In a welcomed display of social decency, Northeastern University’s president, Richard Freeland, informed students two weeks ago that he was postponing the visit of hip-hop star Ludacris, a costly event planned for the University’s Springfest on April 2. His decision was based on his belief that deadly post-Super Bowl rioting, directly involving Northeastern students, called for a type of “moratorium” on events that could negatively impact the neighborhoods again, not to mention to serve as punishment for errant behavior.
Mr. Freeland’s gesture is a rare one among university administrators, who frequently lack the commitment to lead their student bodies away from the potential for anti-social behavior. But the decision is doubly impressive in this case, since the entertainer Ludacris, protests from students aside, represents precisely the values that any institution of higher education should assiduously denounce. Instead, the concert was ironically looked at, at least by one student leader responsible for booking it, Tom Kneafsey, as “an answer to decreasing student apathy and increasing connection to the school.”
Ludacris brings a vivid world view, replete with sociopathic babble, and lyrics that simultaneously revile women, blacks (referred to regularly as ‘bitches’), the white establishment and law and order; they also contain language and sentiment that could never be uttered on campus by anyone not in an ‘underrepresented’ victim group without severe consequences, censure and indignation. How does bringing such a performer to campus further the intent of diversity, and what message of inclusion do the students give who push for inviting him?
“Welcome to the United States of America,” he sings, as an example, in his song “Coming 2 America”: “Time to roll out the red carpet on y’all bitch asses/Hailin’ from the filthy, dirty South, where the Kings lay/Ludacris/Disturbin’ Tha Peace family/Recognize royalty when you hear it/The throne has been taken, so kiss this nigga’s earring/Luda throw some grapes on these bitches!” All of which is summed up nicely, at least in Ludacris’ lyrical imagination, by the chorus of: “Move bitch, get out the way/Get out the way bitch, get out the way/Move bitch, get out the way/Get out the way bitch, get out the way.”
No wonder, with artistic expression like this, that Michael Romano, Northeastern’s Student Government Association president, bemoaned the loss of an appearance of Ludacris, saying that “this was going to be the biggest thing to happen to student life and student activities – ever.”
— Richard L. Cravatts writes frequently on higher education, law, politics and housing and is a resident of Weston, Mass.
