Playboy Interview: Sister Souljah

Los Angeles burns, a black rap artist makes some remarks about whites dying in ghetto violence and Bill Clinton jumps all over her, producing one of those flurries that does nothing to educate and everything to entertain. Welcome to the campaign, 1992.

In presidential politics, the medium is ever more the story as Ross Perol launched his illfated campaign on "Larry King Live" and Clinton countered by campaigning on MTV. These visits were contrived to appear spontaneous while leaving at least one sound bite in the mind of the voter. So it fit the story last spring when Bill Clinton, then the presumptive Democratic nominee for the Presidency, decided to taugle with a black female rap singer by the name of Sister Souljah.

Speaking before a gathering of Jesse Jackson's Rainbow Coalition. Clinton cut loose--deliberately and with passion. "You had a rap singer here last night named Sister Souljah." Clinton began, referring to Souljah's participation in a youth roundlable. "Her comments before and after Los Angeles were filled with a kind of hotred that you do not honor [here] today and lonight. Just listen to this, what she said. She told The Washington Post about a month ago, and I quote. 'If black people kill black people every day, why not have a week and kill white people?'"

That was all it look. Within hours, a media storm began: Clinton defended his remarks ("All I can tell you is that I said what I believed"), while Jackson expressed shock at Clinton's attack. "I don't know what his intention was," Jackson said. "I was totally surprised. It was very bad judgment [and Souljah] . . . should receive an apology."

Souljah quickly became the cover girl of everything from Newsday to Newsweek, all the while claiming she was used as a tool by white politicians in the same way paroled rapist Willie Horton was used by conservative Republicans in the 1988 presidential election. Souljah charged Clinton with being out of louch with the black community and called him a draft dodger, a pol smoker and Pinorcchio. She also aimed her vitriol at The Washington Post, which, she insisted, had taken her original comments out of context. In speaking about blacks murdering whites, she said, she was simply responding to a question about the mentality of gang members who had participated in the Los Angeles riots.

When the Post released a transcript of the interview. it turned out that there was room for interpretation on both sides of the controversy. Souljah was asked if she thought that those who perpetrated the violence in Los Angeles believed their actions to be wise and reasoned. Souljah responded: "Yeah, it was wise. I mean, if black people kill black people every day, why not have a week and kill white people? . . . So if you're a gang member and you would normally be killing somebody, why not kill a white person? Do you think that some body thinks white people are better, or above and beyond that dying, when they would kill their own kind?"

Just the same, Souljah's remarks shouldn't have ruffled a would-be President's feathers. except that the lyrics on her album and those of other black hip-hoppers are raw and angry, and they sour the more palliative mood we had come to expect from certain black performers. Yet the Souljah--Clinton fracas served only to fuel other controversies within the music and political communities. Already in the spotlight was performer Ice-T's heavy-metal album "Body Count." Its song "Cop Killer" elicited denunciations from everyone from right-wing talk-show host Rush Limbaugh (who called Ice-T fans "savages") to President George Bush and Vice President Dan Quayle. Even Iran-contra veteran Oliver North joined the fray, vowing to seek criminal charges against Time Warner, whose subsidiary. Sire/Warner Bros. Records, released the "Body Count" album.

But not all of the media expressed contempt at the volatility of rap--or, specifically. Sister Souljah's--rhetoric. As a Newsweek editor Lorene Cary pointed out in a recent column.

Frederick Douglass made a case 140 years ago for the expression of what would then have been known as Negro rage: "At a time like this, scorching irony, not convincing argument, is needed. Oh, had I the ability and could I reach the nation's ear. I would today pour out a fiery stream of biting ridicule, blasting reproach, withering sarcasm and stern rebuke. For it is not light that is needed but fire: it is not the gentle shower but thunder."

As the controversy wound down--and it eventually did--one thing became clear about Sister Souljah: She would not be an easy target for those eager to pigeonhole her as an empty-headed hatemonger. College-educated, she is, by her own admission, an "alcohol-free, drug-free black businesswoman" whose only scrape with the law was for participating in anti-apartheid protests. But more important, she is a hip-hop artist--or, as Chuck D of Public Enemy has called her, a "raptivist." Sharp-witted and eloquent, Souljah was first heard screeching in the background of Public Enemy records. In 1990 she adopted the name Souljah (pronounced SOUL-juh--a combination of "soul" and the Hebrew word for God--that, not unintentionally, comes out sounding like "soldier") and went solo with her debut album "360 Degrees of Power." It was on that record that Sister Souljah gave listeners a taste of things to come: "Souljah," went the lyrics, "was not born to make white people feel comfortable."

Born Lisa Williamson in 1964 in the Bronx, she was raised by her mother. Her father left the family when she was very young. She attended Cornell University's advanced-placement summer program and Spain's University of Salamanca study-abroad program She later majored in history and African studies while attending Rutgers University, where she wrote fiery editorials and articles for the school newspaper. Her political activism was honed on that campus, where she participated in the aforementioned anti-apartheid demonstrations that led to her arrest.

Souljah is a student of the Bible and Koran, able to quote freely from either. Her commitment to youth was demonstrated when, in cooperation with the United Church of Christ, she founded, funded and administered a camp in North Carolina for homeless children.

If what Souljah had to say about American racism was disturbing, it seemed especially important to get to the roots of her energy and anger. To talk with Souljah, we assigned Robert Scheer, whose interviews for Playboy have ranged from Jimmy Carter to Tom Cruise. His report:

"As she shows up at Playboy's New York office in a black leather jacket with two male friends, the first thing that hits you is how nonthreatening this fierce bard is. Sending out for tuna sandwiches and Cokes is the first order of business, though Souljah stuck with bottled water for political reasons. OK.

