How is it September already?! Peace to all my fellow NYE-baby Virgos, and peace to the pizzaguy at Papa Ceo’s on Spadina who asked me today — “are you from Mexico?” I really love conversations that start out that way.

By now, most blog-types that make blog-type rounds have already seen this and the varying reactions to it — including Jay Smooth’s take. While the defenders of the “Kill Whitie” parties focused on the race question (à la “some of my best friends are black”), Jay touched on something far deeper:

I’ve been saying for years that irony is now the last refuge of a coward. A singularly dishonest and deluded sort of coward who imagines his behavior a mark of courage, as he fearlessly refuses to take anything seriously.

But the true mark of courage is a willingness to engage the world, and your place in it, with honesty and sincerity. Those who lack that sort of courage will spend their lives looking for something to hide behind. This cowardice is the root of all hipster irony.

Nail, meet the hammer. I’ve been searching for words just like these to express my frustration with hipster irony — a sub-culture of thought that’s made calling someone “easily-offended” a heavy insult. Where being serious is a downer and everything is fair game for mockery and fun. Why? Because you’re privileged and have a right to that fun, that’s why!

The controversy surrounding the Fashion Cares show earlier this summer is something that immediately popped to mind when I first read about this. Remember? Remember the “Bollywood/Cowboy” shitstorm? Here’s a re-cap: some eyebrows were raised when Bollywood/Cowboy: East Meets Western was marketed as the theme for The AIDS Committee of Toronto’s annual fundraiser, Fashion Cares. Those raised eyebrows were told to chill out and stop raining on the glam parade.

“Pamela [Anderson, host] will have gold bangles, earrings, bindi and cowboy boots for the occasion. We’re excited about the Bollywood genre — it’s a trendy culture and very relevant. Our show will have a sequence from Bombay Dreams,” informs Philip Ing, director of Fashion Cares, a fundraiser for AIDS. “We love Bollywood’s colours, styles and dance sequences, it’s like a fantasy world. The show will be like a scene from a Hindi movie.”

Yeeees. Brown culture is trendy and very relevant, but brown people and their opinions… not so much. A group called the ASAP (Alliance for South Asian AIDS Prevention) issued a number of statements outlining their concerns with the chosen theme. They were upset with the lack of South Asian representation in the show, the exotization of their culture, and disrespectful portrayals of religious figures. All valid concerns, and seeing as the Fashion Cares people were appropriating select elements of a culture not their own, it only seemed fitting that they hear out these concerns. Right?

B then there was this. A couple of socio-political analysts of the Kill Whitie School of Thought got together to write this editorial in which they responded to the complaints made against Bollywood/Cowboy:

ASAP’s second point was about eroticization. We can’t immediately call to mind an erotic South Asian stereotype, but we’re sure one exists…

As for the flagrant use (by which we assume they mean misuse) of religious imagery: we live in a secular culture in which religious freedom exists alongside the freedom to refer to the son of one of our gods as Jeebus, and we see no reason to exclude Kali or anything else from similar treatment, in the full knowledge that some may, indeed, be offended.

No. We live in a multicultural society in which the many voices and beliefs of our residents are protected and respected. So even if your jaded, secular ass thinks it’s funny (in that ironic Vice Magazine way) to crack jokes about the Pope and Jeebus, you’d better wake the frig up and realize that this city’s rules do not revolve around you and your beliefs. An abridged version of the editorial, as well as a section of the Ironic White Hipster Mantra, might translate to: Chill out, darkies, stop bringin’ me down!

I probably wouldn’t get so worked up over garbage like this if it weren’t happening in cities such as Toronto or New York. These are giant metropoli steeped in decades of immigration and multiculturalism and mixing and mashing. This old messageboard thread on the topic of the Bollywood/Cowboy debacle, the awful eye editorial, and all the fresh, asinine responses to Jay’s post (“People are so easily offended. My advice is to relax. If white girls want a safe place to dance to rap music, then what’s the problem with that?”), all make me daspair.

Isn’t anyone paying attention anymore? Where is this arrogant laziness coming from? This sense of entitlement to mock and appropriate in a white privilege free-for-all?

There’s so much more I want to say about this, but I’m late for Jeff Chang. More later. Maybe.

