I had revived my support of Kanye West’s music and fashion. Now I feel like a fool.
Yo, Ye.
Yeah, yeah, yeah: You’re a trolling provocateur par excellence. Yeah, yeah, yeah, Ye: You’re a
freethinker and iconoclast even. Yeah, yeah, yeah, Ye: You’ve released hella great music over the
years, tsunami’d many a fashion wave. Yeah, Yeah, yeah, Ye: Kudos to the activist bent of “Bush
doesn’t care about black people.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, Ye: Big facts—Beyonce should’ve won. Yeah,
yeah, yeah, Ye: Points for the benevolence of the Donda Academy. Yeah, yeah—you reached that
billi realm with the big homie. Yeah, yeah—we should consider the mania of your mental health
struggles. Yeah, yeah—the trauma of a near-death crash. Yes, oh yes, deep compassion for the
eternal hurt of you losing your mother.
All that context and then some ran as subtext when I saw a picture from Kanye West’s YZY Season 9 show during Paris Fashion Week. A flick where he and Candace “I-Cape-for-the-far-right-and-call-it-conservatism” Owens hold hands and cheese while dressed in t-shirts emblazoned with white lives matter.
Be clear: white lives matter, like Blue Lives Matter, is a motto meant to negate the importance of the Black Lives Matter movement, to imperil the humanity of Black people writ large. There ain’t no gainsaying the truth that white lives matter fomented the tiki-torch racists in Charlottesville and the insurgents storming the halls of the Capitol Building, or that it inspired Dylan Roof, even Kyle Rittenhouse. The phrase is so damn incendiary that the Anti-Defamation League deemed it hate speech. (The Klux Klux Klan began using it in 2015 at as a response to BLM.)
Some of Ye’s esteemed guests took offense to the hateful tees and bounced early from the show—among them Jaden Smith, who tweeted, “Black Lives Matter” and “True Leaders Lead…I Don’t Care Who’s It Is If I Don’t Feel The Message I’m Out,” and the Vogue journalist Gabriella Karefa-Johnson, who shared a critique of the show via her Instagram stories.
Ye, in textbook misogynoir, directed the brunt of his ire at the Black woman, posting her pic and trying to shame her intellect and fashion. As a matter of fact, his ad hominems were so flagrant that Vogue issued a statement condemning them.
In the text exchange that Karefa-Johnson shared, she admitted to “fuming” at first, but went on to argue that Ye was attempting to affect a Duchampian, readymade critique (the value/meaning of art is intrinsic to the context, signature of the artist) of art. She explained that he’d tried to do the same thing by wearing a MAGA hat. “He neglected to realize the importance of the object when he tried to extend that kind of subversion to the BLM slogan. One is object one is ethos,” she wrote.
Karefa-Johnson’s reading of Ye’s intent was a generous one. The hot takes since have been divided into two predictable camps: those who’ve written off Ye as a neo-coon whose actions are at best offensive and at worst a threat to the safety of Black people, and those who dismiss Ye’s malefactions as effective but benign marketing and publicity stunts.
Soon come, another angle.
Before that, though, a confession of sorts: Last year this time, I’d sworn off supporting Ye. Had refused to buy his music or his clothes, had gone so far as to dismiss conversations about him with “I don’t fool with dude.” But he put out Donda and I was curious. Then my brother bought my son some Yeezy slides for Christmas, and in sneak-wearing them, I discovered their immense comfort. Then I purchased my own—two pair no less, and a pair of Yeezy Foam Runners. To keep it a buck, as recent as last week I added a sweatshirt from Ye’s Jesus is King (the Black Jesus was what almost sold me) tour merch to the Wishlist of a favorite shopping site.