. Vandagriff asserts that social movements are only as effective as their spread of awareness.¹⁶ Posting and reposting on social media raises awareness, and the exponential growth model of social media could raise awareness significantly.

The relation of social media activity to what is traditionally understood as activism is contentious. In the case of Black Lives Matter (BLM), the protests in the U.S. and around the world gained international media coverage. #BLM was posted about so many times that it was trending, which further catapulted the hashtag and content to more users. With the click of a button, users can participate. This debate centered around activism, slacktivism, and how to participate implies that a binary exists, that one either participates or does not participate, and that there is no gray area or middle ground. Certainly, internet activism and any type of social media activism that occurs in seconds are vastly different from attending an all-day protest. The dichotomy between these tremendously different ways of protesting confirms that the traditional binary model of protest is outdated, and furthermore there are a plethora of ways and degrees to which one can engage.

A Google image search of “protest” will unsurprisingly yield pictures of large political demonstrations, hand-made signs, and candle-light vigils, but this does not encapsulate smaller, more individualized acts of protest that focus on raising awareness or more education. I specifically refer here to posting on social media, and also to the process, choice, and engagement with protest music as the listener. The amount of energy or action required is not directly proportional to its impact, either on social media or in listening to music. The opposite can be quite true, as small contributions to communication in support of or about social movements have often been imperative to their success.¹⁷ Sociologists Jozie Nummi et al. address this point directly in the context of BLM, and the role of social media and music, for that matter, in raising important issues: “Black Americans further assert that the new social media are essential for amplifying critical issues not discussed in mainstream media, such as police brutality, racism, and other injustices.”¹⁸ Nummi et al. clarify that social media and newer forms of activism may be a more appropriate type of social engagement and protest because so much of current culture, socialization, and engagement occurs on social media.

While social media activism and protest music are fundamentally different, theoretically, social media activism and its evolution can be recognized as a parallel to how the limits of musical protest can expand to include listeners. On social media, users can re-tweet or share social movement content. It is important to note that music and the words of musicians are often shared on social media. Songs can accompany posts, YouTube videos can be shared, and so on. In this fashion, listening to such songs (i.e. clicking on the media) is a demonstration of active choice. In the same vein, not scrolling past the content is a passive choice, but a choice nonetheless. With this established, I theorize that choosing to listen to protest music, even outside of the bounds of social media, can be a form of consciously engaging with content and therefore consciously engaging in protest. With exceptions such as distracted listening or not having control of the music, listening to music is often a choice. If a song comes on the radio or a streaming service like Spotify, we have the choice to switch stations, turn it off, or listen to it. But often, listening goes beyond a single play, songs and albums are often played on repeat and shared among family and friends. Each of these examples is a conscious choice of engagement with musical content.

I theorize that choosing to listen to protest music, even outside of the bounds of social media, can be a form of consciously engaging with content and therefore consciously engaging in protest.

Musical Responses to Floyd’s Death

George Floyd was a rapper, and in his lyrics he addressed inequalities that he faced as a Black man: “Fucking with a, we not down with the Klan. Down with the Black, it can’t be no other.”¹⁹ After he was killed, other musicians swiftly took action. The day after Floyd’s death, Run the Jewels, a group composed of El-P and activist Killer Mike, spontaneously released “Walking in the Snow.” The song was released ahead of the rest of their album, RTJ4, because of its reference to police brutality in general and the specific line “I can’t breathe.”²⁰

"And every day on the evening news, they feed you fear for free. And you so numb, you watch the cops choke out a man like me until my voice goes from a shriek to a whisper, 'I can’t breathe.' And you sit there in the house on couch and watch it on TV. The most you give’s a twitter rant and call it tragedy. But truly the travesty, you’ve been robbed of your empathy, replaced it with apathy." ²¹Run the Jewels, “Walking in the Snow,” RTJ4, released June 3, 2020, Jewel Runners, digital.

Killer Mike confirmed on Twitter that the song was written and recorded in 2019 and referenced the murder of Eric Garner.²² These lyrics are tucked away in the verses of the song, and do not appear in the refrain at all. In fact, the refrain, “Just got done walking in the snow, goddamn that motherfucker’s cold” is a veiled reference to the lack of warmth, to put it mildly, that Black people experience in white America. This chorus functions as a “hidden transcript;” as Tricia Rose defines it, it is a message that uses unclear, cloaked language to ensure that the message is accessible to the oppressed peoples it was written for.²³The lyrics in the verse, however, explicitly challenge police brutality, trauma porn, and the prevalence of media.²⁴ Their placement, though, renders them largely unnoticeable to anyone who is not listening closely.

