The measuring stick by which an MC’s skills are determined truly depends on who’s holding it. These days, the depth of one’s talent is overlooked to estimate the weight of platinum one wears around his neck. A synthetic persona, often manufactured by marketing experts, now outweighs the authentic performer that once hypnotized devout hip hop congregates. The MC of yesteryear was a product of his environment and a genius of the incredibly complex world around him. This individual was organically bound to a skill set of lyricism, originality, finesse, wit, tempo, stage presence and the capacity to grandstand impromptu if called to the occasion.

These are things that once measured the gift to draw any given listener in to the message an MC wanted to pass on, whether on a serious tip or a humorous one. Fans and critics alike are now faced with a change in standard, one that has greatly impacted the perception and understanding of the hip hop arts movement.

It takes a courageous MC to oppose these standards and yet, still ascend to his own lofty ambitions.

Yahsmin M. B. Bobo is a journalist featured in WBL Global Journal of Hip Hop Culture and Platform. She contributes to Illume and helped establish the magazine as Editor in Chief for its first year.

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Somewhere in New Jersey, a man who began this ascension in early adulthood is surmounting the challenges of remaining authentic against the tide of a commercial industry. Hasan Salaam, with encouragement from his manager Amir, has made enough noise in his region to sound off an international alarm. With television appearances and overseas tours afoot, he has quite a following in the United Kingdom, which is how my curiosity piqued. Loosely affiliated with the same circles of friends and having been a longtime listener, I decided to track down the person I consider royalty among jesters.

After a few weeks of message tag, we finally caught up in a dialogue that began over email correspondences. Salaam asked to finish the interview when composing a new message.

I replied in the affirmative and clicked the send button.

Within seconds, I heard the soft cell phone hum on the arm of my couch. Its lights were blinking in succession with the buzz and I glanced at the screen to read “Salaam” followed by a 201 area code and a string of random numbers.

Once answered, we exchanged greetings over the phone, his voice even more baritone than what can be heard in his music. A thick regional dialect emerged in his speech, one that had Jersey style written all over it.

And so began our conversation, less of an interview, but far more casual than most Q and A’s I had pulled off before. Salaam assured me he would lend insight to the unending list of questions I had submitted weeks before, excusing himself for any “long-windedness” that might follow.

Proceeding in moderation, Salaam confirmed facts, dispelled myths and we conversed about faith, life, politics and of course, race relations.

Some months earlier, I had watched the teaser trailer of the forthcoming documentary Move The Crowd, produced by Khalil Hayes. Salaam is its muse and a virgin in the film industry, although by the looks of it, he’s definitely cut out for the business of filmmaking. Perhaps it’s all that infamous YouTube footage of him freestyling and finessing his way through three minute frames of online success. On screen, it appears that being filmed and interviewed is second nature to him. In one scene of the documentary, Salaam describes childhood experiences of having a white father and an African-American mother. One side was accepting of his birth and the other - not surprisingly the white side - distrustful and uncomfortable throughout his coming up.

I could definitely relate as a biracial woman; it took many years for my white family members to be accepting and to possess the maturity and broadmindedness to get where we are today.

“It’s impossible for our surroundings not to have an effect on our outlook on life. Everything is political - racism, sexism, classism all the isms… they’re in our lives everyday,” Salaam stated with poise after I asked how much racism and politics have shaped the originality of his songwriting.

“They have not shaped my approach but these subjects have shaped my content…I have a lot of intentions. My [first] is just to make good honest music. Insha’Allah (God willing), my mission is to communicate the fact that Allah exists in all of us,” he added.

Digging for clarity, I asked, “What about the political climate of the world today?”

“In the times we’re living in, a lot of the art is corporate-run so it lacks the commentary of years past but for me, I see politics in practice. I see the effects of police brutality, gentrification, homelessness, drugs, and violence, tax hikes for us and tax cuts for big businesses. I see it everyday, how could I not write about it, feel me?” he said, remixing my question with his own.

“My music speaks of freedom, but not waiting, it’s about getting it.”

Given this adamant ideology and thinking, I had to ask if he thought he was well received all over the hip hop community. “Some people dig me, some don’t. I’ve definitely been misunderstood especially with my song about Hezbollah. People [of Jewish descent] kept coming up to me but they don’t really listen to the lyrics.”

“It’s wrong for people to oppress other people; I don’t think there’s anything wrong with fighting back and we need to look at these groups for the good they do (in their communities),” he affirmed in reference to the Lebanese resistance against Israel’s territorial expansion.

“I am against Zionism, it is wrong. They are committing a Holocaust against somebody else now. In America, we had the Panthers, the Brown Berets and the Young Lords. You know you’re at war when the enemy tries to cut off your food supply. The Black Panther Party was considered an enemy to the government not because they had guns and wore leather, but because they fed the kids.  Where has that presence gone?”

Our conversation included parallels between ancient history and current events; things that happen in foreign lands and domestically. “From Christianity, Judaism to Islam - it’s all one thing and you gotta understand the whole historical context,” he said, clearing the air of any misunderstanding that he may isolate one group of people in order to favor another.

