On Justin Bieber, Minneapolis, & reconciling ‘progress’ with regression

Last week was a big deal. I fell in love with Justin Bieber, something I never thought would happen. I am not alone in these feelings (though I am significantly less thirsty, because my sexuality is not inclusive of Justin Bieber no matter how much he apparently looks like a lesbian). 

My new found love for J. Biebs happened distinctly because of the lineup of music videos for his latest album Purpose. I could not (and still cannot) stop watching “Sorry,” and being enraptured by the incredible dancing done by the not over sexualized women of different racial and ethnic backgrounds. There was even some size diversity! Bieber literally was not in the video. Nor was he in “Love Yourself,” which featured two people of color doing some amazing dancing melded with everyday life. He also did not make an appearance in “Company,” which featured two more people of color flirting through dance, but then did a weird rewind thing and ended up showing a room full of scantily clad women gyrating seemingly with no plot. And then there was “The Feeling,” which starred someone who resembled Bieber and a whole lot of racial discomfort with four Black men beating him up (probably representing “the feeling”). The optics are probably unintentional, but it was strange.

The videos are a bit of a mixed bag, but I cannot escape the fact that a lot of what is happening in these videos is subversive as hell, featuring racial and ethnic diversity, women of different sizes, and depictions of atypical expressions of femininity. I am so on board with most of this. I believe this is progress when it comes to combatting a music industry that commodifies and sexualizes women’s bodies, normalizing that behavior for our society.

And then, I saw Justin Bieber perform “Sorry” at the American Music Awards. To say I was unimpressed is an understatement. He sang well, and for all intents and purposes, performed the song well. But for the first time since falling in love with his new album and a bunch of his videos, I had to see Bieber. In that process, I was reminded exactly why I disliked him in the first place.

The way his pants sag and his oversized t-shirt hung low on his body; how he moved across the stage with a distinct swagger, it wreaked of appropriation of hip-hop culture – Black culture. This isn’t new for Bieber; many people have pointed out the hypocrisy of labeling Black men thugs while Bieber did deplorable things and was still treated like…well Bieber.

Normally, I wouldn’t be so incensed, but this week, I have no patience. Seeing him strut across the stage appropriating mannerisms belonging to a culture that is not only not his, but one seemingly marked for extinction by the police industrial complex is not just an insult, it’s personal.

As I struggled to determine what my own masculinity looked like, I would sag my sweatpants around my house, and my athletic pants in public, to which my parents responded, “Pull your pants up, ya thug.” Looking back on those interactions, I can absolutely see the respectability and class politics laden in their response, and I also know that in a KKK surrounded rural, Indiana town, my father desperately wanted to keep me alive.

Though I did not fully comprehend that  reality during my formative, middle school years, as an adult, it is difficult for me to ignore my father’s position. He had every reason to worry. When I talk about Indiana, and the KKK coming to visit during my parents’ first summer in Culver, folks typically roll their eyes because KKK and “white supremacists” are the stuff of legends. With rising racial tensions, however, their activity has been more visible.

In Minneapolis, the horrible, and yet not all too surprising happened: masked, white civilian men firing upon Black protestors. With another Black man, Jamar Clark, killed at the hands of police, organizers in Minnesota have been protesting at the 4^th police precinct, where they have been met with mace by police officers, and now bullets by civilians.

Minneapolis and Minnesota more broadly, hold special places in my heart. I attended college in Minnesota, about 35 minutes from the Twin Cities. I learned so much about myself while living in Minnesota, and am proud that the first ballot I ever cast was to elect Mark Dayton as Governor. What is happening in Minneapolis shatters the perception I have of a place that has been a “safe space” for me over the years. The consequence is that I have been questioning most of what I hold to be true.

When I fell in love with Justin Bieber, it was because of my optimism, the part of me that watches movies and writes about the “fun stuff.” Part of why I love writing about and discussing pop culture is that I can see the progress we’re making as a society. There were zero commercials featuring same-sex couples when I was a kid. The same was true for multiracial families. Shows with queer characters and not just queer baiting (cough Xena cough)? Not gonna happen.

The landscape has completely changed. There are lots of shows featuring LGBTQ characters (some better than others); Jessica Jones explores trauma in a humane and responsible way; and of course Orange is the New Black kicks so much ass. Of course, nothing is perfect, but we have certainly come a long way.

That truth I carry, one that makes writing and, if I’m honest, living fun for me is constantly undermined by the truth of what it means to be Black in the United States in 2015. How can I grasp at a progress narrative when my Black siblings are dying at the hands of those who should protect them?

I am reminded of James Baldwin who said, “To be a negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage almost all the time. So that first problem is how to control that rage so that it won’t destroy you.”

I am unsure of how to solve that first problem today. Perhaps tomorrow will be better.

Header Image Credit: The Nation