“JU$T,” on the same album, addresses the hypocrisy that past presidents who owned slaves are still featured on money, most specifically the continued presence of George Washington’s face on the dollar bill. Each chorus repeats “Look at all these slave masters posin’ on your dollar.”²⁵ The song continues to address more specific examples, including the threat of violence or retaliation that protest music poses to the artist: “And I told you once before that you should kill your master. Now that’s the line that’s probably gon’ get my ass assassinated.” Several lines later, the rappers question the thirteenth amendment in the context of Washington’s continued countenance on the dollar. Later, El-P raps “Just us ducks here sitting where murderous chokehold cops still earnin’ a livin’. Funny how some say money don’t matter, that’s rich now, isn’t it? Get it? Comedy. Try to sell a pack smokes to get food and get killed, and it’s not an anomaly, but hey, it’s just money.” This line refers directly to the death of Eric Garner in 2014, in which the murderous police officer continued to work for the NYPD after Garner’s death (he was ultimately fired for Garner’s death five years later).²⁶The discontent explicitly called out in this song is not veiled or hidden, as it was in “Walking in the Snow,” instead offering a litany of hypocrisies that plague the U.S.

The singer H.E.R. released a song entitled “I Can’t Breathe” on June 19, 2020, twenty-five days after Floyd’s death.²⁷ She is normally a singer, but halfway through the song, she abandons her lyrical voice for one more akin to Floyd’s musical expression: rap. Each verse addresses the hypocrisy of racism in the United States, but the chorus directly references Floyd’s last words, “I can’t breathe. You’re taking my life from me. I can’t breathe. Will anyone fight for me?” Though Floyd did not literally utter “You’re taking my life from me,” and, “Will anyone fight for me?” the artist took poetic liberty to represent what Floyd repeated, “You’re going to kill me,” and, “Help!” The song quickly became an anthem for the BLM movement and was nominated for the 2021 Grammy “Song of the Year.” The first four verses speak generally of communities experiencing systemic violence and being stripped of their rights. The fifth and subsequent verses, however, become increasingly specific about slavery, civil rights, police brutality, and racist tropes. “Destruction of minds, bodies, and human rights. Stripped of bloodlines, whipped and confined. This is the American pride, it’s justifying a genocide.” In these lines, H.E.R. refers to the treatment of captured Africans on their journey across the Middle Passage in slave ships. In addition, H.E.R. also addresses the claim that many white people make when they are accused of being racist: “Because you think your so-called ‘Black Friend’ validates your wokeness and erases your racism.” The song ends criticizing the constitution and with another phrase that many Americans use to assert their color-blindness: “Because of your audacity to say that all men are created equal in the eyes of God, but disparage a man based on the color of his skin. Do not say you do not see color. When you see us, see us. We can’t breathe.” H.E.R. provides overt examples of racism, veiled racism, and employs a catchy phrase in the refrain which could serve as a rallying cry in protest marches.

Rapper Lil Baby released his own protest song “The Bigger Picture” on June 12, 2020, several days after he marched in a BLM Atlanta protest.²⁸ The song opens with clips from newscasters discussing the death of George Floyd before Lil Baby joins, addressing the brutal realities of police violence: “I find it crazy that police’ll shoot you and know that you’re dead but still tell you to freeze. Fucked up. I seen what I seen. I guess that mean hold him down if he say he can’t breathe.” And “I see blue lights, I get scared and start runnin’. That shit be crazy, they ‘posed to protect us.” The refrain blends in with the rushed verses, as if the rapper has a litany of examples but only so much musical time to fill. Or perhaps it demonstrates the relentless struggle against systemic racism and police brutality. Nonetheless, the refrain provides a crucial element of analysis: “It’s bigger than black and white. It’s a problem with a whole way of life. It can’t change overnight.” This sentiment highlights the systemic inequality and systematic racism that pervade every aspect of American life—not simply racism between blacks and whites, but how the American way of life perpetuates it. This song engages with protest as a verb, by calling out specific actions that the police have taken that are unjust and provides an action for listeners to take that can effect change: vote.

