by Piper Anderson

If you stand next to the statue of Martin Luther King on UT's campus and look toward the east, which is the direction that he is pointing, what you immediately see is UT and its stretching arms extending farther and farther east. You wonder if King's vision of peace and unity among all people included the creation of a huge dividing line called Interstate 35 or the gentrification of minority neighborhoods because rich people have run out of space on their side of the highway to build fancy homes and golf courses. Poor people who fear leaving their neighborhood even to go to a party just down on Sixth Street will soon be displaced from their communities, unable to afford housing there anymore. So what is King pointing toward? If he's pointing toward the community of people that he represented and fought for, then, in a few years they'll need to change the position of that statue.

I was not born and raised in Austin, but I have read and heard stories about the community that it used to be, filled with the culture and pride of people of color. Today there are only small, destitute reminders of that heritage. Today the East Side is a reflection of the poverty and derision that birthed my beloved hip-hop music. Look at the cover of The Message, an album by Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five. You see the group standing in a heap of rubble and debris -- it's their neighborhood. Rappers Delight was one of the first hip-hop albums recorded and sold. It epitomizes the original intent of the music: to give voice to a nation of people suffering under the oppression of a government. During the economic recession of the 1980s a black underclass was formed in inner-city communities. The media, the government and the upper classes ignored them, but there on the cover of Grandmaster Flash and The Furious Five's album was evidence of their existence. The Message described the impoverished state of black people, giving voice to a community losing the battle for its vitality as drugs, the AIDS epidemic and changing economic structures hit all at once. Hip-hop began in the late '70s, in a New York City community just like the East Side, as the U.S entered a decade-long economic depression. For the first time a generation of black and Latino youth with a long history of musical and artistic vision were without the tools to create. But, as our history proves over and over again, survival creates the greatest opportunity for inventiveness, and slowly but surely an underground culture was formed. This is known today as hip-hop. Youth that couldn't afford instruments or music lessons took record players and old albums and made the music we call hip-hop. Break-dancing, graffiti and mc-ing complete the four original elements of hip-hop that are celebrated by millions around the world. So the East Side is home to hip-hop just like every urban community in this country. It was created for and by oppressed people to tell their story and to cope with the daily trials of living in poverty. The essence of it will always remain pure as long as there are people in the 'hood that hold on to the grassroots nature that created hip-hop in the first place. Which is why I know hip-hop is returning home. Its simply time. I've made the East Side my home, and I'm tired having to go to Sixth Street to hear my music and see my hip-hop family. Currently, the "Jump On It" summer concert series at Rosewood Park is where hip-hop on the East Side lives. It gives me hope to see a community event like that."Jump On It" is free to the public and presented by a community artist. Nook and "Off the Block" productions have been organizing "Jump On It" for the past three summers.

The East First Center for Culture Arts will be opening its doors at the beginning of August and promises to represent hip-hop to the fullest with curricula, concerts, theatrical productions, business development and community events. I'm excited about the potential that the center has for the East Side and for Austin's hip-hop community. Not only will hip-hop culture thrive at the center, but the inventive nature that created hip-hop in the first place will lead to an increase of economic viability. The culture center plans to develop a business and technology incubator that will give young entrepreneurs the resources and capital to start their own businesses. If that happens, perhaps we can save the East Side from being swallowed up by corporate interest. I have faith in the promoters of both the culture center and "Jump On It" because they represent the same type of minds that created hip-hop culture. They took nothing and made something. They used resources that didn't exist and made great possibilities for the future. The things that make great leaders are faith and vision. Martin Luther King, Jr. was a man of vision, so even as I stand next to his statue facing east and see UT and Interstate 35, I have to use his example and envision the rebirth of a community and the return of hip-hop culture to its rightful place: East Austin.