Takeoff's untimely death in November sheds light on the music industry's role in the unfortunate trend of Black men dying young
- Takeoff, one part of the Migos rap trio, was fatally shot on November 1.
- His murder reflects a troubling trend of popular hip-hop artists dying young — many violently.
Takeoff, the 28-year-old member of the disbanded rap trio Migos, was fatally shot during the early morning hours of November 1 while attending a private event at a bowling alley.
Harris County's medical examiner ruled that Takeoff, whose real name is Kirshnik Khari Ball, was killed by bullets that struck him in the head and torso, while his label, Quality Control, claimed he was hit by a stray bullet in a statement.
His death came weeks after that of Philadelphia rapper PnB Rock in South Los Angeles in September, and months after 34-year-old Atlanta rapper Trouble died in Rockdale County, Georgia, in June. The deaths of these rappers shed light on a larger unfortunate trend of Black men in the spotlight dying young — many violently.
Male rappers and hip-hop artists have lower life expectancies
Since 2018, at least one rapper is fatally shot each year, according to CNN.
According to the independent news outlet The Conversation, violence accounts for 51% of rapper deaths and 51.5% of hip hop artist deaths. The life expectancy for male rappers and hip-hop artists was approximately 30 years old, per The Conversation.
Even some of the Black men in hip-hop who do not die violently, still live relatively short lives.
"Gangsta's Paradise" rapper Coolio died at age 59 in September, "X Gon' Give It to Ya" rapper DMX died at age 50 in April 2021 following a heart attack, DJ Kay Slay died from COVID complications at 55 years old in April.
Their deaths fall in line with data that suggests Black people — especially Black men — have a low life expectancy.
According to KFF, a nonprofit organization focused on health policy and health journalism, the life expectancy for Black people sits at 71.8 years and 68 years for Black men. The figures are notably lower than the life expectancy of 77.6 years for White people and 78.8 years for Hispanic people. Environmental factors and social issues that affect Black men directly contribute to this. According to the American Public Health Association, "racism is a driving force of the social determinants of health."
Gun violence is an ever-present threat — rappers or not
Murders of young Black men in and outside of the spotlight transcend regional boundaries.
Nipsey Hussle was dropping off clothing to a friend, Chinx was heading home to his wife and children, Young Dolph was picking up his favorite cookies, Pop Smoke was chilling in the Hollywood Hills. None of them knew these everyday activities would lead to their deaths.
In a country where gun violence looms as an ever-present threat to the average person, being famous can make you a bigger target. But even rappers who take precautions by hiring security firms are in danger. Nipsey Hussle was accompanied by his friend and bodyguard J Roc when he was slain outside of his Marathon Clothing store in 2019.
Tools like social media have made the chance of navigating the entertainment world without encountering violence slimmer than ever.
Nicki Minaj, distraught by the death of PnB Rock, pleaded with the friends and family of rappers not to share their locations in real-time for fear of attacks.
Van Lathan, a cultural critic and podcaster famed for going toe-to-toe with Ye about the origins of slavery, pointed to YouTube channels dedicated to chronicling "beefs" between warring parties. He described the web traffic derived from this sensationalized content as "the final stage of the commodification of the Black body."
"What it's doing is making it a sport. Once something is a sport, you don't care about the player," added Lathan.
"There's a video of MO3 getting shot up on the freeway. There's a video of XXXTentacion and that situation, there's video of — not of the death of Pop Smoke, but of his dead body being taken out of the home. There's video of the altercation with King Von and what happened there," he continued.
Those who are not musicians or notable in other ways do not immediately trend when their blood spills. "If you are Black, nobody cares if you die unless you dunked a ball, unless you rapped songs, or unfortunately unless the police kill you."
Victim-blaming rappers and their loved ones for their deaths and gun violence
Artists across genres often share premonitions about their own death. But while a song like Beyonce's "I was here" is considered a reflection of a life well lived, a track like Shy Glizzy's "Funeral" also serves as evidence of hip-hop's morbidity by naysayers.
"It's something that started off, if I'm being honest, with the purest of intents, like, 'Hey, I'm from a really bad place. I'm from a really terrible place. And I'm going to make music that speaks to that terrible place or my experience.' That goes back very far. That's really not that much different than what Muddy Waters was doing," said Lathan.
Rappers are frequently blamed for their own death. Actor Lakeith Stanfield rebuked themes in gangster rap in the wake of Takeoff's murder.
"The dangerous toxicity associated with this glorified Black serial killer and killed music and imagery got people thinking it's cool to hurt those that look like them and ONLY them," wrote the "Atlanta" star.
Similarly, hip-hop and rap are often used as the fall guy for everyday violence.
And after the deaths of Brooklyn rappers Jayquan McKenley and Tahjay Dobson, New York City Mayor Eric Adams declared a war on drill rap.
"We pulled Trump off Twitter because of what he was spewing. Yet we are allowing music [with the] displaying of guns, violence. We allow this to stay on the sites," Adams said in February, neglecting to mention the issues that foster the conditions artists make music about. He later met with rap artists in the area and clarified that his stance would be against "Violent people who are using drill rapping to post who they killed, and then antagonize the people who they are going to kill."
But violence — particularly gun violence — existed before hip-hop was even conceptualized.
"In some respects, rap music and violence seem to go hand-in-hand," T La Rock's manager Scotty Morris, the manager of the late rapper T La Rock, told The New York Times in 1987 after his murder. "But it's not the music itself, it's the environment. Violence was here long before hip-hop."
How the music industry perpetuates violence
Walter Kimbrough, interim executive director of the Black Man's Research Institute at Morehouse College, told Insider that the music industry can be dangerous — sometimes even promoting or selling violence.
"What the industry continues to reward is people who talk about violence. So I don't think we can be surprised then when violence becomes an integral part of the culture," Kimbrough, who has also taught a class called "Hip-Hop, Sex, Gender, and Ethical Behavior" at Dillard University, told Insider.
Tricia Rose wrote in her book "The Hip Hop Wars" that many esteemed artists of the genre rely on a "gangsta-pimp-ho trinity" in their music. This, Rose suggests, puts violence, sexism, and racism at the forefront of the genre.
"The problems facing commercial hip hop today are not caused by individual rappers alone; if we focus on merely one rapper, one song, or one video for its sexist or gangsta-inspired images we miss the forest for the trees," Rose writes.
She added that the genre is regarded by many as "'proof' that Black behavior creates ghetto conditions."
Kimbrough argued that there's enough blame to go around for the violence the music highlights, pointing to the artists, the music industry executives, and the fans that listen to the music.
"I think you can have a legitimate and authentic critique. I think that's important to be able to do for anything, but I think we've got to be able to do that and then not be anti-Black," Kimbrough continued. "It's like, no, we love Black people. We're tired of seeing Black people die. And I think we got to be present it like that."
