By Matthew Oden
How does one even begin to sell the concept of chicken with waffles? Sit down and have a meal.The strategy of Roscoe's owners may surprise you.
As Ryan pulls into the driveway in a shiny 1965 Volkswagen Van, his friends run out to meet him and get a tour of his newly refurbished vehicle. It is sunny in this suburb of Orange County, California, and the group is excited to drive around in Ryan’s new ride.
A small detail in this episode of MTV’s Pimp My Ride can easily be overlooked. One of Ryan’s friends is wearing a t-shirt with the logo for Roscoe’s House of Chicken and Waffles emblazoned across the front. Roscoe’s, a restaurant with a traditionally black clientele, has become both a symbol of black culture in Los Angeles and a tourist attraction for white out-of-towners. With locations throughout urban Los Angeles County, Roscoe’s serves Southern-style fried chicken, waffles, and assorted side dishes that are characteristic of soul food. It would seem unusual, then, for a middle-class, white youth to take pride in a restaurant symbolic of a seemingly disconnected culture by wearing a shirt endorsing it. Yet he was wearing that t-shirt. And, in a larger context, white America is endorsing black culture with its purchasing dollar. While Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles is a commoditization of black culture, it serves as a valuable public space because it preserves such culture with authenticity. In the process, it encourages integration between people of diverse backgrounds.
Roscoe’s ties to hip-hop culture run deep, and as such, hip-hop culture can serve as a valuable vehicle for exploring the significance of Roscoe’s as an institution and an icon. From mentions in songs such as Notorious B.I.G.’s “Goin’ Back to Cali,” the Jackie Chan/Chris Tucker movie Rush Hour, and appearances in the music videos of Tupac Shakur and Ja Rule, Roscoe’s fame has grown out of such references in hip-hop media, as well as its myriad of celebrity patrons (Roscoe’s). And recently, hip-hop has secured itself a place in America’s popular culture. What began as a necessary outgrowth of the desperation of inner-city ghettos has now become “cool,” as well as profitable. According to Billboard.com, the top selling CD of 2004 was Usher’s Confessions, and the number two CD was Outkast’s The Speakerboxxx/The Love Below, both belonging to the hip-hop genre. A handful of other hip-hop/R&B albums made their way into the top 20. This preeminence of rap and hip-hop underscore the influence of black culture on the wider culture of mainstream America.
The success of white rapper Eminem is an especially powerful commentary on the popularity of hip-hop culture within the white demographic. Eminem’s 2000 The Marshall Mathers LP became the fastest selling rap album of all time and the second fastest selling album of any genre (Armstrong). His violent and sexist lyrics serve to lend him credibility as a “gangsta rapper,” a title traditionally reserved for black artists of the same style. If some might argue that Eminem is an anomaly, white interest in hip-hop music would still be apparent, as white people purchase 75 percent of rap music sold today (Armstrong). It is not surprising, then, that a middle-class white boy living in suburban California would be wearing a Roscoe’s shirt, as parallel social constructions abound in music and popular culture. Such appropriation of black culture should not necessarily be viewed as abusive exploitation, but rather an attempt at social harmony, embracing food as a catalyst for conversation. With its enormous consumer success, current hip-hop is now criticized as being packaged and simulated to appeal to a mass audience, with no regard for artistry, lacking authenticity.
