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Eminem and the Problematisation and Privilege of Whiteness

“Elvis lives on, but in the form of another poor, skinny white kid from a largely black

community who made it to the top of the world using a borrowing voice: Eminem.”1 Such

charges of being “the new Elvis” have haunted white rapper Eminem since he broke onto the

hip hop scene in 1999. The comparison indicts Eminem as an appropriator of black music;

stealing the culture for musical success and financial gain. I strongly oppose the view that

Eminem appropriates black culture, but through an analysis of Eminem’s performance of

race, I propose that he markets his positon as a white male in the traditionally black art form

of hip hop as a unique selling point. There is a trend amongst scholars to analyse Eminem’s

oeuvre solely along racial lines, and whilst this can be a useful technique, I largely find that

to do so is reductive. Such a narrow method ignores the intersectional identity politics that

permeate Eminem’s work. In light of this, I explore my overarching discussion of race in

conjunction with class discourses. In using this approach, I aim to illustrate that rather than

deny or absolve his whiteness, Eminem embraces and strategically manipulates it through a

class lens to his advantage. Throughout this essay I investigate how Eminem establishes a

white working class persona in order to distance himself from upper class images of

whiteness that would undermine his authenticity in the genre. Secondly, I analyse White

America’s response to Eminem’s success and how such reactions exhibit continuing racism

in the United States. Finally I examine the unique case of 8 Mile, and how the film largely

disrupts Eminem’s standard image of a powerful yet humble white star in the hip hop game.

In doing so, I will evidence how Eminem’s race fuels his unparalleled success and evidences

white privilege.

Before embarking upon a close reading of Eminem’s lyrics it is crucial to establish the

1 Keir Keightley, “In the Footsteps of the King”, The Toronto Star, 16th August 2002.

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racial framework within which he works. My discussion of Eminem and his relationship with

race must be read in respect to Professor George Lipsitz’s theory of the “possessive

investment in whiteness.”2 By this phrase, Lipsitz refers to the systemic and institutional

processes by which being a white American is beneficial in every aspect of life. Lipsitz

explores the ways in which predominantly hegemonic white institutions subtly retain white

advantage. However, Lipsitz neglects this thesis in relation to traditionally black spheres such

as hip-hop culture, therefore it is within this context that I will expand his argument. Unlike

the institutions Lipsitz acknowledges (including the government and the criminal justice

system), hip hop is a domain in which whiteness does not always equate to success.

Here, I must allude to the much cited example of Vanilla Ice. Rising to fame in 1990

thanks to his hit “Ice Ice Baby”, Vanilla Ice became a Number One selling rapper.3 With an

image constructed on the grounds of a ghetto upbringing and criminal affiliations, Ice situated

himself as an artist with a similar background to many black rappers of the era, thereby

aiming to secure a sense of authenticity. However, months after his breakthrough, the media

revealed that Ice’s ghetto image was falsified. Ice, or Rob Van Winkle, had actually been

raised in a middle-class suburban Dallas neighbourhood with a comfortable upbringing. Such

fabrication turned Van Winkle into a cultural thief.

More recently, in the build up to the 2015 Grammy Awards, Iggy Azalea, a white

Australian rapper, faced much social media criticism from hip hop fans at the possibility of

her record winning the Best Rap Album accolade. Azalea did not win the award; Eminem

triumphed for his album Marshal Mather LP 2. In response to the events Azalea commented,

“I found it to be kind of ironic. It was because I'm white, therefore I'm appropriating culture,

but then Eminem won it - who's white and won it many times - and they didn't seem to say

2 George Lipsitz, The Possessive Investment in Whiteness: How White People Profit From Identity Politics (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1998).3 Vanilla Ice, “Ice Ice Baby”, (SBK Records, 1990).

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anything about that.”4 Here, Iggy completely misunderstands the difference between herself

and Eminem. Whilst both artists are indeed white, the similarities end there. Azalea falls into

the same marketing strategy as Vanilla Ice, which Mickey Hess calls “imitation”, whereby

artists mirror behaviour of fellow rappers in order to attain authenticity.5 As Gender and

Africana Studies scholar Professor Cooper asserts, Iggy’s performance “is offensive because

this Australian born-and-raised white girl almost convincingly mimics the sonic register of a

downhome Atlanta girl.”6 Such artificial self-branding in conjunction with self-unawareness,

contrasts her with Eminem.

It is my contention that, unlike Ice and Iggy, Eminem sustainably profits from his

whiteness and conforms to Lipsitz’s thesis that, “whiteness has a cash value.”7 So how does

Eminem break the tradition of rap’s white fakes and failures and actually profit from his

paleness? One of the principal ways he invests in his whiteness actually contrasts with

Lipsitz’s definition; that is, Eminem breaks the barrier of ignorance or denial. Lipsitz asserts

that one of the key features of the “possessive investment in whiteness” is that white people

are unaware that they are experiencing such privilege.8 Eminem’s self-awareness complicates

this finding, “In contrast to Vanilla Ice, who faced charges from the hip-hop community of

trying to be a 'wigger'…Eminem long ago learned to embrace his whiteness - flaunting it with

pride and self-consciously manipulating and resignifying its implication.”9 As Grundmann

writes, Eminem’s manipulation and redefining of whiteness involves introducing class