In spite of any labels, Salaam has one of the most well rounded and egalitarian perspectives to put forward. A true humanist by nature, although he may seem outspoken to naysayers, he’s got the self education to back it up, “I try my best not to offend anyone but there’s a historical context of which I’ve learned. I read everything.”

And I wouldn’t doubt him for a nanosecond. As the son of a teacher, Hasan grew up with a full library on the shelves in his home. From adolescence on, he whizzed through manuscripts some college-aged students won’t even over-caffeinate themselves to stay up and read.

“The most influential book was the Autobiography of Malcolm X [that] my mother gave to me. The poetry of Langston Hughes, books about Black inventors, sonnets of Shakespeare, too many to name. I read the Isis Papers, From The Broader File, They Came Before Columbus, Leviathan the Book of Lam, the Holy Qur’an and the Bible.” He began to name texts that had clearly become his knowledge base and helped to discover an ideological premise in life, one that integrated spirituality instead of diminishing it.

Even though Salaam’s mother was a credentialed teacher and he flourished intellectually under her tutelage, once in high school, things changed and life’s pace became increasingly difficult for him to keep momentum with. He had become what she feared - a high school drop out.

“My mom had to sign me out (of high school) or they said I would be kicked out and put into an equivalent program where kids still pass through but weren’t getting what they really needed,” he said, timidly handling the subject.

“How did that make your mother feel?” I asked, just as pensively.

“I mean, she had high hopes and I got my GED,” Salaam answered with reprieve, still maintaining a sense of confidence even though the questions may have seemed persistent at such an hour.

“So, how does that make you feel about the public school system altogether, is it working or are we being worked by it?” I inquired, following up in a more general sense.

“They suck, definitely. I feel like the kids aren’t being taught, they’re being brainwashed. Carter G. Woodson said that only a fool sends his kids to the enemy to be educated,” he paraphrased an African-American figure who wrote extensively on the Black experience in America. This observation only confirmed my feelings that in spite of his negative experience in school, Salaam is a literate and intelligent man, and his music a far cry from the music of his counterparts, noise that gets heavy rotation in the hyper-commercialized sector in the genre of hip hop.

But no declaration regarding the state of our educational system would be complete without a solution. And with respect to this, Salaam is eons away from stating the obvious - that our schools “suck” - without providing an explanation to the problematic conditions seeping from classroom walls and spilling into the streets of our cities.

A paradox indeed, but one that he’s not reluctant to address, “We need our own schools to teach kids about who we are and at the same time, teach the basics - mathematics, English and science even though they don’t teach our kids where mathematics and science come from. But we can’t expect schools to teach from an unbiased, Eurocentric perspective so we need our own scholars to teach a new curriculum. Most teachers are forced to teach from a [set] curriculum. We don’t (yet) have self love and in order to get that, we have to learn from
our history.”

I wondered what he thought about the recent university initiatives to recruit young Black men, to become credentialed, and then to teach in public schools. Perhaps this would help to remedy some of the troubles even he went through as a young man in a seemingly alien educational institution. After mentioning these new goals, I asked, “What’s your take on the virtual absence of Black men in the public schools?”

“A lot of teachers took advantage of programs like that…they would serve their expected time teaching and as soon as their college debts were paid, they would go to teach in a private school. I think there’s a problem with the curriculum that’s being taught; that you are forced to teach their curriculum and if you don’t they will fire you.”

I pressed on, “But, do you feel there is promise in having young Black men teaching in the schools?”

“It’s positive for the students to have these role models from their own community, so that’s an upside and to be visible as Black men.”

The man behind the microphone and cameras certainly has community goals at heart. As an after school program professional since age fifteen, he organizes and facilitates chess instruction and helps kids with their fundamental studies. This is another forum for which he is able to impart his understanding of hip hop history and culture. Salaam’s ultimate goal is to open up his own youth center, where he and staff will continue to focus on strategy games, recreation, the arts and academics. He plans to continue working with at-risk kids and youth offenders too, something already in progress.

In this New Year, Salaam will pursue life’s goals to the fullest with the release of both Children of God and Life in Black and White, nationwide documentary premieres and a continuation of his community outreach.

“Insha’Allah my music adds on to the overwhelming presence of our Creator in everything. I wouldn’t be here without Allah, I’m an imperfect man but I’m grateful for the blessings Allah has given me. It is part of my life so I write about it,” he adds to the final words of our exchange.

“In the meantime, I’m still on the grind. I’m still striving, my main focus is trying to add on and my overall mission is positive change.”

The plight of Hasan Salaam is one of realism, knowledge and purpose. He needs no doctorate or degree to educate others about life’s wisdom, beauty and sometimes even pain, things he is no stranger to but has become well acquainted with. He might as well stand at a podium in front of crowds of pupils or hand out a syllabus to auditoriums of students. And although Hasan may not possess the papers to prove his achievement, it is evident in the music he makes.

Life has awarded him these credentials, by simply living day to day and observing humanity, standing empty handed…somewhere in New Jersey.