Soul -- Kube Hears Criticism Over White Djs `Sounding Black,' But Does Race Matter On The Air?

WHEN TREASURE HUNTER, A 19-YEAR-OLD STUDENT, BEGAN RESEARCHING TO write an article on African Americans and radio earlier this year, a natural place to start was KUBE (93.3 FM). It was the third most popular station in Seattle, it played rhythm-and-blues and rap by black artists, and Hunter assumed the disc jockeys were African Americans.

When she asked to speak with the black DJs, she was told there were none. She insisted that Shellie Hart, a daytime DJ, must be black. Hart regularly said on air, "Wazzuuuup?" "You go, girl!" and "Mo' money, mo' money, mo' money!" during giveaways.

Hunter became angry that a station that played mostly music by blacks had no black DJs at the time, and that its DJs were "trying to sound black."

"It's a double standard," said Hunter, who is African American. "If you're white and talk like that, it's cool. But if you're black, and you talk like that, you're uneducated, you're dumb."

Her complaints, echoed by other African-American listeners, raise questions: In a non-visual medium like radio, how important is race? How does the race of on-air talent and management affect a station's identity?

Unlike TV, where the race of on-air personalities is obvious, radio relies on the mystique of the DJ. Race, age, and appearance are inferred. And in this age of computerized playlists and marketing focus groups, DJs have little influence in shaping the music a station plays. So does a DJ's race matter?

Some African-American listeners say that race is significant because DJs can be role models for teens and young adults - the bulk of KUBE's audience. And a station's employees can help shape its community interests.

Since April, KUBE has hired two part-time, African-American DJs; the station also has some black employees who are not heard on the air. The hirings have quelled some frustration among critics but also have fueled the debate. Listeners who complain about white DJs "sounding black" also complain that one of the black DJs "sounds white." Ultimately, the tension is over who "owns" language, music and culture, over who has a right to talk and act a certain way.

"Music has no color," says KUBE's program director and operations manager Bob Case, who is white. "People don't divide music by race." He said KUBE's announcers don't "sound black."

"They sound like themselves," he said. "DJs use the vernacular of the day."

Whites long have copied and capitalized on the talent of black entertainers and athletes, and the latest crossover phenomenon - of white fashion moguls and musicians incorporating hip-hop, and of white, surburban kids buying rap CDs - is no exception.

"Historically, it has always been difficult for us to control and benefit from the cultural products we create," said Norman Harris, who heads the African-American studies department at the University of Cincinnati.

Often, a cultural trend that starts in the African-American community is considered "subpar," he said, until it is imitated, controlled, and usually watered down, by the mainstream.

"The relationship between blacks and whites has never been one of collegiality and equality," said Harris. "It has always been one of exploitation. It doesn't take much to push that button."

Which might explain the anger from Nathan Saint Clair, an 18-year-old African-American senior at Garfield High School, who dislikes when the KUBE DJs adopt black speech, and when suburban whites adopt black, urban culture.

"It's in to be black, it's in to be ghetto," he said. "When people try to be like that, they don't understand there's a whole culture behind the speech."

We define ourselves by the choices we make - what music we listen to, clothes we wear, words we use.

When black teens see whites imitating "their" look and sound, they perceive an erosion in their identity by a group that has historically oppressed them, Harris said.

"It's `You want to be like us, you want to imitate our culture, but you don't respect our humanity,' " he said. "That is the basis of their anger."

Unflattering imitation

Linguistically, whites adopting black vernacular is nothing new; consider "dig it" and "cool." But according to John Baugh, a professor of linguistics, education and anthropology at Stanford University, when whites have imitated black dialect, it historically has been in a racist, mocking context.

"In a sincere attempt to relate to black culture, many people may not realize that it can be seen as patronizing," said Baugh, who is African American. He also noted a double standard between blacks and whites.

"When a black person speaks in black dialect, he is perceived as someone who doesn't recognize standard English," he said. "When a white person co-opts black dialect and vernacular, not only is it all right, it's very, very hip."

On the other side of the debate are both blacks and whites who say that cultural choices should be available to everyone, regardless of race and origin; to define culture racially is to be divisive.

Joel Denver, the contemporary hit radio editor of R & R, a weekly radio and records trade journal, is among them.

"All (KUBE) is doing is playing music that gets them ratings," said Denver, who is white. "It happens to be rhythmic. That is the kind of music that is popular now. Look at MTV! Is it black music? It's just music. A lot of blacks call up talk radio stations. Does that make that a black station? No! It certainly does not."

After Chet Buchanan, a 26-year-old white DJ at KUBE, appeared at an assembly at Garfield High School, the school's paper ran an editorial lampooning Buchanan's speech, quoting him saying, "Yo, I'm tellin' you that KUBE is down with Garfield!" The editorial was written by a 17-year-old white student who accused the station of "sucking up" to Garfield and the Central District to boost ratings.

`Are there wrong words?'

Buchanan called the editorial inaccurate and "totally blown out of proportion."

"I would like somebody to explain to me: Tell me which are the wrong words?" Buchanan said. "Are there wrong words? Are there words I shouldn't say?

"I'm not racial," he said. "I don't think that way. I don't believe that way."

"Nasty-Nes" Rodriguez - a part-time DJ at KUBE and co-founder of the now-defunct Nastymix label (which launched the career of local rapper Sir Mix-A-Lot) - said that speech is largely the result of environment. Rodriguez also hosts a rap show on KCMU and runs a music promotions company.

"It's like you kind of absorb what's around you," said Rodriguez, who is Filipino. "If someone's into rock music, they'll probably pick up things like, `Hey dude, what's up?' It just comes naturally."

Buchanan used to sign off from his show by saying, "There's no white, there's no black, we're all in this together. (There's only) intelligence and ignorance. And when the lights are out, we're all black."

He dropped that portion of the sign-off after listeners became "uptight," he said.

"The point I was trying to highlight was that we're all here," he said. "So, I just thought, man, if people can't even hear it, and make the conscious choice to turn it off, then fine. Then I won't do it. It was too long anyway."

As much as whites who "sound black" anger some listeners, the reverse is also controversial: Afri-can-American DJs who "sound white."

Those criticisms have centered on Tom Reddick, an African-American DJ who was hired at KUBE in April. The former program director of KKFX, an urban AM station that went off the air, Reddick said he is upset with listeners who accuse him of "being white."

"When I got the job (at KUBE), the first thing people said was, `Oh, he's not black. He's not really black.' Why? Because I don't sound like I'm from the ghetto?" said Reddick, who is from Tacoma.

"Who's the guy who wrote the rule that all African Americans must speak a certain way?" said Reddick. "Or act a certain way, or dress a certain way?"

When Reddick was starting out 18 years ago, he wanted to be a DJ for a black music show at a Tacoma radio station. The people in charge of the show were African American and told him he sounded "too white" for the show, Reddick said.

"These are my own people saying you can't be on the black show," he said. "Now it's the same thing at KUBE when people say, `Oh, he's not black.' My own people saying this.

"I remember there used to be this campaign against racism, to celebrate the differences," said Reddick. "We have stopped respecting a person for their differences."