Macklemore, Performance, White Privilege 2: Yes, and…

When I saw that Macklemore had released White Privilege 2, I was skeptical to say the least. I mostly listened to it, because I saw the absolutely incomparable Jamila Woods was singing on it. Given the amount to which Macklemore has spoken out against white privilege while not actually actively challenging his own white privilege, and the system of racial dominance which constructs that privilege, I didn’t know what to expect when I listened to the song.

I gotta admit, while I’ve never been the biggest Macklemore fan, I actually thought the song did some important work, though we have to acknowledge that a lot of the important work that it does is for us white listeners (whether fans or someone who just happens to catch the song ) to carry forward. If there is a part three to this song we are it, and hopefully this song will push more of Macklemore’s white fan base to have more conversations about whiteness, white privilege, and white supremacy. This song was actually the song hip hop meant for us to have, and it must be engaged with by its white audience with all the classic fervor we historically reserved for co-opted and appropriated favorites.

The conversation I am more interested in having in regards to Macklemore and this song, however, is the idea of allyship as performance, and it is this idea which is the source of my longtime frustrations with him and which lead me to my initial skepticism of his latest song. One of the maddening things I have seen happening in “progressive” circles is performative allyship wherein white folks, men, straight folks, cis folks, rich folks, able bodied folks, talk eloquently, passionately and loudly about systems of oppression, but often only when doing so benefits them, when speaking out acts as a form of social currency. I see this most often with white folks speaking out against white supremacy and racism. I’ve seen white folks call people out for racism in a room full of people and receive literal applause and then turn around dominate space and disenfranchise folks of color in smaller, less visible spaces.

The first few times it seems more like the process of unpacking and unlearning privilege, we can’ t get it right all the time-part of seeking to become an ally is about giving up power, getting out of the way, sometimes this will mean getting out of our own way-however, after a long enough time of seeing other white folks only push for equality in visible, performative, ways which seem to implicate everybody but them in the systems of oppression they are speaking to, we have to begin to interrogate the pattern. Macklemore has always spoken about his white privilege, which at first was exciting to see given his popularity, but the disparate nature between his interviews/songs and his actions in the world were especially troublesome as he didn’t do any active work to divest from his white privilege. He spoke out against a system of white supremacy while happily reaping all the benefits this system provided.

By the time Macklemore was hanging around all the big name appropriators I was long done with him. While Iggy Azalea pisses me off to no end and I just wish she would go away, or someone would dump a metric ton of Bell Hooks’ books on top of her, she did have a valid response to Macklemore in regards to him making this song which calls out her, Miley Cyrus and Elvis (while appropriately implicating himself), she said “he shouldn't have spent the last 3 yrs having friendly convos and taking pictures together at events etc if those were his feelings”.

I recall a picture of the two of them Iggy posted with the title “king and queen of hip hop”, someone correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t recall him ever challenging that patently bogus assertion, or any of her racist, appropriative actions, or even opening dialogue with Iggy Azalea and challenging her about the space they were taking up. We watched him happily ride the wave of white privilege while talking about how the wave was no good.

The same is true about his grammy acceptance. Macklemore and everyone who likes words knows that his album wasn’t better than Kendrick’s, that’s a fact about craft. As Macklemore acknowledges frequently, he is more popular than many black rappers because he is positioned as non-threatening as a result of his white, cis, male privilege. As Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib says in his article for Fader, he appeals to the “I don’t really listen to rap, but...” audience, and he vaguely admitted as much was responsible for his grammy win in his bizarre and bizarrely publicized text to Kendrick.

My problem with that all was, for all his talk, and his acknowledgement of these systems of oppression which benefit him, he still kicked it with Iggy, still took advantage of the photo ops and the lime light. He still accepted the grammy, and then, rather than text or call Kendrick and have a private discussion, he posted the text online in an attempt to signal his understanding of what forces were at play, though it really all just translated to “I know this was wrong, but I did it anyway”. This is what I mean when I say performative allyship. The text wasn’t for Kendrick, it was for him, and us, and for assuaging his guilt. When we as white folks participate in allyship as performance we are not engaging in deconstructing and reimagining systems of oppression, we are not acting in a collective struggle for liberation from systems of oppression, rather we are acting only in pursuit of a liberation from our own guilt. This is anything but allyship.


The point is this: as white people we cannot speak out against white privilege and continue to actively dominate space our privilege provides. If you are to commit yourself to racial justice, you are to commit yourself fully. We must commit ourselves to a radical reimagining of the world and our place in it; this becomes doubly important for performers and artists. In Macklemore’s case as a rapper, my case as a Z list performer and writer, if our work with dismantling white supremacy ends with our art and we do not apply those same theories and ideas to our daily lives then our allyship is performative. It might start a conversation, but it does not participate in it. We must renew not just what we say, but how how, where, to whom and why we say it, we must renew how we engage with those around us and the political climate in which we are all placed and by which we are all affected. If we are invested in anti-racist work in so far as it benefits us then we are not invested in anti-racist work, we are invested in upholding white supremacy. 

That is not to say that this song, or some essay or poem I might write, won’t do some kind of good work in the world, and shouldn’t exist-Macklemore’s song or even this essay might be what a white person needed to hear to begin, or fully commit to, their own journey in deconstructing whiteness and self actualization, but no matter what it is not enough, and it seems Macklemore, I hope, is starting to see that.


It’s not about a few poems or a few songs, it is about a paradigmatic shift. As Bell Hooks says in Teaching to Transgress, “All of us in the academy and in the culture as a whole are called to renew our minds if we are to transform . . .society-so that the way we live, teach and work can reflect our joy in cultural diversity, our passion for justice, and our love for freedom” (1993. Pg. 34).

All in all, I think the song is important, I think it is a better step in a better direction for Macklemore, though I’m curious to see how he handles his platform and privilege beyond this. I hope he has entered a new stage in his journey, as this song seems to suggest, but he must do the work beyond the 8 minutes and 42 seconds of this song, and we must join him.

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This piece was inspired by Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib and his piece in Fader, you can find more of his essays and poems here 

Shout out to Jamila Woods for her vocals in White Privilege 2, you can learn more about her and her work here, and check out her newest song “blk girl soldier”

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Michael Lee is a Norwegian-American writer, performer and educator. He has received grants and scholarships from the Bread Loaf Writers Conference, the Minnesota State Arts Board, the LOFT Literary Center, & the Metropolitan Regional Arts Council.He is an Ed.M candidate at Harvard University. You can help support his writing HERE.