Hi guys! My name's Michie and welcome to my blog! My interests are: Kingsman, Hannibal, Harry Potter, Kawaii Stuff (sometimes), Sherlock BBC, The Hobbit, and British Actors RFP. My birthday is on Sept. 23 My favorite thing to do is BAKING!!!!
A Crash Course to Kendrick's Super Bowl Performance, from a Black Woman
Note: this does NOT go in depth into all of the song's lyrics. I don't have time to recount two decades of his discography. This is just a summary of the performance itself.
Let's start with the first visual we get:
UNCLE SAM - most notably recognized from WWII American wartime propaganda, Uncle Sam is the personification of American patriotism and freedom. The term "uncle" is also evocative of Uncle Tom from Uncle Tom's Cabin, an abolitionist book that aided in inciting the Civil War. Uncle is also a very common term (both endearment and derogatory) towards Black men (eg. "unc"). Samuel L Jackson was fantastic. (Edit: and please look up his history of civil rights activism, he was on the FBI watchlist and even a pallbearer at MLKJr’s funeral.)
Uncle Sam also resembles a circus ringleader, notable for my next point:
THE GREAT AMERICAN GAME - no, not Super Bowl. The GAG is us the people being pitted against each other: through late-stage capitalism, through the culture war, through class warfare, through being built of the backs of slaves. We are all players in the GAG because none of us on this site were the oligarchs seated at the inauguration.
This is also seen as Kendrick's stage was a Play Station controller. Not only did it remind of circus rings visually, but it was a game battle stage. The Great American Game is a battle royale of the commoners for the amusement of the rich whites.
Remember the foods / Them color was tin and brown / But now they 100 and blue - For this I'll just say, look what the last election said about lowering the price of eggs... and look at the prices now.
The revolution about to be televised / You picked the right time / But the wrong guy - Election 2024 once more. *Edit to add, the first part of this lyric is in reference to the Black Liberation Song "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" by Gil Scott-Heron. Thanks to everyone who mentioned that.
THE FLAG DANCERS - yes, the dancers formed the US flag... off of the backs of Black people. Not a single white person in sight, and that's true of the cotton pickers in the fields. Plantations are part of how the US came to economic prominence after being a "backwater" colony. Remember tobacco? Cotton? Our bloodlines do. *Edit to add: they also all piled out of a clown car. The US flag in a clown car? Brilliant.
The red and blue dancers are also notable for representing the Crips and Bloods, two infamous street gangs. The dance in Not Like Us is the Crip Walk. I recommend researching more on your own time about them, but just know they are a large part of the stereotype of Black people being "ghetto."
TOO LOUD, TOO RECKLESS, TOO GHETTO. Do you really know how to play the game? - This is exactly what Black people, especially Black men, get told all the time. It's why we change our names on resumes if they sound "too Black." It's why we codeswitch in non-Black company. This is especially rich considering how non-Black people love our culture and love to make money off of us, as the latter part of the quote points to. And it's even more profound during the Super Bowl-- the NFL is majority Black players.
STREET LIGHT A CAPELLA -- "thug" stereotype dancers to counteract the a capella connotations, with Uncle Sam then saying that Kendrick figured out "bringing other street guys around being a culture cheat code." Yes, this is a direct hit at Drake (listen to "Not Like Us") but also politically. Look up "model minority". Notably I would point to Candace Owens, or the Miami Venezuelan political group that's been in the news recently, especially as this directly led to Kendrick being surrounded by...
DANCERS IN WHITE -- it's white America. That's... that's the allegory.
NOT LIKE US TEASER -- Kendrick says "Not Like Us" is "their favorite song." -> he means white people specifically here. It comes after he's surrounded by all white dancers, the women around him who are his call and response are also in white (my opinion, they represent the industry). He's saying "Not Like Us" is the favorite of yts because it is about BLACK MEN FIGHTING. This again is reflected in the video game stage and ringleader Uncle Sam.