4Katy Forrester, “Iggy Azalea Glad Eminem Won Rap Grammy Because He’s “White” Despite Rape Threat”, Daily Mirror, 4th March 2015, http://www.mirror.co.uk/3am/celebrity-news/iggy-azalea-glad-eminem-won-5273916 [accessed 4/4/2016].5 Mickey Hess, Is Hip Hop Dead?: The Past, Present and Future of America’s Most Wanted Music (Westport: Praeger Publisher, 2007), p.115.6 Britney Cooper, “Iggy Azalea’s Post-Racial Mess”, Salon, July 14th 2014 http://www.salon.com/2014/07/15/iggy_azaleas_post_racial_mess_americas_oldest_race_tale_remixed/, [accessed 4/4/2016].7 Lipsitz, p.vii.8 Lipsitz, p.19.9 Roy Grundmann, “White Man's Burden: Eminem's Movie Debut in 8 Mile”, Cinéaste, 28:2 (2003) pp. 30-35, p.34.

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identity into the debate of authenticity. The technique Eminem employs to do so is by

identifying not as white, but “white trash”.

White Trash

In his book, Affirmative Reactions Hamilton Carroll studies Eminem, exploring how he

“attains the privileges of being white by denying that he is.”10 “White trash” is a term usually

issued as an insult towards poor white people and has stereotypical connotations of drug

addiction, alcoholism and unemployment. Uniquely, Eminem enacts the term not as a slur but

an identity through which he embraces this abject position. “White trash names a form of

whiteness from which the privilege of skin colour has been all but erased, in which whiteness

has been transformed from a normative position into a marginalized identity.”11 In doing so,

as Carroll notes, Eminem draws a distinct line between poor and bourgeois white

communities, the former void of any social or economic advantages endowed by the latter.

The significance of such discrete difference, in relation to his rap career, is that Eminem can

distinguish himself in a category against that of middle-class fraud Vanilla Ice, and situate

himself as a more authentic rapper with similar (though, importantly, not the same) struggles

to those of his black peers. Through identifying as a member of a minority category, Eminem

is able to shed the assumed privilege of being a middle class white male in order to later

capitalise from it. “[Eminem] is no longer a “white” performer in a “black” world, but a white

trash performer, ostensibly endowed with a completely different relationship to the privileges

of whiteness” and this “different relationship” is most appropriately evidenced in his track

“My Name Is”.

“My Name Is”, Eminem’s debut single from his first collaborative album with rap

10 Hamilton Carroll, Affirmative Reaction: New Formations of White Masculinity, (Durham: Duke University Press, 2011), p.104. 11 Carroll, p.103.

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heavyweight and mentor Dr Dre, propelled Eminem into the spotlight and achieved

considerable chart success internationally. In addition to the lyrics, the music video that

accompanies the track underlines his aim of establishing a new position for white rappers in

the hip hop game. Eminem and Dre use parody throughout the video in order to critique the

bourgeoisie, thereby distancing Eminem from such categorisation and reiterating his position

as a marginalised (read more legitimate) rapper.

The video relies on a visual contrast between middle class stereotypes and the

presentation of white trash debasement. Kajikawa writes “by focusing the viewers’ attention

immediately on exaggerated images of normative whiteness, the video implies that Eminem

represents the polar opposite of such representations.”12 The introductory scene pans in on a

television set displaying the opening credits of a clichéd situational comedy set in a large

suburban house with manicured lawn; the principal emblem of Middle America and therefore

prime target for satirical assault.13 Eminem appears as the suited businessman/father

(reminiscent of sixties sit-com father “Beaver”) waving mechanically into the camera. So far,

so good; everything is as staged, automated and fake as to be expected from the contrived

programmes. However, the perfect picture is interrupted by a newspaper smashing into

Eminem/Beaver’s face, setting the tone of the video that this is not just a nostalgic dedication

to middle-class life but rather a comic attack on such a lifestyle.

Interruption serves as a theme throughout the video and can be witnessed in the scene

transitions. For example, the suburban picture is disturbed by bad television reception, static

and white noise, refocusing on a white high school teacher and then corny gameshow host

(also white stock figures). The track’s chorus, which plays over the images, features similar

interruption, “Hi! My name is (what?)/ My name is (who?)/ My name is (scratches) Slim

12 Loren Kajikawa, “Eminem's “My Name Is”: Signifying Whiteness, Rearticulating Race”, Journal of the Society for American Music, 3(2009) pp 341-363, p.350.13 Eminem, “My Name Is” dir. By Phillip Atwell, (1999).

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Shady.”14 The “Hi! My name is” is performed in an overenthusiastic formal tone, whilst the

questioning disruptions are pronounced in Slim Shady’s obnoxious accent. The result is the

illusion of two competing voices fighting for the audience’s attention, with Shady

triumphing. The repeated use of interruption, both visual and aural, constructs a constant

discord that creates an atmosphere of unease and confusion. In this way, Shady is not to be

conflated with upper class community. The interruptions reflect Eminem’s overt opposition

to and challenge of conventional and accepted portrayals of whiteness unapologetically

distinguishing himself from this norm in a provocative manner.

The mocking of Middle American emblems saturate the video, including political satire

when Eminem explicitly parodies President Bill Clinton. Imitating Clinton, Eminem is

repeatedly shown at a podium, speaking directly into the camera (which gets imposingly

closer with each returning shot) and thrusting his “Clinton Thumb” at the audience.15 Clinton

leaves the podium with his trousers down, a jab at his infamous affair with Monica Lewinsky.

