Photo by Sam LeRoy of Culted
It was spring of 2021, sunny but cool, with a breeze whisking through the trees. I was on one of my daily quarantine walks, where I would aimlessly wander for thirty minutes or an hour or three, hoping to find something, anything to pull me out of the deep blue period that self-isolation had given reign over my life. What had started out as eager self reflection in March 2020 had slowly, then all at once unwound into full blown rumination and obsession, until I had retreated so far into myself that I could hardly tell which direction was up. My daily walks kept me grounded, or at least enough to get me through the seemingly neverending days. On this particular spring day, I decided to try and do something I hadn’t in a long time. The noise of my constant internal deliberations had made it extremely difficult to listen to music, despite music being one of the great joys of my life. That day, I thought of the achingly sweet vocals of Lauryn Hill singing “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You”. I’d loved that song for a long time, but it had fallen out of my usual rotation for a few years. I decided to press play, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like the world had slowed down just enough for me to take it all in. My heart rate calmed, and all the background noise seemed to dim. From that point on, Miseducation of Lauryn Hill was all I could listen to.
For months Lauryn Hill was the score to my online classes, my long drives between LA and San Diego, to learning how to properly cook for myself, to carefully untangling myself from my internal fixations, and of course to my daily walks. For months I let myself be held by Hill’s musical notions of love, loss, growth and forgiveness. Little by little, I reintroduced other music back into my life, but I always rejoiced in Lauryn Hill when my heart was tender. As the world began reopening and light spilled back into my life, I continued to lean on Miseducation in times of joy, of heartbreak, and everything in between. Her music didn’t save me, rather it was a warm fire to return to on my coldest days spent saving myself. If you know me, you’re probably all too familiar with my undying and fiercely loyal love for Ms. Hill’s music. As personally meaningful to me her body of work is, it is also widely critically acclaimed and hailed as some of the most imaginative and technically skilled works of hip-hop ever created.
Lauryn Hill’s lyrical expression is as moving as it is meaningful. Her musical body of work encapsulates themes of gender, class, race, and a kind of feminism that is inclusive and centered around black women. These ideas were not publicly discoursed often in the 90s, and so her music served a bold act of resistance to the patriarchal and capitalist structures of the late 20th century. In particular, Hill’s 1998 album The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill explores both Hill’s identity as a black woman, but also her relationship to her place in society. Released 25 years ago today, the album demonstrates that softness and strength do not have to be opposing forces; in fact, they can harmonize beautifully to create timeless and poignant musical expression.
To begin the inquiry into Hill’s 90s hip-hop and black feminism, one must first consider the origins of female hip-hop. Black feminist themes existed in women's blues music of the 1920s and '30s , and many scholars label the blues genre as an important discourse of an agentic black female identity and sexuality. From blues came rock, punk, and eventually hip-hop. Scholars have also looked to women's rap as a site to explore black feminist cultural thought, particularly around black female sexuality and womanhood. Black feminism came into popularity as resistance to racist social movements, including mostly white feminism. The intellectual framework sought to include race in conversations of gender inequality, and also explored themes of black sexuality and identity. However, to best understand how Hill’s music contributes to such a framework, one must know the context of Hill’s creative journey.
Lauryn Hill was born May 26, 1975 in South Orange, New Jersey. Hill and her high school friend Pras Michel began performing together under the name Tranzlator Crew, and Pras’ cousin Wyclef Jean joined their group shortly after. As a teenager, Hill pursued screen acting projects and was passionate about performing. With money she earned from her acting jobs, she helped finance her group. They renamed themselves Fugees in 1993 and signed to Columbia Records. Their early work was scrappy and unpolished, but was reflective of the eagerness of the group to break into the music industry. However, the group’s second album The Score (1996) sold more than 18 million copies and earned two Grammy Awards. Wyclef and Ms. Hill were together at this time, and their romance was often described as passionately hot-and-cold. Rumors began circulating that Hill was pregnant, though bandmates were not sure if the baby was Wyclef’s. Many suspected that the child was actually Rohan Marley’s, though Hill never publicly addressed these rumors. Ms. Hill left her studies at Columbia University, and the Fugees shortly disbanded. She returned to live with her family in South Orange, but very few could have expected what was to come from this situation.