SZA -- instead of giving what they want, we see SZA. She's one of Drake's exes and Kendrick has always supported her.
ALL THE STARS -- This was in the first Black Panther movie, which I recommend you watch. Rest in Power Chadwick. Notably, this movie was incredibly mainstream as a major Marvel movie, and then we have Uncle Sam say...
"THAT'S WHAT AMERICA WANTS: NICE AND CALM. DON'T MESS THIS UP" -- translation: Marvel (the industry, America, etc.) wanted a safe, semi-pop song because white American likes safe pop songs, not Kendrick's usual heavy rap style about his life as a Black man! Don't mess up what you've got going mainstream for having this "Black rap feud" with Drake, who is an R&B model minority to white people because he's safe.
So what does Kendrick say?
IT'S A CULTURAL DIVIDE / IMMA GET IT ON THE FLOOR -- He was warned not to be political or apologetically Black for this Super Bowl performance, but he is using this big stage opportunity to speak out.
40 ACRES AND A MULE / THIS IS BIGGER THAN THE MUSIC -- 40 acres and a mule are what the freed slaves were promised. Instead, this land went to white sharecroppers. Research Jim Crow laws.
THEY TRIED TO RIG THE GAME / BUT YOU CAN'T FAKE INFLUENCE -- rig the election, rig the industry like with model minority Drake, rig the Great American Game with culture war to distract from active class warfare.
NOT LIKE US -- the only thing I'll mention because it made me holler is Serena Williams crip walking on Drake's metaphorical grave. She's another one of his exes (read: Drake harassed the hell out of her). *Edit: she was also fined at the 2012 Olympics for crip walking in celebration at Wimbledon.
TURN THE TV OFF -- exactly like he said! The TV is a distraction, the Super Bowl is a distraction, the mainstream news is often a distraction. Turn it off and get with your people!
GAME OVER — could not see this on my stream but at the end of the performance, the lights in the stadium spelled this out. The world is watching, America…
In conclusion, Kendrick Lamar is a visionary and thank you for coming to my TED Talk.
The crew is gathered at a lively tavern, drinks flowing, laughter echoing off the wooden walls. You’re seated next to Zoro, who, as usual, seems more focused on his drink than the conversation. His arm is draped casually along the back of the bench, and at some point, probably without realizing it, his fingers start lightly tracing circles on your shoulder.
It’s absentminded, subconscious, but you notice.
And so does everyone else.
You don’t say anything at first, just letting yourself enjoy the rare show of affection. Zoro isn’t exactly the touchy type, so the feeling of his rough, calloused fingers against your skin is something to savor. You lean into him just a little, and his grip unconsciously tightens.
Then, Sanji snickers “Didn’t take you for the clingy type, Marimo.”
Zoro’s fingers stops instantly.
You can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he replays the last few minutes, piecing together what just happened. His arm stiffens, and when you glance up, you find his face frozen in mild horror, like his own body has just betrayed him.
“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice comes out a little too sharp, too defensive, which only makes Sanji smirk wider.
“Oh, nothing” The cook takes a drag of his cigarette “It’s just cute, that's all. Didn’t think you’d be the type to get all touchy in public.”
Zoro yanks his arm back so fast you almost fall sideways “I wasn’t!” He groans, rubbing his face like he can physically scrub the moment from existence “It wasn’t on purpose.”
You stifle a laugh, reaching up to pat his arm “Relax, Zoro. It’s fine.”
He glares at you, but there’s a bit of redness creeping up his neck “I don’t do that stuff in public.”
Sanji hums, clearly enjoying this way too much “Mhm. Sure. Just keep telling yourself that.”
Zoro grumbles something under his breath, clearly ready to die on this hill. But even as he crosses his arms and scowls at his drink, his knee remains pressed against yours under the table.
Accidental or not, you’ll take what you can get.
