Beyond Bitches and Hoes

A new documentary challenges the conventions of mainstream hyper-masculine hip-hop

By Suemedha Sood, University of Virginia

When I met you last night baby
Before you opened up your gap
I had respect for ya lady
But now I take it all back
-Snoop Doggy Dogg

From the window to the wall
To the sweat drop down my balls
All you bitches crawl
-Lil Jon and the Eastside Boyz

Man this hoe you can have her, when I’m done I ain’t gon keep her
Man, bitches come and go, every nigga pimpin know
-50 Cent

Ah, the sweet sound of misogyny. It hits me every time I turn on the radio. Turning on the TV is even worse. Video after video on BET and MTV accosts us with images of rappers throwing money at half naked women. And mainstream hip hop is more popular than ever. But if sex and violence sell—particularly when combined—there’s nothing anybody can do about it, right? That’s what the record companies want us to believe as they focus on the bottom line. Fortunately, they don’t have everyone convinced.

A young filmmaker by the name of Byron Hurt is challenging structures of violence, hyper-aggression, and misogyny that have become so characteristic of mainstream hip hop with his new film Beyond Beats and Rhymes: Masculinity in Hip Hop Culture. Over the course of his 60-minute documentary, Byron tackles and deconstructs the machismo that has come to underlie a lot of popular hip-hop culture in an effort to tackle issues of sexism, violence, misogyny, and homophobia.

“So much of the ills in our society come from the way we men define manhood,” says Byron. “I want this film to really get men to question and to challenge the way we’re socialized and conditioned to be men” Byron began his study of black masculinity when making the film I am a Man: Black Masculinity in America. An anti-sexism activist, he is formerly the associate director of Mentors in Violence Prevention for the Marine Corps, the first worldwide gender violence prevention program in the history of the United States Marine Corps. He has held countless training workshops and lectures for US Marines, male student-athletes, fraternity members, other male students, coaches, activists, and educators on college and high school campuses across the country. Byron stresses the need to educate boys and men in the African-American community about what it means to be male in American society. Encouraging such discourse among boys and men can help break down issues of violence, gender roles, sexism, homophobia, and even racism in our culture.

Throughout this impressive film, Byron interviews rappers like Fat Joe, Chuck D, Talib Kweli, and Mos Def. He also speaks with a variety of hip hop scholars and historians, and attempts to take on some of the major executives in the hip hop industry who have neglected the problem. Perhaps most poignant, however, are his interactions with kids. In one scene, he captures the voices of a few young aspiring rappers spewing out words of hate, violence, and sexism for the camera as they freestyle. When Byron challenges them, they respond the same waythat many in the industry do: That’s what sells. That’s how you get paid. No one wants to hear anything positive, so why even try?

Don’t be mistaken. Beyond Beats and Rhymes is not a crusade to change the face of the mainstream music industry. “I’m not naïve,” says Byron. “I don’t think my film is going to change the hip hop industry. It’s an amoral business culture. They’re not concerned about changing society, they’re concerned about making money. So I focus on how this affects the people who see this film.” Instead, the film asks its viewers to open their minds and be self-reflective. “It’s up to us as consumers to challenge some of the representations of masculinity that we see in American culture,” he says. “We have to start saying, ‘I don’t buy into this idea that a man is supposed to be violent or sexist or homophobic.’”

Sabrina Gordon, the film’s editor, expresses concern about the limited scope of images and representations of the black community in commercial, mainstream hip-hop. “There’s a certain disconnect between what’s commercial and the culture as a whole,” she says. In an effort to combat these stereotypical images, Beyond Beats and Rhymes explores some of the more socially conscious and politically substantive voices that play a prominent role in the world of underground hip-hop and rap. Sabrina wants to get across that socially conscious music does not have to be preaching. It is still hip-hop, driving beats, same compelling lyrical flow, but “it’s not preaching, but it touches on a range of human experiences.”

In the film, Byron asks why it’s nearly impossible to find provocative, meaningful, intelligent lyrics in the mainstream. He asks why it seems we have to dig and dig to gain access to such artistic endeavor. As much as he promotes more politically and socially conscious artists such as Dead Prez or The Coup, Byron finds it problematic that it is so difficult to gain access to their music. “I think the biggest thing is that it doesn’t have the credibility that the mainstream hip hop has because it doesn’t get the marketing, the promotion, the coverage, and the exposure that the mainstream hip hop gets,” he says. “From what I hear, we would be surprised how much people are listening to underground hip hop. But I still think it’s not as accessible as it should be.”

While casting a critical eye on the exploitative corporate music industry, it also demands accountability from the viewer and consumer. The film forces us to ask ourselves, why are we buying what they’re selling us? Sabrina emphasizes the need to question how this buying and selling impacts the way we see ourselves and others. “What is the impact of selling a certain identity of black and brown men?” she asks. “What consequence does it have for men who already feel compelled to live up to a hyper-masculine image?”

Sabrina repeatedly stresses that Beyond Beats and Rhymes has no intention of promoting censorship in any way, but instead wants to encourage thoughtful engagement. “We’re not talking about censorship. We’re asking the question, is this an idea that we should be selling and perpetuating and consuming thoughtlessly?”

Beyond Beats and Rhymes may be coming to a college campus near you – Byron is determined to use the film as an educational outreach tool and has begun screening it at colleges across the nation. He even plans on creating a curriculum to be taught in conjunction with the documentary at both college and high school levels. “I use the opportunities I get when I visit colleges to show this film because I think that’s one place where young people are engaging in critical thinking,” he says. “They are there to learn, they’re there to push their own consciousness and I think that’s a really great place for change to begin happening.” Byron also hopes to use this film in prisons and juvenile detention centers where he thinks many men have bought into the idea perpetuated by our society that masculinity is just one thing.

The film is set to air on PBS later this year. Byron and Sabrina, though delighted to have the opportunity to reach a wider audience, are trying to encourage their community to tune in to a channel mostly beloved by our parent’s generation. “People say that black people in the hip hop generation don’t watch PBS,” Byron notes, “and one of my goals is to attract a large hip-hop audience to PBS.”

Find out more about the film and the filmmaker at www.bhurt.com. Visit The Independent Television Service and The National Black Programming Consortium to send feedback about the project or to learn about similar endeavors in television and film.

Suemedha Sood is a junior at the University of Virginia.
An aspiring activist and journalist, she is currently Co-President of the UVA chapter of the Informed Voters Foundation and a contributing writer for WireTap Magazine

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