He raps, “I might not mean shit to you, but my momma thinks I made it!” Viewers are made to understand that where Ludacris stands represents the “Country Shit” of the title, but we Atlantans know that he is not far from home at all: most likely he is at one of the dead ends in East Atlanta, where the visuals of rural Black life are maintained in kudzu-shrouded working-class enclaves within our Southern metropolis. He begins to rap in front what the majority of Americans would see as an archetypal rural home: broken, old asphalt, laundry hanging out to dry, plants and other wild nature encroaching on the house’s boundaries, domino games, and a general feeling of slowness. The “Country Shit” video begins with aerial views of Atlanta, our interstates, and establishment shots of Ludacris’s face. Because of the precision of the vision they contain, rap videos (especially Southern ones) are such important cultural artifacts that they have used as sources for studies on public housing in pre–K New Orleans. Black people have always been acutely aware of the power of imagery and have, in turn, always used it to great effect. Not a frame is wasted in rap videos-they are out to show the world how the star has succeeded, what they have acquired in the face of capitalistic violence and degradation, pride in where they are from, the communities from which they hail. They are primarily driven by pride, defiance, and showcases of wealth and power. Unlike their pop or rock counterparts, rap videos are not made to showcase a body, a narrative, or a particular issue. song “Country Shit” featuring Ludacris and Bun B. So I’m looking for comfort food wherever I can find it, and I usually start with the music video for the remix of the 2010 Big K.R.I.T. Of course, I can’t go home to rural Arkansas or New Orleans: we’re in the middle of a global pandemic, and the reassurance I want from my father-that we are still Black, still breathing, that we will continue to do so, that we are strong and we will continue-is impossible, as he’s been dead for over a decade now. I want to go home I want something to comfort me. Living so close to the Wendy’s where Rayshard Brooks was murdered-now marked as a site of great tension and fear and anger, tear gas explosions and screams-has rendered me incapable of any sort of normal function.
The torrent of images of Black death spectacle making its way around the internet again is so exhausting that it feels like a sinister exercise to further exhaust, punish, and demoralize Black people as a form of aesthetic terrorism. To say it’s been ugly lately is an understatement.
Still from the video for the remix of Big K.R.I.T.’s “Country Shit,” featuring Ludacris and Bun B.