Vinsmoke Sanji:
The sun is setting over the Sunny, casting golden hues across the deck. Dinner is long over, but most of the crew lingers, full and satisfied. You sit beside Sanji near the railing, listening to the breeze and the distant laughter of the others. He’s in a good mood, smiling as he talks to you about a new dessert he’s planning, something with caramel and sea salt, he says, because “a contrast of flavors makes things more exciting, mon amour.”
You roll your eyes at the nickname but don’t bother fighting it. Sanji flirts like he breathes, and by now, you’ve just learned to go along with it.
Then, it happens.
You’re mid-sip of your drink when Sanji, without thinking, reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
It’s so natural, so smooth, that it takes you a second to process what just happened. The conversation around you continues, but you feel frozen, heat creeping up your neck.
Sanji, of course, remains utterly unaware. He keeps talking like nothing’s happened, his fingers lingering near your ear for just a moment before pulling away. It wasn’t even a grand gesture, just an absentminded, casual thing. But the way it makes your heart stutter? Absolutely unfair.
Unfortunately, someone does notice.
“Oi, Sanji,” Usopp teases, leaning over the table with a shit-eating grin “Didn’t know you were already at the ‘tucking their hair back like a romance novel protagonist’ stage.”
Sanji blinks “Hah?”
Nami chuckles “That was smooth, even for you.”
Sanji frowns, clearly replaying the last few seconds in his head. His hand twitches, as if only now realizing what it just did. He looks at you, at your slightly wide eyes, at the way you’re still holding your drink midair like an idiot, and then… it hits him.
“Oh—!” His face erupts into red “I—I wasn’t—! That was—!”
He immediately buries his face in his hands, groaning “Shit… I didn’t even notice I—!”
“You touched their hair, Sanji,” Usopp deadpans, grinning. “That’s practically a confession.”
Sanji sputters, waving his arms dramatically “It’s not like that! I— I just—” He stops, then sighs, rubbing his temples. “Mon dieu…”
You watch him, amused. The smooth-talking, ever-flirty Sanji, reduced to a blushing mess over one small gesture.
You smile. Maybe you didn’t mind it so much after all.
Trafalgar D. Water Law:
Trafalgar Law doesn't do public displays of affection. The man acts like love is a classified disease, and he’s the only doctor qualified to handle it.
Which is why the Heart Pirates are absolutely living for this moment.
It starts small, Bepo makes an offhand comment about how you and Law seem weirdly close today. And by that, he means Law has casually draped an arm around your waist while reading his book.
Then it escalates.
Law, your usually grumpy, no-nonsense captain, absentmindedly feeds you a bite of his food at dinner. Like it’s nothing. Like this is normal.
The crew goes silent.
Then whispers.
Then snickering.
Shachi elbows Penguin “Did you see that?”
“I felt that” Penguin whispers back, eyes wide.
“Are we being punked?” Ikkaku mutters “Is this a medical experiment or what?”
Meanwhile, Law, completely oblivious, keeps eating... until he notices just how unnaturally quiet everyone has gotten. He glances up, fork mid-air, only to be met with a table full of smug grins and barely contained laughter.
“…What?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
Bepo smiles innocently “Nothing, Captain. Please, continue being adorable.”
Law blinks. Then slowly turns to you, as if just now realizing what he’s done.
You, being the absolute menace that you are, grin and open your mouth again, waiting for another bite.
A muscle in his jaw twitches.
“You’re enjoying this” he mutters.
“Oh, immensely.”
Law exhales through his nose, looking between the crew and you. For a second, it seems like he’ll retreat, go full grumpy captain mode,
but instead, he smirks, leans in, and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.
The chaos that erupts is instant.
Shachi falls out of his chair. Penguin screams. Bepo claps. Ikkaku nearly chokes on her drink.
Law, of course, acts like nothing happened and goes right back to eating.
But the red tips of his ears? Oh yeah. That’s a win.
Portgas D. Ace:
The bonfire crackles, casting a golden glow over the Whitebeard Pirates as laughter and conversation fill the night air. You’re sitting next to Ace, comfortably close, the warmth of the fire mingling with the heat radiating off his skin.