"Souljah's grandmother, who died last year at the age of 92, was a pastor in the Bronx. Souljah's accent, which is the same as mine, helped bridge distances of race, age and career. What I mean is that at no point was this an unpleasant experience.

"Souljah can be strident, but she is straight. Ask a question and you get an answer, maybe longer than you need but nevertheless to the point. I found her album loud, intimidating and not completely comprehensible. In person she was professorial always, pedantic sometimes, but nasty, never."

Playboy: You had a dose of sudden fame. How did it feel to go from relative obscurity to the cover of Newsweek?

Souljah: In my own community, the African community, I was well known. Which is why people came to my defense. The only difference is, I was suddenly popular in white America, which was never necessarily one of my goals. You have to understand, I went to the Black Expo in New York three weeks before the Clinton incident and I had to stay there for seven hours signing autographs.

Playboy: Why did Bill Clinton pick you?

Souljah: He just pulled me out of a barrel.

Playboy: All of this began when you were attacked by Clinton for something you said to The Washington Post about the desirability of blacks killing whites in the L.A. riots. Then you had a meeting with the top editors at the Post to complain about the quotes being taken out of context. Did the Post agree it had made a mistake?

Souljah: They agreed to some things. They agreed that the title of the article, Sister Souljah's Call to Arms, was only meant metaphorically.

Playboy: Exactly what did you say to the Washington Post reporter?

Souljah: The reporter asked if the people perpetuating the violence in L.A. thought it was wise, reasoned action. And I said yes--meaning, yes, that is what they thought. And I went on to say that if young black men who are members of gangs would kill their own brothers, kill their own sisters, why not kill a white person? Not meaning that I'm suggesting they kill a white person.

There's no boundary in the gang members' minds once they become casual about killing. Once you are neglected by the social, economic and spiritual systems that are supposed to help develop people's mind-sets--once you become casual about taking a life--you don't make any distinction between colors. If it's easy for you to kill another black man or your own brother, then it's gravy to kill somebody white. That's the way I feel a gang member feels about it.

Playboy: When you told the Washington Post editors that was the sentiment, did they agree that they had distorted it?

Souljah: They felt that they did not distort it.

Playboy: But you maintain they did. Why would anyone distort what you're saying?

Souljah: White America needs a demon to scare its own population to the polls. They need a bogeyman to say boo, to get that average white who's sitting at home on his couch with his beer--disinterested in Clinton, Perot and Bush--to run to the polls. So Sister Souljah is the monster of the year. You understand? And there have been many monsters. Willie Horton was a monster. Malcolm X was a monster Marcus Garvey. Nat Turner, oh, he was really a monster. White America continues to market monsters to scare white America into becoming politically active, because white America is so disenchanted with its own system.

Playboy: Do you feel that you were used by Bill Clinton?

Souljah: Sure. Clinton used me, no question about that. I call Clinton Pinocchio. I think Clinton is a liar, not just in racial issues but in every way. He portrays himself as one thing when he's actually something else. Take Gennifer Flowers. Do you know how callous you have to be to share an intimate relationship with a person for twelve years and then to disgrace or dismiss that person as if she were a hooker? I don't care that Clinton had two women. I do care that he's callous enough to dismiss one as if she were not even a human being.

So you can see that Clinton is a little person. How many times did I say my statements were taken out of context? Yet in no way has that moved Clinton to alter any of his statements, or to contact me, or to try to reach any common ground.

Playboy: If he called you, what would you say to him?

Souljah: "How do you know what my statements are? As a political official. don't you know what it feels like to be misquoted and misunderstood? Haven't you done enough explaining yourself to have compassion for somebody else, rather than to put him into the same scenario?"

Playboy: Ironically, you're a shining example of what Clinton talks about with respect to welfare reform: You're someone who came off welfare and who is now able to support herself and pay taxes.

Souljah: Isn't it incredible? That's why I said that at my press conference, to think that the whole country is falling apart -- economic recession, inner-city chaos--and here comes this presidential contender who wants to dump on a young African woman who's alcohol-free, drug-free, educated, productive and who has never hurt anybody. Interesting.

I think it also reveals the problem of white supremacy and racism. Spike Lee becomes a movie director, and they don't like Spike Lee. And then they don't like the next guy. And then here comes Sister Souljah. "We don't like her, either." Well, what do you like? You don't like black kids who participate in so-called criminal activity, and you don't like African people who become producers and directors and express themselves freely. And you don't like black people who become bourgeois and try to be white.

Playboy: Let's be fair. It's not as if you've made being liked by whites a high priority. Your record lyrics can be pretty disagreeable.

Souljah: It's like I say on my record: "Souljah was not born to make white people feel comfortable. I am African first, I am black first, I want what's good for me and my people first, all right? If my survival means your total destruction, then so be it." Most reporters stop right there. They cut out: "You built this wicked system. They say two wrongs don't make it right, but it damn sure makes it even." They cut out that part on purpose.

Playboy: Let's talk about rap. Why is it so powerful?

Souljah: Because it has all the right combinations. It has the African drum. the warp beats, the young voices. It has masculine black voices--something that is simply not allowed in the American media. You don't get the sentiments and feelings of the young, black, inner-city youth in the media. Instead, you see some powdered, made-up black guy in a suit and tie who has been so alienated from the black community that he no longer thinks he's black.

Rap music is powerful because it puts people in leadership who would not ordinarily be allowed to speak, rap, rhyme, sing or say anything. It puts an array of stories and experiences on the market--some funny and some painful. And rap represents all types of emotions. If you listen to an R&B record, it's usually about sex. If you listen to rap music, it's all about conflict between mother and father, conflict between mother and daughter, conflict between the police and kids--or a celebration of the mother and father and daughter and family. There are thousands of topics addressed by rap music. You even have young black men teaching other young black men how to be men--something that does not come easy to them, because a lot of them grew up without fathers.

