POWER TO THE PEOPLE. POWER TO THE MOB.

Written by Shambé Olweny-Pu. Images Supplied.
This feature has been supported as part of The Music Writer’s Lab 2024 Commissioning Fund.

How Hip-Hop is uplifting Indigenous lives

The clock has not long passed 4 pm on a dreary Naarm afternoon when I log on for a video chat with Dem Mob, a hip-hop crew from the APY (Anangu Pitjantjatjara Yankunytjatjara) lands in northern South Australia. The group pops up on screen with manager Matt adjusting the camera while the others kick back, laughing and joking around – they’ve just wrapped up teaching a class, and their high energy is contagious.

This energy carries the conversation through almost two hours, diving deep into how the collective came together, their passions, and their dreams for the future. The crew, originally meeting as three students and one teacher, was formed through their shared love of music and community. Over time, they’ve used hip-hop to connect with young people in Pukatja (f.k.a. Ernabella), a remote town where resources are limited, using their love of music as a tool to engage and inspire the next generation.

Dem Mob is proving that hip-hop is more than just music—it’s a movement that can reshape futures.

Hip-hop began to stir the sunny shores of so-called Australia In the mid-1980s; offering an outlet for the unspoken anger, passion, and energy simmering in the country’s grey cityscapes. While the genre initially focused on the struggles of African-American communities facing institutional racism and poverty, it quickly resonated with Australia’s marginalised groups, particularly its Indigenous and immigrant populations, who experienced similar systemic inequalities.

‘It’s 8.30 in the morning. We had a PA in our classroom with 10 mics. The rest of the school hated it because every morning was like, all the kids are running around, saying “oh what are we rapping about today?” so we got fellas in that class, we got 15 fellas a day, every day. No other class was getting that sort of numbers.’

Dem Mob, on using hip-hop as a form of education

Indigenous Australian artists have since carried forward hip hop’s revolutionary legacy by weaving their unique instrumentations and sampling with bold and politically charged lyricism. Pioneering artists including A.B. Original, Barkaa, and Baker Boy have helped pave the way for a new generation of First Nations hip-hop artists – including supergroup 3% who recently took home the 2024 ARIA Award for Best Hip Hop/Rap Release, amongst a record 22 nominations from Indigenous artists.

Up-and-coming artists are expanding on this cultural fusion by using hip-hop as an educational tool for young people in their circle; as well as a pathway to social change, growth, and transformation. I spoke with artists Yung Milla, Dem Mob, and Kootsie Don, hoping to learn more about how they are reframing hip-hop to educate, inspire, and uplift their communities.

The Evolutionary Path of Hip-Hop

Every shift in the hip-hop philosophy and sonic has been shaped by that era’s politics, histories, and cultural practices. Through the foundational ages of the ’70s and early ’80s, hip-hop found itself characterised by jazzed-laced samples and fun-loving, party-hosting smooth emcees. It was with the emergence of ‘Gansta Rap’ in the later ’80s and into the ’90s that a significant shift began to occur. Fuelled by the necessity to expose and dissect the pain in ghetto communities in a seemingly endless battle with a corrupt and colonial government, hip-hop’s deeply political roots became raw and angry. 

The breakout hit ‘Fuck tha Police’ from NWA was one of many chart toppers to create a sense of urgency within the culture towards speaking up about the realities of police brutality. As hip-hop spread out of the fringes of the Bronx and Harlem and into other major cities white intrigue began to fund its cultural downfall. While the genre gained commercial success, executive interests began to prioritise individual wealth and fame over collective empowerment, diluting hip-hop’s grassroots focus on social change and community solidarity.

Today, thanks to online connectivity, culture is disseminated faster than ever and music has become accessible to the approximately 5 billion people with internet access. Due to its broad appeal and movement towards the forefront of pop and celebrity culture, hip-hop has been evolving at an unprecedented pace. In this exact way, as it has around the globe, hip-hop has become embraced as a culturally accepted avenue and outlet domestically within First Nations settings. Leaders see this as an opportunity to harness, motivate, and actively fund the success of their community. 

Hip-Hop’s Helping Hand

Merging the struggles of Black life with a uniquely Blak sound and style; hip-hop has become a powerful tool for First Nations communities. For many, it’s a way to reclaim voice and power, using music as a universal language to tell their stories. Yung Milla, a rising NT force in Blak resistance and leadership, shared how his music connects with young people facing hardship:

“I built this platform where I can talk about it [his community]. So I’m taking the advantage of using it and just talking about the struggles of where I’m from because there’s a lot of grey areas that aren’t spoken about.’ He explains, ‘Nobody knows, like, how things can affect you, especially when you grow up, and it’s like, your young mind doesn’t know how to deal with it. And then as you grow, your parents don’t know how to deal with it. And then it’s just a cycle.“

Yung Milla, on the connection his music creates

This ambition Milla has, to challenge the warped perspective of First Nations communities through rap, shines through strongest in the lyrics of his newest single called ‘Bossin’:

‘Do this for my people never change on em, like they don’t know the place where we came from. Boy I still shine, dark clouds through the rain storm. I’m traumatised I don’t think that the pain’s gone. I’ve been putting work in to find out and see, if this music can make us to be stronger people cause we came from the streets.’

