Activism emerges in many forms. We may think it manifests solely as widespread protests and movements, as these have often been the most effective and noticeable avenues to promote change. Yet it can come in subtler, more introverted, and more avant-garde ways. If the internal fire exists to improve the world, the creativity of execution can explode in a myriad of routes — non-profits, technology companies, charity donations, lifestyle changes, and artistic endeavors. Kendrick Lamar takes the latter approach on the stunning opener from his debut album Section.80, “F*ck Your Ethnicity”, an inspiring and unifying track that sets the stage for world-shaking musical acclaim and artistic activism.

“F*ck Your Ethnicity” by Kendrick Lamar

Getting to that stage was the fruit of years of labor, culminating in an incredible mixtape, 2010’s Overly Dedicated. The mixtape caught the attention of legendary producer, rapper, and mogul Dr. Dre, who similarly hailed from Compton, California. Throughout the tape, Kendrick’s lyrics were socially conscious, introspective, and brimming with substance. He could switch up his flow and voice in countless ways, his vocals always capturing the mood of his lyrics perfectly. His personality was also strikingly unique — a concoction of the wisdom of an old sage, the curiosity of a child, and the hunger of a young rapper. These skills and traits became widely more apparent in Kendrick’s music as the decade progressed, yet they had been brewing since his early days. With this mixtape and the co-sign from Dr. Dre, murmurs of the next great rapper were beginning. With the talent, potential, and growing hype that only a few rappers have collected, Kendrick came into 2011's Section.80 to create not only music, but a mission.

“Gather around. I’m glad everybody came out tonight. As we stand on our neighborhood corner, know that this fire that’s burning represents the passion you have. Listen, Keisha, Tammy, come up front. I recognize all of you. Every creed and color. With that being said… f*** your ethnicity. You understand that? We gon’ talk about a lot of shit that concerns you. All of you…”

The introductory skit on this opening track sets the themes of Section.80, narrated by a deep and pitched-down voice over the sound of embers crackling. The narrator introduces the characters of Keisha and Tammy, who are portrayed throughout the album to highlight themes such as drug use, government policies, and race relations that have impacted Generation Y in Compton and nationwide. This opening track of his debut album makes it immediately clear that Kendrick does not dive into albums like most artists. Each album is not simply a collection of songs, but a cohesive body of work with a theme, a concept, a narrative, and a purpose.

As the skit relays the bold title of the track, high-pitched piano keys smash down and the soulful choirs rise up.

“Now everybody, throw your hands up high / If you don’t give a f***, throw your hands up high”

This choral introduction initiates the intensity, grandness, and heart of the imminent hook and production. It really makes this song feel like this is the start of something truly magnificent and the beginning of a larger movement.

“Now I don’t give a f*** if you / Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, goddamnit / That don’t mean s*** to me / F*** your ethnicity, n****”

Kendrick’s first words on his debut album are words of unity. The echoes and reverb present on each passionate bar allow the words to linger with greater significance. The chorus is profoundly empathetic yet the forcefulness of Kendrick’s delivery and lyrics is provocative. This dichotomous combination allows Kendrick to avoid a sugar coated message, but instead take an active stance on his morals and values.

This stance can speaks volumes with music.

“Fire burning inside my eyes, this the music that saved my life / Y’all be calling it hip-hop, I be calling it hypnotize / Yeah, hypnotize, trapped my body but freed my mind”

Kendrick opens his verse with a powerful line on the saving grace of music. This was the art form that he grew up with, that he played in his home, with his friends, and with himself. It was the soundtrack and meaning for every mood. Hip-hop gave him the spiritual freedom to question against current realities and the internal fire to persevere in hopeless times.

With this internal transformation, music saved Kendrick from the dangerous life he was living in Compton to survive. After signing with independent label Top Dawg Entertainment (TDE) in 2004, he had the opportunity to pursue a life with more safety, more passion, and more impact. In the process, he broke out of some of the negative influences that had entered his life as a byproduct of scarcity — a story he would expand on with film-like depth on his follow-up and breakout album good kid, m.A.A.d city.

As Kendrick has pursued this path, he finds that music is not just a savior for the individual, but for communities.

