“Will the Real Slim Shady Please Stand Up?”: Masking Whiteness, Encoding Hegemonic Masculinity in Eminem&#39;s Marshall Mathers LP

Calhoun, Lindsay R.

In this article, I analyze the critically and commercially successful rap album by Eminem, The Marshall Mathers LP (2000). Eminem's impact on popular culture is due to his controversial status and his critical and commercial success worldwide. To understand Eminem's significance in rhetoric and cultural studies, I examine the intersections of race, gender, class, and sexuality and how these four constructions necessarily converge in the postmodern condition to rearticulate, in the case of Eminem's rap lyrics, a cultural fiction of white heterosexual masculinity/masculinities. Eminem is able to “universalize” himself discursively through his rap lyrics by marketing himself as the universal subject, the ultimate shape shifter who cannot be pinned down. This makes Eminem's discursive presentation the ultimate performance in white masculinity because he accomplishes “authenticity” by occupying the “in-betweenness” of race, gender, and class boundaries through constant contradiction.

The Howard Journal of Communications, 16:267 294, 2005 Copyright # Taylor & Francis Inc. ISSN: 1064-6175 print/1096-4349 online DOI: 10.1080/10646170500326558 ‘‘Will the Real Slim Shady Please Stand Up?’’: Masking Whiteness, Encoding Hegemonic Masculinity in Eminem’s Marshall Mathers LP LINDSAY R. CALHOUN University of Utah, Salt Lake City, Utah, USA In this article, I analyze the critically and commercially successful rap album by Eminem, The Marshall Mathers LP (2000). Eminem’s impact on popular culture is due to his controversial status and his critical and commercial success worldwide. To understand Eminem’s significance in rhetoric and cultural studies, I examine the intersections of race, gender, class, and sexuality and how these four constructions necessarily converge in the postmodern condition to rearticulate, in the case of Eminem’s rap lyrics, a cultural fiction of white heterosexual masculinity=masculinities. Eminem is able to ‘‘universalize’’ himself discursively through his rap lyrics by marketing himself as the universal subject, the ultimate shape shifter who cannot be pinned down. This makes Eminem’s discursive presentation the ultimate performance in white masculinity because he accomplishes ‘‘authenticity’’ by occupying the ‘‘in-betweenness’’ of race, gender, and class boundaries through constant contradiction. KEYWORDS race, gender, class, masculinity, whiteness, hip hop sexuality, rap, Eminem, Journalist, Jenny McCartney (2001) wrote, ‘‘A rebel today, has a pitifully short shelf-life’’ (p. 25). She was referring to Detroit rapper Marshall Mathers, A.K.A. Eminem A.K.A. Slim Shady, popular artist both commercially and critically. In 1999, Eminem burst onto the rap scene with his release, ‘‘My Name is . . . ’’, a quirky rap with self-deprecating lyrics and humorously driven angst-ridden strikes against all manner of public figures in society and private Address correspondence to Lindsay R. Calhoun, 2317 Gander Rd., Springfield, IL 62711. E-mail: lnzc_2000@yahoo.com 267 268 L. R. Calhoun figures in his personal life. By 2003, Eminem stood as the first rap artist to win an academy award for movie song writing, a multiple grammy winner, and a formidable commercial force in the music and popular culture industry. Eminem’s impact on popular culture is due to his controversial status and his critical and commercial success worldwide. The Marshall Mathers LP was the fastest selling disc in history. More than 7.9 million Americans bought the disc, and more than 10 million copies were sold worldwide (‘‘Bad boy, bad rap,’’ 2001), unusual commercial success for a white male in the world of rap, a genre of music usually dominated by black artists. The Sun Herald (‘‘Bad boy,’’ 2001) stated that this racial status was significant since he was the first white rap artist to be embraced by blacks. In this claim, they are probably referring to Eminem’s corporate relationship with Dr. Dre, a significant figure in rap music who is best known for being one of the early creators of ‘‘gangsta’ rap,’’ a politically charged style of rap that challenged government authority and exposed the sociopolitical realities of inner city life. Eminem’s music is also politically charged and is often referred to as ‘‘hardcore’’ by rap musicians and producers, a trait that Eminem’s music shares with Dr. Dre’s tastes. Critically, Eminem has been praised by such figures as the editor of The Guardian, who claimed that, ‘‘Eminem is a multiple, elusive experience, one that folds about itself like his near-palindromic name . . . a rapper whose genius is, principally, poetic’’ (McCartney, 2001, p. 25). Conversely, he has been much maligned across the political spectrum for his dark lyrics that reveal suicidal thoughts and for his homophobic and misogynistic lyrics. He is also a polarizing figure in the contemporary cultural conflicts over gender, sexual orientation, and free expression. One of his most notable moments to date, as an artist, was winning three grammies in February of 2001. At that ceremony, as protestors from gay, lesbian, and women’s groups gathered outside, the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences President and CEO Michael Greene gave a speech to support Eminem. His primary claim in the speech was that the Grammies were not intended to defend or criticize music, but to recognize notable recordings (‘‘Eminem steals Grammy show,’’ 2001). Sir Elton John performed onstage with Eminem during the performance of his grammy nominated song as a show of support for free speech. Interestingly enough, after the ceremony, Eminem claimed that he did not realize that Elton John was gay (‘‘Eminem and Elton John,’’ 2001). Whether or not Eminem was being facetious, his comments are ironic considering that Eminem takes great pains to bash gay men in his music. Eminem’s other notable moments have had less to do with his music and more to do with his personal life. They include a weapons conviction (‘‘Eminem fails to beat gun charge,’’ 2001, p. 3) and a very public divorce with estranged wife, Kim Mathers, who has been the unfortunate target of some of his music (‘‘Rap star reaches divorce agreement,’’ 2001). Similarly he has a daughter, whom he often sings about, and a mother who has sued Masking Whiteness 269 him on defamation charges for over 10 million dollars. Her lawsuit is also a direct result of Eminem’s songwriting that features her as the primary subject (Gray, 2001). More recently, Eminem starred in a film entitled 8 Mile, a dramatic interpretation of Eminem’s life. A song from the film’s soundtrack, ‘‘Lose Yourself,’’ won an academy award. Objectification against women and homophobic lyrics in rap music are part of the musical genre (Davidsen, 1999; Perkins, 1996; Rose, 1996; Slayden, 1999; Stein, 1999). Hence, Eminem is not the only rap artist to objectify women, encourage rebelling against institutions, or even to invoke homophobia of some kind. Nor is he the only white artist to do so (White, 1996). But the controversy surrounding Eminem and the popular comparisons of him to the Beatles and Elvis (‘‘Bad boy, bad rap,’’ 2001; Frye, 2001; Tayler, 2001) have garnered very different kinds of political responses from powerful institutions than other rap artists who generated similar controversies such as 2 Live Crew, NWA, and Ice-T. Interestingly enough, whereas the courts decided to prosecute 2 Live Crew on obscenity charges and conservative politicians addressed the media with vitriolic speeches against Ice-T for his CopKiller album, conservative leaders have been more silent about Eminem’s music. Rather, it is notably the traditional left that has taken issue with Eminem. Women’s and gay rights groups have spoken out against Eminem. Additionally, Eminem’s music has had important material consequences. Besides generating tremendous controversy, press, awards, and sales, Eminem’s music has been linked to at least two suicides, both teenagers, one female, one male (Branigan, 2001; Hefferty, 2001). Given the commercial impact of Eminem’s success as a rapper in the fickle world of popular music and culture, the controversy surrounding his personal life and his music, his tendency to draw both criticism and support from an ecclectic mix of political and public interest groups, and the critical success of his music, Eminem represents a unique opportunity to examine race, class and gender intersections via rap music. For the purposes of this article, I will be examining one album by Eminem, The Marshall Mathers LP (2000). This is the album that won three Grammies and was nominated for best album of the year by the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences. This is also the album that generated the most press and controversy to date. Additionally, the music performed with Sir Elton John at the Grammy awards came from this album. Although his prior album, The Slim Shady LP also generated a lot of controversy, The Marshall Mathers LP is the album that rocketed Eminem into commercial and critical success. Eminem, maligned by liberal interest groups, considered a groundbreaking rap artist by music