Playboy: Was rap always important to you?

Souljah: Yeah, is was going on at house parties and on street corners when I was a kid. Back then you had the Sugarhill Gang, Grandmaster Flash, the Furious Five--and we controlled it.

This is how we used to do rap: You had a tape, and you had a recorder with a pause button. You mixed--you wrecked--your music with the pause button. You made tapes and sold them to one another. Remember, rap came out of the inner cities where nobody had a trumpet or drum sets or any of that. So you're just scratching records and combining snippets of music. The person who had the most prestige in the community was the one who had the best lyrical skills. You'd get on the mike and rap extemporaneously about anything. Somebody would give you a topic, and the rhymes would have to get more sophisticated. You know, like in the beginning, you could say. "Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water. Stupid Jill forgot her pills and now they've got a daughter." But then you would move on to something more advanced--you'd battle. And that's how you'd gain position in the community--with a more intricate lyrical style. And that upped the ante for everybody.

Playboy: What's the difference between rap and hip-hop?

Souljah: It used to be called hip-hop; the media started calling it rap. But hip hop is more of the culture--the clothes, the language.

Playboy: Can rap music withstand a commercial culture?

Souljah: There will always be an underground aspect to rap music. A good portion of rap will be consumed and packaged and altered, but there will still be an underground rap movement that young people will respect and consume.

Take a guy like Ice Cube, who started off in N.W.A. At first it was basically, fuck the police, fuck the bitches and fuck anybody who wants to fuck with me. Then he became political and still sold two million albums. He's an underground artist. Meaning that we love Ice Cube.

Playboy: Has commercialization affected rap music?

Souljah: To some extent it has, to some extent it hasn't. If a black brother comes into commercialized hip-hop music and uses his position to empower other African people, that's fine with me. But if he comes in just to espouse the line of the white record company and to use the money only for individual gain--if he takes no responsibility or has no allegiance to the institutions of his community--that is shameful

Playboy: What's the most important distinction between hip-hop and R&B?

Souljah: In hip-hop you have the emergence of the black masculine voice. With a lot of R&B, you see black men being accepted by record companies only if they have soft hands, soft, high voices and more of an effeminate appearance. Hip-hop is like Michael Jackson in reverse. You know what I'm saying? There are not too many people in hip-hop who would like to look like Michael Jackson.

Playboy: Why?

Souljah: He's more of a repulsive type of figure, aesthetically and physically. But you have to give him a lot of credit because, despite the fact that he's repulsive to me, he is extremely talented.

Playboy: How is Michael Jackson repulsive?

Souljah: It is repulsive for a black man to have his skin lightened, because that means he has such deep-seated self-hatred that he doesn't even love his own complexion. He wants to be somebody else. Then he makes a song about how it doesn't matter if you're black or white. Well, if it doesn't matter, he wouldn't be spending all this money to alter his reality. Most young black people think that is terrible. When I was in Zambia, a lot of the young brothers said, "Michael Jackson is quite a disappointment." I said. "Oh, yeah--and not just to you."

Playboy: Do you see Michael Jackson as a victim of racial pressure?

Souljah: Yes, As any entertainer can tell you, when you move up, you become more distrustful. Not only do white people exploit you but black people try to position themselves so they can benefit from your good fortune. So I think black people see Michael Jackson as somebody who is double trouble--one, because he's black and his mind is altered by the system of supremacy and racism, and, two, because he's an entertainer and he's wealthy, which means you can't even get close enough to talk to him. You can't explain to him how people go about loving themselves and their people. You can't explain what he can do to expand his mind and his horizons so he can be more comfortable with his African manners.

If I could change one thing about blacks in entertainment, it would be the ignorance. Some people who enjoy the spotlight have a tremendous amount of power. But if you were to ask them about the last book they read, or about a person or topic of significance to the African community, they wouldn't be able to come up with an answer.

Playboy: But that's also true for white entertainers.

Souljah: Right, but the difference has to do with power. For example, the other day I was arguing with some black kids at a teen summit. I was saying that I don't think hip-hop artists should advertise St. Ides malt liquor. And some of the kids said, "White kids are the ones who are always getting drunk. White people drink it, too." Well, my concern as an African woman is not what white people do. My concern is that African children cannot afford to be drunk. Not in a genocidal war. How can you be drunk? How can you even assess your position if you are intoxicated or if you're on drugs? You can't.

Playboy: A moment ago you said that Ice Cube was a beloved underground artist. But he's also a pitchman for St. Ides. How can you admire his work and at the same time disapprove of hip-hop artists promoting liquor?

Souljah: Within our community, there exist many contradictions. Ice Cube is an underground artist, but that doesn't mean he's evolved in a political sense. Yes, I love him, but you can love your wife and still hate certain things about her. So, yes, I put pressure on Ice Cube not to sell liquor to our children. He would probably respond that he's only selling it to people who are over twenty-one. But I would respond that, because of his strong appeal, he's really appealing to everyone from seven-year-old children to thirty-year-old adults. But I still love Ice Cube. And I hope that when you pring this, you don't distort that fact.

Playboy: You just called this a genocidal war. Do you realize that people will find it easy to dismiss that as hyperbole and rhetoric?

Souljah: Any time the sentiments of African people are expressed, it's called rhetoric. The same thing happened when I was with New Jersey Senator Bill Bradley on the Today Show. I said, "How do you find a common ground in an all-white Senate?" But later on, the other social activist on the show, who was white, called my opinion just "rhetoric."