In a discussion of “Alright” by Kendrick Lamar, Stephanie Shonekan discusses the song’s relevance compared to “We Shall Overcome.” She states that the lyrics of “Alright” “rise to the occasion, updating the context to reflect contemporary issues with police brutality and the murder of young black people.”²⁹ The four songs addressed in this paper each engage with protest, either the act of singing or rapping, as they express verbal discontent, per Merriam-Webster, or by encouraging actions listeners can take in protest. Shonekan’s students engaged in the Mizzou equality protests said that they chose to listen to music to help them get through the day.³⁰ Shonekan associates this with the continued presence of Black people in the U.S., the history of whom is filled with the continued threat of violence and murder. This specifically surfaces not only the threat of police brutality, but also the history of lynching, sundown towns, and the Tulsa Race Massacre.³¹ She goes on to state that in this way, survival is protest, and listening to music to energize survival can also be a form of protest. Shana Redmond further reifies this point that such “black anthems [are] ‘counter-anthems’ and that listening to them is a political act in performance because it mobilizes communal engagements.”³² Redmond’s work from 2013 addressed anthems in general, but perfectly illustrates the changing climate of protest and the changing definition of protest to include new ways of listening by engaging with the role of the listener and the important part that music plays.

In this way, survival is protest, and listening to music to energize survival can also be a form of protest.

Socially conscious rap that is critical of hegemonic abuse of power is extremely prevalent and is inherent in the genre. It dates back to the 1980s, with “Fuck tha Police” by N.W.A. (1988) and “Fight the Power” by Public Enemy (1989), to name a few. Those songs were iconic and have been pervasive in other cultural representations like movies. Loren Kajikawa concludes that both the rapper and the listener take an active role in producing meaning: “rap artists produce (and listeners interpret) musical meanings.”³³ He cites a famous example of Spike Lee’s use of “Fight the Power” in his film, Do the Right Thing; in essence, Lee took the song’s message and interpreted it by including it in his film. This is significant because it confirms that both the rapper and the listener play a part in the interpretation and production of meaning and significance. This reflects the same sentiment that Vandagriff centers her work around, that “delineating among types of protest art will call our attention to our role as listeners.”³⁴ Vandagriff and Kajikawa point to an aspect of protest music that is heretofore unexplored: the role of the listener. It is obvious that protestors who chant “We goin’ be alright!” are activated by Kendrick Lamar’s unintentional protest song. It is used as a rallying cry, activating protestors, and offering hope. However, Run the Jewels’ verse, “until my voice goes from a shriek to a whisper: ‘I can’t breathe’” is not catchy or short; it does not lend itself to repetition by crowds as a chant. It is clear from these quotations that the rapper, the use of lyrics that address social inequality, and the way these things affect the listener each function under the umbrella of protest. These lyrics do not necessarily address protestors, providing instructions for next steps or ways to protest, as do those in traditional protest songs. Instead, they highlight injustices. Such verses are prevalent in “I Can’t Breathe” and “The Bigger Picture” as well. These lyrics can serve as an ear-worm, a blatant or obscured message that speaks to listeners, letting them know that they are not alone, and raising awareness. The songs received significant airplay on radios, podcasts, social media platforms, and streaming platform playlists, exponentially increasing their ability to impact listeners.

Awareness is the key to this discussion of how these lyrics function. Jeremy W. Bohonos, et al. confirm this message and align it with BLM: “BLM activists engage in musical and other forms of creative expression to educate and raise consciousness regarding systemic inequity.”³⁵ Vandagriff echoes this sentiment: “Its impact can only be seen in the amount of awareness it garners.”³⁶ In this way, these songs function similarly to social media as a way to spread awareness exponentially. This signifies that the role of the listener is extremely important, that conscious listening can be and is a form of engaging in protest, just as the role of the performer protests by making the music. To put it another way, the choice of listening to a protest song perpetuates its impact, and any effect that the specific song has on the listener further accentuates this impact, therefore placing the artist, as well as the listener, in the role of protester.

The four songs that this paper analyzes each address specific and broad injustices, from the founding of America and the hypocrisy of slaveholders still featured on our money to the racist subtext of saying that one is “colorblind.” Each of the verses tells a story of systemic racism and its national and individual impacts. The listener that continues to play and share this music plays a significant role with each interaction. While news on TV, radio, or media are more often focused on white subject matter and detract attention from core movement ideals with trauma porn, protest music and social media offer more focused ways to engage with protest.³⁷ Protest music continues to be integral to social movements, not only as the best way to unify and educate listeners, but as a way to stay relevant. The choice to listen to the message and engage with it is an important part of this protest and is underscored by the rapid release of these four songs in the wake of George Floyd’s murder. Listening is integral to the movement.

