Hip hop legend DJ Jazzy Jeff was slated to perform last Saturday night at Kansas City’s KC Live, a club in the city’s Power & Light District. For those that live under a pop culture rock, DJ Jazzy Jeff won the first rap Grammy with Will Smith in 1988 and later co-starred with him on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. The legendary DJ’s show in Kansas City was free to the public, sponsored in part by VH1’s Save The Music Foundation.
On Saturday night, everything seemed to be going well until Jeff started spinning hip hop music. I know what you’re thinking: Who would expect a legendary hip hop DJ to play hip hop at a paid club performance? Trust me, I was shocked too. Well, the club owners weren’t having it, and the bouncers Uncle Philip Banks-ed him out of their club. Cruel, cruel irony.
The back story proves much more serious—and much more problematic. Apparently, the owner of KC Live has been on some sort of a crusade against gangs, baggy pants, and rap music. And, by extension, black people.
David Cordish, chairman of The Cordish, Co., owns KC Live and controls much of the Power & Light District. In October of 2008, Cordish demanded greater police presence against “gangs” in the Power & Light District. He accused the police of being “soft” on gang violence, and demanded they enforce a zero tolerance policy. But how many robberies, muggings, or assaults in the Power & Light District occurred at the hands of gangs? More importantly, how many robberies, muggings, or assaults occurred at all? No one knows, including Cordish. And that’s the problem—what makes Cordish suspect gang violence? Could he be referring to Kansas City’s young black population, many of whom frequent the Power & Light District? See, in contemporary American vernacular, “gang” is a loaded—and racialized—term. Where others see African-American partygoers, Cordish sees potential gang members.
A racially charged pattern emerges when we take a close look at KC Live’s oddly and suspiciously specific dress code. Look, I’ve heard of dress codes at clubs before, most along the lines of “No tennis shoes” or “No hats.” I guess that’s fine—you know, maybe the club wants to appear upscale or classy. But Cordish and KC Live ban “Shorts below the calves,” “White t’s” and…wait for it…“Towels.” Yes, towels. Sandals, a blue t-shirt and jeans? No problem. Timberland boots, a white t-shirt and a towel? Find another club.
There are a few things going on here. First, Cordish is taking the “No shirt, no shoes, no service” policy to the racial extreme. It’s as if he surveyed Kansas City’s large black population, made a list of their major fashion trends, and then slapped the list on the front door of his club under a “Not Allowed” banner. Second, the club is marketed as a “Top 40” establishment, yet prohibits hip hop. Check out any Top 40 list from the past 15 years—hip hop is well represented. This contradiction in music policy is a not-so-subtle, yet still implicit message that blacks (and their cultural forms) are not welcome at KC Live. Indeed, that was the exact reason DJ Jazzy Jeff was booted from the stage: He played Biz Markie’s famous hip hop ballad “Just a Friend.” Yes, the same Biz Markie song you can hear playing in Heineken’s most recent national TV ad spot.
Critics of The Cordish, Co. have called the club’s policies racist—and they’re right. Power & Light District? Try Power & White District, as many folks have started referring to the area. It’s obvious which racial group the company is targeting, and it has apparently exacerbated pre-existing racial tensions throughout the city.
Banning baggy jeans, like banning hip hop, is a clever way to enact racist policy under the guise of “race-neutral” codes and guidelines. It’s the contemporary, “color blind” variant of Jim Crow-era legislation of black bodies. Hip hop music doesn’t incite violence, and black t-shirts are no more acceptable than white ones. The message from Cordish is loud and clear: No black music, no black fashion trends, no black cultural forms. No blacks allowed.
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Lets start with the fact that in a state like Missouri, banning "biker gear", hoodies, sweatshirts, and construction boots (the rule at many Power and Light district establishments) is also likely to keep out a fair number of white folks who are improperly dressed for an upscale club.
ReplyDeleteLikewise, banning hip hop from a club has less to do with race and more to do with providing a club option for people who don’t particularly like hip hop music. Is a radio station that advertises itself as "Today's Best Hits without the Rap" (like 96.3FM in Detroit) being racist or just appealing to an audience who likes other types of music? Disliking rap music is no more anti-black than hating country music is anti-white.
Better yet, while we're throwing out stereotypes, lets imagine a scenario where a group of white kids dressed in full emo attire tries to walk into Cordish's bar. They're also going to be stuck on the outside, but it’s not because of the color of their skin.
Clubs and bars are known for catering to specific people; its how a diverse and functional entertainment market works. There are punk-specific clubs, trance-specific clubs, hip hop-specific clubs, jazz-specific clubs, and even clubs that advertise as covering a wide variety of music. There are bars that cater mainly to young kids and bars that aim at an older clientele. Each bar has its market, and the simple fact that you run a bar that would turn away people who dress a certain way does not make it racist. Dress up in J Crew and boat shoes to a Detroit hip-hop club and ask the bouncer whether you're being turned away for being a white guy or because you're not the image that the bar wants to portray.
Mr. Cordish's main crime seems to be catering to an older, more upscale crowd (which also, not coincidently, is a group that tends to be wealthier and have a higher disposable income - which has been known to help business). The demographics of this group contain white people and black people, along with a number of people of races outside of the black-white binary cultural struggle being portrayed in this controversy. Before you label a man a racist, dig deeper into the issues. This bar is probably not for you, but it’s not because the owner is racist against black people (its probably because there are clubs that play a set of music more agreeable to you). Not every bar has to fit every person; it’s just good business to have a well-defined market. I guess that’s just tough to see through sociology-tinted glasses.
