Last Friday, after Macklemore & Ryan Lewis released a nine-minute song entitled “White Privilege II,” Jezebel interviewed Hollis Wong-Wear and Jamila Woods, two of Macklemore’s collaborators who helped guide the song. At the end of our conversation, I asked if they had paid attention to any of the reactions online, which had already been swift, opinionated and legion mere hours into its release. Woods replied that she had read a few articles, all of them written by black writers—including one on Blavity, and one on the Fader—and Woods-Wear continued:
It took me like a year to work on this, so I think as a nine-minute song, it comes out of the blue for some people—and I totally understand. I think people need space to talk, or not talk, or listen, or not listen. People can have whatever reaction they want to have to it. It’s not imperative for anybody to have to engage or not engage. I do think it’s interesting—if there are a lot of black critics talking about it, where are all the white critics talking about it?
That last part resonated, and sparked a conversation between myself and my friend, Complex writer Justin Charity, about what we saw as a dearth of white voices on a song written expressly for white people. It wasn’t that music critics weren’t reacting to the song in their chosen medium—they were—but that other than a few notable exceptions, we noticed more dismissive tweets from white critics than attempts at actual engagement.
On an individual level, that is fine; as Wong-Wear said, no one is required to engage. But viewed collectively, particularly within an occupation that by its very nature leans both liberal and outspoken, it was troubling. To explore this notion, and the idea of Macklemore as an avatar for white privilege in general, Jezebel asked some of our favorite cultural critics, both within and outside of the Gawker Media universe, to write about about it. We asked, “What do white liberals fear about Macklemore?”—Julianne Escobedo Shepherd
Doreen St. Félix, Editor at Large, Lenny Letter:
Now, there is no graceful way down the uncanny valley. It’s a fall, and it is steep, and the whole journey occurs without much obvious cognitive awareness on the part of the viewing subject. When “White Privilege II” came out last week, I was bemused watching my immediate white internet crowd, mostly music critics, stumble down the uncanny kicking and screaming, though I’m sure they thought they looked smug.
It would have been one thing if the song was summarily ignored. That might have even made sense, because “musically” or whatever, it’s not that good. Which is exactly why I thought the responses from white rap critics were so revealing. Why are Liberals Afraid of Macklemore’s White Privilege II when it’s apparently toothless, far away from any danger of becoming a cultural touchstone, much less a hit? When its clear subject, white privilege, is so accessible a topic it’s become basically an internet meme? Instead, white critics chose to respond with the kind of knee-jerk, sardonic revulsion or even outright silence that exemplifies another sociological idea: white fragility. The song is devoid of any lyrical elegance yes, but when black people read your takes on black rappers, all awash in mandingo stereotypes and racist idiot-savant formulas and ahistorics, do you think they see sophistication? I think white critics felt very smart in pointing out that putting out a song about white privilege is the ultimate tautology. I think they sounded uncannily like the kind of white person—albeit their leather jacket is a little more distressed, their “rap knowledge” a little deeper, their masthead salaries less than his wealth but four times that of mine—Macklemore knows he is.
White listeners don’t get to have “Alright.” Kendrick wasn’t talking to you, as much as you’d like him to be. “White Privilege II” is the direct address anthem they have earned. I highly doubt Macklemore knew the depth of the nerve he hit with this one—like those critics, I think he only thinks about his own fragility. He’s almost embarrassingly earnest, but as the rise of Trump tragically demonstrates, white people have a hard time taking earnestness seriously. White privilege, in all of its many meanings, universalizes white people. They would prefer to feel special, individual, especially the liberal sophisticants. They hope there is a gulf between them and someone like Macklemore, but the distance is more like an inch.
Jia Tolentino, Deputy Editor, Jezebel:
First, I’m not sure we can assume that white liberals are “afraid” of anything about Macklemore specifically because of the relative silence of white music critics—and, actually, my perception was that there were plenty of non-dismissive tweets from white music critics about coalition-building and don’t tell your best friend to mackle less and all that. I will also say that my opinion on the “conversation” as it concerns Macklemore is likely untrustworthy, as I have inexplicably been unable to find the time to read much of anything about him in the last week.
But I think that white writers not writing about Macklemore’s “White Privilege II” (HELP) can be credited at least partially to the fact that it’s not really within the abilities or discursive purview of goddamn white people—non-music-critic Eula Biss excepted, and a few others—to give any insight on racism that feels in any way central right now. Trying so hard to do so—to be implicitly central, specifically—is already such a bad look on Macklemore, whose song is full of straightforward and credible “insight” but is nonetheless impossibly annoying; it’s hard for me to imagine the look being different on anyone else.
In other words, though the people I know that sincerely fuck with Macklemore are indeed white liberals who deep down feel that equality is important but are essentially too well-meaningly afraid, too uninformed and uninterested, or too straight-up shallow to reckon with anything beyond a vague idea of racism in America, I’m still going to blame Macklemore here. He has, aesthetically as well as in terms of his wildly unimaginative narrative position, modeled this for them. He’s screaming (with the beautiful exception of Jamila Woods’ part) “Listen to me talk for 9 minutes about how unfairly I have benefited.” He is expressing solidarity through an emotional vantage point of remove, calculation and burden, as if it’s a deep fucking struggle to be so fucking woke.
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