On the night of August 11, 1973, DJ Kool Herc arrived at a block party in the South Bronx. Equipped with two turntables and a mixer, he crafted an extended percussive break over which others could rhyme. This moment is often cited as the birth of hip-hop. While this origin story is well-known, defining the exact start of a musical genre is always challenging. What is certain, however, is that in the 50 years since that evening, hip-hop has transformed, expanded, and influenced almost every facet of modern U.S. culture—extending to dance, theater, literature, visual arts, and fashion. But at its core remains the music. Approaching this significant anniversary, The Conversation reached out to hip-hop scholars to shed light on how the genre has reshaped modern culture worldwide. Below is a selection of articles they produced, each introduced by a key track mentioned in their writing. No history of hip-hop is complete without The Sugarhill Gang’s 1979 track. As both an old-school classic and a catalyst for hip-hop’s global reach, it’s pivotal. As Eric Charry, a music professor at Wesleyan University, noted, within months of its release, “Rapper’s Delight” versions were emerging in Brazil, Jamaica, Germany, and the Netherlands. Within about a year, its influence reached Japan and Nigeria. “It signified the start of rap music’s globalization and the wider hip-hop culture, comprising deejaying, break-dancing, and graffiti-tagging,” Charry explained. Yet, this global spread introduced a paradox Charry described: “The Black American urban culture intrinsic to hip-hop’s essence also includes the fundamental notion of representing one’s own experiences and environment.” Consequently, global rappers have long grappled with authenticity, often drawing from their local cultures to bridge this gap.
Despite drawing from past samples and influences, hip-hop as a genre continuously looks forward, as exemplified by the 1981 track from Afrika Bambaataa & Soulsonic Force. “Planet Rock” is part of a tradition where rappers incorporate Afrofuturism—a blend of science fiction, politics, and liberating fantasy—into their lyrics and style, as Roy Whitaker, a scholar from San Diego State University, discussed. “Artists influenced by Afrofuturism have recognized how American society has treated marginalized people, often making them feel alienated, and expressed this through their art.” Whitaker expressed that Afrofuturism has always included a political element and highlighted the impact pioneers like Sun Ra, George Clinton, and Octavia Butler had on artists like Public Enemy, OutKast, and Kendrick Lamar. “Ultimately, Afrofuturism encourages marginalized individuals to revisit past traumas and current injustices while imagining futures where they feel they belong,” Whitaker concluded.
Though not a recorded track, the live performance at the 2001 Grammy Awards of “Stan” by Eminem with Elton John was a major moment in rap history. A year before, Eminem released a version of “Stan” with British singer Dido. This duet with Elton John highlighted hip-hop’s acceptance by the mainstream music industry by the early 21st century. This event was particularly significant given the controversy surrounding Eminem’s use of anti-gay language at the time. Yet, here he was embraced, both figuratively and literally, by one of the most famous openly gay figures globally. This moment is part of hip-hop’s evolution regarding LGBTQ issues, which University of Richmond sociologist Matthew Oware detailed. He mentioned that rappers now discuss LGBTQ+ topics and apologize for past offensive lyrics. As the 50th anniversary of rap music approached, Oware pointed out that “hip-hop is increasingly embracing challenges and debates about homophobia.” The genre has progressed to where anti-gay rhetoric draws criticism from within hip-hop culture. Though such rhetoric can still be found in various genres, from pop to country, hip-hop is evolving due to more progressive cultural views and greater LGBTQ+ representation.
While hip-hop has its roots in Black American communities, Latino culture is also integral to its history, as demonstrated by figures like Kid Frost, Big Pun, and the immensely popular Bad Bunny. “Hip-hop was my first love,” wrote Alejandro Nava, a professor at the University of Arizona. “It resonated with the Black and brown communities on the fringes of the Americas, much like the lives of my father and grandfather.” Big Pun, for instance, grew up in the South Bronx with his Puerto Rican family and famously declared that “Latins goin’ platinum was destined to come.” His rhymes were rapid and intricate, as if he needed less air than others, recalls Nava. From coast to coast, young Latinos embraced hip-hop as a creative means of self-expression, establishing their place in American culture and often pushing for social change.
Historically and today, rappers have shared their experiences from the margins of American society. These messages resonated with Black and immigrant youths across Europe also exploring their identities in places with persistent discrimination. Armin Langer, a scholar of European studies, noted that contemporary European rappers like Arianna Puello, Black M, and Eko Fresh are confronting outdated views of citizenship and challenging discussions around racial and ethnic identity. For instance, Puello has used her music to address the racism she experienced as a Black female migrant in Spain. In her 2003 song “Así es la negra,” or “That’s what the Black woman is like,” she tells the “ignorant racist,” “You’re going to have to put up with me; if I am born again, I want to be what I am now, of the same race, same sex, and condition.” As migration increases from African, Caribbean, and Middle Eastern countries to Europe, and as European societies have conversations about identity and belonging, hip-hop is expected to significantly contribute to ongoing public policy debates.
Among hip-hop’s elements—deejaying, rapping, graffiti-writing, and break-dancing—one receives less attention: the “knowledge of self,” often called the fifth element. Su’ad Abdul Khabeer, Associate Professor of American Culture at the University of Michigan, highlighted its importance. She stated that it signifies hip-hop’s consciousness, focusing on awareness of injustice and the need to tackle it through personal and societal change. Rakim was one of the first rappers to use the phrase in his 1987 track “Move the Crowd,” on the “Paid in Full” album, which Rolling Stone ranked No. 61 on its list of “500 Greatest Albums of All Time.” In 2005, U.S. rapper Warren “Wawa” Snipe coined “dip hop” to describe the emerging form of rap within the Deaf community. Katelyn Best, an ethnomusicologist at West Virginia University, has observed dip hop artists for over a decade, noting their growing presence, including Wawa, whose 2020 track “LOUD” became a top 20 dance song on iTunes. Dip hop stands out, Best wrote, as “rappers deliver rhymes in sign languages and create music based on their Deaf community experiences.” Simultaneously, the subgenre carries hip-hop’s legacy of expressing marginalization while challenging traditional views of music. There is no single style in dip hop. Some artists combine speaking and signing for hearing audiences, others collaborate with interpreters, or use prerecorded vocals while signing. “Dip hop, like many music forms, thrives through live performances,” Best observed. “Artists move energetically on stage as audiences feel the deep bass rhythm.” Best added, “In true hip-hop fashion, dip hop defies both musical and social norms, broadening the scope for musical creativity.”