Songs of Protest: J. Cole Condemns Systemic Racism on “Neighbors”
Throughout pockets of America exists a perception — subconscious or otherwise — that simply being Black is a crime. In his thought-provoking 2017 single “Neighbors,” rapper J. Cole articulates how racial injustice infects every level of society, making it truly skin deep.
Music is one of society’s best teachers. In Songs of Protest, writers analyze some of music’s greatest hits, using their findings to make sense of the world around them.
Written by Myah Taylor
Photo courtesy of Dreamville Records Instagram
This truth is self-evident: The perceived threat of Blackness is so pervasive in America that merely existing as a Black person is enough to be unjustly locked away from society or killed.
However, this harsh reality is often ignored by those unaffected. Many who believe America has entered into a “post-racial” era following the presidency of Barack Obama, argue that issues of racism will diminish as Black Americans move up the socioeconomic ladder. This backwards notion implies that Black people must work hard and accumulate wealth in order to escape the clutches of racism. However, in his song “Neighbors,” J. Cole emphasizes that the criminalization of Blackness and the oppression associated with it negates this flawed idea. These systems not only halt racial progress, but also counteract the pursuit of the American Dream for Black citizens. Inspired by true events, the story in Cole’s “Neighbors” highlights how the American Dream for Black individuals is just that — an unattainable ideal.
Considering his status as a Black man, it’s completely un-ironic that the song begins with Cole addressing an accusation of criminality: “I guess the neighbors think I'm sellin' dope.”
While recording his fourth studio album 4 Your Eyez Only (2016), Cole rented out a house in a wealthy North Carolina suburb, turning its basement into a safe, haven-like studio for the artists and producers from his label Dreamville Records. He explains his desire for seclusion in the song’s first verse:
“But one thing is for sure though, the fame is exhaustin'
That's why I moved away, I needed privacy
Surrounded by the trees and Ivy League
Students that's recruited highly
Thinkin' you do you and I do me”
One of the in-house producers, Elite, told Complex in a December 2016 interview that several of Cole’s artists, who are predominantly African American, frequented the property to make use of the basement space, nicknamed “Sheltuh.” Elite said some of the artists arrived by Uber and that they’d occasionally smoke marijuana on the porch. As Cole describes in the song, the neighbors became paranoid of these visitors:
“My n----- stand outside and pass cigars
Filled with marijuana, laughin' hard
Thankful that they friend's a platinum star
In the driveway there's no rapper cars
Just some shit to get from back and forth
Just some shit to get from back and forth
Welcome to the shelter, this is pure
We'll help you if you've felt too insecure
To be the star you always knew you were
Wait, I think police is at the door”
“Neighbors” highlights the impact of anti-Black sentiment from some members of the white community. Cole’s good time with friends is halted by the emergence of the police — a solemn reminder that harmless fun for Black people can have dangerous consequences.
Throughout the song, Cole admits to selling dope, but he’s referring only to his platinum-selling music.
Elite addressed this distinction later on in the interview, recounting an incident that occured at Cole’s home while he was out of town. When Cole and the other Dreamville artists were in Austin for South by Southwest in March 2016, a “Sheltuh” neighbor told the police that he thought the crew was growing weed in the backyard and selling drugs from the house. When one of the production engineers who remained in North Carolina came back from lunch one day, he saw an entire SWAT team armed with weapons knocking down the door. The team went into the basement and found nothing but the recording studio, just as Cole describes in “Neighbors.” While the joke was on the officers and the neighbors, and no one got hurt, Cole calls out their racism and how it impacts Black people on a regular basis:
“Some things you can't escape
Death, taxes, NRA
It's this society that make
Every n---- feel like a candidate
For a Trayvon kinda fate
Even when your crib sit on a lake
Even when your plaques hang on a wall
Even when the president jam your tape”
By the time Cole released “Neighbors,” innumerous Black men and women had been murdered by police officers or racist vigilantes. “Don’t follow me” echoes in the background of the chorus, in reference to Trayvon Martin, the Black teenager who, in 2012, was practically hunted by a neighborhood watchman.
Critics of the Black Lives Matter movement have justified the murders of these young men and women because of their pasts or alleged criminal backgrounds, but Cole shuts this argument down.
Cole himself has no criminal background or any evidence of wrongdoing against him, and yet the police still invaded his home. NBA star Lebron James is one of the most accomplished athletes in history, yet racial slurs were still written on his residence. Ahmaud Arbery was going on a jog, as millions of other Americans do, and he was killed in cold blood. Christian Cooper is Harvard educated, but could have experienced a “Trayvon kinda fate” had he not recorded Amy Cooper’s (no relation) actions. Breonna Taylor was a caring emergency room technician. And George Floyd, the 46-year-old Minneapolis man described as a gentle giant, suffocated under the knee of a vicious police officer.
All of this to say, Black people shouldn’t have to be Ivy-League educated, superstar athletes or multi-platinum rappers to not be killed or stereotyped. Nor should they be required to have pristine records in order to escape unlawful death. However, the idea that success, good intentions, environment, or social status can protect a Black person from the real threat — racism — presents a false sense of security. Money, a college degree, or the president’s enjoyment of one’s music is subversive to how society perceives Black skin.
And these perceptions, Cole suggests, are inspired by negative depictions of African Americans in the media: “Just a couple neighbors that assume we slang / Only time they see us we be on the news in chains, damn.”
The story of “Neighbors” reveals the exclusivity of America’s gospel of work. Cole’s hard work allowed him to move away from the city and experience the peace and quiet of the suburbs — the epitome of the American Dream. But the rapper’s existence wasn’t tolerated by his wealthy white neighbors. Cole’s experience is further proof of a system rigged against the Black community. He moved in only to be pushed back out:
“So much for integration
Don't know what I was thinkin'
I'm movin' back to Southside”
The plight of many Black Americans falls along this spectrum. The lasting effects of systemic racism and de facto segregation are often most glaring in inner cities, but when white suburbs prove unfriendly, it’s a reminder of the more insidious side of racism. “Neighbors” presents a problem that goes unresolved as it just depicts Cole going back to where he started. This lack of resolution reflects a vicious cycle that continues to persist.
“Neighbors” emphasizes the deep-rooted racism weaved into American society. Cole has lost trust in a country that claims to value all, in a country where white privilege is weaponized, and in a country where the Black identities of himself and others suffocate under the knee of a bitter system every day.