Through this visual humour Eminem attacks the hypocrisy of Middle America’s values; rap

is condemned as a debauched example to children even when the President himself does not

set a positive, moral example. Furthermore, Clinton is often the impersonation used to

“perform” the lyrics that warn of Shady’s potential hazard, “Stop the tape! This kid needs to

be locked away!”16 The highest voice of authority in the country as deploring Eminem mocks

the anticipated backlash from upper-class citizens towards his rap music.

The parody of upper class values is, however, just one half of this marketing technique.

The other is the contrasting picture of white trash experience. The opening scene depicts a

dishevelled living room occupied by an unkempt white couple. It is later revealed that this

couple represents Eminem’s mother and her lover. The room is littered with cans and

14 Eminem, “My Name Is” (Interscope, 1999).15 The “Clinton Thumb” refers to a hand gesture established by the President to provide emphasis when performing speeches. It is supposed to appear less threatening than a fist or pointed finger, but Eminem’s overemployment of the movement mocks such a possibility. 16 “My Name Is”.

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cigarettes and as they stare at the television, the male shoves crisps into his mouth washed

down with beer, suggesting unhealthiness (a trope of white trash). This tableau contrasts with

the picturesque home on the television and emphasises the difference between the two

experiences of whiteness.

The shocking lyrical confessions produce a picture of debilitated upbringing and secure

Eminem’s position as white trash. In the video, Shady’s mother is seen in the background

smoking and looking dazed. In conjunction with the lyrics, it becomes clear that she is high

as Eminem raps, “Ninety-nine percent of my life I was lied to/ I just found out my mom does

more dope than I do.”17 In addition to an addicted mother, Eminem’s absent father is also

castigated, “And by the way, when you see my Dad/ Tell him that I slit his throat, in this

dream I had.”18 Such explicit language “offers up a feast of dysfunctional behavior for the

world to see” emphasising the difference between his life and that of the perfect television

families he impersonates.19

Finally, the use of the persona or alter ego “Slim Shady” is imperative in discussion of

Eminem’s portrayal of white trash. Carroll contends, “Slim Shady is white trash, Eminem is a

celebrity.”20 The high-pitched, nasally whine distinguishes himself from Eminem and usually

signifies that a track will concern his difficult upbringing, often with a comical (yet

unsettling) tone. By enacting this persona in “My Name Is” Eminem draws an even further

line between Middle America and the lyrical speaker. Slim as a representation of white trash

is further emphasised by his actions in the video. Shady is seen dressed in baggy hip hop

attire asleep on a bench in the middle of the day, implying unemployment and antisocial

behaviour. Additionally, the camera angle for the shots of Shady is consistently low, with

Shady positioned above looking down. In doing so, Shady appears domineering and

17 Ibid.18 Ibid.19 Kajikawa, p.350.20 Carroll, p.111.

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conforms to a stereotypical convention of hip hop videos.

Through this analysis of “My Name Is”, there is a constant contrast between the scenes on

the television and those surrounding it, visualising the distinction between the different types

of whiteness as explored by Carroll. Slim Shady’s presence functions in two ways. Firstly as

the antithesis of Middle America models. And secondly to straddle the bridge between white

trash and hip hop imagery, “Taken together, these various images of Eminem vacillate

between sameness and difference, positioning him solidly in the rap genre, while constantly

reminding viewers that he is no mere imitation of a black rapper.”21 In this way, through the

construction of the track and video, Eminem is not imitating blackness but carving out a new

position for whiteness and using it to form a niche in the hip hop market. Through this unique

presentation of whiteness Dre and Eminem confidently secured success across widespread

audiences. However, entering into uncharted territory neither could have predicted the extent

of Middle America’s backlash towards Eminem.

White America

Mickey Hess, in his analysis of the marketing of white rappers, argues, “[Eminem] addresses

the marketability of his whiteness as a privilege he would not have if he were black.”22 Hess’

assertion that Eminem acknowledges the benefits of his skin colour introduces the complex

relationship between Eminem and his race. On the one hand, as examined, Eminem absolves

privilege through his white trash identification, however, at times this distancing is

complicated by the fact that he shows explicit self-consciousness of the appeal of white skin

to white rap audiences.

Of course, black rappers have been commercially successful; N.W.A., Public Enemy and

Snoop Dogg all had chart successes and a considerable white fan base but Eminem far

21 Kajikawa, p.351.22 Hess, p.124.

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surpassed their achievements. The dominant cause of this success is that Eminem attracts the

identification, and subsequent dollars, of white kids, who form the genre’s largest and most

profitable market.23 Eminem provided a bigger problem to white middle-class parents than

the black gangsta rappers from Compton or Brooklyn, for “[i]f middle-class white culture’s

libidinal investment in black American culture is motivated by the displacement of desire

onto an other, Eminem brings that desire home.”24 When asked why she enjoyed rap, a white

fan replied, “it appeals to our sense of learning about something that we’ll never probably

experience”25 With the arrival of Eminem this is no longer the case.

Both Eminem’s racial self-awareness and middle-class parents’ fears are articulated

explicitly in, “White America”. Written at the height of his career, Eminem openly reflects on

the role his race has had on his success. The track enacts a balance between acknowledging

the importance of his whiteness for his sales on the one hand and distancing himself from

White America by exposing its extreme, hypocritical vilification of him on the other.

