Hip hop and R&B didn’t just build stars — they built worlds. From Rap City to 106 & Park, BET was once the cultural compass that guided us toward new music, new artists, and the narratives behind them. These platforms weren’t just shows — they were classrooms, stages, and sanctuaries.
But look around today. BET is a shell of itself, and the communal places we once had to discover, learn, and debate music have withered away. And no, I don’t blame streaming, algorithms, or TikTok. I blame us — the culture.
The Gatekeeping That Crippled Growth
Hip hop and R&B were built on struggle, hustle, and innovation. The pioneers fought tooth and nail to break through barriers, often with little support. But instead of opening doors for the next wave, too many artists, executives, and cultural leaders slammed them shut. The logic? “I had to grind, so you should too.”
That mindset might’ve made sense in the ’80s and ’90s when the industry was uncharted territory. But times changed. Opportunities expanded. The same industry leaders who made millions off the backs of artists in the 2000s got comfortable—spoiled, even. They forgot that the machine — the Rap City basements, the 106 stages, the award shows — was what made them household names in the first place.
BET’s Lost Responsibility
BET’s decline is more than corporate restructuring, canceled shows, and ownership changes. It’s cultural negligence.
When you cancel award ceremonies that celebrate our artistry, when you stop investing in shows that spotlight the next wave, when you sell out pieces of the company without reinvesting in the culture, you don’t just lose ratings. You lose the heartbeat.
BET had the power to evolve alongside hip hop and R&B, but it chose to chase shortcuts and trends instead of doubling down on its roots. That choice sent ripples through the culture. It left artists with fewer credible platforms and fans with fewer shared experiences.
The Everyday Person is the New Gatekeeper
Today, anyone with Wi-Fi, a mic, and a vision can upload music and find an audience. That should be a beautiful thing — it’s democratized creativity. But because the industry refused to grow and nurture new platforms, artists are left navigating a sea of noise without the cultural anchors we once had.
The lesson? You can’t expect corporate entities to do all the work. Artists, executives, and cultural leaders have to return to their roots. Work like it’s your first demo tape. Build communities, not just clout. Stop blaming algorithms and start embracing change.
What Needs to Happen Next
Corporate entities must invest in culture, not just cash cows. It doesn’t take much to revive platforms like Rap City – just a little money, vision, and humility. Artists must remember their love for the art. Grind like you did when nobody was watching. The culture must engage with positivity. Stop pushing division and toxicity. Celebrate growth, embrace new voices, and expand the gates instead of guarding them.
The Bigger Picture
BET forgot its responsibility. But so did we. Hip hop and R&B can’t thrive if we keep gatekeeping, hoarding resources, and fearing change. The culture is ours to protect and grow. If we want platforms like BET to matter again, or if we’re going to build new ones, we have to reclaim the bigger picture: unity, creativity, and legacy.
Because behind every song, behind every stage, behind every movement, there’s a culture that either rises together or falls apart.
And right now? We’ve got to do better.
Written By: Joseph Ellick
