07 - UK street culture’s double-edged sword - Jamie Oyebode
When Kidulthood arrived in cinemas in 2006, it was one of the first pieces of cinema to shine a light on the London street culture. It followed a group of school kids’ descent into the West London gang scene and how for many, the path is almost unavoidable.
Then Top Boy followed in 2011 and changed the game again. Created by Ronan Bennett (an Irish screenwriter who has an interesting story himself), it is set in the fictional East London Summerhouse estate, run by gang head Dushane (Ashley Walters) and follows his attempts to fend off challenges for ground and authority.
In 2017, Drake bought the rights to the show, and lengthened series 3 from 4 episodes to 10. Early this year is when series 4 is due to be released and like most, I am excited. Series 1 to 3 have been high quality TV, showcasing some of the newest and most legendary BAME talent in London at the moment.
Part of spotlighting these cultures means giving rise to the more attractive elements too – be it the dialect, the clothes or the music. Such exposure has augmented the visibility of street culture and the creativity that can arise from it.
Problems arise when the street culture element of the show becomes the primary takeaway, and the socio-cultural issues are forgotten. People start to handpick parts of the show they like and adopt these as their memories of it. Inevitably, these are the same ‘more attractive’ elements.
The glamorisation of street culture is not a new concept. It has existed in the UK for well over 30 years now, with the most overt examples in British cinematography coming from a light shone on football hooliganism. The Football Factory in 2004 gave way for a string of shows and entertainment that focused on the football fan sub-culture. Although the root causes and net effects of the microculture are different, the glamorisation is almost entirely synonymous. Like many social issues, street culture’s intertwining with race has ensured it not only feels new, but is a very raw topic to now discuss.
You can argue that enjoying music, fashion and appreciating language are as much a celebration of a culture as they are appropriation of it. But it is hard to not see it as the latter when the fundamental societal issues surrounding such culture seem to remain unmoved. The year up to March 2020 included the highest number of knife crime-related incidents in the last 10 years. Gun-related crimes have been on a steady increase since 2014. And perhaps most worryingly, the number of homicide incidents this year was up 3% to 644.
To some, the structural causes are obvious. In the last 15 years, you could point to a number of government policies in which the consequences have been young children turning to gangs. Season 3 of Top Boy shows how easily children as young as 12 get sucked in. In the case of young Atts, it is because he wants to make money for his Mum who lost her job during Theresa May’s hostile environment policy. Equally plausible is the story of Rapman, who just wanted to make money and be in charge because he didn’t see how the system would give him either of those things. And of course, there is a direct correlation between the austerity measures under Cameron’s Government – starving local communities of basic amenities such as town halls, community centres and leisure facilities – would lead to children hanging out in the wrong places.
Albeit central to the problem, Government policies are only one possible cause. The double-edged sword of shows like Top Boy is that it’s hard for young children not to idolise characters such as Dushane and Sully. They are the show’s antiheroes and in being so, become part of the problem in that young viewers may want to aspire to be these fictional characters or associate their characters with people they witness in real life. They see the supposed positive effects they can have – quick money, a route out of school – and suddenly it becomes a game of resisting such a world. Absolutely not the fault of the show’s creators or actors, but it seems an unintended consequence of their quality is young viewers’ gullibility being exposed.
Add to this when the glamorisation of street culture grows into an attempt to commercialise inappropriately – or without understanding the context – and the problem is deepened further. In 2018, ASOS had to remove socks from their website because of the perceived attempt to profit from black street culture. They were labelled as ‘roadman design’, with one of the socks including the word ‘mandem’. If one looks at the etymology of ‘mandem’, it can be traced back to Jamaican creole for gang – ‘man + them’. So, one could rightly interpret ASOS’ attempt to profit from this word via socks as social insensitivity.
Buying a pair of ‘mandem’ socks from ASOS feels far more like appropriation than it does celebration. It is the picking out of a culture the parts you like whilst keeping the core problems at an arm’s length – the irony being that identifying with the dress sense of street culture, you are accepting their choices as having an influence on the world.
This is not to say that this is a binary issue, nor that commercialising street culture is a universally bad thing. Compare this with Dave’s Glastonbury performance in 2019, where he shared the stage with a young teenager from Somerset who knew his song ‘Thiago Silva’ word-for-word. If Alex Mann knew the words to a song about a Brazilian footballer, you can be sure he also knew the lyrics to Dave’s song ‘Black’ – an almost polemical song about the black experience in the UK – and the importance of them in conveying the struggles, prejudices and realities of what it that black experience entails. The difference here is in celebrating street culture (in this case, black culture specifically), people are able to appreciate the context, history and struggle to arrive at the specific moment where Alex Mann and Dave share a stage. And of course, black street culture is not confined to a pair of socks.
In the case of Top Boy, it is possible that untasteful commercialisation of street culture was unavoidable the moment investment from Drake came. Not because Drake does not appreciate it, but because US popular culture is so strong that it often sees cultural heritage / sensitivity and the commercialisation of it as two entirely separate things. In other words, if something is cool and profitable, that can be all that matters.
In the US, it is well known that both knife and gun crime are deep problems. In 2019, there were over a million violent crimes in 2019, whilst both aggravated assaults and manslaughter both rose on the previous year’s numbers.
Part of ensuring that we reduce such figures is ensuring the demarcation between cultural appropriation and appreciation remains clear. This relies on a number of things - including sensitivity from the businesses, brands and individuals responsible for commercialisation, popularisation and glamorisation of street culture. It was right to call out a powerhouse fashion brand such as ASOS for this and such actions must continue in the future. It also includes celebrating moments like Dave and #AlexfromGlasto, and of course it also requires us to really appreciate the importance of grassroots work done by charities such as the NSPCC and the Children’s Society.
Rapman’s recent film Blue Story does well at towing a far harsher line, in turn demonstrating the devastating effects simply living in a postcode can do to families. Although not without its own controversy, when compared directly against other shows on the same topic, the risk of character idolisation seems lower and a focus on the issues discussed appears to be at the forefront.
It is important that we keep striving towards a society where young people have the best opportunities. At the same time, we should celebrate the birth and existence of cultures that have such profound effects on our lives. Celebrating street culture and reducing knife crime don’t have to be mutually exclusive – but the longer they are thought as so, the longer the societal problems will endure.