In the animated music video, the scenes that accompany the chorus depict a television

newscast.26 The first sequence reports a school shooting in which the perpetrator is a white

boy and the accomplice an equally stereotypical girl. Between the shots of the youths are

images of quaint suburbia: a large house and a young girl’s bedroom complete with heart

pillows and teddy bear. These innocent images act as parts of an unsolvable equation; how

can these white children plus this perfect upbringing equal mass violence? The final image on

the television is a map of America indicating “Violence on the rise”. The second chorus

mirrors the first however the issue is now a drug epidemic, the boy is seen zipped up in a

body-bag and the girl is put in the back of the police car. The map returns with the tagline

23Bakari Kitwana, Why White Kids Love Hip Hop: wanktas, wiggers, wannabees, and the new reality of race in America (New York: Basic Civitas Books, 2005).24 Carroll, p.119.25 Ronald Weitzer and Charis Kubrin, “Misogyny in rap music: A Content Analysis of Prevalence and Meanings,” Men and Masculinities, 12:3 (2009), pp. 3-29, p.8.26 Eminem, “White America”, dir. By Guerrilla News Network (2002).

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“Teen drug use on the rise.”

In both instances, the newsreel is followed by an identical sequence. An Eminem cartoon

pulls apart each of the maps to invade the screen with his aggressive scowl, his face covered

red, which we can assume to be blood given the theme of violence. Eminem wipes his face to

reveal that of the American boy from the newscast now wearing a vest stating “I am Eric.”

From behind him he pulls a female version wearing the equivalent female clothing, “I am

Erica.” Alongside the animation blares the song’s chorus, “White America! / I could be one

of your kids/ White America! / Little Eric looks just like this/ White America! / Erica loves

my shit”.27 These lyrics suggest that Eminem is the cause of such corruption. This idea is

reflected in the video where a production line of Eric(a) replicas flood the screen against a

background of the American flag. Such rapid bombardment of the image creates the

impression that this is an epidemic, the flag in the background suggesting on a national scale.

The second verse informs how Eminem has enacted such control and influence over the

white youth; through physical association. Eminem raps:

Look at these eyes baby blue baby just like yourself

If they were brown, Shady lose, Shady sits on the shelf

But Shady's cute, Shady knew Shady's dimples would help…

Look at my sales

Let's do the math,

If I was black I woulda sold half28

Here is Eminem’s most explicit acceptance of his white privilege. Eminem focuses

extensively on colour and contrast in this verse, as evidenced by the difference between blue

27 Eminem, “White America” (Shady/ Aftermath/ Interscope, 2002).28 “White America”.

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eyes (a synecdoche for white people) and brown (likewise for black people). The video

encapsulates this deliberate distinction, for example the close up of Eminem’s cartoon eye

almost entirely encompasses the screen with blue. The blue iris spins around psychedelically

in-keeping with the notion that Eminem, because of this feature, can almost hypnotise white

kids into becoming Shady fans. Carroll confirms, “It is this proximate relationship between

Eminem and his audience that is so troubling to these overprotective white parents.”29 The

blue then changes into brown, however, in conjunction with the claim that brown is less

advantageous, this image fizzles away and we are comforted with the return of the enticing

“baby blues.” Equally, when Eminem states that if he were a black rapper he would have had

half the record sales, he recognises the lucrativeness of white audience attraction. Through

this confession, Eminem again secures favour with the hip hop community for not ignoring

his whiteness. The racial self-awareness in “White America” is not portrayed as boastful

bragging but as merely acknowledging reality. In the last line of this verse, Eminem raps,

“I'm like ‘My skin, is it startin' to work to my benefit now?’" as though he is surprised with

such a result. Certainly this surprise is falsified, for I argue despite proclamations to the

contrary, Eminem’s white appeal has always been central to his sales strategy. Still, through

this balanced commentary, he performs his whiteness cleverly and effectively.

This equilibrium is achieved in part thanks to the fact that Eminem “also rightly points out

the racist hypocrisy of the white elite.”30 Eminem’s exposition of White American racial

hypocrisy is forceful in his lyrics, “Surely hip hop was never a problem in Harlem, only in

Boston/ After it bothered the fathers of daughters startin' to blossom.”31 Eminem criticises

White America for its recent condemnation of hip hop now that its supposedly harmful lyrics

affect white children. This type of duplicity is exhibited in the video where a scene of a black

29 Carroll, p.119.30 Kimberly Chabot Davis, Beyond the White Negro: Empathy and Anti-Racist Reading (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2014, p.3431 “White America”.

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teenager being beaten by white police is predominantly covered with a “Parental Advisory”

sticker. That the sticker covers the violent incident but shows just enough that we understand

what is going on reflects White America’s tendency overlook injustice despite explicit

knowledge; until it involves “their” teenagers. A similar sentiment is expressed in “The Way

I Am”, when Em speaks of gun violence, “Middle America, now it’s a tragedy/ Now it’s so

sad to see an upper class city/ Having this happening”.32 Similarly here Eminem attacks

Middle America’s racist self-interested values, only declaring something a “tragedy” if it

affects white communities. Of course, Eminem does not concur with White America’s

opinion that rap music causes criminality, but he berates their inconsistent application of this

theory depending on whether the consumers are black or white.