About the Author:

Hannah Strong is a third-year doctoral student in Musicology at the University of Pittsburgh. Her research interests focus on intersections between rap and hip hop, social movements, and feminism. Her scholarship on Beyoncé and the #metoo movement will be published in a 2021 edited volume by Bloomsbury Academic. A frequent participant in conferences, she has presented at the American Musicological Society, Society for American Music, Harvard Graduate Music Forum, and the Cultural Studies Association, among others. Strong is completing a certificate in Gender, Sexuality, and Women’s Studies. She earned a master’s degree in Music History from Temple University and completed her undergraduate study in classical voice performance at Westminster Choir College.

Bibliography

Baker, Mike, Jennifer Valentino-DeVries, Manny Fernandez, and Michael LaForgia. “Three words. 70 Cases. The Tragic History of ‘I Can’t Breathe.’” The New York Times, June 29, 2020. https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/06/28/us/i-cant-breathe-police-arrest.html.

Bohonos, Jeremy W., Kimberly D. Otchere, and Yoon Park. “Using Artistic Expression as a Teaching Strategy for Social Justice: Examining Music from the Civil Rights and Black Lives Matter Movements.” Advances in Developing Human Resources, vol. 21, no. 2 (2019): 54.

Cambridge Dictionary. “Protest,” accessed October 19, 2021. https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/protest

Danaher, William F. “Music and Social Movements.” Sociology Compass 4/9 (2010): 818.

Dennis, Andrea L. “Black Contemporary Social Movements, Resource Mobilization, and Black Musical Activism.” Law and Contemporary Problems, vol. 79, no. 3 (2016): 2.

DJ Screw and George Floyd. “Sitting on Top of the World Freestyle.” Chapter 324, Dusk 2 Dawn, 1996, digital.

H.E.R. “I Can’t Breathe.” June 19, 2020. RCA, digital.

Kajikawa, Loren. Sounding Race in Rap Songs. (University of California Press: Oakland, 2015), 2.

KillerMike. Twitter post. June 4, 2020, 8:23.

Lil Baby. “The Bigger Story.” June 12, 2020. Universal, digital.

Merriam-Webster. “Protest,” accessed October 19, 2021. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/protest.

Nummi, Jozie, Carly Jennings, and Joe Feagin. “#BlackLivesMatter: Innovative Black Resistance.” Sociological Forum, vol. 34, no. S1 (2019): 1051.

Orejuela, Fernando, and Stephanie Shonekan eds. Black Lives Matter and Music: Protest, Intervention, Reflection. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2018): 20.

Redmond, Shana. Anthems: Social Movements and the Sound of Solidarity in the African Diaspora. (New York: NYU Press, 2013), 2.

Rodnitzky, Jerry. “Protest Song.” Grove Music Online, October 16, 2013. https://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo-9781561592630-e-1002252188

Rose, Tricia. Black Noise: Rap Music and Black Culture in Contemporary America. (Wesleyan University Press: Middletown, CT, 1994), 99-100.

Run the Jewels. “JU$T.” RTJ4. Released June 3, 2020. Jewel Runners, digital.

Run the Jewels. “Walking in the Snow.” RTJ4. Released June 3, 2020. Jewel Runners. digital.

Vandagriff, Rachel. “Talking about a Revolution.” Lied und populär Kulture, vol. 60/61: 337.

“We Insist: An Introduction to Our Timeline.” NPR, September 2, 2020. https://www.npr.org/898709145/we-insist-a-timeline-of-protest-music-in-2020.

Wellington, Darryl Lorenzo. “Beyond Trauma Porn: How to Fight Indifference and Struggle for Justice.” The Santa Fe Reporter, June 2, 2021. https://www.sfreporter.com/arts/2021/06/02/beyond-trauma-porn/

