The Gentleman & Scholar

n an awkwardly warm March evening in Brooklyn, a historic and proud representative of the aforementioned borough stepped into our offices on Bergen St. As he entered like a catalyst full of energy, dialogue, and solutions, one could only ponder what type of conversation we were about to embark on with Bed-Stuy’s native son, Dante Smith, more acutely known as Mos Def, now solely going by Mos. As the Grammy Award-nominated MC, actor (Broadway included), activist, and citizen of all things Brooklyn settled in our newly remodeled space, an animated yet honest discussion on his film résumé, music, the borough he claims and style would ensue, cementing the resounding truth that, Mos. Is. Brooklyn.

As the 37-year-old reflected on the selection of films he allows his children to watch and those he ignores, he explained how he’s methodically tiptoed through Tinsletown regarding his own career, adamantly separating himself from the black actor “typecast” vortex. “You have to have a clear vision of who you are and what it is that you want to do; it gets real easy to get caught up in the other story that’s not written for you.” He continues, “I’ve always had a drive for the types of stories that I liked, the types of stories that I wanted to tell and the characters that I was willing to play.” Like many projects Mos immerses himself in, it always comes back to how they reflect, relate and motivate his people towards liberation on all levels. “They (Hollywood) get the idea that Mos is important to black people. Black people know that I’m here for them and that I’m here to tell their story to the best of my ability.”

Working in Hollywood and on Broadway, Mos has encountered the W.E.B. DuBois’ double-consciousness paradigm, constantly working at preserving the pillars that he lives by while dodging the flashing lights that could potentially position him as one that took the money and ran from everything that looks, feels-and smells like Mos at his core. “I’ve had dozens of loud and quiet arguments on-set and off-set. I’ve had deals that were on their way to going through and I said I can’t do that and then they fell apart,” says Mos. “Then they try to turn the sh*t on me, like, ‘I showed up with the 40 and the pit-bull.’”

I’m not going anywhere without my people. So at the very least I can represent them and make them feel proud.

“More often than not, the media in general and people of color rarely have proper representation and the ones that do the representing are usually not the ones they want speaking for them.” Mos has had the all too familiar and unfair stance of representing himself and his community at large. However, unlike many who have refrained from that double standard role and responsibility, the dapper thespian takes the charge head-on, cognizant that the eyes of a family–immediate and community, are scrutinizing every song recorded, role played-and statement made. “Black people don’t really have true representation and advocacy in this world today—in media, and in a lot of other areas, but media in particular. I’m not here to abandon myself, it’s not me being noble, it’s me preserving myself, I’m not going anywhere without my people. So at the very least I can represent them and make them feel proud.”

As we began to switch speeds, speaking on the tradition and character of Brooklyn, Mos displays an almost comedic, yet acute awareness of what local governments and officials are trying to turn the largest black population in the country into. He takes a deep breath, lets out a tired and seemingly overwhelmed “Wow” and begins. “Part of the community renewal program is that you (black people), move. I don’t really think it’s going to be effective in this part of town because this is not Manhattan.” His tone shifts toward the well-documented and common pride of any Brooklyn-born citizen, “They understand the statistical realities to a certain degree, but they don’t really understand the spirit of the place or the spirit of the people here. We’re not Manhattan, we’re not Queens, we’re not the Bronx, we’re Brooklyn, and they know this.”

To this point, the outcome of gentrification has been nothing more than a diverse pot of cultures and communities that walk to their own drum, respectively slicing or sharing territory. Speaking to the larger issue, Mos passionately explains the character of New York as a whole, highlighting the bigger truth about the heart of the city and why no matter what Mayor Bloomberg or Governor Cuomo allows, New York will be New York and Brooklyn will ALWAYS be Brooklyn. “The character of a place rarely, if ever, changes. This is New York, it’s filthy, I don’t care what you put here, it’s gross. When that snowstorm happened, there were mountains of garbage in the most exclusive neighborhoods because that’s the character of this city. It started off opulent and nasty and forever will be.” He then lends his historical perspective to postulating why Brooklyn is the exact opposite of Manhattan, “It is a port town, it is a trade center, and if you have a whole bunch of money you can have another type of quality living but even the people that have a whole bunch of money (Manhattanites) don’t want to be here , all the time. Brooklyn is not like that, Brooklyn is not Manhattan. You can live here all of your life, I’ve seen people do it. They do it every day and they’re quite f*cking happy to do it.” He jokingly, though serious in demeanor, adds “Even when they be livin’ in Brownsville and East New York, they be like ‘Yo, this is my hood.’”

Socially being 20-something that’s a hard thing to do when you’re the only dude in a suit.

However, Mos does have one major concern regarding the direction and development of Brooklyn and it has to do with the construction of the soon-to-be Brooklyn Nets stadium. “The stadium is not a good idea, it’s not positive. People can say what they want about it, but it’s not positive. People could have done that sh*t in Coney Island, told the Brooklyn Cyclones. Thank you for your patronage, put a dome on the stadium and everybody from New Jersey and Long Island would’ve come right there, no problem. Everybody from Brooklyn would’ve come out and supported.” He continues, “What bothers me is it’s going to introduce another type of police presence, which is not necessarily a bad thing, but you know how they do in our neighborhood (Bed-Stuy), they’re not there to protect the community, they’re there to protect the property. And they’re going to be bossing up on these young boys who really aren’t scared of nothing and got nothing to lose.” The question still lingers as to whether Brooklyn will experience revolutionary policy-changing acts in our generation, but the architectural style is here to stay, something similar to what has noticeably changed in Mos’ life, his appearance.

Mos’ physical aesthetic has effortlessly morphed into something out of the Harlem Renaissance with a pinch of hip hop, but it comes off-so Brooklyn, whatever that even means. We discussed his personal maturation process and where his inspiration came from. Intriguingly enough, it’s the eclectic trio of Malcolm X, Michael Jackson and Slick Rick, but the Ruler was the one that served as his visionary blueprint for the sophistication Mos was trying to master. “Socially being 20-something that’s a hard thing to do when you’re the only dude in a suit and everybody is 19-20 years old, like, ‘Good thing this isn’t awkward Mos,’” he laughs. But when Michael Jackson passed, it rocked the world in a plethora of ways, for Mos it spoke to his own legacy and what he wanted to present to the world on a consistent basis, “A month after Michael passed I went on tour for the Ecstatic and I just started building a vocabulary and saying, this is how I want to feel about myself when I’m out in the world. I don’t want anyone to be confused about what I represent when I walk in a room. It’s clean, it’s simple, it’s modest, it’s elegant, and not braggadocios.” Once we all get to a level of comfort with our individual change, we tend connect with like-minded persons that remind you that you’re not alone. The Brooklynite went through the same experience, “I started making connections with it, it’s like you make a decision and you find people that are on the same wavelength. You will rarely find people who aspire to be what they haven’t seen, so there has to be new type of archetypes,” he says “I needed to see myself in a certain type of way and I needed my family to see me in a certain type of way. I’m a 37-year-old man in America in the streets of NYC. We can be beautiful and feel beautiful about who we are everyday.”

The most beautiful Boogeyman is in tune with his immediate surroundings, environment and events from New York to Japan with the comprehension that it’s always relative. One thing is for certain, Black Dante is Brooklyn, embodying its rich history, gorgeous summers and quiet winters. His most significant feat has been the mastery of preserving the duality of his identity and the culture of the community, successfully progressing and dispelling all preconceived notions of what it truly means to keep it real.