[ Toronto All B-Girl School; photography by Che Kothari. ]

Alternate titles for this entry might be “A Tale Of Two Weekends,” “A Bitch’s Work Is Never Done,” “Even White Girls Get The Blues,” or “Don’t Wanna Be A Hater (No More)”. Toronto has been a little hotbed of debate recently, but I’mna leave the heavy gossip to the messageboards for now ( cough cough cough ) and get a little feminine rage off my chests.

My story begins with the events of the Saturday and Sunday before last, at Mark Ecko’s much ballyhooed Getting Up Fest. At one point during the weekend, my friend Nehal leans over and cracks up describing how one of Flow FM’s radio personalities had slipped up, on the air, in the midst of promoting the event.

“He called it Getting It Up Fest,” she laughed, and I shook my head. How fitting.

As much as Ecko fest tried to come off as a “complete” hip hop experience, and as many “elements” as they tried to squeeze into a weekend’s events, they still really only reached out to one half of the hip hop demographic: the fellas. It was all about fellas — fellas performing on stage while other fellas hosted, a bunch of fellas painting walls with aerosol cans, while more fellas still were busy with the car show.

Ecko fest was an intensely male-oriented event, and like I was saying to Del a little while ago, it wasn’t really a good place to be a woman. Aside from three weak performances from some token eye candy, the only females to hold anyone’s attention up on that stage came from the Video Vixen contest. Ohhhh, don’t get me started on the hoes. Fellas checking out hoes, talking about hoes, trying to get with hoes, where all my sexy hoes at?! Hoes, hoes, hoes.

Whatever strides females in this game may think have been made over the years were pointedly forgotten with every skeet-skeet-skeet and inspired crotch rub from Busta or Luda or whoever was up there at the time. I can’t say that I was surprised, but dangit fellas, I was disappointed. Is this an accurate portrayal of the female role in hip hop culture? Is this caricature of a one-trick hussy how we are doomed to be perceived, regardless of contributions, regardless of dopeness?

Which brings me to part two of the story, and to a completely different planet in the hip hop galaxy: last Saturday night at the El Mocambo. The M1 Group throws a monthly party called The M1 Academy, with an all-female component taking over the event a few times a year. In December they assembled the All B-Girl School and invited Ladybug Mecca to rock the show; last Saturday the Academy’s guest of honour was none other than Bahamadia.

I saw a little bit of what went into the preparation for this night, so I can tell you, this took a lot of work, and I have nothing but respect for the remarkable women that came together to make it all happen. All of the women in the photo above had some hand in it, but the core group of showcase artists and opening performers — host Masia One, Van Khanh, DJ L’Oqenz, DJ Dalia, EGR, Phresha, Lady Noyz, Zaki, Isis and Eternia — they were the real creators of this magic. By the time they had run through their individual sets and Bahamadia took to the stage, the crowd was pumped, the vibe was crazy, and it could have gone down as one of the happier moments in Toronto b-girl history.

Of course, you know Mizz B was feeling chatty that night. Chatty and positive. She praised the promoters for bringing her through to Toronto, praised whoever was responsible for the b-girl photoshoot slideshow presentation, and even praised God a few times for good measure. She expressed respect for the event itself, The All B-Girl School, citing how difficult it can be to find a group of females actually working together. “We’re competitive by nature,” she pointed out, and she was impressed that this group of female musicians, dancers and artists were showing such respect and support for one another.

This is what she said onstage. Off-stage, she was a different Bahamadia. She was the Bahamadia that looked at her opener — an emcee of the Caucasian persuasion — and passed petty judgements. Maybe she wasn’t feeling this other woman’s flow, and that’s cool — we can’t appeal to everyone, and that’s something even the BB Queen understands. Thing is, she wasn’t being Rap Critic Bahamadia. She was being the Bahamadia that forgot about any sort of girl-power-support-your-own-because-this-industry-is-hard-and-i-been -stabbed-in-the-back-more-times-than-i-can-count stance, that referred to the woman on the mic before her, and said:

“That’s why white bitches shouldn’t rap.”

Not only is that a nassssy thing to say, it’s also really wack. Who is Bahamadia? Is she not one of the strongest females in the game? Has she not faced adversity and sexism and homophobia and racism throughout her life? Has she not put up with disrespect and hatorate in these past two decades of trying to establish herself, of trying to assert her right to rhyme with two breasts and a microphone? When she uttered those words, Bahamadia slipped into the role of the hater, forgetting where she’s come from, and forgetting about that female cattiness she dislikes so much.