1
Jerry Rodnitzky, “Protest Song.” Grove Music Online, October 16, 2013. https://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo-9781561592630-e-1002252188
2
“We Insist: An Introduction to Our Timeline,” NPR, September 2, 2020, https://www.npr.org/898709145/we-insist-a-timeline-of-protest-music-in-2020.
3
Ibid
4
Merriam-Webster, “Protest,” accessed October 19, 2021, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/protest.
5
Cambridge Dictionary, “Protest,” accessed October 19, 2021, https://dictionary.cambridge.org/us/dictionary/english/protest
6
Rodnitzky, Jerry. “Protest Song.” Grove Music Online, October 16, 2013. https://www.oxfordmusiconline.com/grovemusic/view/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.001.0001/omo-9781561592630-e-1002252188
7
Ibid.
8
Ibid.
9
Rachel Vandagriff, “Talking about a Revolution,” Lied und populär Kulture, vol. 60/61: 334.
10
Ibid., 337.
11
William F. Danaher, “Music and Social Movements,” Sociology Compass 4/9 (2010): 818.
12
As this paper specifically discusses the death of George Floyd, I will limit the scope of this discussion to the time-period directly surrounding Floyd’s death.
13
Jozie Nummi, Carly Jennings, and Joe Feagin, “#BlackLivesMatter: Innovative Black Resistance,” Sociological Forum, vol. 34, no. S1 (2019): 1051.
14
Ibid., 1053.
15
Andrea L. Dennis, “Black Contemporary Social Movements, Resource Mobilization, and Black Musical Activism,” Law and Contemporary Problems, vol. 79, no. 3 (2016): 2.
16
Vandagriff, “Talking About a Revolution,” 337.
17
Nummi, “#BlackLivesMatter,” 1053.
18
Ibid., 1057.
19
DJ Screw and George Floyd, “Sitting on Top of the World Freestyle,” Chapter 324, Dusk 2 Dawn, 1996, digital.
20
Several people of color have been killed in instances of police brutality by suffocation, including George Floyd, Eric Garner, and 68 other victims, according to the New York Times. Mike Baker, Jennifer Valentino-DeVries, Manny Fernandez, and Michael LaForgia, “Three words. 70 Cases. The Tragic History of ‘I Can’t Breathe.’” The New York Times, June 29, 2020. https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2020/06/28/us/i-cant-breathe-police-arrest.html
21
Run the Jewels, “Walking in the Snow,” RTJ4, released June 3, 2020, Jewel Runners, digital.
22
KillerMike, Twitter post, June 4, 2020, 8:23.
23
Tricia Rose, Black Noise: Rap Music and Black Culture in Contemporary America, (Wesleyan University Press: Middletown, CT, 1994), 99-100. In her theorization of hidden transcripts, Rose cites James Scott, Domination and the Arts of Resistance, (Yale University Press: New Haven, CT, 1992).
24
Trauma porn is defined as “as media that showcases a group’s pain and suffering for the sake of entertainment and created around the exploitation of marginalized people.” Darryl Lorenzo Wellington, “Beyond Trauma Porn: How to Fight Indifference and Struggle for Justice,” Santa Fe Reporter, June 2, 2021, https://www.sfreporter.com/arts/2021/06/02/beyond-trauma-porn/.
25
Run the Jewels, “JU$T,” RTJ4, released June 3, 2020, Jewel Runners, digital.
26
Baker, “Three Words.”
27
H.E.R., “I Can’t Breathe,” June 19, 2020, RCA, digital.
28
Lil Baby, “The Bigger Story,” June 12, 2020, Universal, digital.
29
Fernando Orejuela and Stephanie Shonekan, eds, Black Lives Matter and Music: Protest, Intervention, Reflection (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2018), 20.
30
Ibid., 23.
31
Though lynching need not be defined here, a sundown town is a predominately white community where Black people were not safe after the sun went down. The Tulsa Race Massacre is a largely unrecognized massacre on Tulsa, OK as a protest against Black entrepreneurship and prosperity.
32
Shana Redmond, Anthems: Social Movements and the Sound of Solidarity in the African Diaspora, (New York: NYU Press, 2013), 2.
33
Loren Kajikawa, Sounding Race in Rap Songs (University of California Press: Oakland, 2015), 2.
34
Vandagriff, “Talking About a Revolution,” 337.
35
Jeremy W. Bohonos, Kimberly D. Otchere, and Yoon Park, “Using Artistic Expression as a Teaching Strategy for Social Justice: Examining Music From the Civil Rights and Black Lives Matter Movements,” Advances in Developing Human Resources, vol. 21, no. 2 (2019),:54.
36
Vandagriff, “Talking About a Revolution,” 346.
37
I specifically refer here to the prevalence of white main characters, news focused on missing white girls as opposed to BIPOC women and police brutality against BIPOC.