Playboy: But when you say genocide, it implies a vision of black people being completely wiped out.

Souljah: Sure. I'll give you an example that Playboy readers can really sink their teeth into: AIDS. AIDS has been portrayed as a white gay male disease, but African people are the number-one group destroyed by it--African people in America and on the continent of Africa. African women, in particular, are the group most likely to die from the disease. When you look at the statistics coming out of the world health boards, you will find projections of a hundred million AIDS deaths in Africa by the year 2000. [The World Health Organization estimates 40,000,000 deaths.]

So now the point becomes this: Take a nice hip-hop group. Salt-N-Pepa. Nice girls. Beautiful. I love them. But here they are, doing a concert to raise money for the Gay Mens' Health Crisis for AIDS. They are using their influence as African women but ignoring their own people who are disproportionately affected by AIDS.

Playboy: How and when did you form your views about society?

Souljah: My mother and father were divorced real early. So I ended up in the projects with my mother. I've lived in a lot of different places. The only thing that stays the same thematically in all the places I've lived is that I was always either a welfare recipient or lived in Section Eight housing. I was always connected to government programs.

When I lived in the projects, I was surrounded all the time by fear and a lack of understanding--fear of being victimized and a lack of understanding of how it came to pass that we all ended up there.

To give you a specific example, the woman who lived upstairs from us killed her husband. There was this whole mental trauma for me in understanding that. Then, in the apartment next door, there was the lady who used to baby-sit for us. That woman was an alcoholic. She was plagued by the conditions of that society.

The majority of the women in the building had no husbands. And the few men who were in the community were basically passed around--you know, one day he's going out with one person's mother, the next day he's going out with another person's mother. And somewhere on the other side of town, he had three or four children and he hadn't even seen their mother.

Do you understand what I'm saying? You're constantly surrounded by debauchery. You can't understand why it's like that, and you have this fear of ending up that way yourself. When you grow up in that environment and you don't know any history, you develop a self-hatred. Everything is so negative that you naturally blame it on the people in the environment. It goes all the way to the fundamentals, beginning with when you get to school and start reading. All those Dick and Jane stories have nothing to do with the life of that child--the scenarios, the houses, the block. "This is the cop. When you see him in the morning, say hello. If you need to ask a question about the traffic, he'll give you the answer." Not in the community we grew up in. So underclass African children are sent into a European-centered educational system, and they get lost and squashed by the third or fourth grade--that is, unless they have extremely strong parents constantly narrating their way through life.

Playboy: What are some of the other influences?

Souljah: Because of television, a black boy in Bed-Stuy [Bedford-Stuyvesant in Brooklyn] will believe that having a particular car or a particular house would make him a better person. A black boy in Bed-Stuy may believe that having a light-skinned girl would make him a more macho, more successful guy. A black child in Bed-Stuy may think that Jesus Christ is white and, therefore, that whites are superior and are to be worshiped. A black child in Bed-Stuy may think that it is all right to sell drugs to another black child because of a dog-eat-dog American ethic that says the strong are on top and the weak are on the bottom.

Playboy: That's a pretty cynical view. Do other blacks criticize your views?

Souljah: Oh, yeah. I think those who are now criticizing me are the ones who never took the time to explore and understand their own history. So they just condemn black people. Every move they make reflects the fact that they hate themselves and their people.

That is my description of somebody like Clarence Thomas. Here you have a black man born in poverty and raised by nuns. How can a nun raise a strong African man in an oppressive society where white is superior? It's impossible. Thomas now sits on the Supreme Court and is likely to uphold legislation that is more destructive to African people than it is to the white supremacists with whom he shares the bench.

Playboy: You talk a lot about white supremacy. Do you think that whites and blacks are capable of seeing things the same way?

Souljah: I have a song that I did with Ice Cube, and one of my verses is:

"I don't care what you say or think Cause Sister Souljah got a right to speak, I don't care how you feel or what, Cause Sister Souljah don't give a fuck. If my world's black and yours is white, How the hell could we think alike? I got biog brown eyes so I can see And my mind don't play tricks on me."

White people try to force their perceptions on African people, and I have marketed the concept of being self-sufficient to a billion-dollar corporation.

Playboy: Meaning your record contract with Epic [a division of Sony]. The Clinton experience might help your career. but before that your album, 360 Degrees of Power, didn't sell very well. Are you disappointed?

Souljah: I'm an attractive young woman. If I wanted to make money. I could just put on a miniskirt and a tube top, shake my ass, put out a video and I'm straight. It's so easy to make money in America off sex, drugs and violence.

I had those options. I had complete creative control over my album. But I wasn't interested in that. I wasn't doing this to become a millionaire. My goal was to distribute a message that I thought was essential for African people--a message that would tell them what was going on, why it was going on and how they could, as individuals, form a powerful collective. That was my objective. Clearly, I'm satisfied.

You know, I'm not at Sony every day saying, "Ship the records, ship the records, ship the records." I'm running around being an activist and I'm perfectly satisfied with that. And I see bootleg copies of the album everywhere.

Playboy: Still, Sony must be disappointed with the sales.

Souljah: Well, if the record isn't running on the video channels and the company itself doesn't even want to be affiliated with it, then of course it won't sell. You'd think that when this whole Clinton thing broke, the money people would have shipped more records to the stores. But Sony didn't do that. The politics are considered to be so severe that the money is no longer worth it. They won't ship the album, not even to make a buck. [Sony told Playboy that "the views expressed by Sister Souljah are not shared nor endorsed by every Epic Records employee. But as a company we will continue to support Sister Souljah and 360 Degrees of Power through all avenues of exposure and will continue to ship her albums to stores."]

