Whether we acknowledge it or not, we all can attribute a part of ourselves to another human being. And being adolescents raised on rap, where imagery is everything, we all fancied ourselves as being as rich and famous as the musicians we idolized on audio and video.
My wannabe-rap-self? At age 13, it would be a split between Big Daddy Kane and Kwame. BDK’s an easy one to acknowledge but Kwame’s probably subject to scrutiny due to Biggie’s infamous lyric. Still, I don’t care. Circa the early ’90s, Kwame was that dude to me. Growing up with an older sister, I understood, paid attention to and developed a strong sense of style. Kwame had it with the high top fade with the bleached tornado swirl and the crazy unique polka dots he wore on everything from suits to casual tees.
Somewhere in my mom’s archives of photos, there’s probably a picture of my Easter ensemble from the junior high years where I wore a white suit, black shirt with white polka dots and a fresh cut high top. I wanted to be him so bad I’d practice my sleepy-eyed look in the mirror hoping to one day be as cool.
There’s my admission. Now, let’s hear yours.