He’s relaxed, grinning as he chats with Marco, one arm casually slung over the back of the log where you're sitting. It's nothing unusual... Ace has always been a little touchy without thinking much of it. But at some point, his fingers start absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair, twirling and tugging in slow, lazy motions.
You blink.
The conversation continues like nothing’s happening, and Ace doesn’t seem to notice what he’s doing. It’s almost endearing, the way he’s so comfortable, so unaware, until Thatch smirks over his tankard and loudly clears his throat.
“Well, well” Thatch drawls, tapping his mug against Marco’s “Didn’t realize we were in the middle of a romantic drama. Should we leave you two alone?”
Ace freezes mid-twist of your hair.
His fingers tighten ever so slightly before he slowly lets the strand slip from his grip. The realization crashes down on him in real-time, his freckles disappearing under the deepening red of his face.
“Huh?” His voice cracks slightly “I...That’s not...”
Marco chuckles, sipping his drink “You’re adorable when you’re oblivious, yoi.”
Ace immediately throws a handful of sand in his direction, scowling. “Shut up!” His voice is a little too high-pitched to be threatening “I wasn’t—! It wasn’t on purpose!”
“Sure” Thatch grins, wiggling his eyebrows “Accidental flirting. A classic.”
Ace groans into his hands, looking very much like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. You, on the other hand, are biting back a laugh as you lean in slightly.
“Didn’t know you liked playing with my hair” you tease, just loud enough for him to hear.
His head snaps to you, wide-eyed, before he grumbles something incoherent under his breath. You’re pretty sure you catch the words never living this down.
Still, despite his embarrassment, he doesn’t move away, his warmth lingers beside you, a silent contradiction to his flustered protests.
Eustass Kid:
The atmosphere in the tavern is loud and chaotic, just the way the Kid Pirates like it. The crew is drinking, shouting, and causing their usual brand of mayhem while you sit beside Kid, with your drink. He’s in a rare good mood tonight, smirking as he argues with Killer over some pointless bet.
You’re just relaxing, letting the warmth of the room settle into your bones, when you feel it... Kid’s hand resting on your thigh.
Not just resting. His fingers drum absently against your skin, his grip solid, like it belongs there.
Your brain short-circuits for a second. He’s not the type for public affection. Hell, he barely acknowledges feelings exist, so the fact that he’s touching you like this, so casually, is… unexpected.
And the worst part? He doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it.
You glance down, then back up at him. He’s still engaged in his conversation with Killer, completely unaware of the way his thumb is now slowly tracing circles against your leg.
It’s fine. It’s totally fine. You can just pretend like this isn’t affecting you...
"Oi, Kid" Heat suddenly snickers from across the table, eyes gleaming with mischief "y/n is so red that it like they're about to explode. Didn’t know you were the handsy type."
Kid pauses mid-sentence "Huh?"
He follows Heat’s gaze, straight to where his hand is resting on you. His fingers twitch. You feel the exact moment his brain catches up with his body, the slow realization creeping onto his face.
The entire table is watching now, grinning like they’ve just witnessed something hilarious.
"Shit," Kid mutters, yanking his hand away like he’s been burned. His face twists into a scowl, and his cheeks—just barely—tinge red "I wasn’t—!" His voice raises, defensive. "It was just—!"
Killer snorts "Yeah, sure. Just absentmindedly groping them in the middle of a crowded tavern. Totally normal."
The crew erupts into laughter. Kid growls, kicking Heat’s chair out from under him, sending the man crashing to the floor "Shut the hell up!"
You bite your lip, fighting back a grin.
Even as he huffs and glares at his drink, grumbling about stupid bastards and their stupid comments, his knee remains firmly pressed against yours under the table.
The crew is gathered at a lively tavern, drinks flowing, laughter echoing off the wooden walls. You’re seated next to Zoro, who, as usual, seems more focused on his drink than the conversation. His arm is draped casually along the back of the bench, and at some point, probably without realizing it, his fingers start lightly tracing circles on your shoulder.