Playboy: That's hard to believe. Surely, Sony would take advantage of your sudden national exposure if it thought it could make money off it.

Souljah: No, there has been nothing different from them in relation to Sister Souljah as an artist. In fact, when this whole thing started, I went to Black Music [a Sony division]. The first thing they told me was, "We're not paying for that hotel room for your press conference. This is not promotional. [Sony told Playboy that at the time of the press conference it had made arrangements to reimburse Souljah for her press-conference accommodations.] We don't know what you have going on with the presidential contender, but this has nothing to do with Sony." That's how bleak it is. Maybe they feel really threatened by the possibility of Bill Clinton's becoming President. That maybe he'll then have a beef with them or something.

Playboy: Maybe they just don't think your album is very good.

Souljah: I would argue with that strongly. There's a point at which money confronts ethics--when it threatens the fabric of white supremacy. I am political--I can mobilize people--and Sony can't address that. Historically, people who were considered a threat to the corporate system have been attacked. Take Paul Robeson. He was articulate, he was a scholar, yet he was ostracized and made into a victim of the red scare, and he died depressed. The corporate world is more ruthless than anything else. Hey, listen, even before the Clinton incident, I was embroiled in a corporatewide controversy over my Sister Souljah logo. I had to explain to the Jewish people at Sony that the S.S. in my logo had nothing to do with the Holocaust.

Playboy: Maybe they feel threatened by you. Not every black artist speaks out the way you do.

Souljah: True, but not all black artists see that as their role. I do, and they are trying to isolate me. But it won't work.

Playboy: How big a following do you have?

Souljah: Millions of people believe in who I am. When the white press tries to attack black leaders, we wind up loving those leaders even more. We know they must have done something right. You cannot tell kids in this country anything about a rapper. Rappers are the most powerful entity anywhere for young people. The Washington Post could run five months of stories against Big Daddy Kane, and when Big Daddy Kane hit town, there would be ten thousand people inside the concert hall and ten thousand more trying to get in.

Playboy: In terms of black leaders, how does Jesse Jackson fit in? He clearly believes there's some value in trying to work with white people within an electoral situation.

Souljah: Jesse and I are different in that regard. I think the most valuable thing I can do is to work with African people. Jesse thinks the most valuable thing he can do is to work with all people. I believe that the condition of African people is too severe for us to divert our attention to other communities, because our people really are in a state of emergency--a state of absolute crisis. And so I concentrate on that. But Jesse Jackson has the right to concentrate on whatever he wants to as a man, and I do what I want to as a woman.

Playboy: But isn't Jackson also searching for what he calls a common ground?

Souljah: And you notice that he hasn't found one. To me, Jesse Jackson is the epitome of the black man who has tried his hardest to get along with white people and serve the white community. I mean that legitimately, not sarcastically. But then if Jesse has Sister Souljah at his conference, some white journalists will forget everything that he's done and characterize him--so dishonestly--as a racist. It's absurd. I don't have any hope or faith in white America.

Playboy: You are adamant in your criticism of society. Are you as hard on yourself?

Souljah: Absolutely. At the end of each day I ask myself what I have achieved and what more I could have done. I see myself in all of my weaknesses and actively try to correct the things about me that are wrong.

Playboy: Are you an easy person to get along with?

Souljah: I think I'm a nice person, of course.

Playboy: How do you reconcile that with all the anger?

Souljah: It's a different value system. African values are based on balance, harmony, reciprocity, things of that nature. And in order to maintain balance, you have to be angry when you're supposed to be and happy when you're supposed to be. For some reason, people think that if you fight for truth and justice you don't, for example, like to have sex. Or if you like to have sex, then you can't believe in truth and justice. Or if you make speeches, then you don't like to go to parties. And if you like to go to parties, then you're not serious. All of that is bullshit to me.

I mean. I'm a dancer. And I like to go to parties. I love my people. But I'm still an orator, I'm still angry. I'm still productive.

Playboy: Do you get the feeling people are trying to push you into one slot or another?

Souljah: Sure, because they have premeditated agendas. But I can take the heat. What do I have to live with besides my life? I don't even believe that, spiritually, somebody can take my life. They can kill me physically. If we die lighting for a righteous cause, we're rewarded spiritually for that.

Playboy: In one of your songs you talk about fighting with actual ammunition. What's that all about?

Souljah: Ignoramuses don't read the lyrics. In the song The Final Solution: Slavery's Back in Effect, I say:

"Brother, go get guns and pack up on ammunition.

Now that they see that it's a critical condition.

Racism was here but they didn't take it seriously

And then they said that I was crazy.

Violence escalating and it's sad to see So many brothers being killed by the enemy.

Mothers and daughters, fathers and sons.

Why can't they see we couldn't win by the gun?

I told you how to win but now it's too late.

The enemy's on the rise and he's sealed your fate.

Brain is the weapon, technology second.

The war drum is sounding, the tool is the record.

The will and the skill of the black man, exact man

Giving a hand to his brother man."

I'm saying that if we had been unified and organized--if we knew our history, learned computer technology, used our brains--we wouldn't be in this condition. So now you guys are going to get guns, but you can't win because you're militarily outnumbered.

My whole album is geared toward getting African people to study and to actively organize for self-sufficiency. And that is more threatening to white people than brothers getting guns.

Playboy: Some people claim that all you're really concerned about is self-promotion and advancing your career.

Souljah: Most of the magazines and newspapers talk about the overconfident, egotistical, self-promoting Sister Souljah--which means that they really have a problem with the fact that I'm competent and self-assured. Am I supposed to be more humble or something? Humble about what?

