Hip-Hop and The Fine Line Between Appreciation and Appropriation
- Precious
- Dec 21, 2025
- 4 min read
When cornrows and AAVE are everywhere in K-pop, but Black voices are nowhere in the conversation, something’s off. Our Music writer, Precious, explores how hip-hop’s globalisation often slips from appreciation into erasure.
A conversation that never fails to fire me up began the day I sat through a “K-pop hits” segment on Trace Urban (DSTV Channel) and heard my people, but didn’t see them. While cultural appropriation can be found across many genres in the music industry, Hip-hop remains the most glaring example. More than just music, Hip-hop was born as a voice of resistance used as a response to poverty, racial injustice, and systemic neglect.
Yet today, that same voice has been rebranded and re-marketed across the globe. While its global reach is undeniable, its rise has also raised difficult questions about who gets to participate, who profits, and who gets erased. From stages to fashion runways, hip-hop’s aesthetic has been reinterpreted, sometimes respectfully, but often stripped of its original context. It’s one thing to be influenced by a culture, it’s another to wear it like a costume.
The Globalisation of a Struggle
At its core, hip-hop is a product of Black history, born in the Bronx in the 1970s as a way of survival, self-expression, and protest. Every lyric, beat and dance carries the weight of African American culture. As the genre globalised, its sound traveled with its symbolism, but so did its dilution.
Today, hip-hop is the most streamed genre in the world. But paradoxically, it’s also one of the most exploited. From non-Black artists adopting African American Vernacular English (AAVE) to their labels profiting off “street” aesthetics while sidelining Black creators, hip-hop’s rise continues to highlight the tension between appreciation and appropriation.
The K-pop Case Study
Nowhere is this tension more visible than in the Korean pop industry. K-pop’s fascination with hip-hop has produced some of the genre’s biggest controversies. Groups like All Day Project have come under fire for their “rapper member” concept for a member who suddenly adopts hip-hop tropes despite lacking training or cultural understanding.
This isn’t an isolated instance. Kiss of Life, another K-pop group, faced similar backlash when their “rapper concept” live, one they claimed was merely inspired by hip-hop, seemed to borrow heavily from African American mannerisms and aesthetics without acknowledging their roots, feeding into a pattern where “inspiration” becomes a convenient disguise for imitation that borders on mockery.
This trend exposes a deeper problem: the commodification of “Blackness” as a marketable persona. Within K-pop, hip-hop has become a visual language that can be performed, packaged, and profited from. The issue isn’t that non-Black artists engage with hip-hop, it’s when the performance of “coolness” depends on parodying Black identity, while Black artists themselves are often stereotyped or censored for the same behavior.
The Imitation Dilemma
So, can non-Black artists do hip-hop? The question sparks endless debate. Many argue that hip-hop — like jazz or rock — is now a global art form open to all who respect it. And that’s true as influence and exchange are natural parts of culture.
But the line is crossed when participation turns into performance and “appreciation” becomes mimicry when the culture that birthed the art form is excluded from its benefits or mocked through imitation.
Artists who study hip-hop’s history, collaborate with Black creatives, and engage respectfully with its roots manage to contribute meaningfully to the culture. But those who simply “try on” hip-hop for aesthetics, adopt AAVE for clout, or perform exaggerated “Black” personas, perpetuate the same exploitative dynamics rooted in colonial history.
Beyond K-pop: The Industry’s Bigger Problem
This conversation actually extends far beyond K-pop. Western artists aren’t exempt either, think Miley Cyrus’s short-lived “hip-hop era,” where she used twerking and trap beats to shed her “Disney” image to later dismiss the culture that boosted her career. Or Post Malone, who once said, “If you’re looking for lyrics, don’t listen to hip-hop,” yet profits off the same sound he undermines.
The pattern is clear. Black creativity builds the foundation, and others profit from the structure. From Elvis Presley’s rock-and-roll to contemporary pop, the story repeats itself every single time! The aesthetic of Black culture is celebrated, but the people who created it are not.
The Blueprint That Is Black Music
Every modern genre; pop, R&B, rock, EDM, owes a debt to Black musicians. The rhythms of jazz, the improvisation of blues, the spoken-word flow of hip-hop: all are blueprints of Black innovation. Yet, historically, recognition and profit rarely follow the originators.
Hip-hop, as the latest evolution of that legacy, continues to reflect both the power and pain of this dynamic. Its beats have shaped global culture, from TikTok dances to the production of international hits but its heart remains political. It was born as a critique of discrimination and inequality, not a costume for it.
PS: Black Culture is not your Costume
Cultural exchange is inevitable but respect must be the foundation. It’s not about gatekeeping hip-hop; it’s about honoring its roots. Rapping fast doesn’t make someone part of the culture but understanding its history reflects their respect for it. For global artists and fans, the responsibility lies in awareness. Hip-hop was built on truth, the unfiltered realities of Black experience. The world doesn’t need another imitation of Blackness, it needs recognition of its brilliance and while its rhythm may echo across continents, its story belongs to those who lived it first.
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