And then there’s the issue of racism. I wonder if Bee had any issues with the other bitches on stage that night. Did it bother her seeing two Asian bitches up there? Or a Latina bitch? Or some African bitches? That word is starting to sting a little bit now, isn’t it? So don’t use it to describe a white bitch. If you don’t like someone’s performance or don’t particularly appreciate their style, there is always a way to express your opinion that does not require calling into play something as politically-charged (and irrelevant) as that person’s race.

Maybe, when she said those words, Bahamadia was trying to be a clever bitch. It may have been a joke, ’cause she’s a funny bitch like that. If she had laughed afterward, I might have thought she was just a big ol’ sarcastic bitch. (Damn, bitch, you almost had me!)I wasn’t looking at her when she said it, so I can’t really say. All I know is that when I hear someone going off about what some bitches — any bitches — should or should not do, I can only call them one thing, and that’s straight-up ignorant.

It’s 2005, and it doesn’t feel as though much has changed. A ho is still a ho, a bitch is still a bitch, and I don’t know what it’s going to take to change that.

My “friendster” horoscope for today reads:

Putting off until tomorrow what you need to do right now will just cause a big headache in perpetuity. So take a deep breath and dive into the tasks at hand before they get out of hand.

This could may as well have been my personal (sheepish) mantra these past many months, as I’ve watched project after project pile up, deadlines pass, personal goals fizzle, etc. This website in particular (along with the portfolio site, which has been “coming soon” for an eternity) is a perfect example. I’ll admit, when I first started posting in here, I wasn’t quite ready to go public with it. I had set this up mainly as a forum for my own ramblings, observations, and for mini-articles and editorials that don’t quite fit in with any particular magazine. Anyway, sometime in late May, when I was still getting into the swing of things, I got linked by a certain somebody, which then led to another linking by another blogging sombody. Well. My hits went through the roof, I froze up like a doe in some SUV headlights, and a huge case of shyness kicked me in the bamsee. By now the attention has died down, the circus has left town, and I feel a little more at ease about crawling out from under my rock. Stretch and yawn, let’s get down to business.

* * * * *

“Is Ciara a MAN????? PLEASE ANSWER ME BACK!!!!!” [ this shit is funny as hell. ]

I hesitate to say that it’s because I’m getting older, but something about the youth of today leaves me in a state of despair.

Earlier this month I put together a series of day-long workshops on independent journalism, blogging (heh), podcasting (can we please come up with a better term?) and interviewing skills for a Parkdale-based programme for young women. For several sticky summer afternoons I had the pleasure of acquainting myself with the charms of these strong ladies, ages varying from 11 to 17, and in the process learned a few things about how distanced we are from eachother’s views of hip hop.

At one point during our first day together, I picked their brains for issues and subjects that really matter to them, with music, family and friends topped the collective list. Hip hop being the overwhelming favourite genre, we started to go through the names of some of their favourite artists. The conversation turned to Bow Wow, his girlfriend Ciara (”she’s a guy, I swear it, she even admitted it on Oprah”), and somewhere in that mix one of the girls tossed in a reference to Nas being “old school” but still good. They loved Game’s “400 bars” and anything related to dissing 50 Cent (”he’s so fake”). They loooooved Flow 93.5, “Toronto’s Urban FM”. And you know, I just had to ask:

“Are there any Canadian artists you like?”

I got a round of blank stares. They cracked jokes about Keisha Chanté and Shawn Desman, conceding finally that they had heard of Kardinal Offishall, but didn’t really know his songs. I pressed them for more names, but no dice.

If you know me, you know I could give two sheeaaats about the big names, about the XXL covers, or about BET Award Nominees of the world. I don’t do celebrity interviews because they don’t interest me. Personally and professionally, I’m more about bigging up my community and building a sustainable local scene, above and beyond anything else. I spent years on the East Coast booking tours, promoting shows, and co-hosting and DJing a weekly radio show — all in the name of supporting independent hip hop. Dang it, I even put out an independent Canadian hip hop sampler back in the day! I was serious.