Playboy: Are you receiving any support from black organizations?

Souljah: Overwhelming support. I've received calls from Congress. I've received support from black women's coalitions, from the Christian community, the Islamic community, the Hebrew community.

Playboy: Who are the black leaders you respect?

Souljah: Respect is a serious word.

Playboy: Which ones do you think people should look to for wisdom, for ideas?

Souljah: I try to tell young people not to look for leaders but to try to identify the qualities in themselves--to develop the talents and skills that they have--so they don't become dependent on somebody else's talents and skills. Even in my album I say, "Please do not worship Sister Souljah," because that's not what I want. Instead, examine and study the ideas. Then keep the ones you agree with and throw out the ones you don't agree with. And keep moving on.

Playboy: What prominent black people have played an aggressive and constructive role?

Souljah: Oh, see, if you say it that way: Jesse Jackson, Louis Farrakhan, C. Vernon Mason, Alton Maddox. From the past, my favorite people are Harriet Tubman, Adam Clayton Powell and Malcolm X. I think that Harriet Tubman was the strongest person in the history of African people in this country. She was an activist. She took action. She was a soldier. She was a warrior.

Playboy: And what about Martin Luther King?

Souljah: Martin Luther King did a lot of constructive things. One of the most powerful legacies that he left us was the concept of economic collectivity--the ability to pull your support away from corporations and systems that don't support justice.

I think that concept is applicable now. It could be implemented quite easily if somebody had common sense and the persistence to expose the relationship between corporate America--the corporations, the subsidiaries, the products-- and the oppression of African people. We could then dissociate ourselves from cooperating with our own oppression. Powerful.

Playboy: But you make records for a company that is Japanese-owned.

Souljah: But who wins? You listen to my album, then ask me who wins--Sony or Souljah? Souljah wins. Souljah wins.

I don't feel like Sony is doing anything for me. Do you know how much Sony equipment--radios, Walkmans--African people consume? Probably more than anybody else. So I don't feel like Sony's doing a damned thing for me. If anything, they'll get the pleasure later on--after somebody spills my guts all over the floor--of being affiliated economically with my image.

Playboy: You don't have a death wish, do you?

Souljah: I have a life wish. But I understand the nature of evil in this society. I understand who controls what, and I understand that people in power will go to any length to maintain their position. I'm not naive. I know what the consequences are.

Playboy: Isn't that frightening to you?

Souljah: It's life. It's like Martin Luther King said: Any person would like to live a long life. Malcolm X had four beautiful daughters and a beautiful wife. Do you think he wanted to get killed that way? He didn't. But it's the love that you have for your people that makes you sacrifice yourself.

I mean, that concept goes way back to Jesus Christ so, hey, what can you do? You gotta do what you gotta do. It also says in the Bible. To whom much is given, much is expected. So I've been blessed in a lot of ways. I know that everything I have is by the grace of God. Which is why I don't fear men. And I don't fear Bill Clinton because he's not in control. It's like the Koran says: God is the best of planners. So you can make all the plans you want, but ultimately there's a force greater than yourself.

Another thing that white America took from African people is our spiritual power. I feel that, spiritually, I'm very powerful and very protected. So I don't fear evil, because I feel I'm greater than evil. I feel that good conquers evil. I think that if people were more aware of their spiritual power, they would have less suffering under this white supremacist system.

Playboy: Do you dismiss Christianity as the white man's religion?

Souljah: Oh, no, no. As African people, we have created many beautiful things that have been corrupted by others. But the worst thing we could do is to throw out something just because it's been corrupted. What we need to do is to try to regain it in its original form. And so I study Christianity. I study Islam. I read the Bible and the Koran. Both books offer values that can help me to guide my life.

Playboy: Was Christ black?

Souljah: Absolutely.

Playboy: Wasn't he also Jewish?

Souljah: You can be Jewish and black. The Jews were black. That's not startling at all. Didn't Israel just airlift a whole bunch of black Jews--the Ethiopians? They're Africans. They're Jews.

Playboy: Let's move on to racial integration. Is that ever going to be possible?

Souljah: With equal power, sure.

Playboy: Is it desirable?

Souljah: It depends. It's something I've never experienced. I don't think any person of color has ever experienced integration with white people and maintained power.

Playboy: Do you see separation as a way of regaining power?

Souljah: I don't call it physical separation because, clearly, we're here. But I see it as mental separation. I say to young African women all the time, "You cannot have Erica Kane and Joan Collins as your role models. These are one-dimensional, materialistic, money-grubbing white bitches, totally divorced from your experience, totally coming from someplace else. You can't want to be like them."

Playboy: Well, what about--and we'll use your words--money-grubbing black bitches? You wouldn't want them to be role models either, would you?

Souljah: No. But because I study history, I know how these relationships came about. African men and women were together in Africa, and African men and women were together during slavery. But in 1992, African men and women are sometimes separated by the fact that black women now have the values of white women, and black men have the values of white men.

Playboy: You've been critical of some white feminists.

Souljah: Yes. For some reason, it seems like a lot of white feminists confuse the empowerment of women with sexuality. And that causes chaos.

Playboy: Explain that.

Souljah: A lot of the white feminists I've met have been lesbians who seem more interested in getting you to adopt their sexual lifestyle than in getting you to empower yourself as a woman, so that you could empower your family. That's problematic.

Playboy: Isn't that only one small part of the feminist movement?

Souljah: I said that is what I have experienced.

Playboy: What about the other parts of the white feminist movement, equal pay for equal work and--

Souljah: It's like in my video: When they say, "Do you know any good white people?" I say, "I haven't met them."

Playboy: Come on, you haven't met any good white people?