It’s absentminded, subconscious, but you notice.
And so does everyone else.
You don’t say anything at first, just letting yourself enjoy the rare show of affection. Zoro isn’t exactly the touchy type, so the feeling of his rough, calloused fingers against your skin is something to savor. You lean into him just a little, and his grip unconsciously tightens.
Then, Sanji snickers “Didn’t take you for the clingy type, Marimo.”
Zoro’s fingers stops instantly.
You can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he replays the last few minutes, piecing together what just happened. His arm stiffens, and when you glance up, you find his face frozen in mild horror, like his own body has just betrayed him.
“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice comes out a little too sharp, too defensive, which only makes Sanji smirk wider.
“Oh, nothing” The cook takes a drag of his cigarette “It’s just cute, that's all. Didn’t think you’d be the type to get all touchy in public.”
Zoro yanks his arm back so fast you almost fall sideways “I wasn’t!” He groans, rubbing his face like he can physically scrub the moment from existence “It wasn’t on purpose.”
You stifle a laugh, reaching up to pat his arm “Relax, Zoro. It’s fine.”
He glares at you, but there’s a bit of redness creeping up his neck “I don’t do that stuff in public.”
Sanji hums, clearly enjoying this way too much “Mhm. Sure. Just keep telling yourself that.”
Zoro grumbles something under his breath, clearly ready to die on this hill. But even as he crosses his arms and scowls at his drink, his knee remains pressed against yours under the table.
Accidental or not, you’ll take what you can get.
Vinsmoke Sanji:
The sun is setting over the Sunny, casting golden hues across the deck. Dinner is long over, but most of the crew lingers, full and satisfied. You sit beside Sanji near the railing, listening to the breeze and the distant laughter of the others. He’s in a good mood, smiling as he talks to you about a new dessert he’s planning, something with caramel and sea salt, he says, because “a contrast of flavors makes things more exciting, mon amour.”
You roll your eyes at the nickname but don’t bother fighting it. Sanji flirts like he breathes, and by now, you’ve just learned to go along with it.
Then, it happens.
You’re mid-sip of your drink when Sanji, without thinking, reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
It’s so natural, so smooth, that it takes you a second to process what just happened. The conversation around you continues, but you feel frozen, heat creeping up your neck.
Sanji, of course, remains utterly unaware. He keeps talking like nothing’s happened, his fingers lingering near your ear for just a moment before pulling away. It wasn’t even a grand gesture, just an absentminded, casual thing. But the way it makes your heart stutter? Absolutely unfair.
Unfortunately, someone does notice.
“Oi, Sanji,” Usopp teases, leaning over the table with a shit-eating grin “Didn’t know you were already at the ‘tucking their hair back like a romance novel protagonist’ stage.”
Sanji blinks “Hah?”
Nami chuckles “That was smooth, even for you.”
Sanji frowns, clearly replaying the last few seconds in his head. His hand twitches, as if only now realizing what it just did. He looks at you, at your slightly wide eyes, at the way you’re still holding your drink midair like an idiot, and then… it hits him.
“Oh—!” His face erupts into red “I—I wasn’t—! That was—!”
He immediately buries his face in his hands, groaning “Shit… I didn’t even notice I—!”
“You touched their hair, Sanji,” Usopp deadpans, grinning. “That’s practically a confession.”
Sanji sputters, waving his arms dramatically “It’s not like that! I— I just—” He stops, then sighs, rubbing his temples. “Mon dieu…”
You watch him, amused. The smooth-talking, ever-flirty Sanji, reduced to a blushing mess over one small gesture.
You smile. Maybe you didn’t mind it so much after all.
Trafalgar D. Water Law:
Trafalgar Law doesn't do public displays of affection. The man acts like love is a classified disease, and he’s the only doctor qualified to handle it.
Which is why the Heart Pirates are absolutely living for this moment.
