In attempts to cross boundaries placed on the hip-hop industry (attributed to its origins and roots as primarily an African American art form), a large majority of Asian American hip hop artists have decided to emphasize their talents, rather than focus on their racial identity, as if not to allow their ethnicity to function as a gimmick for their success. This allows audiences to focus on their talent as an artist as a means to counteract the opinions of their critics. This phenomenon plays a role in obtaining success for other non-black hip-hop artists. I can easily recall Eminem’s debut and how hip-hop fans received him: “He’s pretty good for a white boy.” But was it the Eminem’s race that made him a successful rapper overnight, or was it the concept of his “real” or “gritty” upbringing that made him relatable to hip hop audiences?
Similar to Eminem, Jin crosses racial boundaries by becoming one of the most famous Asian American rappers. I remember watching BET’s 106 & Park each Friday to see who he would challenge and even how ecstatic I was upon his induction into the Rap Battle Hall of Fame, after being undefeated for (7) weeks. Looking back I have to question what was the “it” factor that made Jin so successful? What made audiences acknowledge his potential? Oliver Wang argues that, “[R]ather than downplaying these [racial] differences as previous rappers had, Jin strategically embraced them, drawing attention to his race, in attempt to minimize it” (Wang 55). It was no secret that Jin was Asian American and he consequently chose not to neglect his identity in his quest to become a successful hip-hop artist. Wang argues, “Jin recognized that his audience could not ignore his racial difference, and he was effectively daring potential critics to make an issue of it” (Wang 56).
Jin directly addresses his racial identity several of his rap songs; he tackles race by intending to refute stereotypes of Asians (or Asian-Americans). Listening to at least one track on Jin’s debut album The Rest is History offers substantial evidence as to how Jin goes about proving himself as a rapper. Wang’s analysis of Jin’s first single “Learn Chinese” supports the notion that Jin “racialize[s] himself without being prompted” (Wang 56). He opens the track with the line: “Yeah, I’m Chinese […] and what?” Here, Jin lays it out on the table that he is Asian and it’s almost as if he dares any contender to challenge him. The track’s rhythm is very much a typical hip-hop beat, “laced” with an Oriental riff, one would say. In addition to the music, Jin’s lines are full of countless stereotypes of the Asian, followed by lines that reject these stereotypes. Instead of the Chinese delivery man, Jin asserts this new identity of the hypermasculine Chinese man; a gangster who, in turn, represents all Asian Americans, which is portrayed through the lyrics of “Learn Chinese”: “The days of the pork fried rice and the chicken wings / coming to your house by me is over” or “and the only po-po we know / is the pigs on the hook out by the window.”
I do agree with Wang’s analysis and would even go beyond it to say that the reason for Jin’s success can be attributed to his approach and attempts to merge two identities that don’t necessarily fuse well: his Asian-American identity and rap as an African-American form of music. Whether or not this fusion functions as a gimmick, it certainly can account for Jin’s mainstream success and his existence in the rap industry. Even the title “Learn Chinese” alludes to the idea that audiences will accept Jin, as an Asian American and as a rapper.
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