Since moving back to Toronto last year, I’ve remained pretty quiet on the scene. I don’t promote, I don’t DJ, I don’t even dance much anymore — I just write. What frustrates me is that, in my dealings out East and in my dealings with the West (because, geography be damned, Atlantic and Pacific-region hip hop is far more linked than most Toronto heads even realise), I always found a healthy appreciation of and support for local, independent talent. I used to hitchhike to Halifax on the weekends, and I remember catching underage kids — the same age as these girls in Toronto — trying to sneak into the indie open mics and weekly showcases. If you asked them who their favourite DJ or emcee was, they would have no doubt named someone Nova Scotian in their top ten. Does that happen here? Do the Flow-listening, Much Vibe-watching youth of this city know their local emcees, DJs, producers, etc?

I talked to Mindbender about this not too long ago (for a CBC feature which may never see the light of day, a.k.a. please solve your labour issues, folks) and he had some important points to raise:

Mindbender: You know, it is the Screwface Capital, and it really is a city with world-class talent and small-town support. There’s no excuse for the industry to be as bad as it is here.Me: Is it because people are hesitant to support people they don’t know?

Mindbender: No, I don’t think that’s a good excuse, because the true essence of hip hop is support your own, support your neighbourhood. Everywhere in Brooklyn, people are like “Brooklyn Brooklyn! This is my boy off the block!’ But Toronto doesn’t have that. Every other city, from Compton to New Orleans, these hip hoppers loved where they came from, and it all started with their cities bringing them up, and then they went national. But that doesn’t happen in Toronto or in Canada.

It’s a shame when you think of Canadian talent and Canadian potential as a whole, but looking specifically at Toronto, it just breaks my heart. There are more up-and-coming young stars here than I can count. I give thanks to the many hip hop rec centers, drop-in programmes, and open mic nights that have given many of these youth a place to go, share what they’ve got, and open up to new skills, influences and collaborations. It’s a beautiful thing to behold how much music and expression is coming out of the different corners of Toronto. Even if many of these cats never make it as far as getting major radio rotation or winning hit status with their songs, it is still really important that this music is being created. How polished or how marketable it is doesn’t matter. Creation — that’s the point. That’s how you build a community, a history, a foundation for all the performers and composers and writers and artists to come.

And so I come back to these half-dozen young girls in Parkdale. Whether they realise it or not, they are the target audience for the Flow 93.5 FMs and the 106 & Parks. They’ve probably never listened to an hour of local hip hop programming on CKLN or CIUT in their lives. It took them a good ten minutes to come up with the name of ONE homegrown hip hop artist, and even then could not name a single one of his songs.

Tremendous strides have been made in the past few years in terms of raising local consciousness, stirring up some north-of-that-border pride, starting to build a network, and laying down some independent-minded economic strategies. I won’t argue with that. But if Flow can loop tracks by Rochester or Bishop or whichever hiphopcanadadotcom artist as much as they do, and it still isn’t making any sort of impact on their prime target audience, then we’ve got to reassess our approach and come at it a different way.

Oh, and then there’s this: the main director in charge of youth programming at this particular community center in Parkdale happens to be none other than Theology 3, “your favourite emcee’s favourite emcee’s favourite emcee.” You want to talk about hometown pride and disconnection? These girls see him every day in the centre, yet have no idea what he’s about. Now that’s about as shameful as all them Ciara rumours. Tsk tsk.

* * * * *

FINALLY! A Podcast Worth Listening To!

Speaking of CKLN, I’d like to give a nice big pound to The Real Frequency for finally providing their laziest fans (i.e. me) with a way to download individually archived shows. I know they’ve had their timeslot on Flow for months now, but I don’t know when it is, and I can’t be bothered to remember anyway. I still get that tingling feeling every Saturday afternoon, like I’m missing out on my weekly dose of Arcee ramblings and rap gossip, and I beeline to my radio to tune in. No dice. Someday soon I’ll visit them at their new commercial FM digs, but until then, here are four options for getting that Real-Real-Real fixxx:

http://www.podcastingnews.com/details/therealfrequency.podbus.com/view.htm
http://www.podcastpickle.com/casts/?1981
http://www.podcast.net/show/57914
http://www.getapodcast.com/podcast553.aspx

Until next time, keep awwwwwwwwn…