A hard hip-hop beat rattles the old speakers in two corners of the black-rubber-floored room. The windows, clouded with steam, drip with condensation as the members of Groove Theory, a primarily black hip-hop dance team at Georgetown University, swagger through heavy columns of hot air. The leader of the group runs back to the stereo to turn up the music as the dancers pop, lock, grind, wop and slide to Missy Elliot’s “Lose Control.”
Halfway across the country, somewhere in Middle America, a congregation of white mothers smiles on as their eight-year-old daughters roll their hips and pop their chests to the beat of 50 Cent’s “In Da Club”—the clean version.
Going Global
Hip-hop has officially gone global. From D.C. collegiate dance rooms to youth hip-hop dance studios in Lincoln, Neb., this genre of music has permeated American society and beyond.
From the neighborhood street corners of Philadelphia and Los Angeles to Madison Square Garden and the MCI Center, hip-hop has evolved from a communal coping mechanism into a worldwide entertainment phenomenon. Hip-hop is more than dance, music, clothes, money, “bling,” fame and commercialized industry. It’s a lifestyle. It’s a feeling. It’s a community.
But what kind of community is it? These days, you’re just as likely to hear hip-hop blaring from a white teenager’s Jeep Grand Cherokee in the suburbs as from a boom-box in the inner city.
And three of the District’s most influential universities, American University, George Washington University and Georgetown University, have hip-hop dance troupes with diverse demographics.
A Threat
When Charae Carter, a junior at American University, hears the word hip-hop, she thinks old school. She imagines baggy jeans, Adidas “kicks,” fat shoelaces and the furry hats LL Cool J used to wear, circa 1988.
Carter is the captain and founder of American’s hip-hop team, Jump Off. Jump Off is in its first year of existence.
When asked to define the culture of hip-hop, Carter goes back to hip-hop’s roots in Jamaica. DJ Kool Herc immigrated from this Caribbean country to the Bronx in the 1970’s and catalyzed the hip-hop revolution in the United States. He would mix disco, soul, funk and reggae to create new and innovative beats, sounds and styles. From this mixture sprung the movements of break-dancing. From break-dancing evolved today’s hip-hop.
Carter believes hip-hop to be all-inclusive. Hip-hop “doesn’t discriminate, but at the same time, we [the black community] would be offended if hip-hop became too commercial. It walks a fine line,” she said.
At the same time, Carter insists that hip-hop cannot lose sight of its historical context because of its nostalgic value to a large population.
Racial Expectations
Tiffani Wesley, a junior at George Washington University, has been a dancer on GW’s hip-hop team, Capital Funk, since her sophomore year. Today she is its captain.
Wesley admits that during her first year as a dancer with Capital Funk, she was quiet, reserved and cautious. She had not made the team as a permanent member, but rather as an alternate. She immediately felt uncomfortable and outside the black culture of hip-hop.
Wesley is black.
She grew up in a small Illinois town with two black families—her own family and Walter Payton’s family. Through a simple process of elimination, she would frequently be mistaken for the football star’s daughter.
Wesley said she “grew up white.” Her friends were white. Her neighbors were white. Her town was white.
In coming to GW, Wesley said she felt the pressure to “become” black. She was posing in a culture that was not hers—she was expected to act, dress and dance black. “It’s cool to be a white girl who dances, but if you’re black and can’t do hip-hop…” Her voice tapered off.
Worried about looking “stupid,” Wesley said she even changed her style of dress and fashion. She went from an all-American Abercrombie style in Illinois to baggy jeans, tank tops and the occasional funky hat in D.C. She said she still finds herself dressing to fit her regional setting.
Despite these issues, within a year, Wesley fit comfortably into George Washington’s racial fabric. In fact, Capital Funk is stunningly multi-racial—four blacks, seven whites, four Asians and one Hispanic.
Although the presence of hip-hop on GW’s campus is not particularly strong, Capital Funk’s members stick together. Because of its weak presentation on campus, the hip-hop culture tends to attract students of every background and racial group.