It starts small, Bepo makes an offhand comment about how you and Law seem weirdly close today. And by that, he means Law has casually draped an arm around your waist while reading his book.
Then it escalates.
Law, your usually grumpy, no-nonsense captain, absentmindedly feeds you a bite of his food at dinner. Like it’s nothing. Like this is normal.
The crew goes silent.
Then whispers.
Then snickering.
Shachi elbows Penguin “Did you see that?”
“I felt that” Penguin whispers back, eyes wide.
“Are we being punked?” Ikkaku mutters “Is this a medical experiment or what?”
Meanwhile, Law, completely oblivious, keeps eating... until he notices just how unnaturally quiet everyone has gotten. He glances up, fork mid-air, only to be met with a table full of smug grins and barely contained laughter.
“…What?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
Bepo smiles innocently “Nothing, Captain. Please, continue being adorable.”
Law blinks. Then slowly turns to you, as if just now realizing what he’s done.
You, being the absolute menace that you are, grin and open your mouth again, waiting for another bite.
A muscle in his jaw twitches.
“You’re enjoying this” he mutters.
“Oh, immensely.”
Law exhales through his nose, looking between the crew and you. For a second, it seems like he’ll retreat, go full grumpy captain mode,
but instead, he smirks, leans in, and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.
The chaos that erupts is instant.
Shachi falls out of his chair. Penguin screams. Bepo claps. Ikkaku nearly chokes on her drink.
Law, of course, acts like nothing happened and goes right back to eating.
But the red tips of his ears? Oh yeah. That’s a win.
Portgas D. Ace:
The bonfire crackles, casting a golden glow over the Whitebeard Pirates as laughter and conversation fill the night air. You’re sitting next to Ace, comfortably close, the warmth of the fire mingling with the heat radiating off his skin.
He’s relaxed, grinning as he chats with Marco, one arm casually slung over the back of the log where you're sitting. It's nothing unusual... Ace has always been a little touchy without thinking much of it. But at some point, his fingers start absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair, twirling and tugging in slow, lazy motions.
You blink.
The conversation continues like nothing’s happening, and Ace doesn’t seem to notice what he’s doing. It’s almost endearing, the way he’s so comfortable, so unaware, until Thatch smirks over his tankard and loudly clears his throat.
“Well, well” Thatch drawls, tapping his mug against Marco’s “Didn’t realize we were in the middle of a romantic drama. Should we leave you two alone?”
Ace freezes mid-twist of your hair.
His fingers tighten ever so slightly before he slowly lets the strand slip from his grip. The realization crashes down on him in real-time, his freckles disappearing under the deepening red of his face.
“Huh?” His voice cracks slightly “I...That’s not...”
Marco chuckles, sipping his drink “You’re adorable when you’re oblivious, yoi.”
Ace immediately throws a handful of sand in his direction, scowling. “Shut up!” His voice is a little too high-pitched to be threatening “I wasn’t—! It wasn’t on purpose!”
“Sure” Thatch grins, wiggling his eyebrows “Accidental flirting. A classic.”
Ace groans into his hands, looking very much like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. You, on the other hand, are biting back a laugh as you lean in slightly.
“Didn’t know you liked playing with my hair” you tease, just loud enough for him to hear.
His head snaps to you, wide-eyed, before he grumbles something incoherent under his breath. You’re pretty sure you catch the words never living this down.
Still, despite his embarrassment, he doesn’t move away, his warmth lingers beside you, a silent contradiction to his flustered protests.
Eustass Kid:
The atmosphere in the tavern is loud and chaotic, just the way the Kid Pirates like it. The crew is drinking, shouting, and causing their usual brand of mayhem while you sit beside Kid, with your drink. He’s in a rare good mood tonight, smirking as he argues with Killer over some pointless bet.
You’re just relaxing, letting the warmth of the room settle into your bones, when you feel it... Kid’s hand resting on your thigh.
Not just resting. His fingers drum absently against your skin, his grip solid, like it belongs there.