“What the f*** are you fighting for? Ain’t nobody gon’ win that war / My details be retail, man, I got so much in store / Racism is still alive, yellow tape and colored lines / F*** that, n**** look at that line, it’s so diverse / They getting off work and they wanna see Kendrick”

While it would be foolish to believe a single song could cure multi-generational hate, it is important to not underestimate how racism, sexism, and bigotry can often soften when it comes to art. When an art form moves you, it can incept the idea that genuine connection and empathy with someone different is possible. As his career has taken off, Kendrick has seen people of diverse classes and creeds flocking to hear him. To see this reflected at his concerts in all its glory, he understands that his music has the ability to touch at the universal state of the human condition.

Throughout the song, Kendrick’s voice is hypnotizing and inspiring — somehow simultaneously monotone and deeply passionate. The sounds of his vocals are ever-slightly distorted, giving just a hint of surrealism to his grounded lyrics. His flow never gets complacent as it bounces between steady-state and rapid-paced, only breaking for a sing-songy delivery on the melodic bridge and chorus. The backing production allows these vocals to flourish with its deeply soulful and jazz-laced instrumentation, strong and heavy hip-hop drum beat, piercing piano keys, and soothing and bubbly electronic-tinged synths. What results is a beautiful song that is both heart-warming and mind-expanding.

The vocals and production work together harmoniously to show that Kendrick’s musical influences come from not only the traditional styles of Tupac, Jay-Z, Nas, and The Notorious B.I.G, but also the eclecticism of André 3000 and Kanye West. As his career has progressed, Kendrick has come to master this awe-inspiring balance between old school and experimental hip-hop in flow, voice, and instrumentation.

Kendrick is aware of this growing mastery, and tackles these pressures and expectations head on.

“Matter of fact, don’t mistake me for no f***ing rapper / They sit backstage and hide behind the f***ing cameras / … I’m no activist, I’m no Einstein before calculus / I was kicking that math, dropping that science / Like an alchemist, and I be kicking that a**, lyrically I’m UFC / If a UFO had came for me, I’ma come back with the head of an alien / Don’t alienate my dreams, get it right”

In both of his verses, Kendrick is reluctant to embrace the labels of ‘activist’ and ‘rapper’, despite his lifestyle and art veering in these directions. He does not want to ever be put in a box, acknowledging himself as flawed and wise, bad and good, broken and whole. This is a human being who creates music, spurs activism, and pursues his dreams — to cast a singular label disqualifies his three-dimensional humanity.

However, Kendrick’s clarification ironically highlights the activist angle that is present throughout his music. It’s no coincidence that Kendrick isn’t just shooting to be the next Tupac, but also the next Martin Luther King Jr., the next Malcolm X, the next Nelson Mandela — aspirations explored in full on To Pimp A Butterfly closer “Mortal Man”. While some may find these aspirations too self-important, these ambitions are beyond admirable and bring to light that music has the ability to change lives and the world at large.

This album often gets criminally overlooked by the commercial success and the critical acclaim of his subsequent albums, yet Section.80 unequivocally stands up with the rest of his catalogue and is an essential listen. The sociological and psychological analysis of Generation Y on Section.80 carries important context and weight to the rest of his albums — from the adolescent tales of nuanced turmoil and triumph on 2012’s good kid, m.A.A.d city, to the expansive scope of success, fame, depression, and race on 2015’s To Pimp A Butterfly, to the inner spiritual warfare between faith and flesh on 2017's DAMN.

For the last decade, Kendrick’s music has been profoundly thought-provoking, boundary-pushing, and generation-defining. His current status as a Pulitzer-Prize winning artist, world-shifting musician, passionate activist, and arguably the greatest rapper of all time starts with this album. It starts with this song.

It’s a timeless anthem from a timeless artist that only grows in meaning and depth with each passing year. It makes you want to go the highest mountains you can find and blast this song with arms up high, with a sense of hard-earned optimism that humanity is slowly but surely swinging towards progress. We may be confused and cynical about so many aspects of life, but as we let the track play, we know one thing without doubt.

This song is a swing in the right direction.