With all of the hype surrounding 50 Cent’s movie, Get Rich or Die Tryin’, it occurs to me that my generation is mentally enslaved.

We are still stuck in a mentality that promotes infatuation with lavish lifestyles and get-rich-quick schemes. The imagery of a black male on a billboard with a gun only perpetuates stereotypes about the black male.

In response to a CNN reporter’s questioning of a “half-naked male” on the billboard, 50 Cent cited the millions of images we see every day with sexual connotations. Yes, there are many sexually explicit ads, but this counter comes from a man whose “P.I.M.P.” video featured scantily clad women with leashes around their necks. And yes, many blockbuster action movies incorporate violence committed by white males, but they are not blasted on billboards underscored by a lasting legacy of oppression in our society.

The media holds much power; heavy-hitters like 50 Cent can use it to their advantage to progress the black community. Being in the limelight should bring with it a sense of social responsibility for the hip-hop generation. 50 Cent, who has lived a hard life and benefited financially from its glorification, should take responsibility for his generation.

The youth of Black America are not only locked in prisons and placed on probation or parole, but we consume the ability to “get rich or die tryin'” while the political economy of the oppressed hides within the fabric of America. We seem to have lost the fighting spirit of the Civil Rights generation, embodied by the legacy of Rosa Parks.

My generation lives in an expansion of W.E.B DuBois’s double consciousness. Being black in America means having more than two identities. The political economy of Black America has created a new veil, sealed with the ills of triple jeopardy: racism, classism and sexism. Times have changed, and these issues may not be as overt as they were in DuBois’s time, but they still exist. Race, though an illusion, has been made real through the social constructions we have developed in society. This illusion has shaped the way we view our world and its policies, societal roles and institutions. We cannot remain blind to this phenomenon.

We need to open our eyes a little wider and see that activism goes beyond mandated community service and volunteering every once in a while. It’s not just a black or white thing. Yesterday’s Black Codes have transformed themselves into today’s class codes. Hurricane Katrina remains an example of the intersection of race, class and gender in today’s society. The political economy of America only reinforces these codes.

My generation places false hope in the wealthy, dreaming of becoming like 50 Cent and P. Diddy. Our heroes and heroines do not always reside in the flashy lifestyle of rap moguls; they should be living, tangible examples of strength that come from the depths of the fabric of America. In my eyes, Katrina victims should be lionized as heroic. The historical value and significance of working class communities remain part of America’s legacy.

We mislead ourselves by buying into the estranged, yet dominant, societal impressions that dance in our heads. So I say: Let’s talk about fragmentation and the black population. Let’s discuss the accomplishments of forgotten, noble black figures. Do you know about George Bridgetower, the 19th century violinist and composer? We cannot stop with the legacy of Rosa.

I will not embrace the “get rich or die tryin'” mentality. My generation needs some semblance of a revolutionary spirit. Until then, I am a member of the hip-hop generation who will die fighting to free myself from mental incarceration.

Takirra Winfield is a senior communication and Afro-American studies major. She can be reached at twinfiel@wam.umd.edu.