Your brain short-circuits for a second. He’s not the type for public affection. Hell, he barely acknowledges feelings exist, so the fact that he’s touching you like this, so casually, is… unexpected.
And the worst part? He doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it.
You glance down, then back up at him. He’s still engaged in his conversation with Killer, completely unaware of the way his thumb is now slowly tracing circles against your leg.
It’s fine. It’s totally fine. You can just pretend like this isn’t affecting you...
"Oi, Kid" Heat suddenly snickers from across the table, eyes gleaming with mischief "y/n is so red that it like they're about to explode. Didn’t know you were the handsy type."
Kid pauses mid-sentence "Huh?"
He follows Heat’s gaze, straight to where his hand is resting on you. His fingers twitch. You feel the exact moment his brain catches up with his body, the slow realization creeping onto his face.
The entire table is watching now, grinning like they’ve just witnessed something hilarious.
"Shit," Kid mutters, yanking his hand away like he’s been burned. His face twists into a scowl, and his cheeks—just barely—tinge red "I wasn’t—!" His voice raises, defensive. "It was just—!"
Killer snorts "Yeah, sure. Just absentmindedly groping them in the middle of a crowded tavern. Totally normal."
The crew erupts into laughter. Kid growls, kicking Heat’s chair out from under him, sending the man crashing to the floor "Shut the hell up!"
You bite your lip, fighting back a grin.
Even as he huffs and glares at his drink, grumbling about stupid bastards and their stupid comments, his knee remains firmly pressed against yours under the table.
I wanna talk about some vitally important symbolism in Kendrick’s performance this evening.
Follow me.
Kendrick had an entirely Black dance cast for this performance, all dressed in red, white, blue, and some in black. But, I specifically want to focus on this arrangement, at the beginning of the show.
The dancers create the appearance of an American flag. A flag, the symbol of American history and heritage, formed out of Black bodies.
The legacy of America is that of the state that was built on the work of Black bodies. Enslaved Black bodies.
But it’s deeper than that.
Kendrick puts himself at the center of the flag. Now, yeah, part of it is performance; it looks better with your performer surrounded by the “supporting cast,” so to speak. But, with Kendrick, it’s never that simple.
Kendrick centers himself, imo, to demonstrate that he is functionally America. His experiences, his life, is America. He grew up poor, urban, the son of working parents. He was nearly led astray as a youth, but turned to art and philosophy and dedicating himself to his craft, and found both fulfillment and success. In the popular myth of the American dream, that’s the ultimate goal.
And he never once did it by selling his soul to capital (again, in the ‘mythos of Kendrick Lamar’). He never betrayed his culture, or took the quick money, or let his art be co-opted by the vultures that feed on Black culture for mass (white) consumption.
Again, this is just a quick and dirty analysis by one person who only developed an appreciation for hip-hop recently. For deeper, more informed analysis, seek and study the Black academics who know far, far more than me.
Honestly nobody is doing it like Trafalgar D. Water Law. He's German. He hates bread. He keeps to himself. He gravitates towards extroverts. He has a nasty reputation. He doesn't kill people during fights. His first appearance resembles Salad Fingers who smokes weed. He's weak to cute things and one of his best friends is a fluffy bear. His moniker is the Surgeon of Death because people thinks his power is creepy. He wants to become a doctor like his parents. He looks emo and edgy with his tattoos. The DEATH tattoo on his hand is the reminder he gave himself during childhood of what's at stake while treating patients, and the rest is to honor a loved one. He's stressed 24/7 like he's a workaholic. He spends all his time napping against his emotionally supportive bear and wandering to collect coins. He flips people off. He loves comics and geeks out amidst a battle. He's a smart strategist and he knows it. He has never talked down on anyone. He comes off as sadistic and dangerous. He never betrays his ally and gets bullied constantly by the crew of said ally. He wears tragedy like high fashion. At the lowest point in his life he finds out that he has always been loved and never been alone.
areudirty
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