Dear Anonymous,
ReplyDeleteThere seems to be two related, though very different thoughts going through your response. The first is questioning the racist intent, or latent racism of Cordish himself (when you say whites could also be excluded, offered the case of “emo” kids, and questioned whether banning rap is in fact racist). The second thought here is about marketing and catering to a specific crowd (when you mentioned how catering to a wealthier clientele is good for business).
To the first point: I never called Cordish, the man, racist. The title is the closest I come to this, and that was intended to be tongue-in-cheek. Indeed, I refer to Cordish’s policies, not his character (though we can make some reasonable assumptions), as racist. The point here is not the cause of the policy (the racist intent Cordish may or may not have), but it is the racially disparate effect of an allegedly race-neutral policy. Maybe we’re splitting hairs here, but if a policy—be it an impersonal change in the economy, nationwide restriction of some sort, or whatever—impacts one race clearly and substantively over another, I consider that a racist policy. The best book on this topic that goes into much better detail is Eduardo Bonilla-Silva’s Racism Without Racists. You might want to check it out from your library.
To specific sub-point of the first point, regarding country music: I think it’s extremely problematic the way certain folks degrade country music—and in that particular case I think it’s a class issue. See, “Anonymous,” it’s not about the aesthetic appeal of the music alone, it’s about HOW an individual expresses his disdain or disregard. When I hear folks talking about “white trash” country music, that’s not cool either. In the case of KC Live, it appears to be a black-white issue, but with country music, it can be equally problematic, even without the racial undertones. Don’t get it twisted—I’m an equal opportunity critic of BS.
To the second specific sub-point of the first point, regarding “emo” kids: Unless they were wearing “construction boots,” “shirts that go below [their] back pockets,” “exposed chains on me,” “shorts below their calves,” “sweat suits,” “towels,” or “ripped jeans,” then they should be OK. I’m not really sure what you meant by “emo,” so the first thing that comes to mind are tight pants, all-black Converses and dirty greasy hair (I’m half kidding here). My point is pretty simple: Sandals and shorts are cool, but Timbs and jerseys aren’t? If we are going with the “upscale argument,” this doesn’t fit. I mean if you want to get into wealth heer, sandals cost 20 bucks, Timbs cost $100 easy. When you have 10 dress code restrictions, and 8 are specifically targeted to a racial group, I’m calling a spade a spade; it’s a racist policy.
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ReplyDeleteYour second main point has to do with a “diverse and functional entertainment market,” specifically this line: “Mr. Cordish's main crime seems to be catering to an older, more upscale crowd (which also, not coincidently, is a group that tends to be wealthier and have a higher disposable income - which has been known to help business).”
The idea that Cordish Co. caters to a very specific, upscale clientele is in fact factually and theoretically incorrect. From a purely factual point of view, KC Live is a factory warehouse-it’s like a big industrial barn. It’s really quite ugly. And the main clientele are young 20-somethings. More importantly, sandals and shorts are perfectly acceptable attire—you know, just as long as the shorts don’t pass a certain threshold. Reminds me of funny movies depicting high schools in the 50s when teachers walked around with rulers to measure the lengths of skirts.
You said there’s nothing wrong with Cordish wanting to serve a more upscale crowd—good for business, of course. Can you please explain to me what makes you assume that a young man with a white t shirt is any more good for business than a young man in a yellow one? Or red one? Like I said, I see the idea of “no tennis shoes”—it means you're required to wear fancier clothes. But to allow shorts, and ban long shorts, is pretty ridiculous.
From a theoretical perspective, there’s a major difference between CATERING to a certain demographic and BANNING a certain demographic. Look, if they started playing showtunes and only serving martinis, I’m not going to complain about heterosexual discrimination. Or if they keep the lights up, and play Irish sing-a-longs, I’m not going to complain that it’s “Irish Only,” because in these cases, they are catering to a demographic. Perfectly sound business strategy. However, Cordish is not catering to a certain group of “upscale” folks; he’s banning a certain demographic, based on their behaviors, not their “tastes.” The dress code pinpoints a behavior disproportionately performed by a certain demographic, and says Not Allowed. This is a much different process than the simple market logic you suggest.
Moreover, this is not a case in which the market can simply correct itself. You know, where there is demand for a “black club,” some one will build it, right?. This mentality ignores power differentials; CordishCo. owns the strip. What they say, goes. The market logic, (which is completely sound in many, many instances) becomes a way, in this case, to disguise, obscure, and ignore racist policy.
Finally, I found this line: “I guess that’s just tough to see through sociology-tinted glasses” ill-informed. It’s interesting because as I received an email notification of your response, I was out having drinks with a few sociologists. We were actually debating this case, and not agreeing on much. I’m going to assume you meant this as some sort of personal dig, but you could probably do better—try to think of a more fitting adjective next time. Or avoid the snarky-ness altogether and just make your points.
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ReplyDeleteIt's a bit if a misnomer to mention a "sociology-tinted" worldview, since everything we do is in fact sociological--every time you talk about any group, any individual, any market, any politician, any policy--sociology is pretty much everything. Econ soc seems right up your alley--if you email me, I can send you a few suggested readings on utility optimization etc, etc.
Indeed, you provided very interesting sociological analysis in your comment. It's always important to think about these things, especially as an engaged citizen in a democracy.