What Nipsey Hussle meant for me

When Nipsey Hussle dropped his 2013 mixtape, CrenshawI was heading for depression while I was locked in my shabby room on the other side of the world. This summer, I moved to Shenzhen, China, to teach for a year. Nipsey's calm and confident voice was one of the only things that could stop my eagerness to go home. Where I'm from Philadelphia, the blocks are not lined with palm trees and it's not forever in the summer, as in some south-central Los Angeles enclaves where Nipsey hit. But his lyrical portraits of his city affirmed that I dreamed of mine. The unpretentious stories about its origins, life experiences, and the systems that informed them left an indelible impression. His ability to communicate through his authenticity made him seem like a friend or a favorite sage – and that's why his disappearance seems incredibly raw to me.

Nipsey, who, as we know now, was shot in broad daylight outside his Los Angeles store on Sunday night, probably had reasons why he had sacrificed a lot. But I can not accept that he is supposed to go as he did. For nothing I know that I am not God, and even if I believe in it, I can not realize that the divine order is involved in such an odious departure. But as many of us have stumbled into this heavy mourning, the stories left by Nipsey illuminate his essence and legacy.

In November 2014, five months after my move from China to New York, a friend had an extra ticket for a concert from YG and Nipsey Hussle and she wanted me to come. I obviously nodded and, while the crowded Midtown theater formed what looked like a huge cloud of grass smoke, Nipsey walked outside the stage to the applause of the crowd. He wore a shiny black fur coat, his hair was well coiffed and wore a crop circle arrangement of large 14k gold Cuban links around his neck. He was royal. It is a strange and sad coincidence that the song with which he started that night is the one I cried after his death. "I'm Nip Hussle, the middle finger in your face, uh / Turn off the lights, get my mic up / Go a little further, let's go," he tapped on a moving sample of "Who Am I "by the O Jays of Crenshaw"All Get Right" with J Stone.

I know what a close relative feels like in mourning, I have done it too often. But this is the first time I miss deeply to a person I did not know. It's a new type of emptiness. I learned to accept the fact that death is inevitable, but the waves of grief collapse harder because Nipsey's life has been removed. His energy was ubiquitous and he always showed himself. I never thought that he would leave us like this.

I think of his use of the "marathon" theme in his life and work. (His first mixtape was calling Marathon and his clothing store too.) It was an ingenious marketing concept, but it also embodied Nipsey's real traits of patience and endurance. Of Marathon on his first studio album, Victory towerhe was on a steady and unhurried climb to become a household name. Nipsey's gradual drive was in line with his goal of "not skipping steps," as he once said. in an interview.

Nipsey praised this spirit of manifestation on the Letters box title "That's how I knew it," he proclaimed, "I saw it, I thought about it, I dreamed it / I said it, I did it, I thought so. " job. It meant a lot to me and other black and brown people to see and hear Nipsey refuse to sign with a big label and use unorthodox business models, such as selling Letters box for $ 100 a copy, to build up his wealth and commitment to live and give back to the Crenshaw District.

For the heroes who remain in the hood, there is always the imminent risk of falling into a false nemesis or a mega-enemy who can not see beyond his contempt and who believes that it is advantageous to bring down the good guy. What does it take to deal with this very real possibility, daily, without going to bed? Meek Mill, the paragon of repurchase of Philly, defender of the penitentiary reform and good friend of Nipsey tweeted his feelings on this sinister phenomenon in danger:

"I know they will kill me under my hood, but I keep coming by …. always with that … the cemetery organizing a party for all the real niggers, "he wrote. In another tweet, he asked: "Can you imagine trying to fight for niggas that you know will kill you?"

I feel selfish to worry about how Nipsey's death could be a source of food for people who cling to the fruit of the black-to-black criminal narrative. I'm afraid that people who do not look like me, or Nipsey, or Meek, do not understand the different layers of this puzzle. And it is disturbing and discouraging to know that you are defending some people who want to hurt you. In the world that Nipsey made, there was room for more than him to flourish.

Two years ago, just days before Thanksgiving, Nipsey once again faced the icy fall of New York and stopped at the desk of a magazine where I was working for an interview. I was delighted to have presented it as a profile subject for most of the year, but things never gotten better because of the timing. He arrived just after announcing a partnership between Atlantic Records and his independent label All Money In, which had published and financed most of his previous mixtapes. As he explained what had motivated his decision to finally establish a connection with a major record company, he spoke with integrity and kept his objectives at the center of the conversation. For Nipsey, it was not a big industry problem. It was simple Victory tower was going to be stellar and deserved the capital that a mega label like Atlantic could provide.

"I will not operate in a space inferior to what I am capable of," he said during this visit. "If it takes three years, two years or a year, I will not go back until I have the music that I know will represent my level."

Although Victory tower was his first mainstream release – he even won a Grammy nomination for the best rap album – I think it pleased his audience because of his dynamism and his visceral testimony of his evolving gang member to a Crenshaw philanthropist. Although I wish before his death, he could have been more inclusive in his contacts with queer black men, but he was evolving. Now that he's gone, it's painfully obvious how much this kind of art and existence is coveted. My best friend reminded me that with the resounding success of this album, we offered his flowers to Nipsey while he was here.

The song "Blue Laces 2" hits differently now. In the last verse, Nipsey remembers a shooting at the beach, where one of his partners was shot three times. Remaining calm and collected, his friend asks Nipsey if he is dying. And on their way to the hospital, they joke that, since he took bullets, he will eventually be respected. In this case, there is some peace in seeing how many people have loved, appreciated and appreciated Nipsey when he reigned on Earth. I pray that he knows it. Even though he had so many projects, he did what he was sent for here: "Hussle & Motivate". ●

Lakin Starling is a creative, musical and cultural writer based in Brooklyn.