For a long time in African American culture, one of the most damning things one black person could call another was “house nigger.” The house nigger was the sellout, more beholden to the approval of white people than dedicated to the liberation or well-being of black people. It was believed by many that slaves who’d worked in the houses of their owners had been more vested in securing their marginally safer position (and its proximity to whiteness) than in showing solidarity with field workers. (With a host of variables in play, including the temperament and humanity of the slave owner, house slaves might be treated slightly better than field slaves, though each position had its own life and death hazards.) Scholarship over the last several years has attempted to debunk some of the beliefs around the house nigger, pointing out that he or she often tipped other slaves off as to the inner workings of the house, and often helped create windows of opportunity for rebellion. That overhauled perspective provides the narrative framework for J. Cole’s new video for the track “G.O.M.D” (Get off my dick.)
The clip opens with Cole, in period attire, peering through plantation house windows, and then cuts to white slave owners riding through a field were slaves are working the land, establishing that Cole is a “house nigger.” From there, the tale of slave uprising also weaves in other pungent commentary. At one point, Cole’s character flashes a black power fist to field workers walking by the house, and one of them scowls and makes as if to leap toward Cole in anger before someone else pulls him back – underscoring the tensions and assumptions in the house/field slave divide. It’s also worth noting that Cole’s skin is lighter in complexion than the field workers – speaking volumes about bloodlines and, again, the assumed loyalties of (and rewards for) those with obvious European blood. The treatment of slave women is demonstrated in the manhandling of black women by white male hands. Women slaves dancing around a fire at night signifies the African spiritual and cultural practices that sustained the slaves, laying the foundation for both rebellion and myriad African American cultural forms to come. When Cole’s character sees an opportunity for freedom for him and his people, and takes it, a sympathetic white observer turns a blind eye as Cole nabs the tool he needs to make it happen.
Image courtesy of J. Cole’s Instagram.
While the clip is startling and refreshing in the context of 21st century pop and rap, it’s a throwback to the kind of imagery that filled rap videos over twenty years ago, when black consciousness and pointedly affirming messages (visual and recorded) were the status quo of hip-hop. And while the lyrics to “G.O.M.D” are filled with dick wagging bravado and self-aggrandizement, they’re also full of cultural commentary. At one point Cole raps, “It’s called love / niggas don’t sing about it no mo / don’t nobody sing about it no mo…,” pointing out that the dearth of those songs has an effective on the collective psyche and how we all interact with one another. Elsewhere he raps, “Why every rich black nigga gotta be famous? / Why every broke black nigga gotta be brainless? / That’s a stereotype…,” speaking to the power of media representation and misrepresentation to shape notions of blackness.
In the wake of Ferguson, Cole’s political activism has kicked into notable overdrive, and his media appearances have found him speaking with unflinching honesty about the harsh realities of anti-blackness in America. It’s no surprise that such unblinking commentary would also show up in his work, and hip-hop and pop are the better for it.
Ernest Hardy is a Sundance Fellow whose music and film criticism have appeared in the New York Times, the Village Voice, Vibe, Rolling Stone, LA Times, and LA Weekly. His collection of criticism, Blood Beats Vol. 1: Demos, Remixes and Extended Versions (2006) was a recipient of the 2007 PEN / Beyond Margins Award.