critics and a cash cow by the music industry, successfully penetrates cultural spaces most often occupied by the marginalized while maintaining credibility, power, and privilege in multiple cultural= socioeconomic spheres. Eminem is able to ‘‘universalize’’ himself 270 L. R. Calhoun discursively through his rap lyrics by marketing himself as the universal subject, the ultimate shape shifter who cannot be pinned down. This makes Eminem’s discursive presentation the ultimate performance in white masculinity because he accomplishes his ‘‘authenticity’’ by occupying the ‘‘in-betweenness’’ of race, gender, and class boundaries through constant contradiction. Before discussing Eminem’s album it is necessary to begin understanding the unique cultural characteristics of rap music as a discursive genre laden with cultural and political implications. Delgado (1998) argued that ‘‘rap music exists in tension between transgressive cultural practice and commercialized cultural form’’ (p. 2). Its history as a cultural genre invites a much different interpretation of its social significance than its contemporary condition as a cultural commodity. Dimitriadis (2001) stated Hip-hop culture originated during the mid-seventies as an integrated series of live community-based practices. It remained a function of live practice and performance for a number of years, exclusive to those who gathered together along New York City blocks, in parks, and in select clubs such as the now-famous Harlem World or T-Connection. Early MCs (or ‘rappers’) and DJs, graffiti artists, and break dancers forged a scene entirely dependent on face-to-face social contact and interaction. (p. 1) Although rap was initially a product of a marginalized community, it has since grown into a strong commercial force, particularly among young people (Dimitriadis, 2001). Despite being incorporated into the economic infrastructure of the international music industry, rap is still considered by many to be the progressive, revolutionary product of marginalized urban and Latino youth (Delgado, 1998; Perkins, 1996; Rose, 1996). As Perkins (1996) noted The MC, as the rapper was known, developed a basic lyrical style, mixing elements of street jargon and slang, personal experience, and an occasional dose of humor to create a potpourri of simple verses that could function as both match and counterpoint to the DJ. An MC would embrace elements of Jamaican—African American ‘toasts and boasts,’ the ‘signifying’ tradition, lovers’ laments, and the tones and cadences of African American and Afro—West Indian preachers to create a personal style. MCs had to be authoritative, assertive and hard hitting. Dissin’ (insulting or putting down) the competition became the cornerstone of early rap’s style. (p. 10) In spite of rap’s political and confrontational nature, Adam Krims (2000) cautioned scholars from getting too caught up in treating rap as solely a product of what he calls ‘‘the cultural resistance industry’’ (p. 1). He argued that we Masking Whiteness 271 should use healthy skepticism when approaching rap music today, particularly because of the ‘‘pliability of capital and the extent to which a politically engaged culture such as hip-hop can most easily be put to the service of dominant ideologies’’ (p. 1). So while rap music may, at times, evoke the marginalized discourse of the African American and Latino communities, ‘‘the single largest purchasing group of rap music may well be middle class white teenagers’’ (Krims, 2000, p. 4). But despite the fact that rap music has a large white audience, music scholar, Rose (1994, 1995) argued that the emphasis of rap is on ‘‘neighborhood authenticity, the underground circulation of music, and pride in remaining true to one’s roots’’ (Rose, cited in Dawson, 1999, p. 322) all signs that rap music remains a black cultural phenomenon. Consequently, we see a cultural dialectic revealed in the transition from the origins and intentions of the production of rap music and the subsequent commercial consumption of rap. Many genres of rap have generated controversy, backlash, and interest from the media and from dominant political, social, and cultural institutions. Rose (1994) argued that rap music emerges under intense public scrutiny and its obvious contradictions regarding race, class and gender are decontextualized and manipulated in order to destabilize rap’s resistive elements. Although rap is caught up in the contradictions of resistance and reification of the oppressive discourses of patriarchy and sexism, powerful media and corporate institutions are caught up in their own contradiction. They want to enjoy the tantalizing profits that rap generates while censoring rap for threatening the social order (Dawson, 1999; Rose, 1994). The primary political economic tension of rap music lies between the assertions that while ‘‘the economics of production and [the] marketing of rap constrict the ability of rap artists to make a positive contribution to the black community . . . [the other assertion is] that . . . rap music provides the most ‘authentic’ source of commentary on the economic devastation of the black community and its most disadvantaged residents’’ (Dawson, 1999, p. 321). It is this tension between rap music’s commercialization and its connection to politicized discourses that intrigued Delgado (1998). He cited N. D. Abram’s (1995) theory, which argues that one can consider rap artists organic intellectuals in the vein of Gramsci’s philosophy. Organic intellectuals are members of an aggrieved community that successfully build coalitions of resistance through counter-hegemonic strategies. Through this lens, Delgado analyzed Chicano rap to theorize about Chicano ideology and cultural identity. Similarly, Eminem has been described by the press both as a contemporary bard who speaks to adolescents (Bantick, 2001) and as a poetic genius (McCartney, 2001). He has also been described as representative of a marginalized group of working class, white male adolescents who are disillusioned and disengaged (‘‘Bad boy, bad rap,’’ 2001; Frye, 2001; 272 L. R. Calhoun Willard, 2001). Eminem’s music exists in this tension between resistance and marginalization, commodification and reification of capitalism and hegemonic dominance. His music has the potential to both resist and reify hegemony of the dominant social order and capitalism, consistent with rap music’s legacy. THE CONSTRUCTION OF WHITENESS Nakayama and Krizek (1995) argued ‘‘if we view whiteness as a rhetorical construction, we avoid searching for any essential nature to whiteness’’ (p. 293). Rather, we attempt to understand how the production of whiteness exerts influence over our lives while drifting in and out of visibility. The complex and disparate quality of the simultaneously diverse and homogenized identities of Anglo-Europeans is often theorized in terms of a conception of whiteness that gets coded as the invisible norm against which every other cultural identity is measured. In America, whiteness is the dominant identity and is asserted hegemonically. George Lipsitz (1998) stated ‘‘nearly every social choice that white people make is shaped by considerations involving race’’ (p. viii). In fact, he argued that the cultural category of ‘‘whiteness has a cash value’’ (p. vii), and further argued that white Americans are encouraged to invest in whiteness, to remain true to an identity that provides them with resources, power, and opportunity. The difficulty in understanding whiteness, of course, is that our social structure ‘‘centers whites, yet has no center,’’ allowing whiteness to be an endless contradictory, shapeshifting cultural entity (Nakayama & Krizek, 1995, p. 297). This invisibility of the center is harder to sustain as more whites are forced to confront the changing social and political dynamics of the population. However, typically as individuals, whites are often allowed to choose when they are ethnic and when they are not, as opposed to other marginalized groups in our society whose status, often marked by characteristics elevated in our society as meaningful difference, is always named. The use of naming/labeling ‘‘others’’ is a reflection of power and privilege and the choice to be named also reveals who most often has access to that power (Martin, Krizek, Nakayama, & Bradford, 1996). Whiteness is also conceptualized in terms of ambiguity and incompleteness, giving whites the space to construct their identities in very contradictory ways. This makes the construction of whiteness necessarily dialectical, filled with tensions, negations, and contradictions (Jackson, 1999). I will examine the construction of whiteness and how it intersects with gender, class, and sexuality in order to begin elucidating how systematic power networks materialize through rap discourse. In addition, I will examine how these four constructions necessarily converge in the postmodern condition to rearticulate, in the case of Eminem’s rap lyrics, a cultural fiction Masking Whiteness 273 of white heterosexual masculinity=masculinities that is consistent with a marginalized ‘‘authentic urban hip hop experience.’’ By cultural fiction, I am referring to a cultural narrative that is grounded in Eminem’s past experiences of class and race, but that is dislodged from that experience in the present due to his contemporary unique condition as a celebrity icon and wealthy individual. In other words, the disarticulation occurs in that what Eminem’s ‘‘authentic’’ experience may have originally been is no longer as significant as how Eminem presently constructs a cultural narrative that is palatable to large numbers of young consumers. That is why it is a cultural fiction, because, as my analysis will show, it’s whether the consumer can locate the narrative tropes and identifiers of an ‘‘authentic urban hip hop legacy’’ that matters and not whether someone is actually living that experience every day, or whether one can actually locate and pin down an ‘‘authentic urban hip hop experience.’’ In order to understand how Eminem aligns himself credibly in a way with popular cultural representations of marginalized race, class, and gender experiences, we must view race, class, and gender in intersection and not exclusively. Thomas K. Nakayama (1994), a noted scholar on critical discussions of race argued, As cultural constructions, then, ‘race,’ gender and sexuality are ripe with ideological and power relations already embedded within their historical trajectories. However, the intersections between ‘race,’ ‘gender,’ and sexuality—white heterosexual masculinity in particular—have yet to be productively explored and confronted by those in communication and cultural studies. (p. 164) Furthermore, Nakayama (1994) argued for a more integrated approach to discussions of race, gender, and sexuality by examining a popular film. Thus, he justifies the use of popular culture as an important means for interrogating white heterosexual maculinities. His theoretical framework is to ‘‘weave together these three critical agendas of racial, feminist, and gay politics within a postmodern politics of coalition and spatial relations’’ (p. 165). In his analysis he shows how homoerotic tensions and racial difference fuel the construction of the cultural fiction of white heterosexual masculinities. This play on difference and homoeroticism is a play on social/cultural space and the relationships that exist and are constructed as a means for white masculine heterosexuality to re-center itself when it is displaced and to ‘‘reclaim its universal space’’ (Nakayama, 1994, p. 176). Eminem is a discursive shape-shifter who both marginalizes himself and centers himself in his lyrics both in terms of his normalized experience growing up in the urban neighborhoods of Detroit and in terms of his normalized experience of being a white heterosexual male. Lyrically, through discursive 274 L. R. Calhoun play, Eminem slips through issues of difference and sexuality to loosely construct a universalized identity, which allows him to form contingent coalitions with other dominant and marginalized subjects. He does this by simultaneously exaggerating his accomplishments while passionately degrading his own experience as a white male. He both emasculates himself through homo-erotic word play and troubling self-effacement and remasculinizes himself through a misogynistic lyrical dance, sometimes rapping violent overthrows of his perceived oppressors, often women or other white males. This word play of both sides against the middle ensures both sympathy and fear from audiences, who respect his show of strength and anger through words, sympathize with his emasculated sense of self, and love the self=other degrading humor that accompanies what would otherwise be a very angry, violent, and depressing set of tracks. The degrading humor is necessary for making him ‘‘authentic’’ because, as a white male, he may lose ground in persuading marginalized subjects of his authenticity as another marginalized subject if he does not at least acknowledge (a) his own whiteness at times and degrade it, and (b) does not fully embrace a dominant subject position. In addition, degrading humor of both self and other boasts a long tradition in rap music that extends back into the oral traditions of black America. Therefore, his performance texts are both a parody and a reification of the fictionalized identity of the white heterosexual male. In addition, they pay homage to the recognizable cultural traditions of rap music. And they work because they allow him to point to the fiction of himself as a rapper while still constructing his own identity in the language and tradition of rap authenticity. HEGEMONIC MASCULINITY In addition to understanding the dynamics of race with regards to Eminem, specifically whiteness, it will be necessary to intersect race with masculinity= masculinities. As Connell (1990) pointed out, hegemonic masculinity is the ‘‘culturally idealized form of masculine character’’ (p. 83). It connects masculinity to the marginalization of gay men and the subordination of women. In defining hegemonic masculinity, Connell (1997) argued that hegemonic masculinities are ‘‘always constructed in relation to various subordinated masculinities as well as in relation to women’’ (p. 22). That means that alternative patterns are subordinated rather than eliminated entirely, and a key example of a subordinated masculinity is homosexuality. This hierarchical issue of hegemony means that the very definition and nature of masculinity is fiercely contested and there are multiple possibilities for various types of masculinity to emerge (Edley & Wetherell, 1997). Through a critique of representations of baseball icon, Nolan Ryan, Nick Trujillo (1991) identified five ways in which hegemonic masculinity is constituted in our Masking Whiteness 275 society: (a) by advancing physical force and control over subjugated bodies (i.e., women); (b) by demonstrating occupational achievement; (c) by instituting familial patriarchy; (d) by manifesting frontiersmanship; and (e) by performing heterosexuality. There has been some concern by theorists that in the post-Vietnam, postmodern era, masculinity is in crisis, particularly for white, heterosexual males (Faludi, 1999); or even that, by its very nature, masculinity is always in crisis (Hanke, 1998). Eminem might very well be a strong representation of the ‘‘white male in crisis,’’ model that has been asserted of late. Katz (2003) argued that Eminem embodies the image of the ‘‘white working-class male as anti-authority rebel . . . (who) seeks validation in the defiance of middle-class manners and social conventions’’ (p. 352). This particular image is what advertisers skillfully market to young people. But Katz (2003) inquired ‘‘what exactly is a white rapper like Eminem rebelling against’’ (p. 353)? Therefore, the key question in analyzing Eminem’s masculinity is whether his lyrics constitute a subordinated or dominant white hegemonic masculine identity. ANALYSIS Whiteness and Masculinity Implicated Nakayama and Krizek (1995), in theorizing whiteness, reject the individual as an autonomous source of power for their study. Observing the discursive formations of whiteness entails recognizing that ‘‘these are not logically organized frameworks that function in non-contradictory ways. The construction of ‘white’ as a cultural category is replete with contradictions’ (p. 297). Eminem’s lyrics are fraught with contradictions and inconsistencies. Where Eminem supports Nakayama and Krizek’s model is in the Foucaultian work on discursive formations that undergirds their analysis. In the areas of whiteness and masculinity, Eminem’s lyrics are not a typical, ‘‘everyday’’ exercise of whiteness. Eminem is a celebrity and a millionaire. He was a successful rap artist by the time he wrote this particular album under consideration, so the texts and performances produced on this album, while autobiographical in nature, were produced after his socioeconomic status had changed considerably, making references to his own marginalized position in society at least somewhat suspect. Therefore, while his origin may have been that of a humble inner-city youth, what he has achieved economically since then places him outside the usual point of reference for the performance of whiteness; that of the middle-class, white heterosexual male. Eminem’s lyrics support Nakayama and Krizek’s (1995) and Martin, Nakayama, Krizek, and Bradford’s (1996) theories of whiteness through negating definitions of whiteness and refusing to label the self. Nakayama 276 L. R. Calhoun and Krizek talked about how white is seen as a non-color. This discursive formation assures that ‘‘white can only be a negative, an invisible entity . . . (which) guarantees its unstratified nature’’ (Nakayama & Krizek, 1995, p. 299). In the song ‘‘Who Knew?’’ (2000) Eminem states, ‘‘I don’t do black music=I don’t do white music (nope)=I make fight music=for high-school kids.’’ This is a very similar response to J. Crew’s director of new market development Adrienne Perkov when he responded to challenges of unfair racial representation in advertising. His response was ‘‘We don’t do race oriented marketing’’ (Nakayama & Krizek, 1995, p. 299). Perkov and Eminem are saying virtually the same thing; they do not market to a particular ethnic group. This strategy removes race from the equation, a privilege that whites have because of their universal status as the non-ethnic group, whereas everyone else is marked as the ethnic group. This means that whites get to be universal, whereas everyone else is particularized. In Eminem’s lyrics, he is invoking the privilege of his white status to negate race as a significant factor in how he writes and performs music. For other rappers who are black, this is not the case. Holmes-Smith (1997) argued that because rap emerges out of urban black ethnic expression and experience, there is a tension between wanting to achieve mainstream economic success and maintaining an authentic and unique cultural expression. However, the desire for the mainstream is predicated upon watering down the ghettoized black male for the mainstream consumer so that it is palatable and commercial. ‘‘The utterance that gives shape to (the authentic) black self is always a hybrid enunciation of subjectivity, an infinitely variable amalgamation of mainstream and subcultural markings and citations’’ (Holmes-Smith, 1997, p. 23). Eminem’s music, in contrast, will be seen as having universal appeal, because his race is defined as a universal, whereas for black MCs, it is the particularization of their racialized experience that is so necessary to the commercial success of their music. In addition, Eminem gets additional commercial rewards because of his ability to ‘‘crossover.’’ The material consequence of that invocation of white privilege is important. Consider this: A record executive once stated, ‘‘If I could find a white man who had the negro sound and the negro feel, I could make a billion dollars. That white man became Elvis Presley’’ (Perkins, 1996, p. 38). Given that there have been several comparisons of Eminem to Elvis Presley in the news media and that his CD was the fastest selling CD in history, we see an important distinction in economic possibilities for a white rapper like Eminem as opposed to a rap artist who happens to be a person of color (‘‘Bad boy, Bad rap,’’ 2001; Frye, 2001; Tayler, 2001; Willard, 2001). Eminem’s conflation with universal, crossover appeal is probably because of his status as a white male, in addition to his ability to rearticulate cultural discourses in the hip hop community meaningfully to attract multiracial consumers. Eminem is seen as having possible pop icon status with Masking Whiteness 277 the first great rock star who derived much of his success from the African American musical roots in blues and jazz before him. However, those artists never received the same recognition that Elvis did. This construction of Eminem as the ‘‘new,’’ great potential crossover in the media is ironic given that rap, prior to Eminem’s success, already had a strong appeal for cross-cultural groups of consumers. Basu and Werbner (2001) wrote, Rap’s initial performances in block parties, parks and houses were accompanied by artists selling their home-made tapes from car boots, and hip hop entrepreneurs promoting rap concerts. Nowadays, black urban aesthetics in styles, fashion genres or language inform the stylistic and ‘outlaw aesthetic’ of youth cultures globally, from hip hop junkies in the UK to the special salons in Japan that advertise their expertise in ‘dread hair’ (‘doreddo hea’). (p. 245) Eminem will probably continue to be represented that way and with comparatively more commercial opportunities than many of his racially marked counterparts. His success may ultimately have an impact on the marketing of rap artists, particularly white rap artists, in the future. Record company executives and other ambitious rap artists will wish to capitalize on the successful marketing tools that worked for Eminem. However, because of the material and cultural consequences to Eminem’s success, the unique cultural aspects that made rap and hip-hop a discourse of resistance may eventually be overly commodified, damaging the potential for unique cultural expression to continually emerge in hip hop music. The second way in which Eminem invokes white privilege is in his defensive response to labeling himself. Nakayama and Krizek (1995) stated that for many whites, ‘‘while ethnicity communicates heritage, it is something that is not to be named’’ (p. 301). In a study of self-labels for white Americans, Martin et al. (1996) discussed how the act of labeling at the insistence of another causes whites to react defensively. To whites, it is an erosion of the choice to be ethnic or not, and with the loss of choice comes a perception of the loss of power. In addition, who gets to do the naming is important. Nakayama and Krizek pointed out that ‘‘we see a struggle over who gets to label whom in the social construction of identity’’ (p. 302). And often, white males have the most power in this respect because they have been ‘‘accorded essentially a label-free existence’’ (p. 302). In a celebrity situation, the desire to be invisible is part of the tension between wanting and receiving commercial success and retaining the privileges of being an anonymous person. This tension plays itself out in Eminem’s music. As a white male in an area of popular music where white males have been relatively scarce until recently, he has been labeled and questioned about his ethnicity and his background by the popular press. As stated earlier, the focus on authenticity, genuine marginality, and suffering 278 L. R. Calhoun is significant in rap music. The focus on the ‘‘authentic ghetto background’’ has created a popular cultural narrative that mythologizes and romanticizes the violence and poverty consistent in ghetto life. Rose (1994) wrote that the ‘‘ghetto is a source of fabricated white authenticity,’’ hence, my own reference to ‘‘cultural fiction,’’ a commodification of the ghetto narrative that can be conveniently invoked for frame and profit by white rappers. Robert Van Winkle, AKA Vanilla Ice, attempted this in 1989, to the detriment of Ice himself and the hip hop community in terms of its ability to bring attention to the actual political and material conditions of ‘‘the hood.’’ Thus, since then, white rappers have been received with some skepticism and suspicion in the hip hop community (Rose, 1994). Eminem’s response to the interrogation of his whiteness is interesting. In his lyrics, he seems to invoke the invisibility of whiteness by describing himself as ‘‘a regular guy.’’ In the song ‘‘Marshall Mathers,’’ Eminem states, ‘‘You see I’m just Marshall Mathers=I’m just a regular guy=I don’t know why all the fuss about me=Nobody ever gave a f— before’’ (2000). As a wealthy icon, Eminem could not really be considered a ‘‘regular guy,’’ but in invoking descriptions of himself as a regular guy, he attempts to label himself in normalizing terms. By requesting invisibility from his audience, he inadvertently links the desire for invisibility, for a normal life, with his race. As people see Eminem and hear his music, they link regular guy with white guy, reinforcing the norms of regularity with the norms of whiteness. The lyrics, then, meet society’s expectations and definitions of regularity and the desirability of invisibility (i.e., whiteness). This also creates a sense of ‘‘realness,’’ or ‘‘authenticity,’’ with his audience, as he is not perceived as attempting to make himself into something he is not, unlike the perceived efforts of Vanilla Ice. He becomes a more accessible figure by using his race as a vehicle to close the gap between the boundaries of particularity and celebrity lifestyle and the normalizing narratives of ‘‘regularity.’’ However, he does seem to recognize how he’s being used and how his whiteness is being sold to the public. He states in the song ‘‘I’m Back’’ (2000), ‘‘Became a commodity because I’m W-H-I-T-E . . . =.’’ This is where Eminem truly expresses the contradictions that Nakayama and Krizek (1995) discussed. It seems he is attempting to launch a subversive critique of whiteness, but in spelling it vocally in the song, he is not fully naming it, thus obscuring his own racial identity. He uses a similar tactic in the song, ‘‘The Way I Am’’ (2000), And I just do not got the patience (got the patience)=to deal with these cocky caucasians=who think I’m some wigger=who just tries to be black= cause I talk with an accent=and grab on my balls=so they always keep askin’ the same f------n questions (f------n questions)=What school did I go to=what hood I grew up in=The why=the who=what=when=the where=and the how=’til I’m grabbin’ my hair and I’m tearin’ it out=. Masking Whiteness 279 In this verse, he seems to again be critiquing whiteness, but he does not fully name it as whiteness. He interestingly enough uses a very institutional term, caucasians, to describe people who are attempting to challenge his status as a white male rapper in what they consider to be a social sphere occupied by people of color (in his case, blacks). It seems that ‘‘caucasians’’ are questioning his loyalty and authenticity in spheres that they consider to be separate and distinct. Martin et al. (1996) revealed that the terms Caucasian and White were most preferred in self-labeling exercises by white Americans because they were the least defined and the most ambiguous. Terms that were more contextually specific, like Anglo-European, were the least preferred and the most defined. Eminem, interestingly