Our Unjust Criminal Justice System, Evidenced By Meek Mill
A highlight of 2018’s star-studded cascade of hip-hop releases was Championships, Meek Mill’s new album released at the end of last November. The album came just months after he was released from prison following a five-month stay. His release was the culmination of a controversial battle with the criminal justice system that lasted over a decade. The legal battle stemmed from a questionable arrest in 2008 and was followed by excessive probation periods and heavy prison sentences, the latest of which came last year when the Philadelphia rapper was imprisoned against the district attorney’s recommendation merely for popping wheelies and engaging in a small altercation. Frustrated by the crippling nature of the legal system, Meek undertook the poster child role for the criminal justice movement, paving the way for Championships. Championships was forged from the years of agony Meek suffered as a result of the injustice in our criminal justice system. It passionately illustrates the troubles a black man faces because of the inadequacies of his upbringing. Perhaps no song captures this message better than “Oodles O’ Noodles Babies,” the promotional single on the album. As evidenced in “Oodles O’ Noodles Babies,” Meek’s horrifying experience with the criminal justice system is a product of the hardships he faced in his youth -- an unfortunate commonality for many black children in America.
Brazen and unabashed, Meek jumps into his first verse in concurrence with the beat drop, entering with an unrelenting flow. In this first verse, he enumerates the difficulties of his childhood, making it clear that he lacked parental support. While he longed for the presence of his father (“I used to wish that his daddy was still livin”), Meek also couldn’t consistently rely on his mother due to her drug addiction (“I hope my momma ain’t doin no coke”) and the fact that she was often at work trying to support her family as a single mother. His parents’ absence plagued his childhood: for example, he was disheartened by the fact that his family couldn’t make it to his football games (“Wanted my family to come to my games / My mama couldn’t make it ‘cause she was at work”). Meek’s childhood was tarnished by other deaths in the family, too, including those of his aunt (“Remember I kissed my aunt in the casket...I was like four years old”) and his cousin, whose death Meek frankly yet graphically describes as the beat falls away in the middle of this first verse.
The difficulty of not having a reliable figures was exacerbated by his living situation. Meek states that his family was stuck in “the projects” and “couldn’t afford no clothes.”
Meek’s lack of reliable figures and his troubling living situation created a lack of direction in his life. This is the unfortunate truth for many black youth. Like Meek, many black youth grow up in poverty with little resources, lack parental support and role models, and thus are left without hope and direction. Coupled with police brutality and the fact that, as Meek says, “nobody ever believed in us,” black youth end up with reduced chances of breaking through the glass ceiling that looms compromisingly over their heads.
This causes some black children to become engrossed in troubling patterns like drug usage and poor academic engagement, which quickly can turn into violence and gang membership -- a prospect that gives them some sense of community and familyhood to fill the gaping void that may exist in their lives.
And just like that, black youth are put on a fast track to incancernation. In Meek’s eyes, going to jail is “inevitable,” and once immersed in that system, it becomes hard to escape:
“I know n***** that's never gon’ make it out / This that s*** you won't see in the media / Poor get poorer and the rich gettin' greedier / / Lot of daddies goin' back and forth out of jail / Lot of sons growin' up and repeating them / This the belly of the beast, you won't make it out / Man, this s*** was designed just to eat us up / And my momma told, "N****, keep it up / You gon' end up in prison, just sweepin' up”
The entrapping nature of the criminal justice system for blacks -- the fact that many blacks are destined to be locked up in dark, soul-crushing jail cells -- means that they have reduced opportunities to rise out of the distress of their childhood. Consequently, these children follow the same path as their parents, which means they too will be unable to support their own children with valuable time or resources. As a result, their children’s children become bound for the same horrid destiny, thus creating the unjust cyclical nature of incarceration that exists for blacks today.
This unjust, cyclical system has become a vessel for marginalizing blacks today. It suppresses black prosperity, depriving capable black individuals from obtaining their rightful place in society. As a result, blacks continue to face issues such as poverty, lower levels of academic achievement, lower job opportunities, and lower opportunities to succeed, despite the fact that when given the chance, they are no less competent.
Meek Mill was successful in his release from prison and his triumphant return to the rap game, but it’s unfortunately a rare success story. Modern studies have demonstrated that blacks are more likely to be stopped by police, searched by police, and imprisoned for longer sentences than whites who commit similar sentences. In a country that prides itself on justice and freedom, isn’t it ironic that the very system that’s supposed to uphold justice and protect freedom is depriving these from a large section of our population?
Meek Mill is right: our country’s criminal justice system is racist and it’s failing. Under its current state, it will continue to formulate a society that suppresses blacks and prevents them from reaping the laurels of American society. Until we make changes, blacks will continue to be disadvantaged because of this abhorrent incarnation of racial discrimination.
