Self discovery: being white, Jewish and suburban didn't make sense to Kevin Coval when he was a teen, but hip hop did

Chicago Reporter, The, Feb, 2004 by Justina Wang

Have you faced difficulty in the hip hop scene because you are white?

When I started going to open mics, every now and then, I'd get introduced and I'd come up and people would be giggling.

But the thing about hip hop--it's based on skills and not skin. So, if you are good at what you do, it doesn't matter what you look like.

Sometimes what happens is that people of color, white people, Jews, whoever, are suspicious because of skin--which I understand. I get a lot of love, but the more I do and the more risks I take politically, the more hate mail or weird phone messages I get. But I think that's part of the course.

Has white privilege helped you in the hip hop community?

In terms of recognition, it was easier. People would ask, 'Who was that kid, that white kid?' A couple years ago, I was it. I didn't have to compete with five dudes with dreads because that's not how I looked. I think people are more curious. I think it's my skills and craft that ensured I stayed on, but the initial spectacle of whiteness and Jewishness on a microphone also entices people, and I understand that. It works for and against me.

Are you also more suspicious of white emcees?

I think I am probably more critical of white emcees and white writers than I am of writers of color in some ways. Some of it has to do with privilege. Back when I was getting involved in hip hop, it was not acceptable, it wasn't done, to be white in certain spaces and to be up on a microphone. There were times when I thought I was going to get beat up. I almost did. Now you go to a hip hop show at the Metro and the whole spot is white kids with backpacks and dreadlocks. So I'm suspicious of that. I'm suspicious of white emcees and white poets who won't talk about where they're from. And maybe the reason I'm suspicious is because I used to do that.

Are there race issues between the students at the poetry slam?

After the slam last year, this suburban kid and one of my students at the Cook County juvenile detention center embraced afterward. They gave each other respect. It's that crossing and meeting that, in part, something like this slam produces. Every open mic that we do, there are kids from all over the city who are telling stories, and kids in the audience who do not come from their neighborhoods are nodding [their heads] during their pieces.

What do you want the audience to walk away with after they hear you?

I want us all to be comfortable in our stories and find validity in them. We don't only have to look at the lives of celebrities, politicians, business persons. We could really invest interest in the people's stories around us. We can do what Gwendolyn Brooks has told us: Tell the story in front of our nose.

Kevin Coral used hip bop to find his identity. He's now teaching others to tell their stories.