In the summer of 1998 and at 22 years old, Hill revealed to the world what she created from the pain and stress of the Fugees’ breakup. The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill was gifted to the world, and its impacts are still being felt to this day. The album ingeniously fuses hip-hop, neo-soul, rap, Caribbean rock and rap. Sixteen tracks are presented to listeners as if they are participating in a class lesson. Hill explores her heartbreak, independence, race and gender roles, newfound motherhood, and relationship to both god and people. According to a 2016 Pitchfork album review “Musically it arrived as the conceptual confluence of three of the most powerful musical ideas in all of blackness: hip hop, Motown-era soul and reggae. Doo-wop harmonies and the flushed distortion of voices singing their pain were cast over taut snares and hard boom-baps”. Prior to the album’s release, 90s hip-hop was known for its corporate-level sales numbers, disco samples, and “unrepentant tales of jewelry and gunplay, their rallying cry of “tits and bras, ménage à trois, sex in expensive cars” (Wallace 2016). Meanwhile, regional acts such as N.W.A. and Geto Boys had introduced thematic violence into their work that became prolific of the time. Sex and gore were major selling points for many mainstream hip-hop artists, but Ms. Hill challenged these narratives with a body of work both emotionally vulnerable and explicitly denouncing of corporate hip-hop trends.
Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, on top of being an against-the-grain thematic album, demonstrates the way that political topics can be infused into artistic choices within music. Hill’s opening song “Intro” produces muffled sounds of a teacher interacting with students, almost as if we are listening to a classroom through a door. This choice introduces the structure of the album, which is meant to follow the structure of a class lesson. The following track “Lost Ones” draws clear influence from the Fugees’ Blunted album due to its full-tilt pace and thunderous drums. One can also clearly hear the influence of east coast hip-hop styles such as multi-syllabic rhymes, free-flowing presentation and illustrious metaphors. In this track, Hill explores her bitterness and heartbreak over a lost relationship, and warns of the karma that will come to her heartbreaker. Seemingly demonstrating the anger stage in grief, Hill delivers punchy bars such as “Hypocrites always wanna play innocent/Always wanna take it to the full out extent/Always wanna make it seem like good intent/Never wanna face it when it time for punishment”. The song begins Hill’s exploration into her emotions and herself, and captures the essence of loss that leads to a sense of righteous fury.
The next song “Ex-Factor” is a much slower, rhythm&blues style track with pitched up vocals by Hill. Dancing keys and a low and slow bassline paint a dreamy and picture, while Hill vulnerably expresses her pain of lost love. The ache of yearning feels almost childlike, which Hill expertly reveals by contrasting the ethereal yet grief-ridden notes of the track. “No one loves you more than me/and no one ever will” is a lyric that comes as a contrast to her previous, more threatening song. In my darkest quarantine days, this song more than any other held my heart in its embrace. While I wasn’t dealing with an explicit heartbreak at the time, I resonated so deeply with the pain of longing for things to be different. Hill invites us into her heart with “Ex-Factor”, which again has been made extremely socially difficult for black women. Due to being named “overly emotional” or “crazy” black women, many shy away from this type of creative vulnerability. Hill’s resistance to this notion speaks to her self-assuredness and was incredibly hopeful for black women who have so often been silenced.
Another striking example of Hill’s vulnerability and honesty is her track “To Zion”. In it, Hill speaks of her son Zion who was seemingly born out of the confines of her and former bandmate Wyclef Jean’s relationship. In the song, Hill discusses the number of people that urged her to get an abortion and criticized her decision not to. Supple vocals paired with slightly twangy guitar samples from Santana create a velvety sound of which her love for her son pours through. Though never having been a mother myself, this song almost always makes me cry. I feel my own mom’s love in this song, and am moved by Hill’s pride in her song. Her son Zion is also named after the important religious location Zion, and thus her tribute to her child is also an expression of her faith and relationship with god. Kitty Empire of The Guardian argues that “Hill retains the moral authority to do what she feels”-which explains why she chose to keep her son despite her young age and music career ahead of her.” Hill acknowledges many that tell her “Lauryn baby use your head”, but rebuts with “But instead I chose to use my heart”. Hill is not only truthful about her experiences and choices, but she does not shy away from her emotional side. Many rappers-and music artists in general aim to put forth an image of unadulterated confidence, pride and ego. Ms. Hill is quite the opposite. Though she is not insecure or shy, she does not aim to paint herself in a perfect or righteous light. As a Black woman, this can be especially hard. Stereotypes of “angry black girls” or instability of communities of color are deeply damaging. This may explain why many members of the hip-hop community may feel the need to overcompensate in their musical style. However, Ms. Hill is not afraid of these labels, and remains authentic to her true self throughout the album.