Yung Milla’s emotional vulnerability on stage has a profound impact, particularly on young people in marginalised communities. He recalls a performance in Alice Springs, “There were kids that were in juvenile detention, and they came out just to watch my performance. And I had boys coming up to me with tears in their eyes, saying how much they related to it. I didn’t know their situation, not until after. But it made a big impact on them, and it made them feel strong, and made them feel at peace with where they were at, and to express the way they feel. Because of seeing me on stage, and, you know, telling my story too, they felt they could tell theirs.“

This raw, honest approach also challenges damaging stereotypes about First Nations people, countering the mainstream narrative that criminal behaviour arises in a vacuum. As YM points out, “People are so quick to judge on, you know, how these kids are reacting to things, but they’re not understanding where they’re coming from, or what they’re seeing on an everyday basis that other people don’t see. That’s these kids calling out for help.“

Milla’s music gives voice to those struggles, empowering younger generations to express their pain without diminishing their strength or power—creating a ripple effect of positive representation within their communities and allowing previously unheard voices to be platformed. 

Kootsie Don, one of fewer female Indigenous rappers, is a direct manifestation of this ripple effect that has spread across the country building momentum in all corners of the land. She enlightened me as to the positive impact she’s made as a female leader in her community and as a rapper:

“My old people didn’t have a voice back in their time, growing up we didn’t see many Aboriginal women on TV or, you know, the music that we listen to. So It’s super special that I can even be on this platform to be able to, you know, express myself and to show these young girls too, you know, you can do it too, regardless if you’re from a small community or not, you know, like, you can do anything you put your mind to.“

Kootsie Don, on the power of representation

Both Yung Milla and Kootsie Don are using hip-hop to connect with struggling communities and spread joy and hope. They helped facilitate the Yidiyi Festival, a two-day event within rural Wadeye that runs music and wellbeing workshops, featuring a lineup of footy stars and hip-hop icons, and topping it off with cultural dances from locals. 

Reimagining Education Through Rhyme

In isolated rural First Nations communities, cultural norms and expectations for young people differ widely from those of young people in the country’s major cities. Many young people begin adulthood at age twelve or thirteen, particularly men who are traditionally initiated into their community around early adolescence. Literacy levels typically fall well below the national average, compounded by a lack of resources and support. Many are also facing challenges in their home life which further impair their ability to attend class regularly. Within a ‘one-size-fits-all’ schooling system, these important cultural differences are often left unconsidered while continual underfunding leaves it near impossible for young people to achieve the same standard of academic success as their metropolitan counterparts.  

In response, First Nations hip-hop artists have created an education model that challenges the disciplinary nature of Western education in a truly radical way – instead empowering young people to take learning into their own hands. 

Dem Mob, a hip-hop collective consisting of vocalists Pay Day (Elijah) J-Lou (Jontae Lawrie) Basso Edwards, and DJ/Manager/friend Matt, is a brilliant and grounded multi-hyphenate that continues to put community first through their music. As we spoke, they revealed they were the first in their community to rap in the Pitjantjatjara language – about community issues no less. Within their fascinating origin story lies the key to a pivotal change in the way education is viewed and distributed.

Matt recalls how the collective first got involved with local education by using rap to engage then-student and now member of the wider group, John Day. “We turned his entire curriculum into music—one song could cover multiple subjects. Over two years, John Day became the first initiated man in Annabella to ever get an SACE (South Australian Certificate of Education). The school started 80 years ago. So it’s not only the fact that it’s been 80 years, it took someone to do it.“

After this period, each group member, all with a background in social work and local education initiatives, created Dem Mob, and the bigger picture began to take shape. Rapper Elijah elaborates: “It’s about how we can use hip-hop with our music, culture, and language. To put those things together to embrace and encourage the younger generation and create sustainable opportunities.“

Dem Mob’s educational approach is rooted in strength-based social work, focusing on individual strengths and interests. By incorporating hip-hop, they’ve boosted literacy, attendance, and overall well-being in their community. With industry acclaim under their belt via a recent showcase slot at BIGSOUND 2024, and their listenership climbing, Dem Mob continues to elevate their community with their new, travelling music education program facilitated through TAFE SA. 

Impact And Importance

The focus of Dem Mob, Kootsie Don, and Yung Milla remains firmly on uplifting their communities through their artistry and running festivals and programs, echoing the block parties and jam sessions of foundational ’70s hip-hop; yet it is evident they are building upon and taking it leaps further. 

A glance over a music video, or through festival photos and you will be overwhelmed with vivid imagery of young people, in crowds and classrooms, beaming with pride, joy, and awe at artists who are not merely role models, but big brothers and sisters to a generation. It is this precious relationship that fosters connection and understanding – without judgment – extending a helping hand to embed confidence and empower literacy through the swagger of hip-hop and the art of rap.

While merely a snapshot of similar works being undertaken across the land, these individuals are playing a role that goes so much further than crafting a verse – they are actively transforming the way we understand and approach education – transforming the realities and lives of a people too long under-recognized, under-funded, and under-considered.

It is through music, that brighter futures can be imagined. From remote communities to centre stage at the music industry’s night of nights – that dream is now very much a reality – one which not only enables a vast culture and tradition to stay alive, but to thrive. Through hip-hop, destinies are being transformed, and it is imperative that these success stories are celebrated and shared; inspiring hope for generations to come.