Congratulations to my good friend Ava DuVernay, who recently completed a documentary about female MCs for BET. My Mic Sounds Nice: A Truth About Women and Hip-Hop—which is, apparently, the network's first music documentary. Huh?—screened privately last night and was chock full of satisfying, very candid interviews.
Being an older head (36! Put me in a home already), I was happy to hear testimonies from Yo-Yo and Nikki D, the Tom's Diner Slayer. But even Trina, whose music I've never cared for, was refreshingly honest and something of a minor revelation. The forty-one minute doc's centerpiece is a sort of tribute to Lauryn Hill in which other recording artists and music biz talking heads like Ahmir "Questlove" Thompson wax melancholic about the talented rapper/singer's disappearance and the void she left in the spectrum of popular music. The segment managed to get a few viewers weepy.
Aside from the belly-warming nostalgia, I was pleased that the filmmakers were able to slip in a significant nod to MCs like Jean Grae or Medusa who are not well known in the mainstream—not because I'm some underground apologist or because I feel like the indie acts are somehow more deserving than a popular artist like Nicki Minaj, but because hip-hop music is so universally gauged by how well it sells.
The reality is simply that most people who rap do not become rich, famous rappers. So, though there may no longer be as many Foxy Browns, Lil Kims, and Missy Elliotts at the top of the charts, that doesn't mean there aren't plenty of female performers who are committed to their art and whose lyrics might just hit you right where you live.
To wit, I'm calling out some tunes that caught my ears and eyes recently.
With her bullhorn voice and mischievous sense of humor, Rah Digga has always been one of my favorites of any sex. Rumor has it she bowed out of hip-hop for a while to study film editing. Never in my life have I had to fight so hard not to utter the phrase, "You go, girl."
I don't know a whole lot about Psalm One, but I love the hazy, languid vibe on this song. For me, it evokes a little bit of Quasimoto/Madlib without having to artificially pitch the vocals up.
My wife has a problem with women rappers who she feels try to sound like men. Nemiss, as you can see, doesn't have that problem. I like that this feels commercially viable without being toothless. Also, kudos to teaming up with Daru Jones, a beast of a rising producer.
Anyone who has heard "Taco Day" knows that Jean Grae is incredibly ambitious about storytelling. I appreciate the narrative clip, too.
On both sides of the Atlantic—in the United Kingdom and the United States—political parties are realigning and voters’ allegiances are shifting.
When United Kingdom voters last week narrowly approved a referendum to leave the European Union, they underscored again how an era of unrelenting economic and demographic change is shifting the axis of politics across much of the industrialized world from class to culture.
Contrary to much initial speculation, the victory for the U.K. leave campaign didn’t point toward victory in the U.S. presidential election for Donald Trump, who is voicing very similar arguments against globalization and immigration; The British results, in fact, underscored the obstacles facing his agenda of defensive nationalism in the vastly more diverse U.S. electorate.
But the Brexit referendum did crystallize deepening cultural fault lines in U.K. politics that are also likely to shape the contest between Trump and Hillary Clinton. In that way, the results prefigure both a continuing long-term realignment in the electoral base of each American party—and a possible near-term reshuffle of the tipping-point states in presidential politics.
It happened gradually—and until the U.S. figures out how to treat the problem, it will only get worse.
It’s 2020, four years from now. The campaign is under way to succeed the president, who is retiring after a single wretched term. Voters are angrier than ever—at politicians, at compromisers, at the establishment. Congress and the White House seem incapable of working together on anything, even when their interests align. With lawmaking at a standstill, the president’s use of executive orders and regulatory discretion has reached a level that Congress views as dictatorial—not that Congress can do anything about it, except file lawsuits that the divided Supreme Court, its three vacancies unfilled, has been unable to resolve.
On Capitol Hill, Speaker Paul Ryan resigned after proving unable to pass a budget, or much else. The House burned through two more speakers and one “acting” speaker, a job invented following four speakerless months. The Senate, meanwhile, is tied in knots by wannabe presidents and aspiring talk-show hosts, who use the chamber as a social-media platform to build their brands by obstructing—well, everything. The Defense Department is among hundreds of agencies that have not been reauthorized, the government has shut down three times, and, yes, it finally happened: The United States briefly defaulted on the national debt, precipitating a market collapse and an economic downturn. No one wanted that outcome, but no one was able to prevent it.
They say religious discrimination against Christians is as big a problem as discrimination against other groups.
Many, many Christians believe they are subject to religious discrimination in the United States. A new report from the Public Religion Research Institute and Brookings offers evidence: Almost half of Americans say discrimination against Christians is as big of a problem as discrimination against other groups, including blacks and minorities. Three-quarters of Republicans and Trump supporters said this, and so did nearly eight out of 10 white evangelical Protestants. Of the latter group, six in 10 believe that although America once was a Christian nation, it is no longer—a huge jump from 2012.
Polling data can be split up in a million different ways. It’s possible to sort by ethnicity, age, political party, and more. The benefit of sorting by religion, though, is that it highlights people’s beliefs: the way their ideological and spiritual convictions shape their self-understanding. This survey suggests that race is not enough to explain the sense of loss some white Americans seem to feel about their country, although it’s part of the story; the same is true of age, education level, and political affiliation. People’s beliefs seem to have a distinctive bearing on how they view changes in American culture, politics, and law—and whether they feel threatened. No group is more likely to express this fear than conservative Christians.
