The Story of an Unlikely Hip Hop Girl

For as long as I can remember, I've loved hip hop & R&B music.  I don't even know how it happened.  I grew up in a fairly "Top 40" kind of town, where would I have learned the awesomeness that was LL Cool J? Ice T? The Beastie Boys?  Keith Sweat?  Granted, a lot of their songs were mainstreamed, but I continued to listen to (and memorize) ALL the songs on their albums.  I was hooked.  And, an excellent rapper [read:  no, not at all].

In high school, it was more of the same.  Sure, I ran with the crowd. I knew the words to Madonna's "Vogue" or (shudder) memorizing the "rap" to Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire".  But, rap, hip hop, R&B?  That was my thang.

In college, I had more freedom to listen to what I wanted at higher decibels.  As you know, I love to swear, so swearing because the song called for it was the peanut butter to my chocolate.  I met similar-minded people in college.  My roommate was devastated when 2Pac was killed.  We listened to him all night long.  She called her long-distance boyfriend to make sure he was okay.  We mourned when Biggie was killed, too.

So, we spent our weekends dancing at clubs and overtaking the DJ booth at our favorite bar.  We danced and sang and rapped and hip hopped all the livelong day.  It was pretty fucking awesome, G.

These days, I still listen to my music.  A white girl.  In her minivan.  Driving down her predominantly white street.  Because SiriusXM has created a station called The Fly. Hip hop from the 90s.  That shit is playing in my car 24/7, yo.  To add to that, I have become a sideshow at book club.  My friends and coworkers are always amazed and, yes, amused when I tell them my favorite songs.

And then they make me rap.

Listen.  Just because I know the words by heart doesn't mean I can perform them well.  I'm a small, white girl.  I don't even have swagger.

And, you know, grammar is important to me.

But, it doesn't matter.  Because I'm such entertainment, my one girlfriend downloaded a bunch of music to her Kindle so I could perform for her yet again at this month's book club.

My once considered hard-core rap existence has become an opening act (or closing act, if I've had a lot to drink) for all our parties.

What do I care?  I get to listen to my music!  Bring it!