It's Bigger Than Hip Hop: The Rise of the Post-Hip-Hop Generation by M.K. Asante Jr Page A

traditionally been instrumental in creating, maintaining, andpatronizing businesses in me—bounced. They, too, fled for the burbs, leaving the poorest of the poor behind.
    Finally, Blacks left me in a mad exodus along with the whites at the end of legal segregation.
    That reminds me of a Malcolm X speech.
    Which one?
    It’s called “Message to the Grassroots.” He says ,
    This modern house Negro loves his master. He wants to live near him. He’ll pay three times as much as the house is worth just to live near his master, and then brag about “I’m the only Negro out here.” “I’m the only one on my job.” “I’m the only one in this school.” You’re nothing but a house Negro. And if someone comes to you right now and says, “Let’s separate,” you say the same thing that the house Negro said on the plantation. “What you mean, separate? From America? This good white man? Where you going to get a better job than you get here?” I mean, this is what you say. “I ain’t left nothing in Africa,” that’s what you say. You left your mind in Africa
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    [A chuckle is shared]
    I know this is kind of off topic, but I gotta ask: Why are there so many damn check-cashing places, liquor stores, and take-out Chinese restaurants in you?
    Actually, not off topic at all. I just told you that the Black middle class fled. Well, when affluent Blacks left me and bounced to the suburbs, the businesses, following the money, left, too. To give you a popular example, there were, during segregation, more than threehundred Black movie houses around the country. You’re a filmmaker, right? Tell me how many are there now.
    Okay, let’s see, um —
    Exactly.
    So with the flight or destruction of viable Black businesses, that left only the businesses you mentioned—the businesses whose primary goal is to capitalize on Black poverty. Check-cashing spots capitalize and exploit low-wage earners unable to afford a bank account and who need quick money; pawnshops capitalize on poor folks who need to liquidate personal valuables in order to make rent. Fast-food Chinese restaurants, through the thick bulletproof glass, capitalize on the Black poor by offering food—very unhealthy food that the owners admittedly don’t eat—to Blacks at a low monetary cost but with high health costs. And liquor stores, which can be found on nearly every corner, capitalize on the depression and despair that come with being poor and living in me.
    Rick James once commented: “One thing ‘bout the ghetto, you don’t have to worry, it’ll be there tomorrow.” That said, where do you see yourself in ten years?
    It all depends.
    On…?
    What it has always depended upon: the people.
    What are some of the things you’d like to see the post-hip-hop generation do? Things they could do that would improve you and the lives of the people who live in you?
    How much time you got? [Laughter]
    Tell me what time it is.
    All right, first, the post-hip-hop generation should understand the relationship between poverty and health. That’s something that we haven’t talked about yet and it’s absolutely essential.
    Lack of income, clean water, food, and access to medical services and education are all related to poverty and health—and all of this is intensified in me. Because of urban diets and environments, people in me have extremely high rates of diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, and asthma. Not only are my residents more likely to have illnesses, but because they are poor, they are more likely to be limited by these conditions. Health issues prevent many from working or, at the least, limit their productivity—ultimately lowering income.
    Asthma, lead poisoning, malnutrition, anemia, ear infections—all of these are not only costly to treat or even diagnose, but all lead to permanent impairments. So, for example, children who live in me are twice as likely to suffer from lead poisoning, which many, many studies have shown has serious effects on the