Davis claims that through this track, “[Eminem’s] words imply that as long as we live in a

racist country, even those who claim to be ex-white men will benefit from their skin.”33 I

disagree with the referral to Eminem as “ex-white” for he never claims to be so. Here, I think

Davis has misunderstood the carving of Eminem’s white trash identity as white denial. I

argue that in “White America” Eminem occupies a liminal position between explicit

recognition of his white skin advantage but equally remaining a safe distance from white elite

by exposing their hypocrisy. In this sense, Eminem exhibits self-awareness that he has the

best of both worlds and is a prime example of his and Dre’s marketing prowess. What I wish

to focus on is Davis’ acknowledgement of the important relationship between wider racial

politics and hip hop. I would like to extend this line of inquiry further through a discussion of

the work of Gilbert Rodman.

Rodman explores the “moral panic frame” that followed Eminem’s rise in Middle

America.34 Whilst Rodman concurs with the common scholarly argument that Eminem is

32 Eminem, “The Way I Am” (Shady/ Aftermath/ Interscope, 2000).33 Davis, p.34.34 Gilbert B. Rodman, “Race…and Other Four Letter Words: Eminem and the Cultural Politics of Authenticity”, Popular Communication, 4:2 (2006), pp.95-121, p.100.

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problematic to White America because he is a threat from within, as identified in my analysis

of the previous track, he takes his argument a step further and emphasises the need to address

what this signifies regarding wider racial discourses in America. Rather than focus on

Eminem’s personal “possessive investment in whiteness”, he examines white audiences’

response to Eminem’s success as evidence of such racist behaviour. Rodman illustrates that

the “possessive investment in whiteness” is employed through the use of coded language, for

example, “hip hop” as a code for “black”.35 This code serves as a means in which to articulate

racism towards African-Americans and their culture without being charged as racist. Eminem

jeopardises maintaining rap music as synonymous with black people and certain (negative)

behaviours and politics and this is why people fear him stepping over the line into another

culture. Rodman writes:

Eminem poses a significant threat to the culture’s broader fiction that this

thing we call ‘race’ is a fixed set of natural, discrete, and non-

overlapping categories… And it’s this facet of Eminem’s stardom… that

is the unacknowledged hidden issue at the core of the various moral

panics around him.36

In other words, Eminem’s achievement unsettles the distinct racial boundaries society fights

to enforce.

These distinct racial boundaries are, defined by Bakari Kitwana as “‘old racial politics’,

characterized by adherence to stark differences – cultural personal and political – between

Black and white”.37 For Kitwana, Eminem’s rap success represents a move away from these

traditional, racist politics towards “‘new racial politics’…marked by nuance, complexity and

a sort of fluidity between cultures.”38 Kitwana views White America’s reaction to Eminem

35 Rodman, p.105.36 Rodman, p.98.37 Kitwana, p. xiv. 38 Kitwana, p. xv.

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much differently to Rodman or myself, not seeing the moral panic that surrounded his tracks,

but viewing parents as accepting of this new white rap superstar. Kitwana contends that

“many baby boomers see Eminem as their only access to the world of hip-hop that their

children are embracing…For these parents, Eminem, even with his blemishes, is the savior of

lost white kids.”39 Here, Kitwana suggests that rather than the fear of cultural or behavioural

mixing that Rodman identifies, white parents are in fact grateful for Eminem because he

finally provides an insight into their children’s musical taste. In this manner, Kitwana

considers Eminem’s achievement as evidence of society’s transforming attitudes towards race

and culture.

However, the notion that Eminem is a “savior for white kids”, implies that white parents

feel more at ease with their children emulating a white rapper rather than black artists.

Though I do not believe this to be Kitwana’s intention, such parental relief almost aligns with

Rodman’s argument of the upholding “possessive investment in whiteness.”40 Although

Rodman claims that white parents fear Eminem because they do not want their kids involved

in hip-hop (read black; read criminal) culture and Kitwana unintentionally infers that white

parents prefer their kids supporting Eminem because he is white, both theses highlight the

broad racial prejudices and negative stereotypes of black artists and black culture. In this

way, whilst my analysis of Eminem thus far has shown how he personally invests in his race,

an exploration of his reception also reveals the extent his fame highlights continuing white

privilege across the United States more generally. An analysis of the film 8 Mile, extends this

argument further in terms of underlying racism in the cultural industry and problematises

Eminem’s carefully crafted image.

39 Kitwana, p.160.40 Lipsitz.

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White Exceptionalism

Released in 2002, synchronised with the success of his fourth studio album, 8 Mile was

Eminem’s cinematic debut. Mirroring his musical success, the film was a box office victory,

topping the charts in its opening weekend. 8 Mile follows the life of aspiring battle rapper

Jimmy “Rabbit” Smith, played by Eminem and inspired by his real life experiences. Set in

Detroit, the film depicts Rabbit’s struggle to make it as a white artist in inner-city Detroit’s

largely black hip hop scene. The film charts Rabbit’s journey from a choking embarrassment

to battle champion. It is important to note that a lot of scholars fall into the trap of discussing

the film as though it were a documentary. We must note that the film is not an accurate

representation of Eminem’s real life, rather his life is used as a mere blueprint for the

screenplay. Of more importance, is that unlike his music, 8 Mile is not written or directed by

Eminem personally. In this way, it is wrong to discuss the film in the same context or manner

as Eminem’s tracks for he is not the auteur. However, it remains important to explore 8 Mile

and its handling of race because I argue it represents an uncommon shift in the racial framing

of Eminem’s star image. If thus far I have portrayed Eminem as maintaining a balance

between conscious white privilege and modesty before the black hip hop community, 8 Mile

counters this picture. I begin with an analysis of the accepted reading of the film and consider

how and why it was generally accepted by mass audiences (and many scholars) in such a

light. However, I will then proceed to delve under the superficial, though admittedly

tempting, understanding of the film in order to expose it as upholding the racial degradation

of African-Americans that Eminem usually distances himself from.

