‘The Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill’ Is Sacred Listening For The Black Community

By Brooklyn White ·May 26, 2021May 26, 2021

My Auntie Rhoda’s CD collection was the business.

I mean, she had albums from Da Brat, India.Arie, Carl Thomas (and any other Black artist who was making waves in the 1990s) all in little slots. Excuse me while I reminisce over the days of instantly recognizable album art and the nervousness that came with accidentally breaking the plastic bits that held the CD case together.

Anyways, my aunt, like many other other Black women, bought Lauryn Hill’s debut project. I was a tot watching Hill walk tall above a city built on vinyl grooves in ‘Everything Is Everything.’ A teenaged John Legend sounded damn good thumping those piano keys. The record scratches were pronounced and my, how that drum kicked. But more than the technical sound, the song felt good. It was fresh. So began my conscious treasuring of The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill.

Ten years later, my sonic taste had obviously been elaborated on. Yet, I was still very much interested in the gospel-meets-raw soul Hill presented and stood by. I had begun to respect her words, deeply. I grew up in a small, storefront-turned-church in the Deep South, so “Final Hour” was a rehashed lesson on material pursuit. “Superstar” asked me to reconcile with how popular rap had strayed from politically focused roots. “Ex-Factor” was a slow burner that spoke to relational complexity and decisions that aren’t difficult on paper, but emotionally so. The self-titled finishing cut was an early talk on destiny and manifestation, back when the latter didn’t have as much of a presence in the mainstream lexicon. The album was a honey-laced scolding, a relatable weaving of relationship talk and a boost of confidence all in one. As a Black woman coming into my adulthood in the time of instant communication and societal devaluation, I needed Miseducation. So I bought my own copy, that gained more than a few scratches, at a used record store.