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But something more interesting was going on: the bit was significant in part because it wasn't aimed at the ears of whites. Blacks have long complained about being ignored by the larger community, unheard, unseen. Rock's riff aired on HBO, not BET, but it was about black folks, for black folks. He didn't care what whites thought or whether they were even listening. Suddenly whites were the ones rendered invisible, inaudible.
As minority communities swell, no doubt more conversations on the national stage will take place without reference to whites, as darker Americans bounce to hip-hop and live la vida loca without caring how it affects their image in the eyes of the white community. "Now [members of the mainstream media] have to live with [Rock] even though he makes them uncomfortable," chuckles Simmons. "And I think that's fabulous."
Wit-making is not at the disposal of all, in general there are but a few persons to whom one can point and say they are witty. --Ibid.
You are standing in front of Chris Rock's home: a carriage house in Brooklyn, ivy hanging from the front, a quiet street except for a kid a block or two away blasting Bob Marley's Is This Love from the open windows of his van. Malaak, Rock's wife, answers the door, and a rat-size terrier explodes out, yapping. "That's Essence," says Malaak. Named after Essence, the magazine? "Named after the [1993] Essence Awards, where Chris and I first met," she corrects.
Malaak leads you up the stairs, past three framed posters of Miles Davis, past a shelf containing pictures of Rock's family and copies of books like Dorothy West's The Wedding, into the kitchen, where Rock, dressed in a Phat Farm T shirt, sweat pants and white gym socks, is watching the world track-and-field championships on TV and flipping through the sports section of the Daily News. Some of Rock's friends suggest that the couple have experienced domestic difficulties of late, but right now they look comfortable together; relaxed, laid back. Still, there's a little work mixed in with this lazy Sunday afternoon--Rock's searching for material in the paper for his jokes for the MTV Video Music Awards.
Rock, despite his brash stage persona, is often subdued in private. His head writer, Jeff Stilson, says the man viewers see on Rock's specials is actually "Chris Rock times 1,000." Still, when a subject strikes a chord with him, Rock will go off on a comic jam session. Take white rap-rock. "It's kind of sad that when you watch MTV, you don't see a lot of cool white guys anymore that are cool without acting black," he says. "Like when I was a kid, Axl Rose was cool. David Lee Roth was cool. And they were cool and white. And acting white. Comfortable in their whiteness. Now everybody tries to act black. Kid Rock looks like he sleeps in RUN-D.M.C.'s closet."