enough, also uses these two terms when describing white racial identity but displaces caucasian onto other whites whom he distances himself from. However, he still uses the term White, an ambiguous term and interestingly enough spells it out, revealing his own resistance to labeling and being labeled in contextually specific ways. Additionally, he rejects the pejorative term wigger often used by whites to describe white people who ‘‘act black’’ by dressing in urban, hip-hop style, and using the vernaculars and non-verbal markers of the urban black community. While he does not identify himself as ‘‘black’’ in his lyrics, his rejection of the wigger label suggests that he also will not accept critiques of his authenticity from other whites. In the lyrical moment in which he publicly rejects wigger as a label, he is also rejecting any cultural authority that attempts to rein him in and maintain defined racial boundaries, while implicitly straddling the normative borderlands of white and non-white. The significance of this action is that through his lyrics, he begins to discursively shift the norms of race from a biologically defined issue to a culturally defined issue. With blonde hair, pale skin, and blue eyes, there is no question of Eminem’s biological appearance and heritage as a white male. But by rejecting labels from any racial group and refusing to atone for questions and critiques of his authenticity, he locates his identity within the much more unstable realm of the cultural construction of race and ethnicity, allowing him to move more freely between the boundaries of white and non-white. So are the strategies used lyrically above a subversive critique of whiteness or a reification of whiteness? I would argue that they are more reifying in that he is using his whiteness to successfully penetrate the margins through an ‘‘authentic’’ discourse that masks as a critique of the dominant white narrative. If he is going to exit the sphere of whiteness to occupy a sphere occupied mostly by people of color, then does he have the ‘‘authentic’’ license to do so? Caucasian is a labeling term often used by governments and organizations for labeling groups (i.e., institutional purposes). Eminem seems to be launching a critique more of authority and authoritarian institutions, rather than launching a critique of what it means to be white. However, he does seem to link white with institutions of authority as being one and the same in using the term Caucasian. So this masking strategy represents Eminem’s 280 L. R. Calhoun experience as authentically marginalized and connected into black ghettoization, while at the same time authentically white. This gives him enough uniqueness to seem non-exploitative in the hip hop community in order to gain their endorsement and then simultaneously allows him to then exploit the margins to his commercial advantage. Eminem separates himself in the text of his lyrics with authoritarian spheres. He often describes himself in marginalized terms. Thus, his lyrics may be an attempt to define his whiteness as separate and distinct from other forms of whiteness. He may see his white experience as a marginalized subject position and the caucasian experience as the oppressive subject position. Interestingly enough, he is also challenging the white authority to label what it means to be ‘‘authentic.’’ In this sense, Eminem may be articulating a marginalized position of whiteness, where white male authority figures are to be challenged by those white persons occupying marginalizations via class and ethnic experience not experienced by the traditional middle- to upper-class portions of white society. Eminem may be performing a construction of whiteness that has been undertheorized in the sense that all performances of whiteness may not be obvious performances of hegemonic dominance but may be articulated as or resemble resistance, contributing to the contradictory and ambiguous nature of whiteness articulated by theorists such as Jackson (1999). This contributes to Jackson’s concerns about gaps in understanding the dynamics of denial by whites and the dynamics of the universal insider, in this case the marginalized revolutionary resisting the authoritarian white subject. By challenging Eminem’s authentic rapper status through probes about what neighborhood he grew up in, the media rearticulates distinct racial categories and, in a way, reifies the continuing geographical segregation of most blacks and whites. In a sense, had Eminem grown up in a middleclass home and had he not interacted with the African American community in a high crime area, then he would not be seen as ‘‘legitimate’’ or ‘‘real.’’ So, according to Eminem’s lyrics, he is charged with the task of embodying the African American experience, even though he is not African American. He cannot simply imitate a marked category. As Armond White (1996) stated, ‘‘Since it is impossible for any white rapper to achieve originality, attempts at combining identification with imitation wind up disingenuous’’ (p. 194). Indeed, other white rappers have either been sidelined in the hip-hop community (The Beastie Boys) or have had short-lived success (Vanilla Ice, Marky Mark) because they were unable to meet the standard of authenticity. Eminem is resisting the white authority to name and label an authentic experience for white and black inner-city youth. Still, his resistance to being labeled is an articulation of whiteness according to Nakayama and Krizek (1995), even if it also functions simultaneously as a critique. There are occasions on the album where he describes himself as white. But more often he displaces it into the third person, uses it to describe a body Masking Whiteness 281 part, or marks it as being different from the norm. When he displaces it, he puts the responsibility to label on someone else. For example, in the song, ‘‘The Real Slim Shady’’ (2000), he raps, ‘‘Y’ all act like you never seen a white person before.’’ In the song, ‘‘Criminal’’ (2000), he actually marks his whiteness as different, ‘‘Now don’t ignore me=you won’t avoid me=you can’t miss me=I’m white=blonde-haired and my nose is pointy.’’ This contradicts his earlier resistance to labels. But as Nakayama and Krizek (1995) pointed out, the discursive formation of whiteness is a strategic formation and is fraught with contradictions. We have to ask what he has to gain from negotiating whiteness in a contradictory manner. Previously we discussed the desire for authenticity, for articulating an authentic experience. By invoking whiteness and owning it as his ‘‘authentic experience,’’ that of a white, inner-city male, he makes a bid for successful penetration into the hiphop social world. Perkins (1996) stated that one of the key ways to gain acceptance in the rap community is to make your experience particular, to ‘‘root (your) segment of rap in (your) reality, not a mythology’’ (p. 38). He marks himself as different, as unique, particularizes whiteness as a strategy for gaining acceptance both from the mainstream fans and from the hiphop community. But he also normalizes his experience as a universalizing strategy for the same purposes, a contradictory strategy that places him in the ‘‘in-between,’’ the best location to emerge as the universal insider. The problem is that every constructed reality is a mythology to some extent and Nakayama (1994) pointed out that by examining white male penetration into the social and cultural spaces of people of color, we can uncover the mythology of the white heterosexual male that is created. Eminem’s attempt to make his experience as a white male inner-city youth acceptable to a community of people of color is predicated upon the creation of the unique mythology of the white male inner-city youth. In this sense, while he is not attempting to imitate black, inner-city, hip hop culture, he uses the norms and expectations of that culture to successfully penetrate the sphere. Earlier, I discussed the different cultural criteria for rap music, including signifying, dissin’ ‘toasts and boasts’ and ‘lover’s laments.’ Certainly, Eminem’s rap embodies all of those norms, even if he uses a unique technique as a rapper to articulate them. Hegemonic Masculinity While it is challenging to pin down the strategies by which Eminem exploits his whiteness, hegemonic masculinity is blatantly obvious in his lyrics, almost suspect, as if Eminem is attempting to parody hegemonic masculinity all together. But rather than delve into the murky and dangerous territory of attempting to determine intentionality, I will instead argue that his music articulates hegemonic masculinity. 282 L. R. Calhoun In a study entitled, ‘‘Jockeying for position: The construction of masculine identities,’’ researchers Nigel Edley and Margaret Wetherell (1997) discussed how, Current conceptions of masculinity exemplify a tension between two dominant images or subject positions: ‘retributive man’ and ‘new man.’ Retributive man represents a more traditional form of masculine identity. He is the (major) breadwinner of the family and the principal source of authority within the home: tough, competitive and emotionally inarticulate. In contrast, new man represents the ideal partner for the modern, liberated, heterosexual woman. He is a softer, more sensitive and caring individual, who also avoids sexist language, changes nappies and loves to shop all day for his own clothes. (p. 204) What Edley and Wetherell (1997) noticed, was that the identity of new man is often adopted as a strategy of resistance when men are subordinated, but that men often buy back into the values embodied within retributive man, the more traditional masculine identity. The problem with new man discourses is that they often get conflated with femininity and there is a reactionary desire to fold back into the retributive man paradigm in order to preserve the distinction between masculinity and feminity. Katz (2003) argued that one of the ways in which this is accomplished is to ‘‘equate masculinity with violence, power, and control,’’ (p. 352). Katz (2003) further claimed that the need for physical dominance and control emerged out of the face of socioeconomic and cultural changes in the 1970s and 1980s that overtly challenged white male hegemony. So the tension between new man and retributive man discourses may have a lot to do with the manifestation of the ongoing crisis of masculinity described by Hanke (1998) and Faludi (1999). Similarly Brod (1987) argued that macro-changes of post-industrial capitalism have created deep tensions in masculinities and motivated men to validate their masculine identities ‘‘through the use of their bodies as an instrument of power, dominance, and control’’ (as cited in Katz, 2003, p. 351). Brod further stated that, ‘‘for working class males, who have less access to more abstract forms of masculinity-validating power (economic power, workplace authority), the physical body and its potential for violence provide a concrete means of achieving and asserting ‘manhood’ ’’ (as cited in Katz, 2003, p. 351). In the case of Eminem, he articulates this tension in his writing, and is very reactionary toward any ‘‘new man’’ conceptions. For example, in the song ‘‘Stan’’ (2000), he seems to create an empathetic vision of himself, that of a man who is attempting to console and empathize with a disturbed fan. He writes, Dear Stan, I meant to write you sooner=but I’ve just been busy=You said your girlfriend’s pregnant now=how far along is she?=Look, I’m really flattered you would call your daughter that=And here’s an autograph Masking Whiteness 283 for your brother=I wrote it on your Starter cap . . . . I’m sorry I didn’t see you at the show=I must have missed you=Don’t think I did that s--- intentionally just to diss’ you=And what’s this s--- you said about you like to cut your wrists too?=I say that s--- just clownin’ dawg, c’mon, how f---- d up is you?=You got some issues Stan=I think you need some counselin’ . . . . Conversely, in the song, ‘‘Marshall Mathers’’; (2000), he writes, All I see is sissies in magazines smiling=Whatever happened to whylin out and bein’ violent?=Whatever happened to catchin’ a good-ol’ fashioned passionate ass-whoopin=and getting your shoes coat And your hat tooken? In these lyrics, we see a lamentation of the perceived loss of the kind of power, dominance, and control that men practice in the maintenance of masculine identity. Eminem also articulates a certain rite of passage that men experience when being dominated by others or in participating in violence, which Eminem subtly argues is a positive ritual that has been lost in the crisis of masculinity. In the song, ‘‘I’m Back’’ (2000), He also maintains that violence is a right and invokes the language of the Miranda Rights to articulate this claim: ‘‘You have the right to remain violent and start wilin’.’’ In this way, he re-defines the rule of law, a sacred institution in this country, by linking physical force and domination with an inalienable right. Thus physical force and domination become enshrined in an authoritarian institution that he imagines and creates through his expression. Both of the previous lyrical excerpts seem to advocate dominance and violence as part of the natural order of things. However, Eminem continually struggles with what he articulates as an inevitable need to perform hegemonic masculinity while also attempting to resist the authoritarian identity it invokes. In the song ‘‘Bitch Please’’ (2000), he writes, I just want you all to notice me and people to see that somewhere deep down=there’s a decent human being in me=it just can’t be found=so the reason you’ve been seeing this me is cause this is me now=the decent dude who’s being this mean. For Eminem, physical force and domination are frequent traits of his character in rap and yet this dominance is both overlaid and underlaid with the tension of a new man discourse which resists authoritarianism accomplished through physical dominance and, at the same time, resists being subjugated to authoritarianism by evoking the ‘‘new man’’ persona. So Eminem becomes the character we can sympathize with, the young man struggling to be a 284 L. R. Calhoun father and an adult. But he is also identified as hardcore, a term in rap that represents the provocative, aggressive, and unapologetic; succeeding at a genre of rap that gains respect and admiration from men. For masculinity to be hegemonic, it must penetrate our collective consciousness on both levels, that of the sympathetic human being trying to do the right thing (be a father) and the heroic leader, the unapologetic fearless hero who will take on anyone, anytime, anywhere. Trujillo (1991) pointed out that masculinity is hegemonic when it is defined through occupational achievement in an industrial capitalistic society. Eminem articulates his enormous success in unique and interesting ways. On the one hand, he criticizes the capitalist industrial society for how it commodifies his identity and alienates his own identity from himself. In the song, ‘‘The Real Slim Shady’’ (2000), he writes, I’m slim shady=yes I’m the real shady=all you other slim shadys are just imitating . . . . And there’s a million of us just like me who cuss like me= who just don’t give a f— like me=who dress like me=walk, talk and act like me=and just might be the next best thing but not quite me. (italics added) But on the other hand, he defends his occupational achievement in the same song when he writes, Whether you like to admit it=I just s—it better than ninety percent of you rappers out there can=Then you wonder how can kids eat up these albums like valiums=It’s funny=’cause at the rate I’m goin’=when I’m thirty I’ll be the only person in the nursing home flirting. Trujillo (1991) argued that some occupations are defined as more masculine than others. Rap music is sometimes articulated as belonging to the masculine domain where survival and triumph over foes become enshrined in rap lyrics. In this song, Eminem resists the power structure of consumer capitalism, aligning himself once again with resistance and marginalization. But in the next section of the same song, boasts of his overwhelming success, even making reference to how ‘‘kids eat up these albums like valiums,’’ as if his music is so pervasive, the consumption of it is as powerful as mind-altering drugs. That analogy definitely suggests masculine penetration and hegemony. Occupational achievement in masculinity is predicated on its ability to exclude subordinated others from succeeding in the same labor capacity. For example, in the world of rap music, women have often been excluded and trivialized. Nancy Guevara (1996) revealed, ‘‘The undermining, deletion, or derogatory stereotyping of women’s creative role in the development of minority cultures is a routing practice that serves to impede any progressive artistic or social development by women that might threaten male hegemony Masking Whiteness 285 in the sphere of cultural production’’ (p. 51). She went on to state, ‘‘in commercial representations of hip-hop, women are typically depicted in secondary roles as cheerleaders or bystanders rather than as producers or active participants’’ (p. 51). In Eminem’s music, his depiction and treatment of women are worse than just relegating women to secondary status. In Eminem’s music, there are no female rappers who share the microphone with him, only men. The women who participate in Eminem’s music have no voice of their own. They are only present as a means to an end, usually participating in their own demise in the music or their own subordination. If women are heard on the album at all, it is usually as the victims of violence or as the objects of sexual pursuance. This reifies the notion that women have no place in rap music in terms of occupational achievement. They are not co-participants in the production of the rap text or performance. They are relegated to a relational status. There are three main women that Eminem writes about, his mother, his ex-wife, and his daughter. All three are discussed in terms of the way they function in his life. In the opening song, ‘‘Kill You’’ (2000), Eminem states, When I was just a little boy=my mamma used to tell me these crazy things=She used to tell me my daddy was an evil man=she used to tell me he hated me=But then I got a little bit older and I realized she was the crazy one=But there was nothing I could try to say or do to change her ’cause that’s just the way she was. Later on in the song, he further writes, Shut up slut, you’re causing too much chaos=Just bend over and take it like a slut . . . ok ma!