Capital Funk is constantly reaching out to all races. It’s a “welcoming culture,” Wesley said. “It’s a warm community. It’s something you feel.”
Urban Groove
Striving to maintain the original culture of hip-hop within the black community, many traditionalists of “old school” or classic hip-hop do not approve of this ever-changing face—hip-hop began black and should stay black.
Jared Jenkins (MSB ‘06) is one of the captains of Georgetown University’s hip-hop dance team, Groove Theory. A native of Philadelphia, Jenkins attended a high school that he estimated as 99 percent black. He said he walked the halls with students who held this traditionalist point of view.
Jenkins, however, believes that the new diversity is an enhancement to the hip-hop culture. This attitude is the very reason he decided to attend Georgetown in the fall of 2002. “I love the fact that Groove Theory is a diverse group,” he said. Diverse backgrounds bring diverse experiences, he added.
Groove Theory is made up of eleven blacks, six whites, one Asian and one Hispanic.
Jenkins thinks that hip-hop and race boil down to the following: the black population has established a community that entertains and uplifts, and hip-hop is the way you express yourself. “It’s the way you live. You eat, sleep and breathe it. It’s exciting, spontaneous. You can’t turn away. It’s magnetic. It grabs you,” he said.
Jenkins believes that if non-black students recognize and respect the style, history and life of the hip-hop culture, they should be encouraged to join in.
Internal Discourse?
Groove Theory’s other captain, Amanda Doran (CAS ‘07), agreed with her fellow captain—she said Groove Theory is diverse. She, however, said that she observes segregation among its racially diverse members.
Doran said that new dancers tend to flock together by color.
“[A person’s] initial comfort zone is within his or her own race,” Doran, a psychology major, commented. Her assessment, she said, stems from her own experience as a white dancer in Groove Theory and from her observations of cohorts. Doran said self-segregation is a subconscious cultural tendency, and people are conditioned to act in a way that is comfortable.
At the beginning of each year, there is an obvious cluster of white dancers in the back of the Yates Field House dance studio, Doran noticed.
She said she too would migrate, in her first year, towards the three other white girls in the group.
However, with time, these racial barriers break down, she said. They did for Doran that year. Nothing specifically changed, she said, but with time came security—security in herself as a dancer and security in herself as a member of the minority. With time, came more bonding opportunities—long practices, out-of-town competitions and team outings. She said that by halfway through her first semester she was comfortable and acclimated.
Seniority and Geography Trump Ethnicity
George Washington’s Capital Funk and Georgetown’s Groove Theory have experienced similar racial issues since their conceptions. Jump Off, the newly formed hip-hop team at American University, is now dealing with these very same problems. Carter said that there is a constituency of a particular minority that comfortably associates with those like themselves. In Jump Off’s case, this group is ethnically African.
Yet, despite these initial hesitations, the situation can change. At the end of a successful season, all the Groove Theory dancers congregate around the sweaty stationary bikes that line the tiny, windowed workout room. With the music blaring, they are rolling on the dusty floor, laughing at a sole member lip-synching to an 1980’s Queen Latifah hit. Integration complete.
It comes down to comfort level, seniority, and geography. Some time into the semester, these barriers seem to crumble.
Wesley, a young woman of African descent, felt alienated by her own racial roots as she became accustomed to the hip-hop world. Today, as an upper classman, she sees her past self in the apprehension of the new white dancers. Doran demonstrated this same distant behavior in her first year as a member of Groove Theory. She was drawn to other white girls in the troupe. Now older and well-adjusted, she acts differently.
Carter’s new group is just developing as a team. Clusters have appeared because racial unity takes time, Carter said.
Jenkins, however, suggests that this apparent segregation may be geographical, not racial. “New York City has its own language. Sometimes I can’t even understand what New Yorkers are saying.” Those from Los Angeles congregate with Californians while New Yorkers find New Yorkers. Jenkins, the captain of Groove Theory, even finds himself drawn to those from Philadelphia. “It’s a connection to home,” he said.