Hill’s songs do not feel like lectures or projections; rather she speaks of lessons learned through her own pain that she conveys with rap and singing. One particular example is the widely acclaimed single “Doo Wop/That Thing”, where Hill warns of sexually driven men and women who are incapable of boundary-setting. Upon first listen, it may seem like a judgemental or preaching tune. However, Hill seemingly anticipated such criticism and counters with lyrics “Now Lauryn is only human/Don't think I haven't been through the same predicament”. She also avoids addressing either gender in isolation, and places responsibility on men and women alike to raise their standards and practice higher self respect. Hill’s confident, mature flow at just age twenty-two demonstrates her mastery of the hip-hop genre. Contrasting the desire to simply appeal to the masses found in many hip-hop tracks of the time, Hill boldly claims her identity in her music. Hope Clover of The Motherlode” wrote of Ms. Hill saying “I was a young woman of color that was not afraid of her beauty and sexuality...They didn’t understand how female and strong work together. Or black and divine”. Miseducation offered a new idea of a black woman that could be emotional and strong, poised and imperfect. This notion was massively transformative to black feminism and black creativity, as black women could be represented as three-dimensional in popular media.
“When It Hurts so Bad” is another intimate, heartfelt track from Hill. She describes the earth-shattering pain of losing a relationship that she had poured herself into. Lyrics “I loved real real hard once/but the love wasn’t returned/found out that the man I’d die for/wasn’t even concerned” viscerally describe unrequited love, and Hill reveals that she would have even died for her past partner. This fierce devotion continues through the rest of the track with lyrics such as “See, I thought this feeling, it was all that I had/But how could this be love, And make me feel so bad? (gave up my power/)Gave up my power, I existed for you”. The raw honestly expressed draws listeners closer to Hill, and Hill invites closeness in return. As humans we so often just need to feel that there is witness to our pain, and relating to others through music is immensely powerful. Hill’s music has been described as “healing Black communities and understanding Black women’s complex agencies and simultaneous identities, in particular our love of one’s self and our love of shared or communal cultural identities” (Clover, 3). Lauryn Hill challenges this misidentification and “miseducation” by expressing a rhetorical evolution of agency through love(s) over the span of Miseducation (Hill, 1998) thus building on our navigations and understandings of a multifaceted Black womanhood, or rather female-ness”(Alexis Mcgee). Essentially, Hill’s poignant candor allows others, especially black women, to relate and connect to her through learning from painful experiences.
The final track on Miseducation “Tell Him” is a tender, jovial track with simplistic instrumentation to highlight Hill’s saccharine vocals. Hill has referenced god and faith throughout her album, and this track is undoubtably about god. The track represents a self-actualized Hill, who has been through love, loss and heartbreak. However, this process has been educational for Hill, hence the name of the album. Lyrics “Now I may have faith to make mountains fall/But if I lack love then I am nothin' at all/I can give away everything I possess/But left without love then I have no happiness” displays that she has decided on an overarching lesson throughout her struggles-that love is her most important and grounding force, and that all of her love goes to god. Hill identifies with herself through her faith and devotion, and this sense of self is what allowed her to write such a moving album. Despite not being a religious person myself, this song touches my heart in a way that little music has ever come close. I often think of the cold days between 2020 and 2021, the times that my mind felt like an uncontrollable storm and that I had no means of connecting with the outside world. I would later learn that my ruminations were actually Obsessive-Compulsive in a clinical sense, and professional treatment helped me to claw my way out of the trenches. I felt so lonely and so grim for so long, and our days spent indoors felt like they would never end. But they did. It was excruciatingly slow, but my head and my heart healed. I felt somehow that Lauryn and I had made it through this time together, despite our struggles being so different. I may not believe in god, but there was something decidedly divine about the way my world regained its color and its hope.
