Please Andy, save us?

How Is 2pac still relevant?

We ain’t ready to see a black president. 

16 or so years have passed since 2pac recorded, arguably, his most famous lyric.  

Three years have passed since Barack Obama took his seat in the Oval Office.  

And, eight years have passed since the frequency of 2pac jams in my CD player’s rotation reached its peak.

Something’s changed.

Well, I’ve changed, of course.  In age.  In tastes (clothes that fit!).  In location.  In looks (more dashing now, I presume).  My affinity for hip hop, however, has remained steadfast.  Through the decline of gangster rap, the rise and fall of the third coast’s southernplayalisticadillacmuzik, and the emergence of emo/nerd rap (Kanye, Drake, Cudi, and Childish Gambino are making cameos in my mind), I’ve maintained my interest in thoughtful lyricism, braggadocio, and grandiose instrumentalism.  

Only now, instead of Me Against the World, it’s My Beautfiful Dark Twisted Fantasy.  Instead of All Eyez on Me, Watch the Throne.

So, what gives?

The answer starts with my relatively shallow embedding in hip hop culture: white, Coloradan, soft-spoken. As a naturally frustrated teenager dealing with growing-uppityness, I somehow found the angry-yet-intellectual diatribes of 2pac relatable.  And cool. Yes, this was quite ridiculous.  The breadth and depth of 2pac’s inner and outer struggles and his reflective music are far more expansive than I could ever imagine.  Like I said:  a shallow embedding.

Ultimately then, as I’ve matured, my ability to find solace in 2pac’s music has faded.  Surely his message is as profoundly relevant as ever in many sections of society that I’m not a part of.

But something has certainly shifted.  As if the election and existing leadership of Obama somehow discredited 2pac’s wisdom and foresight.  He was wrong.  We were ready.

Which begs the question of readiness.  What is it?  What determines cultural readiness?

Racism is alive and well. Political posturing and partisan pandering are stronger than ever. Some things haven’t changed.

Being ready, then, is a myth.  As a country, as cultures, as individuals, proclaiming unreadiness is an excuse for fear, confusion, and a lack of understanding.  We’re always ready.  We may not realize it, but accomplishing readiness is not an end but a mean. We become ready by becoming ready.  It’s less about preparation and progress and more about a divine spark, an unforeseen shift in the plate tectonics of our paradigms and worldviews.  And then, like a thief in the night, walls crumble and we grow — almost instantaneously.

Immediately when Barack Obama took that oath, 2pac became less relevant, which is a great thing, a noble occurrence. 2pac would probably welcome being wrong; his role as a firebrand paved the way to 1600 Pennsylvania.   We were ready.

Are we ready to acknowledge our first black president as successful? As worthy of a place at the table of great presidents? As more than just an experiment?  Are we ready to uncross our fingers?

What would 2pac say?