=Oh, now he’s raping his own mother, abusing her. Interestingly enough, he ends this set of lyrics by describing himself in the third person, as if he is observing himself as he enacts violence upon his own mother. Occasionally, Eminem will describe himself in the third person in his lyrics, distancing himself from the act as well as contributing to the construction of a fictional self, the cultural fiction of the white inner-city male. His wife Kim has twice been the subject of a murder fantasy that Eminem raps out in his lyrics, once, on a prior album, and also on the Marshall Mathers LP. In the song ‘‘Kim’’ (2000), Eminem sings about beating his wife for cheating on him and ends up killing her in the end. On the album itself, she is heard begging and screaming for her life. I should have known better when you started to act weird=we could’ve . . . HEY!=Where you going?=Get back here!=You can’t run from me Kim=Here I’ll scream with you!=It’s just us, nobody else!=You’re only making this harder on yourself=Ha! Ha! Got’cha (Ahh!)=Ha!=Go ahead 286 L. R. Calhoun yell!=AH SOMEBODY HELP!=Don’t you get it bitch=no one can hear you?=Now shut the f—up and get what’s comin’ to you=You were supposed to love me=NOW BLEED! B—BLEED! He does rap about his daughter in more positive terms, but he reinforces Trujillo’s (1991) notions of familial patriarchy when he does so. Trujillo stated, ‘‘traditionally, such patriarchal representations include males as . . . family protectors and strong father figures.’’ He goes on to say, citing Segal (1990), that ‘‘modern representations of the so-called ‘sensitive father’ have remained hegemonic insofar as ‘the contemporary revalorization of fatherhood has enabled many men to have the best of both worlds’ because ‘they are more involved in what was once the exclusive domain of women, but especially in relation to children, they are sharing its pleasures more than it’s pains’’ (Segal, p. 58, 1990, as cited in Trujillo, p. 291, 1991). Similarly, Eminem discusses his daughter in these terms. In the song, ‘‘Kim,’’ he actually begins by addressing his daughter, Aww, look at daddy’s baby girl=that’s daddy babby=little sleepy head= Yesterday I changed your diaper=wiped you and powdered you=How did you get so big?=can’t believe it now you’re two=Baby you’re so precious=Daddy’s so proud of you= (2000) But immediately after, he invokes the ‘‘father figure’’ when ordering his wife around. Sit down B If you move again, I’ll beat the s—out of you=don’t make me wake this baby=She don’t need to see what I’m about to do= (2000) In this song, he constructs himself as all of the things Trujillo (1991) invokes, the patriarch, the strong father figure, the sensitive father figure, and the family protector even though he is about to commit violence against a spouse. The violence works in favor of Eminem’s cultural fiction because it enables him to achieve all the tropes of hegemonic masculinity. He meets the definitions of patriarchal dominance over the women in his life, occupational success in terms of his ability to succeed over other rappers and keep women subordinated=excluded from the profession, physical dominance over subjugated bodies by keeping his wife and mother subordinated through violence, and sensitive father figure in terms of making his wife accountable for her betrayal to their family while caring for their daughter. He maintains his status by exploring the tensions of ‘‘in-betweenness’’ in both the sensitive father role and the fearless masculine role, keeping his identity ambiguous, contradictory, undefined, and therefore universal. Exploring new territory and breaking new ground is often a way to conceptualize frontiersmanship. The cowboy is the most common Masking Whiteness 287 white, hegemonic, masculine symbol of frontiersmanship (Trujillo, 1991). Nakayama (1994) argued that minority social spaces are often conceptualized as a traditional frontier for white males to penetrate and conquer. He relates the classic Western to the classic Hollywood martrial arts film, where white males penetrate Asian American social spaces, enter into conflict, and emerge victorious. Thus, they break new ground. While Eminem is more of an urban cowboy, there is an invocation of the frontier by Eminem. Eminem often criticizes other white male pop artists (particularly white male singing groups like N-Sync) who have not pursued rap as a musical genre. In other words, rap is a wild frontier that is not for ‘sissies’ as he describes other white popular artists. As a white male, it takes something more to tame the world of rap. You have to be able to handle and take control of the many dangers that might face you in the world of rap. For example, in the song, ‘‘Marshall Mathers’’ (2002), he writes, Yo, You might see me joggin’=You might see me walkin’=you might see me walkin’ a dead rottweiler dog with it’s head chopped off in the park with a spiked collar=Hollerin’ at him cause the son of a bitch won’t quit barkin’=or leanin’ out the window, with a cocked shotgun=Drivin’ up the block in the car that they shot ‘Pac in=Lookin’ for Big’s killers. Here, the metaphor to the untamed frontier is complete. He is able to dominate nature (dog), take control of the vehicles (almost like riding the villain’s horse) that the murderers of rappers 2’Pac Shakur occupied, and pursue vigilante justice on behalf of slain rapper Biggy Smalls. It is not far removed from Desperado. Similarly in the song, ‘‘The Real Slim Shady’’ Eminem exclaims, ‘‘You act like you’ve never seen a white person before’’ pointing out his frontiersman status as a white person occupying exotic or different territory. At the same time, his turn of phrase here suggests that viewers should regard his exotic occupation as normal, expected, reverting to his ‘‘regular guy’’ identification. The normalization of his frontiersmanlike status, builds more authority into his presence in the exotic territory of hip hop. He becomes an authority when he trivializes the surprise and critique surrounding his occupation while maintaining his unique masculine ability to do so, readily dismissing any questioning of his role and presence in the hip hop domain. This is where hegemonic masculinity intersects with whiteness to maximize Eminem’s privilege as a white male with the potential not only to occupy marginalized cultural territory, but to pave the way for its colonization. Trujillo (1991) argued that the final indicator of hegemonic masculinity is when heterosexuality is defined as good, normal, and natural (p. 292). Because Eminem has been criticized most publicly for his disparagement of women and gays, this is one of the most obvious expressions of hegemonic masculinity present in his music. There are numerous examples where homosexuality is either the butt of a joke or the source of some rather vitriolic 288 L. R. Calhoun language. But to explore a little deeper, I would like to further extend Nakayama’s (1994) argument that in the film ‘‘Showdown in Little Tokyo,’’ homoerotic tensions were used as a way to re-center and define the cultural mythology of white heterosezual masculinity. Ironically, Eminem’s album is another example of the strategic use of homoeroticism to reinforce heterosexual fictions. One of Eminem’s tracks on The Marshall Mathers LP is an audio-recorded oral sex scene between three men. At the end of the scene, when the receiver of oral sex asks one of the men to ‘‘say his name,’’ the man calls out ‘‘Eminem,’’ upsetting the man receiving sex, who then proceeds to leave in anger. Thus we realize that Eminem is not participating in the sex scene, but is the source of great desire from other men. In another example, the song ‘‘Stan,’’ a similar homoerotic scenario is set up in which a disturbed fan reveals his desire to ‘‘be together’’ with Eminem. In the return letter that Eminem writes to Stan, he has the discursive opportunity to reject Stan’s advances. Since this is a song, and it blurs the use of private and public spaces through the construction of private interaction between two men through letters, Eminem has taken a very public opportunity to reject gay men who might desire him in a very private way (through a letter). He rejects homosexuality in kind, albeit patronizing ways, humorous ways, and even in cruel or homophobic ways in his music, rearticulating his heterosexual status and prowess, just in case any hopeful gay men or other listeners did not get the message. But his construction of gay men as the oversexed, disturbed pursuers of unsuspecting heterosexual white males is important when we consider how white heterosexual men who express hegemonic masculinity tend to view gay men (i.e., with suspicion, humor and fear). And the scenes in his music certainly contribute to those perceptions. He also writes offensive lyrics toward lesbians, expressing his sexual superiority over them. In the song, ‘‘Remember Me’’ (2002), he sings, ‘‘I get more p—than those d—b—total.’’ Additionally, he sings about his discursive effect on lesbian and gay women and men. In the song ‘‘Criminal’’ (2000), he writes, My words are like a dagger with a jagged edge=that’ll stab you in the head whether you’re a f—or a l—=Or a homosex, hermaph, or a trans-avest=Pants or dress—hate f—? The answer’s ‘yes’=Homophobic?=Nah, you’re just heterophobic=Starin’ at my jeans=watchin my genitals bulgin’=(2000) Eminem constructs his identity as a white male through hegemonic masculine dominance, whiteness, and heterosexuality. As a result of meeting the five different criteria for unmasking the presence of hegemonic masculinity, we can see that Eminem’s songs clearly rearticulate a hegemonic masculinity that is primarily grounded in a white construction of masculinity (Trujillo, 1991). His rap lyrics and his subsequent commercial success, particularly Masking Whiteness 289 with young white males, reveals the significance of understanding his role in popular music, his acceptance among rappers, and his significance in cultural studies (Katz, 2003). Because his music does articulate whiteness in unique ways and intersects powerfully with hegemonic masculinity, it helps us to understand how discursive strategies of whiteness and masculinity both adapt, change, and sustain themselves in both contradictory and consistent ways through cultural expressions such as rap music. CONCLUSION: ‘‘THAT’S WHY THEY CALL ME SLIM SHADY.’’ Although Eminem clearly discusses his own marginalization at the hand of authoritarian institutions and his own parents (his mother in particular), he does nothing in his music to explore alternative forms of masculinity that do not reproduce and rearticulate dominating, patriarchal notions of the masculine or to truly interrogate the masculine subject within himself. He seems trapped in it. Because he reproduces patriarchy, it makes it difficult for him to get beyond the cycle of dominance that he is not only a product of, but seems to reproduce. Thus he does not successfully construct a counterhegemony through which subversive ideas can be disseminated. They would simply be deconstructed in his lyrics. A second important question is whether he constructs a historical bloc=coalition of traditionally opposing groups united around subversive and counter-hegemonic images. I would say yes, but only in contingent postmodern forms of sociopolitical coalitions. While he has had the backing and support of many influential African American rap artists, this is not the first time a white rap artist has had that support. Perkins (1996) stated, ‘‘white rappers and pop acts who expropriate the black vernacular frequently have black producers and managers who coach these acts in the black sensibility’’ (p. 37.). Moreover, as Krims (2000) wrote, we cannot divorce the world of rap and hip-hop from the dominant capitalist and ideological institutions and agendas it often serves. While political discourse may be possible in rap, it is hard to say whether the alliance between Dr. Dre and Eminem is about a politico-cultural alliance or more about making money and garnering commercial success for the both of them. In terms of the performance between Sir Elton John and Eminem, their alliance was greatly undermined in the media when Eminem claimed he did not know that Elton John was gay (‘‘Eminem,’’ 2001) and also when Elton John trivialized the whole matter in the press by saying, ‘‘I don’t know why everyone is getting so crazy about this. It’s just pop music’’ (Rubin & Fink, p. 19, 2001). Eminem is a member of marginalized group of white males, but he certainly does not concern himself with the needs of that community or with attempting to take action on behalf of that community. Indeed, he prides himself on simply deconstructing society’s efforts to undo harms to children 290 L. R. Calhoun and youth in that community. However, this may be where Eminem’s counter-hegemonic potential lies. He does critique the dominant social order, particularly in regards to how it hypocritically raises children. Eminem’s attack on traditional family structures and conceptions of parenting is an important and valid critique. He continually criticizes society’s need to deflect the responsibility for parenting onto the media and onto the many celebrities their children are exposed to. He also generally points out what he sees as blatant hypocrisy in moral institutions such as religion, the presidency, the education system and the family. Unfortunately, while Eminem is a good deconstructionist, he does not provide alternative solutions to meet the needs of the marginalized community he represents. It is important to note, Eminem’s primary goal is most likely not to be considered a role model for either the subversive or progressive. However, seeing as many critics and corporations have constructed him as a cultural icon and progressive poet, it is important to ask critical questions about what kind of material and cultural impact Eminem might have on society. Indeed, he has had at least 15 minutes of fame, and it is hard to say how long that will last. Perhaps he has not yet stood the test of time, but he has been embraced and marketed in unique and interesting ways and his lyrics do reveal a tremendous creative and intellectual ability. There is a potential for him to impact the next generation in important ways and so he stands as an important figure to examine, regardless of whether he sticks around or not in the popular cultural sphere. After all, if he does not have a very long shelf life as a celebrity rebel, it may be interesting later to figure out why. Since I began writing this article on Eminem, he has been very busy. Not only has he written more provocative and successful rap music, but he has also been embroiled in further controversy with other rap artists and popular music icons such as Michael Jackson and, through his music and videos, has spoken out vehemently against the war in Iraq. I believe further critical analysis of Eminem is a must. In terms of other research on Eminem and other rap artists like him specifically, I believe there are several types of research that could be done. I have attempted to examine just the intersections of race, class, gender, and sexuality, and how they intersect to form a white, heterosexual, masculinity in Eminem’s lyrics. But I believe that to look at the contributions of Eminem’s music, one would specifically have to examine the modern=postmodern conditions present in his lyrics. In addition comparative studies to other white artists with crossover appeal, like Kid Rock and Limp Biscuit, would be interesting in terms of constructing white male penetration into hip hop culture and the bridging of hard rock and hiphop. Finally, comparing the discourse surrounding Eminem and other rap artists who are white to discourse surrounding black rap artists would be important in analyzing racial constructs in relationship to hip hop and popular culture. For example, the reaction from mainstream society to Ice-T and 2 Live Crew when their controversial lyrics emerged was very different from Masking Whiteness 291 the reaction to Eminem (Davidsen, 1999; Rose, 1993; Slayden, 1999). My initial forays into this question revealed that Ice-T and 2 Live Crew were pressured both legally and economically to censor their music, where as no legal action toward or sustained economic boycott of Eminem’s music has taken place. Given that all three artists had bad press, it is interesting that the black artists had institutional and systemic responses to prevent their music from being heard, whereas Eminem’s music was not pursued legally by dominant social and political institutions. In fact, as journalist Jenny McCartney (2001) pointed out, his impact may be very fleeting. And the notion that rebel status today has a short shelf life points out the fragmentary and impermanent status of everything in our culture. Slim Shady could be representative of a postmodern condition in popular culture. David Harvey (1990) stated that for the past few decades ‘‘we have been experiencing . . . an intense phase of time-space compression that has had a disorienting and disruptive impact upon political-economic practices, the balance of class power, as well as upon cultural and social life’’ (p. 284). This speed-up in the turnover time of resources results in particular consequences. First, it has accentuated the ‘‘volatility and ephemerality of fashions, products, production techniques, labour processes, ideas and ideologies, values and established practices’’ (p. 285). Second, Harvey argued that instantaneity and disposability are virtues and values. Thus, the postmodern condition means more than ‘‘just throwing away produced goods . . . but also being able to throw away values, lifestyles, stable relationships, and attachments to things, buildings, places, people, and received ways of doing and being’’ (p. 286). Eminem’s lyrics are about impermanent relationships, states of minds, identities, and values. They are also about being fragmented and commodified in a capitalist society. Eminem writes. ‘‘I am whatever you say I am,’’ and reveals himself to be a product of and a reaction to the postmodern condition of destabilized identities, contradictory and ambiguous intersections. REFERENCES Abrams, N. D. (1995). 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