At the end of Kendrick Lamar’s Juneteenth Pop-Out concert, he organized a group picture with dozens of artists, children, entertainers, and gang affiliates who convened onstage with him while he performed his Drake diss “Not Like Us” five times. “You ain’t seen this many sections keepin’ it together and havin’ peace,” he boasted. He had kids in front of him while taking the photo. The 37-year-old looked something like a peace advocate — but then, one more time for the road, he rapped, “Certified lover boy? Certified pedophile!”
The Pop Out wasn’t an “increase the peace” rally, it was Kendrick’s opportunity to dance on Drake’s figurative grave — the LA unity was merely a positive consequence of his ire. For all the jokes about the moment’s contradiction and Kendrick’s unabashed hate for Drake, there’s something to be learned from Kendrick owning his disdain and being rewarded for it. He’s fully embraced his shadow, and he’s shining because of it.
The shadow self is a concept presented by esteemed psychotherapist Carl Jung, who theorized that it’s a repressed part of the mind containing both positive and negative qualities. His ideal is for people to develop a full sense of self by acknowledging and balancing their traits — including the darker ones. In his collected works, he notes, “The aim is not to overcome one’s personal psychology, to become perfect, but to become familiar with it. Thus, individuation involves an increasing awareness of one’s unique psychological reality, including personal strengths and limitations.”
Kendrick’s entire catalog has been a moral quandary of his existential limitations. His music reflects someone with a desire to live a positive life and creatively inspire humanity who grapples with not having human frailties such as vengefulness and vices. His breakout album, good kid m.A.A.d city depicted being corrupted by an unforgiving environment. On To Pimp A Butterfly’s “Mortal Man” he rhymed, “I been wrote off before, I got abandonment issues / I hold grudges like bad judges, don’t let me resent you.” On DAMN’s “Fear,” the fame monster weighed on his conscience, as he rhymed, “My newfound life made all of me magnified / How many accolades do I need to block denial?”
Perhaps all of those qualms led up to Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers, a dense project where on “Father Time” his wife tells him to get therapy with Eckhart Tolle, a spiritual teacher and author who wrote The Power Of Now. The book highlights the importance of gratitude for the present moment instead of ruminating in the past or worrying about the future. Tolle also theorizes the notion of a pain-body, AKA an “energy field of old but still very-much-alive emotion that lives in almost every human being.”
The real-world manifestations of emotional trauma are heavy throughout Mr. Morale And The Big Steppers, specifically on “Mother, I Sober,” where Kendrick depicts how his mother’s false belief that he was molested led him to embody a conception of manhood that oozed machismo, presumably the opposite of someone who could be victimized. The album also delves into how his flawed definition of masculinity engendered nihilism and substance dependency that led him to be less of a father, husband, and son than he wanted to be.
The shadow self and pain-body are distinct concepts, but both implore people to acknowledge the unappealing parts of themselves. It feels like in 2024, we saw Kendrick acknowledge his inner menace — and surmise that it’s OK. On “Euphoria” he admitted that he outright hated Drake. On “6:16 in LA,” he rhymed, “Who am I if I don’t go to war? / There’s opportunity when livin’ with loss, I discover myself when I fall short,” expressing his lust for destruction as well as using it as a path to learning more about himself.
That brazenness continues on his latest album, GNX. On the album’s intro, “wacced out murals” Kendrick laments the disdain he feels from peers and accepts that he’s willing to reciprocate any negative energy thrown his way. On “TV Off,” he raps, “Fuck being rational, give ’em what they ask for,” and admits, “I’ll cut my granny off if she don’t see it how I see it.” On “Reincarnated,” he depicts himself as the spirit of Lucifer having a conversation with God. “I’m tryna push peace in L.A.,” he raps, referencing The Pop Out. “But you love war,” God raps. “No, I don’t,” he replies. The exchange ends with Kendrick promising “that I’ll use my gifts to bring understanding.” And sometimes that understanding might come via art that reflects his complicated relationship with anger and hate.
While Kendrick hasn’t talked much about his spiritual or existential beliefs in interviews, it’s not coincidental that so much of his catalog, specifically his banner 2024, seems to align with the musings of close collaborator SZA, who once told the LA Times that, “the actualization of a human being is when the Buddha and the demon meet each other — they’re two ends of the same spectrum. You can’t kill your shadow. It just has to be part of you.” Even before GNX, Kendrick had gone on a run unlike any other rapper ever had, with a standout verse on one of the year’s biggest hits, “Like That,” and five scathing diss songs. He broke streaming and Billboard records and had people marveling at the interconnectedness of his music and visuals. All of that excellence was driven by hate transfused through a craft he loves.
One of the aims of Jung’s concept of the shadow self is “a deeper appreciation of humanity in general.” Lately, it feels like we’ve lost the ability to fully consider other people’s humanity; our digitized world makes it too easy to ghost, pile on, cast aside, and dox without a second thought. The fear of being next on the social media chopping block prevents us from admitting our ugly insecurities, our primal urges, or our more taboo thoughts. We have the opportunity to connect with each other better than any generation before us, but we’re not taking advantage of it.
If more people can acknowledge their wholeness, flaws and all, they can better see it in others. This sort of collective understanding will be much-needed going into 2025 with another MAGA administration and a number of impending calamities that will call for more unity. We saw President-Elect Donald Trump tap into the fears of Americans during the last election cycle. And like it or not, he was successful, while many argue that the Democrats did a bad job of acknowledging the frustrations of their voting base.
And now, things may get worse before they get better. While most people credit Katt Williams for setting the tone for 2024 with his unfiltered interview with Shannon Sharpe in January, it was a week or so later that Yaasin Bey asked what might’ve been the most prescient question of the year: “Are we seeing the collapse of empire?” The cost of living is increasing while wages aren’t. Climate change is slowly pulling sand out of the top of humanity’s hourglass. Hordes of people are migrating into the country and not being properly cared for. The policing system is still a by-design mess. Babies are freezing in Palestine. All the while, the American elite are benefitting from intermingled crises, keeping each others’ wallets fat at the expense of the people. From celebrities to plutocrats like Elon Musk, there’s more disgust with the elite than ever.
This climate contributed to Thomas Matthew Crooks attempting to assassinate Trump, Aaron Bushnell lighting himself on fire in protest of the US funding Israel’s genocide of Palestine, and Luigi Mangione’s alleged murder of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson. These extreme examples are all symptoms of a bigger issue. Civility in the status quo won’t bring the changes people need, and we’ll have to better appreciate and cooperate with each other if we want a better world. Gil Scott Heron said the meaning behind his iconic poem “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised” was that “The first change that should take place is in our minds. You have to change your mind before you change the way you live and move.” The first step is a revolution of thought, including acknowledging the full scope of our belief system — including the thorny parts.
Kendrick gave us great music but also an example of how being in tune with every part of yourself can help you and others succeed. His hate for Drake led to perhaps his most compelling musical era yet, and his decision to publicly humiliate his enemy is poised to be a catalyst for a new chapter of LA rap. Where could mirroring him and embracing the hate for our status quo lead us everyday people?
