34 year old actor/rapper Donald Glover aka Childish Gambino, has just released his video This is America along with Quavo, Young Thug, and 21 Savage. Hiro Murai directed this raw video, and many from Gambino’s Emmy-winning FX series Atlanta. He and Glover created this commentary on the self perpetuating, self indulgent, and self destructive culture that America feeds on and is ultimately terrified of. His message is dished up in images that are familiar and deeply jaring.
Juxtaposing reality is the theme of this video. Nonchalant violence vs. distracting entertainment, beautiful and talented Glover vs. intense violence that he reenacts, and all of this is played out in a setting with old cars and common clothes – a more true to life view of reality instead of the usual glamorous world-view with flashy cars and nearly nude fly girls seen in most rap videos.
The color red signifies brutal realities, and grey signifies the wool we pull over our own eyes. The two colors thread their way through the connective tissue of this video.
The entire set is gray, implying that we are surrounded by the ignorance of our own choosing. A man sits on a red chair playing guitar along with tranquil South African melodies. The view shifts slightly and we see Glover in gray pants facing away from the camera. He is the embodiment of distraction. Nothing but modest gold chains adorning his bare chest; he is beautiful. He turns and dances; his face occasionally twisting into bizarre expressions.
“We just wanna party,” sings the back-up. “Party just for me/We just want the money/Money just for you.” Suddenly the guitar player, with a gray sack over his head, gets shot by Glover who is twisted into a Jim Crow pose as he does it.
“This is America,” Glover raps. The music becomes hard and oppressive. Glover hands the gun off to a young respectably dressed man who receives it adoringly in a red cloth. The dead man is carelessly dragged off screen. Signifying that since Jim Crow guns have been treated with more respect than the lives of so many black people.
“Don’t catch you slippin’ up,” Glover raps. “Look what I’m whippin’ up/This is America.” A group of teens clad in gray private school uniforms are being lead by Glover in a carefree dance. A red hand slings money over a crowd. A young man in red pants runs past holding an axe.
Glover looks over his shoulder to make sure the youngsters continue to follow his lead. Their smiles are sublime, and they are completely oblivious to the chaos that begins to erupt around them. This signifies the way we distract our children from the reality they are truly living in.
The music becomes tranquil again.
“Ooh-tell somebody,” A church choir sings while draped in red and standing in front of a wall bifurcated by red and gray. “You go tell somebody/Grandma told me/Get your money, Black man.”
Glover gleefully dances out in front of the choir, he’s handed a gun, he turns, he opens fire, the music changes again, the choir falls, and he hands the gun off to a young respectably dressed man who receives it adoringly in a red cloth. This resembles the 2015 Charlottesville terror attack where nine people were killed, and after the terrorist was casually taken out for burgers by police. So little care is given when terror is enacted upon black people.
“This is America,” raps Glover. The chaos increases, and the youngsters dance unconcerned. People clad in red run past more frequently. We see masked observers languidly recording the pandemonium below. Glover raps about the ugly, hard truths ignored by consuming flashy products that portray a false version of reality, and how we love it. We worship the beautiful lie.
“Look at how I’m livin’ now,” Glover raps. “Police be trippin’ now/Guns in my area/I got the strap/I gotta carry ‘em/I’ma go into this/This is guerilla sh… I’ma go get the bag/Or I’ma get the pad/I’m so cold like yeah/I’m so dope like yeah/We gon’ blow like yeah/Look how I’m geekin’ out/I’m so fitted/I’m on Gucci/I’m so pretty/I’m gon’ get it/Watch me move.”
The violence reaches fever pitch. A cloaked man rides a white horse signifying apocalypse, and that too is ignored. The dancing youth becomes even more exaggerated. Glover pantomimes pulling a trigger and everything falls silent.
Glover lights a grey joint with a red lighter. The music is tranquil again. The guitar player with the grey sack over his head is back on his red chair playing gently along while Glover dances on a red car.
“Get your money, Black man,” everyone sings and raps together, and the camera pans back to darkness.
“You just a Black man in this world,” sings someone gently over an awful scree. The light comes up just enough to see Glover running frantically.
“You just a barcode,” sings someone gently over an awful scree. Glover is terrified as he runs as hard as he is able.
“You just a Black man in this world,” sings someone gently over an awful scree. All the bizarre expressions from earlier flash over his face, and you see that even while he was a distraction he was scared.
“Drivin’ expensive foreigns,” sings someone gently over an awful scree. He runs just ahead of the blurry masses of white people that run with their arms down like the Terminator. They keep pace with him, and he keeps running.
“You just a big dawg,” sings someone gently over an awful scree. “I kenneled him in the backyard. No probably ain’t life to a dog. For a big dog.” They are all are engulfed in darkness.