The film opens at the Shelter, a downtrodden inner-city club that hosts freestyle rap battles.

From the outset, it is clear that Rabbit is an anxious outsider in this predominantly black

sphere. In his first battle, Rabbit is ridiculed by Lil Tic because of his whiteness, “Cos this is

15

hip hop, you don't belong you a tourist, So put ya hockey stick and baseball bat away, Cos

this here Detroit, 16 Mile Road thataway, thataway.”41 By referring to hockey and baseball,

stereotypical “white sports”, Lil Tic attempts to situate Eminem with orthodox whiteness and

distance him from black culture. Tic’s allusion to 16 Mile Road introduces the central theme

of Detroit’s racial geography. The film’s title, “8 Mile” refers to a Michigan Highway which

represents a cultural and racial divide between white suburbs to its north and black inner city

ghettos to the south. Leading scholar Murray Forman identifies the importance of urban and

inner-city spaces in relation to hip hop's conception  and prevailing authenticity.42 Where you

were born matters when it comes to hip hop legitimacy, for as Armstrong asserts, “rap is from

the streets, the music of the underclass essentially opposed to those enjoying a bourgeois

suburban life.”43 By telling Rabbit to go back to 16 Mile Road, he is correlating him with the

rich white neighbourhoods, thereby undercutting his authenticity and erasing his authority to

be on the stage. Here, through racial and geographical shaming, Tic alienates Rabbit from the

black hip hop audience. In the face of this humiliation, Rabbit chokes and flees the stage.

The plot develops in several different angles including a doomed love affair and

employment struggles but these developments are largely irrelevant to my discussion of race.

The crucial scenes of the film are those of the final battle which see Rabbit confront his

rivals. In the first two rounds, the members of Free World Crew repeat the strategy

established earlier and try to keep the battle a discussion of race. Rabbit is bombarded with

racially charged terms such as: hillbilly, Vanilla Ice, honky, Nazi, Willie Nelson, Elvis, the

KKK and Beaver Cleaver.44 However, this time Rabbit responds by embracing his white trash

position. Facing Papa Doc, the film’s chief villain, Rabbit pre-empts the racial slurs intended

41 8 Mile, dir. By Curtis Hanson (2002).42 Murray Forman, The ’Hood Comes First: Race, Space, and Place in Rap and Hip-Hop (Middletown, Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press), 2002.43 Edward G. Armstrong, “Eminem’s Construction of Authenticity”, Popular Music and Society, 27:3 (2004), pp.335-355, p.338.44 8 Mile.

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to embarrass him, “I know everything he’s ‘bout to say against me. I am white, I am a

fucking bum, I do live in a trailer with my mom.”45 Similarly to Eminem’s identification

strategy in “My Name Is”, Rabbit endorses this identity, voiding it of any humiliation. In a

second move, Rabbit shifts the conversation from race and turns authenticity into a matter of

class, “You went to Cranbrook that’s a private school. What’s up Doc, you embarrassed?

This guy's a gangsta? His real name’s Clarence. And Clarence lives at home with both

parents, and Clarence’s parents have a real good marriage.”46 Rabbit exposes Papa Doc as a

bogus rap artist for being raised in a wealthy family. In doing so, “The 'reverse racism' that

Rabbit has purportedly been experiencing throughout the entire movie is thus transformed

into a reverse classism that is turned against Papa Doc”47 This technique positions Papa Doc

in the exiled role of the illegitimate outsider and renders Rabbit heroic.

Rabbit appears to employ the same techniques to win his battle as Eminem used in his rise

to rap domination: this makes sense given that the film is semi-autobiographical. However,

there is a stark difference between Rabbit and Eminem; the former does not manage to

establish a balance between explicit white embracement and respect for the black artists’

community like the latter. Whilst Eminem promotes and profits from his whiteness in similar

fashion to Rabbit, Eminem does not do so at the expense or humiliation of black artists/peers.

Of course, Rabbit is embroiled in a battle and different rules apply (it is expected to “diss” the

other, in fact, that is largely the point). However the emphasis on white exceptionalism is

more than just incidental battle collateral. It represents a significant error regarding the film’s

representation of race and opportunity and I concur with Grundmann who writes, “it's a film

that ends up pitting race and class against each other in rather problematic ways.”48

8 mile flirts dangerously close to the idea of colour-blindness that is not concurrent with

45 Ibid.46 Ibid.47 Grundmann, p.34.48 Grundmann, p.32.

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Eminem’s usual star image. As discussed in previous sections, remaining humble and gaining

the respect of the black hip hop community is pivotal in Eminem’s discussion of colour, as

seen in his refusal to use the n-word. Although Rabbit does not wield such racial epithets, I

take issue with the way 8 Mile perpetuates white exceptionalism. I concur with Burks’ blunt

evaluation that like “Rocky before it, 8 Mile suggests that no matter how scary the people of

color are and how big a threat they may pose to white progress, whiteness always triumph.”49

Although the film requires a villain, the final scene’s denigration of Papa Doc conforms to

troubling Hollywood trends of white privilege at the expense of black characters.