Souljah: I haven't met them.

Playboy: Never in your whole life? There are no good white people?

Souljah: What I said is that I haven't met them. Even when I was at the University of Salamanca, I was mostly with white people. They were very nice to me, but nice has nothing to do with good. We all ate dinner together, we went places together and so on. But did they give a damn about justice? I don't think so. I don't think any white person who is not constructively fighting against injustice should sleep easy on any given night. You should have fear and guilt and remorse about creating a world that's so destructive to people of color. And if you don't, it means you don't value the lives of people who have not emerged from your culture.

Playboy: You say "you" a lot when you talk about whites creating this situation. Let's take someone like my mother. She worked in a garment factory for fifty years. How did she create this world that you are talking about?

Souljah: Anybody can create this world by simply remaining silent or by remaining passive.

Playboy: But she didn't. She went on civil rights marches.

Souljah: It's an unfair question because I don't know your mother.

Playboy: The point is, how can you put the blame on all white people? A lot of whites feel impotent and not in control.

Souljah: Right. But just because you feel impotent doesn't mean that you are. A lot of people use impotence as an excuse to do nothing. I think white people don't ever want to look at what they did and what they still do. Ever. And they never want to take responsibility for their collective acts of destruction. When I see white people, I don't trust them. None of them.

Playboy: You're obviously interested in some kind of dialog, or you wouldn't have agreed to this interview. But how would you expect a white person to relate to any of this?

Souljah: If you're not really concerned with justice, then you won't relate to it. If you are, you have to ask yourself a few questions. One, are you willing to stand for a cause that is unpopular with your own kind? Two, if you're willing to do so, are you willing to sacrifice the things that have made you comfortable in white America? Three, are you dedicated to changing the fabric of this society? Participating in a movement not for black power but for what is right? I believe very sincerely there needs to be a mass movement, but I have absolutely no faith that it will happen.

Playboy: But you will at least concede that good white people have existed in history.

Souljah: I guess they did. But this is like the discussion I had the other day with this white guy on KISS radio. We had this same discussion. He got so frustrated. He said, "What about John Brown? He was a good white person." I said, "OK, now ask yourself why you had to go all the way back to the 1800s to come up with an example. That's a problem. How come you can't tell me right now who the good white people are?"

Playboy: Because you always shoot them down.

Souljah: No. Because he couldn't think of one.

Playboy: Bullshit. I personally don't feel that I'm a bad white man. By saying these things, you actually let white racists off the hook.

Souljah: How?

Playboy: Because if you say that good liberal white people really don't make a difference, then you're telling people they don't even have to try.

Souljah: No, I put pressure on white liberals by saying, "If you're going to be a do-gooder, then do good for real." In other words, if a white liberal says, "I work at the Saturday school with little black kids," I'll say, "Well, why don't you go home and remove the racism from your family or your community?" Or, "Why don't you get people to understand that they shouldn't vote for this person because it only reinforces the policies and the system, the network of racism." So I've challenged white liberals. I've put pressure on them to do the things that will really make a difference.

Playboy: What's the basic message?

Souljah: I'm dedicated to teaching African children what they can do to improve their own lives. At the same time, I think that the government is responsible for providing reparations to African people for centuries of unpaid labor. That's something they should be pressured for. We should pressure society to do what society is supposed to do, because, in the interim, we're still paying taxes, you know? And no, I don't see government assistance as a handout. I see that as something every group of people does in one way or another-- whether it's an S&L or a black girl on 125th Street or a white farmer.

Playboy: Many of the articles about you say you have an apocalyptic vision in which the whole system has to blow apart before it can come together again. Can any of what you're talking about be accomplished without violence?

Souljah: Everything I'm describing can be done now, but it probably can't be done without violence. Why? Because when African people organize themselves to be self-sufficient, we probably will be attacked by white America. The Rodney King thing, for instance. People watched and endured that film every night on television and did nothing about it. They believed so much in the system--even though it has never served them--that they actually waited for a verdict. It's not a question of whether or not I think America will erupt in violence. It's a question of what America will do as African people strive for self-sufficiency.

Playboy: But there are blacks who have made it--black athletes, black singers, black professors, black attorneys. Why would white Americans, as you suggest, resent that success?

Souljah: Because black athletes and black entertainers don't alter the power equation. Ultimately, for every quarter I make, Sony makes about eight dollars. [Sony would not confirm these numbers.] Entertainers are no threat. They're not involved in politics, which means they don't affect the power equation for the masses of people. They just entertain and keep people laughing.

Playboy: What about Arsenio Hall?

Souljah: Arsenio Hall is an important person because he's on television and has the opportunity to provide a forum for people who would not ordinarily be heard. I hope he regards that as seriously as I do.

Playboy: Why aren't you as critical of him as you are of whites who aren't dedicating their lives to changing society and obtaining justice?

Souljah: [Laughs] Did Arsenio do something wrong?

Playboy: Has he done enough right? Isn't that your problem with a lot of white people--that their passivity is no excuse?

Souljah: The difference is white people are in power. Arsenio has a difficult job because you want to be strong as an African male, but you also want to be employed.

Playboy: What about Eddie Murphy?

Souljah: I think that Eddie Murphy is evolving.

Playboy: How about Michael Jordan? Doesn't he wield a lot of clout?

Souljah: It's nonthreatening for Michael Jordan to have a contract with a sneaker company because, even though he's going to have a whole lot more money than any other African person, the corporation is going to have ten times that amount.

Let's say we examine corporate America and detach ourselves from the products and the corporations that lend themselves to racism. Now I am affecting the power equation, the consumption of products, the ability of these corporations to profit in an economic recession. Now I'm a threat, and I don't know what America will do under that threat. If I used history, I would say that America would kill me under that threat.