American-Indian cooking has all the makings of a culinary trend, but it’s been limited by many diners’ unfamiliarity with its dishes and its loaded history.
DENVER—In 2010, the restaurateur Matt Chandra told The Atlantic that the Native American restaurant he and business partner Ben Jacobs had just opened would have 13 locations “in the near future.” But six years later, just one other outpost of their fast-casual restaurant, Tocabe, is up and running.
In the last decade, at least a handful of articles predicted that Native American food would soon see wider reach and recognition. “From the acclaimed Kai restaurant in Phoenix to Fernando and Marlene Divina's James Beard Award-winning cookbook, Foods of the Americas, to the White Earth Land Recovery Project, which sells traditional foods like wild rice and hominy, this long-overlooked cuisine is slowly gaining traction in the broader culinary landscape,” wrote Katie Robbins in her Atlantic piece. “[T]he indigenous food movement is rapidly gaining momentum in the restaurant world,” proclaimed Mic in the fall of 2014. This optimism sounds reasonable enough: The shift in the restaurant world toward more locally sourced ingredients and foraging dovetails nicely with the hallmarks of Native cuisine, which is often focused on using local crops or herds. Yet while there are a few Native American restaurants in the U.S. (there’s no exact count), the predicted rise hasn’t really happened, at least not to the point where most Americans are familiar with Native American foods or restaurants.
How much do you really need to say to put a sentence together?
Just as fish presumably don’t know they’re wet, many English speakers don’t know that the way their language works is just one of endless ways it could have come out. It’s easy to think that what one’s native language puts words to, and how, reflects the fundamentals of reality.
But languages are strikingly different in the level of detail they require a speaker to provide in order to put a sentence together. In English, for example, here’s a simple sentence that comes to my mind for rather specific reasons related to having small children: “The father said ‘Come here!’” This statement specifies that there is a father, that he conducted the action of speaking in the past, and that he indicated the child should approach him at the location “here.” What else would a language need to do?
The sordid story of the Trump Institute is a sequel to the damaging tale of Trump University.
A real-estate mogul wouldn’t own just one building. So why would an education mogul own just one questionably ethical institution?
That’s one way to explain why Donald Trump wasn’t content only launching Trump University, the now-shuttered real-estate education organization that’s the subject of extensive litigation, and extensive allegations of fraud. Around the same time, he also launched the Trump Institute. The two organizations shared some characteristics in common. Both offered matriculants the chance to get rich quick on real estate, using tricks from Trump. In both cases, Trump claimed falsely that the “faculty” were handpicked by himself. And in both cases, former students alleged that they’re been ripped off with useless materials and worthless lessons.
As incomes fall across the nation, even better-off areas like Sheboygan County, Wisconsin, are faltering.
SHEBOYGAN, Wisc.—There is still a sizable middle class in this county of 115,000 on the shores of Lake Michigan, a pleasant hour’s drive from Milwaukee. You can see it in the cars that pour in and out of the parking lots of local factories, in the restaurants packed with older couples on weeknights, and in the bars that seem to be on every single corner. You can see it in the local parks, including one called Field of Dreams, where kids play soccer and baseball and their parents sit and watch.
About 63 percent of adults in Sheboygan make between $41,641 and $124,924, meaning the area has one of the highest shares of middle-class households in the country, according to a report from the Pew Research Center. Nationally, only 51 percent of adults are middle-class.
As it’s moved beyond the George R.R. Martin novels, the series has evolved both for better and for worse.
Well, that was more like it. Sunday night’s Game of Thrones finale, “The Winds of Winter,” was the best episode of the season—the best, perhaps, in a few seasons. It was packed full of major developments—bye, bye, Baelor; hello, Dany’s fleet—but still found the time for some quieter moments, such as Tyrion’s touching acceptance of the role of Hand of the Queen. I was out of town last week and thus unable to take my usual seat at our Game of Thrones roundtable. But I did have some closing thoughts about what the episode—and season six in general—told us about how the show has evolved.
Last season, viewers got a limited taste—principally in the storylines in the North—of how the show would be different once showrunners Benioff and Weiss ran out of material from George R.R. Martin’s novels and had to set out on their own. But it was this season in which that exception truly became the norm. Though Martin long ago supplied Benioff and Weiss with a general narrative blueprint of the major arcs of the story, they can no longer rely on the books scene by scene. Game of Thrones is truly their show now. And thanks to changes in pacing, character development, and plot streamlining, it’s also a markedly different show from the one we watched in seasons one through four—for the worse and, to some degree, for the better.
The 2012 GOP nominee says that he may write in his wife’s name, or may vote for a third party candidate.
Before the 1964 Presidential election, Governor George Romney was part of an effort to stop Senator Barry Goldwater from winning the Republican Party’s nomination.
Today, his son Mitt Romney, the former Massachusetts governor and 2012 nominee for the presidency, has emerged as a leading establishment critic of Donald Trump, the presumptive Republican nominee. On Wednesday, he reiterated that he will not vote Trump due to defects in Trump’s character and a belief that Trump is destroying the GOP’s future with women, Hispanics, African Americans, Asian Americans, and millenials. Neither will Romney vote for Hillary Clinton.
“It’s a matter of personal conscience,” he said. “I can’t vote for either of those two people.” He suggested that he would write in his wife’s name––she would be “an ideal president,” he said––or he would cast his ballot for a third-party candidate.