Unsurprisingly the most problematic scene is the final battle round. Both the Shelter’s and

film’s audiences are encouraged to collectively mock Papa Doc. When Rabbit shouts,

“everybody from the 313 put your motherfucking hands up and follow me” the crowd, now

affiliated with Rabbit, wave their hands in accordance with Rabbit’s request as though he is

their leader.50 Burks asserts that through such championing of the white underdog, “8 Mile

comes off as one big orgy of black hands patting a white back.”51 The rousing nature and

humour of this scene invites audiences to blindly trust Rabbit’s assertions, yet when

considered rationally, the likelihood that Papa Doc has always been this private school prep

boy in Detroit and no one knew about it seems incredibly unlikely. But who cares? Audiences

at home are equally caught up in the stirring events and the action concludes with everyone

rooting for the legitimate white rapper who exposes the bad black imitator. Watts summarises

the film’s problems accurately in asserting, “the film’s supreme irony is that it celebrates the

capacity for hip hop culture to offer mobility by holding blackness still.”52 In other words, hip

hop serves as a vehicle for mobility; but only for the white guy. This is a sentiment

completely conflicting with Eminem’s message in his lyrics, where the only target is White

49 Steven L. Burks, “8 Mile: Great White Hip-Hop” Black Camera, 18:2 (2003), pp. 5 &11, p.5.50 8 Mile.51 Grundmann, p.32.52 Eric King Watts, “Border Patrolling in ‘Passing’ in Eminem’s 8 Mile” Critical Studies in Media Communication, 22:3 (2005), pp. 187-206, p.204.

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America, not marginalised black people.

Many fans and scholars like to critique arguments such as my own as misguided and

deliberately harsh on Eminem/Rabbit. Many contest that Rabbit wins the battle because he is

genuinely a better rapper than Papa Doc and that race is not a factor in the result. “Race is an

issue, but it's not the most important issue. The universal appreciation of talent matters

more.”53 It is difficult to identify the underlying white privilege because Rabbit is indeed cast

as the better battler. However, to be uncritically accepting of this is to ignore the formulaic

and predestined structure of the film which serves to provide white audiences with a white

hero. Such protestations mirror those found in Lipsitz’s definition of the “possessive

investment in whiteness.”54 Lipsitz states that white people often see themselves as the

injured identity in contemporary America thanks to Civil Rights gains and affirmative action.

Similarly, Susan Faludi, in her book, Stiffed, acknowledges a similar argument from modern

(white, heterosexual) men, who feel their masculinity has been jeopardised by the advances

of women and the decline in manufacturing blue collar jobs.55 In this context, 8 Mile “is a

film about a white boy victimised by black people, a dynamic that conjures up notions of

reverse discrimination, a phenomenon that clearly reflects the tenor of the times for the

culture at large.”56 Seeing themselves as victims of reverse discrimination, many white

viewers are interpellated into identifying with Rabbit’s failures and initial helplessness. The

setting of Detroit is particularly symbolic from this perspective. Detroit was once the

manufacturing hub of the country thanks to its car industry, but the outsourcing of factories

led to the decline of jobs and mass unemployment. Scenes of Rabbit struggling to find work

or slaving in a minimum wage job further identify Rabbit with the “wounded” white

audience.

53 David Denby “Breaking Through”, The New Yorker, November 11th 2002, http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2002/11/11/breaking-through, [accessed 5/4/2016].54 Lipsitz.55 Susan Faludi, Stiffed: The Betrayal of Modern Man (London: Vintage Books, 2000).56 Burks, p.11.

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With this identification solidified, Rabbit acts as a symbol for all aggrieved white men.

“With 8 Mile viewers are witness to a contemporary incarnation of The Great White Hope in

the form of The Great White Hip Hop artist.”57 In this light, Rabbit appears as this saviour for

the persecuted white male and his triumph over Papa Doc is a sweet retribution for all the

opportunities black people have stolen from their white owners. As Grundmann writes:

In a climate in which liberals kept singling out white male hetero

sexuality as the big bugaboo (even if they were white male heterosexuals

themselves) a figure such as Eminem had tremendous appeal for those

who also felt a need to complain but were, unfortunately, lacking any sort

of platform.58

Taken in this social and historical context, I understand why audiences – especially white

straight males – want to champion Rabbit. However, comprehending this investment in

Rabbit is not to condone it. Like Lipsitz and Faludi assert, despite self-association as the

injured party, straight white men still prevail as the most privileged identity possible.

8 Mile, therefore, presents the “possessive investment in whiteness” in several ways. Through

its advocacy of the white rapper, and solely the white rapper, the film perpetuates white

privilege and leaves black rappers in the same downtrodden position they found themselves

in. Although I have argued that Eminem, through “My Name Is” and “White America”

markets whiteness and manipulates it to his advantage, he never leaves a group of black

artists disadvantaged as a result. In this way, in 8 Mile, Eminem plays “a rewritten, reductive,

57 Burks, p.5.58 Grundmann, p.35.

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and whitewashed version of himself” that is not in sync with his normal marketed image.59

Although such presentation has not harmed Eminem’s mainstream perception, (in fact, it has

arguably aided it thanks to its identification techniques) the film acts as an interesting source

to confound the usually scientifically monitored racial discourse surrounding him.

