In the early 1990s, the Rev. Calvin Butts fashioned himself as an advocate for inner-city black neighborhoods. From the pulpit of Abyssinian Baptist Church in Harlem, Butts campaigned against advertisements for liquor and cigarettes.
In the spring of 1993, he identified another malignant force: violent and misogynistic rap music.
“I may have more in common with a white man who loves humanity than I do with a black man who thinks he ought to call all women Bs and hoes,” Butts said in a TV interview. “There is some point where we can’t be pushed into this corner and say, you know, just for the sake of unity we ought to keep this quiet.”
Butts singled out some rap acts by name: NWA, 2 Live Crew, and the Geto Boys. He called their music “filth.”
And he didn’t just rant against rap from the pulpit. On the morning of June 5, 1993, he led a few hundred supporters to the sidewalk in front of his church. There, he’d placed several boxes of cassette tapes and compact discs. He also had a steamroller.
But when Butts climbed aboard and got ready to start crushing, he found that his path was blocked. Dozens of rap fans had showed up to stage a counterprotest. They shouted that the reverend was out of touch and accused him of censorship.
Taking in the tense scene, Butts called off the steamrolling.
Instead, he and his followers boarded a bus to midtown Manhattan. There, they dumped everything in front of the Madison Avenue headquarters of the Sony Corporation. Sony, Butts said, was “representative of an industry which laughs at black people all the way to the bank.”
Some members of Butts’ group crushed the music under their feet for good measure. “Recognize that this poison kills,” Butts said into the megaphone that day. “This is your garbage. Take it back!”
In the spring of 1993, he identified another malignant force: violent and misogynistic rap music.
“I may have more in common with a white man who loves humanity than I do with a black man who thinks he ought to call all women Bs and hoes,” Butts said in a TV interview. “There is some point where we can’t be pushed into this corner and say, you know, just for the sake of unity we ought to keep this quiet.”
Butts singled out some rap acts by name: NWA, 2 Live Crew, and the Geto Boys. He called their music “filth.”
And he didn’t just rant against rap from the pulpit. On the morning of June 5, 1993, he led a few hundred supporters to the sidewalk in front of his church. There, he’d placed several boxes of cassette tapes and compact discs. He also had a steamroller.
But when Butts climbed aboard and got ready to start crushing, he found that his path was blocked. Dozens of rap fans had showed up to stage a counterprotest. They shouted that the reverend was out of touch and accused him of censorship.
Taking in the tense scene, Butts called off the steamrolling.
Instead, he and his followers boarded a bus to midtown Manhattan. There, they dumped everything in front of the Madison Avenue headquarters of the Sony Corporation. Sony, Butts said, was “representative of an industry which laughs at black people all the way to the bank.”
Some members of Butts’ group crushed the music under their feet for good measure. “Recognize that this poison kills,” Butts said into the megaphone that day. “This is your garbage. Take it back!”