When I was a little boy, I shared a room in a cramped apartment on the north side of Milwaukee with my brother, Byron. One night in the mid '80s, he brought home a record player and snuck downstairs to snatch up the few records that my parents had. Among those records were The Wiz, Another One Bites the Dust, Lionel Richie's You are the Sun You are the Rain and assorted Popeye and \Star Wars"" 45s.
Byron also came home with a couple new tapes in his hands. The names on the tapes were unfamiliar to me. One tape had the title Beat Street on it, and the other had a few dudes on the cover and the weirdest group name I thought I'd heard to that point. The group was called the Skinny Boys, but I liked the name. I was a little skinny kid myself.
Byron immediately plugged in the record player, placed Another One Bites the Dust on the spinning plate and violently jerked the record back and forth. He was nowhere near keeping a steady beat, and the noise made by ""scratching"" or ""cutting"" the record seemed not to be the one he was aiming for.
When I asked him what he was doing, he gave me the ""I'm 6 years older than you and I can put you in a coma with a simple thump on the forehead"" look. Eventually, Byron got a bit too frustrated and quit. He saw me smiling, told me to shut up and put the Beat Street tape on to fall asleep to.
Ah, my first memories of hip hop at home.
After that day, there was no turning back for me. I memorized song after song. Most boys my age were in love with actresses or singers. I was in love with 808 kickdrums and high hats. I was already a radio head, singing countless songs around the house.
My mother always gave me that ""My baby's gonna be a star"" look when I would run around singing some Cameo or Michael Jackson song. This was different, though. I'd always loved music, but this wasn't just love. It was bordering on obsession.
Music always made me feel good, but this made me feel right. This was mine, and the cats on the tape covers reminded me of my brother and his friends. This was the world in which I belonged.
This is still the world in which I live. I live by its code of ethics. I dress myself in its style of clothing, and I lose myself in its music.
I have hip hop in my heart, and I couldn't help it if I wanted to. There are many on this campus and on the face of this earth that would have you believe that they too are from the world of hip hop.
Do not be fooled! hip hop is not wearing $100 jeans. hip hop is not where you party. hip hop is not who your friends are. hip hop is not what your major is. hip hop is what you live, and for many, hip hop is why you live. Welcome to my world.