Playboy: But you're still going to try?

Souljah: Of course. I have no choice. I am interested in seeing a society where people can coexist based on equal power and equal respect for one another's cultural contributions. I am interested in seeing a society based on equal military power, so that people are not subject to physical abuse. A society based on the equal distribution of resources, so that people are not subject to subsistence and slavery. I am interested in a society where justice is the law of the land for everybody. The problem is that so long as every time you think of Africa you think of baldheaded babies, of bloated stomachs and flies, no African person any place in the world will ever get any respect.

Playboy: You're an impassioned person. Is there a lighter side to Sister Souljah?

Souljah: I like to eat. Chocolate and popcorn.

Playboy: Have you always had this hairstyle? How does it work?

Souljah: It's an African flat twist. You might have seen something like it in movies like The Ten Commandments.

Playboy: Is it hard to do?

Souljah: It takes about half an hour, and I get it done in Harlem. NBC got pissed when I didn't show up for an interview because I had to get my hair done. The people said they had a hairdresser. I said, "Oh, no!" They'd have me looking like those ridiculous people who work for them.

Playboy: You've never been married.

Souljah: I'm going to get married, but I'm going to stay married.

Playboy: How do you know until you've tried it?

Souljah: I'm committed to the concept.

Playboy: Well, it's easier said than done.

Souljah: Yeah, so I've heard.

Playboy: Any more personal stuff? What do you get off on?

Souljah: I love to dance. I'm a good dancer. I like movies.

Playboy: What are your favorite films?

Souljah: I liked Oliver Stone's J.F.K. I liked John Singleton's Boyz n the Hood.

Playboy: What about Spike Lee's movies?

Souljah: No, they don't really touch me. I don't know, maybe something's missing. I support him. I always go to his movies. But they just don't touch my heart, my soul, my spirit.

Playboy: You've criticized the We Are the World-type entertainment. But wouldn't you like things to be like that?

Souljah: If it were real. But it's not real. It's fantasy. It's like the Brady Bunch. We Are the World is a joke, because at whose expense are we the world? At my expense? Then I don't like that. If we are really the world--meaning all of the world and all its resources are accessible to each of us--then I have no problem with that. I don't think any African who's political is hostile just for the sake of being hostile. Mostly, everybody I know who has been politicized as an African is that way because they love their people so much--not because of hate but because of love.

I have a song on my album called State of Accommodation: Why Aren't You Angry about all the things oppressed people consider to be normal. Like jail. That's a normal concept to my people, but it is not normal to me. I would fight against that. When I watch Roots and see a white slavemaster selling a child--and then the black woman breaks down and cries--that is not normal to me. If somebody tried to sell my baby, I'd kill them. No question. Instantly. Because now it's clearly a question of me or you. And if a white slavemaster tried to sleep with me, I'd kill him, too. Rape is not normal to me. I do not want to be raped and I will try to destroy you before you can destroy me. That to me is sane. Cooperating with that is insane. I'm against cooperating with pain.

Playboy: Don't some rap songs celebrate violence against women?

Souljah: A lot of men don't have respect for women. But women don't have respect for themselves. The thing I find most interesting in these videos is that many of those naked black women who you see sliding up and down on poles are not even being paid. So you can't base any of this on the premise of economic exploitation because they do that for free. They want to do that. This is how they see themselves as women.

My campaign within the hip-hop industry is to get African women to act more respectful of themselves. They can't keep pointing to the men as a source of their problems--not when I go to a concert and see women standing backstage with their toothbrush and panties in a bag, getting ready to sleep with somebody just because he's an entertainer. And they don't even know the guy's real name. Never met his mama. Never been to his house. Don't know nothing about him. Then they'll call his management company for the next six months because they're pregnant. And they wonder why the guys don't take them seriously. Oh, please!

So that's how I feel about it. I tend to be much harder on sisters, but harder in a compassionate way. I've made a lot of mistakes myself as a woman, and I'll share my mistakes. But as women, we have a responsibility to correct the things that we do that add to our own oppression.

Playboy: This whole industry is strange.

Souljah: Sex, drugs, rock and roll, violence. Very filthy business.

Playboy: And yet, in the middle of it, you try to find some political purity.

Souljah: I'm isolated. I'm not included in this mess. I have a whole life. I go to Sony to transact business. But when you make entertainment your way of life, you're bound to fall into a hole.

Playboy: People are now expecting some leadership to come out of today's music and musicians.

Souljah: There will be some leadership. Out of most of them there will be entertainment.

Playboy: You say you're isolated. But is there ever a time when you just feel like saying, "Damn, I'm tired"?

Souljah: Well, I think W. E. B. Du Bois sums that up in The Souls of Black Folk. He says that as an African person in this white society you have two warring souls. You have to interpret everything in at least two ways. So while, personally, I just want to live a nice quiet life, get married and have children, I am unable to do only that because of the legacy I have inherited. I have to teach, pass on information, communicate, fulfill my responsibility to serve and lift up my community. Some people accept their responsibility, some people reject it and some people pretend that they don't even know it exists.

"White America needs a demon to scare its own population to the polls. They need a bogeyman to say boo."

"Rap music puts people in leadership who would not ordinarily be allowed to speak, rap, rhyme, sing or say anything."

"Underclass African children are sent into a European-centered educational system, and they get lost and squashed by the third or fourth grade."

"I'm not at Sony every day saying, 'Ship the records, ship the records, ship the records.' I'm running around being an activist."

"I'm isolated. I'm not included in this mess. But when you make entertainment your way of life, you're bound to fall into a hole."