While I have closed my analysis of Eminem with one of his more problematic ventures, I

must conclude by reiterating that the case of 8 Mile is an anomaly within Eminem’s carefully

constructed star image. Consistently, Eminem thrusts his whiteness to the forefront of his

work to fuel his success without denigrating his peers on the way up. I suggest that when

entangled in the cultural industry, which holds its own agendas, Eminem loses his agency

resulting in an imperfect performance. However, although important to study the

complications of 8 Mile, this should not override Eminem’s incomparable marketing

achievement. Through my analyses of Eminem’s tracks and videos, I have exemplified the

intricate strategies employed to propel him to hip hop stardom, particularly his construction

of a white trash star image. This white trash persona bridges the chasm between working

class whiteness and hip hop culture, inciting respect and an unparalleled identification from

all audiences. Eminem does not duplicate blackness but fashions out a new space for

whiteness, using it to form a niche in the hip hop market and drive him to unparalleled sales.

In this way, it is evident that Eminem has used his whiteness to his advantage, tapping into

audiences in a way that no other artist before or since has ever managed to emulate. Through

this equilibrium, I have proven that Eminem is no Elvis, no cultural thief or appropriator. But

what I hope to have demonstrated is that Eminem is a master manipulator, who markets his

newly established form of whiteness as a unique selling point to secure legendary status

amongst hip hop’s elites. Not bad for a “poor, skinny white kid.”60

59 R.J. Smith, “Crossover Dreams: Class Trumps Race in Eminem’s 8 Mile” Village Voice, 5th November 2002 http://www.villagevoice.com/news/crossover-dream-6396985 , [accessed 4/4/2016].60 Keightley.

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Word Count: (7000)

Works Cited

Primary

Cooper, Britney, “Iggy Azalea’s Post-Racial Mess”, Salon, July 14th 2014, http://www.salon.com/2014/07/15/iggy_azaleas_post_racial_mess_americas_oldest_race_tale_remixed/

Denby, David, “Breaking Through”, The New Yorker, November 11th 2002, http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2002/11/11/breaking-through

Eminem, “My Name Is” dir. By Phillip Atwell, (1999)

_______ “My Name Is” (Interscope, 1999)

_______ “The Way I Am” (Shady/ Aftermath/ Interscope, 2000)

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_______ “White America”, dir. By Guerrilla News Network (2002)

_______ “White America” (Shady/ Aftermath/ Interscope, 2002)

Forrester, Katy, “Iggy Azalea Glad Eminem Won Rap Grammy Because He’s “White” Despite Rape Threat”, Daily Mirror, 4th March 2015, http://www.mirror.co.uk/3am/celebrity-news/iggy-azalea-glad-eminem-won-5273916

Keightley, Keir, “In the Footsteps of the King”, The Toronto Star, 16th August 2002

Smith, R. J., “Crossover Dreams: Class Trumps Race in Eminem’s 8 Mile” Village Voice, 5th November 2002 http://www.villagevoice.com/news/crossover-dream-6396985

Vanilla Ice, “Ice Ice Baby”, (SBK Records, 1990)

8 Mile, dir. By Curtis Hanson (2002)

Secondary

Armstrong, Edward G., “Eminem’s Construction of Authenticity”, Popular Music and Society, 27:3 (2004), 335-355

Burks, Steven L., “8 Mile: Great White Hip-Hop” Black Camera, 18:2 (2003), 5 &11

Carroll, Hamilton, Affirmative Reaction: New Formations of White Masculinity, (Durham: Duke University Press, 2011)

Davis, Kimberly Chabot ,Beyond the White Negro: Empathy and Anti-Racist Reading (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2014)

Faludi, Susan, Stiffed: The Betrayal of Modern Man (London: Vintage Books, 2000)

Forman, Murray The ’Hood Comes First: Race, Space, and Place in Rap and Hip-Hop (Middletown, Connecticut: Wesleyan University Press), 2002

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Grundmann, Roy, “White Man's Burden: Eminem's Movie Debut in 8 Mile”, Cinéaste, 28:2 (2003) 30-35

Hess, Mickey, Is Hip Hop Dead?: The Past, Present and Future of America’s Most Wanted Music (Westport: Praeger Publisher, 2007)

Kajikawa, Loren, “Eminem's “My Name Is”: Signifying Whiteness, Rearticulating Race”, Journal of the Society for American Music, 3(2009) 341-363

Kitwana, Bakari, Why White Kids Love Hip Hop: wanktas, wiggers, wannabees, and the new reality of race in America (New York: Basic Civitas Books, 2005)

Lipsitz, George, The Possessive Investment in Whiteness: How White People Profit From Identity Politics (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1998)

Rodman, Gilbert B., “Race…and Other Four Letter Words: Eminem and the Cultural Politics of Authenticity”, Popular Communication, 4:2 (2006) 95-121

Watts, Eric King, “Border Patrolling in ‘Passing’ in Eminem’s 8 Mile” Critical Studies in Media Communication, 22:3 (2005), 187-206

Weitzer Ronald and Kubrin, Charis, “Misogyny in rap music: A Content Analysis of Prevalence and Meanings,” Men and Masculinities, 12:3 (2009), 3-29

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