Over the last week or so, a few prominent conservative commentators and news outfits have addressed the anti-American, racist tirade offered by rapper Azealia Banks in the new issue of Playboy magazine. It may come as some surprise that Banks, a wildly successful young black woman, is very angry. And hateful. In fact, she’s even angry that people take note of her ire, as she openly states in the interview.
For Azealia Banks, just about everything is about race and racism. Or gender and misogyny. Or sexual preference and homophobia. Or pretty much any distinguishing characteristic that she can rhetorically exploit and make a victim of someone – as long as they’re not straight, white, or Christian.
And, yes – she believes that people who take note of her anger are doing so for reasons of race.
Anyway, in the Playboy interview, this 23-year-old woman-child from New York (who admits that at 17, she was regularly fornicating with a 43 year-old guy), said: “I hate everything about this country,” that being the United States of America.
How does one come to hate the country in which, at such a young age, she attained the pinnacle of success in her chosen career? Her Maslow’s diagram is filled to overflow; to all appearances, everything else she achieves will be gravy, unless she makes some monumentally unfortunate decisions, such as suicide or a drug overdose.
“I hate fat, white Americans,” she went on. “All the people who are crunched into the middle of America, the real fat and meat of America, are these racist, conservative white people who live on their farms.”
I don’t think I have ever heard anything more ignorant issue from the mouth of someone being featured in a national magazine. I really don’t.
Obviously, Ms. Banks has never been to any of these places, although she may have been through some of them on her tour bus. Convicted by her own invective, she is as intolerant and crass as the worst stereotyped white bigots of the old Jim Crow South. The perception of whites she has embraced is nothing but an amalgam of black nationalist doctrine, Al Sharpton stream-of-consciousness and biased news coverage.
Were these awful sentiments harbored by a low-income urban dwelling young black woman, there would be an element of pathos, since we understand that such individuals are institutionally undereducated and inculcated with victimology. This person would have little power to affect young minds with her music, or public policy with her their millions, however.
Interestingly, Banks speaks to this when she says: “I get upset when people are like, ‘Why don’t you just make music?’ What would happen if I couldn’t sing? Then I’d just be another black b–ch to y’all. …”
We should have been so lucky. Banks is already influencing young people with her shallow craft. A big mouth, belligerence and confrontation are integral parts of the culture and the image, and she’s got them all in spades; again, no pun intended.
Add to this the fact that Banks has been welcomed into that insular, rarified bubble of the entertainment industry, where her ego is fed the Miracle-Gro of round-the-clock sycophantism and cash, and her mind the absolute worst of elitist, far-left ideology.
So at 23, Azealia Banks has become a monster, evocative of Leona Helmsley, Joan Crawford and the Red Queen all rolled into one.
Aside from the anti-American drivel and racism, the Playboy interview showcased a juvenile, superficial, foul-mouthed young narcissist of incomprehensible arrogance. Condescending and occasionally quarrelsome toward her interviewer, she demanded reparations for blacks (including herself, strangely enough), whined about Jim Crow (which ended decades before she was born) and expressed irritation at being asked to explain her idiotic views.
Banks: I get annoyed with the fact that I’m even asked to explain myself. Why do I have to explain this to y’all? My little white fans will be like, “Why do you want reparations for work you didn’t do?” Well, you got handed down your grandfather’s estate and you got to keep your grandmother’s diamonds and pearls and s–t.
“My little white fans …” That’s rich. This vile witch should be grateful that anyone is purchasing her digitized diarrhea – yet she harbors animosity even for those who do.
Playboy: Haven’t you put yourself in the position of explaining yourself?
Banks: No, y’all put me in the f–-ing position.
And like every indoctrinated, black American, rich or poor, Azealia Banks believes it’s someone else’s fault.
The caustic vitriol Banks spewed about whites in Middle America was comparable to the disgusting labels the most odious of bigots used to circulate about blacks many years ago, such as telling their children that blacks had tails and a surfeit of other sordid stereotypes, many of them sexually oriented.
This led me to wonder if this young waste of base chemicals (Banks) would be in favor of rendering down the fat from a few million of those detestable “fat, white Americans” into lamp oil, biodiesel, or perhaps soap.
The major take-away from all this is not the fact that Azealia Banks is a skanky broad; it is the irresponsibility of power brokers in the entertainment industry who give individuals of such low character a forum for their so-called “art.” This in itself is symptomatic of the widespread moral ambivalence that has taken hold in America – and we know who championed that transformation.