I can tell you exactly when I discovered DMX. For anyone like me, a Black, older-ish millenial and who is really into hip hop/rap music, DMX was a legend, and possibly one of the best rappers that has walked the face of earth. And here’s why:
Growing up Black is a very interesting experience. No matter where you were born, where you grew up or what your social status is, we all have one thing in common: The sense of not belonging.
As a teenager, I felt it too. I couldn’t figure out exactly where I belonged in this world. I just knew that I wanted to be heard, and most importantly I knew that there was something wrong with our system that needed to be changed, or at least addressed. Through music, especially Black music, I could tell that I wasn’t alone. DMX, among many other artists, made that happen.
DMX’s music was rough, loud, angry, honest and real. It was of, from, and to the misunderstood. Through his art he brought the “hood” to the world to see. He elevated the marginalized and with it the Black experience.
As a teenager, I remembered thinking if this guy could make it in America, and he had a horrible life, I, with my little privileged life, could too.
And that was the point was his music, and with it his existence.
Let’s talk about his life.
It’s not a secret that DMX had, to put it lightly, a complicated life. His abuse with drugs, baby momma drama and time in prison clouded most of his career. And that’s our fault.
Our society tends to value sensationalism, and sometimes we forget that behind the stories, the artists, the influencers, and even the Instagram profiles, there is a real person, with real feelings and real people problems. DMX was no exception to that.
He discussed on many occasions his troubles with his mental health and even talked about his drug addiction, which started at the age of 14.
Now, as a depression survivor, I know too well the relationship between our mental health, sex and drug abuse - like DMX, many, many Black people do too.
The problem is that in our society, especially in Black culture, the topic of mental health is still very taboo. We know of it, but we don’t want to discuss it. Most people don’t even know how to deal with it, and statistics show that it is the top global problem. Unfortunately, it’s not considered as such.
I admit that there’s a lot of work that has been done in the past few years, but there’s still a lot of work to do. Until we can have a real response, including an economic response, we need to not only raise more awareness on the topic but to help the victims of this disease. Our work is cut out for us.
In the meantime, we can keep raising awareness, keep talking about it, keep the dialogue open until our governments and the people that we elect do something about it.
In the US, for example, systemic drug abuse in the Black community is still not officially recognized, though the facts are there. It’s easier, and most importantly cheaper, to criminalize it than to actually get to the roots of the problem and fix it.
I recently watched a new documentary on the Menendez brothers, and it was interesting to me that it took so many years and the Gen Z generation on TikTok to point out and bring attention to the mental illness aspect of this brutal case.
I am not excusing their actions, nor am I excusing DMX’s, or blaming the victims. But when a child’s parents, who are supposed to love them and protect them no matter what, and they abuse them, when that trust is broken, to a child, it is the worst thing that can happen. That leaves sometimes irreparable marks that need fixing, otherwise you have troubled adults. And troubled adults create more troubled childs.
Only therapy, acceptance, vulnerability, honest communication and a better health care system can bring an end to the spiral.
DMX wasn’t just a rapper, he was a pioneer, and we laughed at him when we were supposed to help him. We quickly judged him when we should’ve listened. We didn’t want him in our lives or in the lives of our children when we should’ve wondered why they were so attracted to his art in the first place.
He deserved a better ending, and I hope that his death would start the conversation that we should have had a long time ago.
Rest in peace dog.