As much as I deeply treasure this album, the creative genius Miseducation of Lauryn Hill was also critically adorned. At the end of 1998, Hill took best album of the year in Rolling Stone, Billboard, Spin, and Time magazines. She was nominated ten times for the 1999 Grammy Awards, making her the first woman to ever be nominated that many times in one year. She won five Grammys in one night, and was the first woman to do so. Hill proved that not only could black women be immensely successful, but they could do so through self-expression and societal critique. However, to further contrast many hip-hop artists of that time, Hill did not choose to remain in the limelight. She would not release another album until 2002, which was an MTV live performance where only Ms. Hill performed. Though incredibly raw and personal, the album was not commercially successful. She told Hip-Hop DX, “The wild thing is no one from my label has ever called me and asked how can we help you make another album, EVER…EVER,” she wrote. “Did I say ever? Ever! …” . Her comment comes as a response to critics labeling her “crazy”, “difficult to work with”, and even “lazy”. It is true that since her album releases, Ms. Hill is known for showing up late to many performances-or not at all. However, one cannot deny the role of racism in such diagnoses. Once again, the “angry black woman” trope is so often used against black women in any kind of emotional state, and does not take into account context like mental health in black communities. Similarly, sexism obviously plays a role in Hill’s presence in the public eye. Tyler, the Creator is an example of a hip-hop artist who is intentionally inflammatory, cocky, and controversial. However, his behavior is not labelled as extreme or inappropriate. His music speaks for himself and he has not faced any tangible consequences for this behavior. In fact, this attitude seems to elevate his status in the hip-hop world, as controversy often generates interest among crowds. Kanye West has very publicly and angrily grieved his divorce from Kim Kardashian made racist and anti-semitic remarks, and consistently displays his capitulation to white supremacy. While he does receive critique and fallout, he is still immensely rich, powerful and successful. No person or artist is without faults and it is perfectly okay to hold them accountable for such. However, Hill’s decision to retract from the spotlight should not in any way take away from the merit of her existing work.
Another common critique of Hill and other black female hip-hop artists is that their portrayal of sexuality is “deviant or problematic”. This critique is ironic due to the societal over-sexualization and exploitation of the black female body. Black women are often potrayed as “exotic” sexual creatures that exist to fulfill white male desires. However, “In third-wave rap, portrayals of gender authenticity are challenged, and heterosexual relations are described as sexually reciprocal. Active, desiring, and autonomous female sexual subjects are portrayed as non-deviant, and male sexual subjects exhibit a normative concern for women's sexual satisfaction.” Lauryn Hill is an excellent example of such. “Doo Wop/That Thing”, “Ex-Factor” and “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You” are all excellent examples on Miseducation of Hill’s love, lust and desire. However, she hones in these desires and portrays them romantically and creatively. This should not necessarily be a requirement for black women to express their sexuality, but 90s female rappers at the time did so eloquently.
It is crucial to examine any artwork produced under capitalism within the contexts of its restraints and limitations. Commercial and critical success are crucial in advancing an artist’s projects and visions. However, this often comes at the cost of restricted creative limitations. It is extremely difficult to promote and share music without the support of a record label. Hill released Miseducation of Lauryn Hill under Ruffhouse Records and Columbia Records. As major labels in the industry, there is no denying that they aided in Ms. Hill’s commercial success. However, as previously mentioned, Hill has referenced discontent with the support from her record labels after Miseducation’s release. Her second and final album MTV Unplugged 2.0 was released as a live performance, and enjoyed much less commercial success. The album peaked at number three on Billboard 200 for fourteen weeks, but was also greatly critiqued. Many argued that MTV Unplugged was boring, repetitive, and self-indulgent. Regardless, there is no denying Hill’s artistry and honesty. Her music has given me more strength than I ever thought possible, and to this day her body of work has likely impacted me more than any other, ever. In a “post-covid” world, where I am now far away from the circumstances and emotions of quarantine, my life is really sweet and full. My world is filled with life, color and love; yet, I’ll never forget those days of darkness and the way Lauryn Hill held my hand through them. Her talent matched with raw authenticity and political awareness are what makes her work so incredibly poignant. From a small town in New Jersey, to taking the world by storm, to retracting to a quieter life-all stages have been the same Lauryn Hill. She demonstrates the power in both strength and vulnerability of black women, and how honesty will always be better than commodification. Her 1998 album Miseducation of Lauryn Hill advanced both the course of women in hip-hop, and the intellectual framework of black feminism. She demonstrated to the world that black women hold multitudes, and that both strength and vulnerability can coexist. In only two solo albums, that is an incredible feat.
References
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