If you tell me that Hiphop is dead, then I'd tell you that you are not doing enough individually and/or socially to resurrect it. Being Buddhist, I was born into a world of spirits, where I was in constant communication with another world, one that demanded respect for your ancestors. I discovered Hiphop when I was twelve, and tried to encapsulate it in Maxell cassette tapes, splitting my attention between my schoolwork and the pause button. In my world, Hiphop became another spirit I had to respect and investigate. I listened to as many old school tracks I could find. I copped underground Rock Steady Crew videos from Music Factory in the Bronx, listened to lectures from legendary figures like Ken Swift and Kool Herc. I took my research online when I finally had access to the internet.
At the same time, I applied these research skills to my family history. All around me were ghosts who had passed away in the Khmer Rouge work camps. The Khmer Rouge regime ruled Cambodia from 1975-1979 and instituted an agrarian utopia, leading to the deaths of an estimated two million people through starvation, disease, and murder. This was my legacy and I felt a responsibility not only to educate myself, but to share this story with others.
Fast forward to 2009. I had been wanting to finish a collection of poetry focused on my family's experiences as refugees and survivors of the Khmer Rouge regime, but as 2010 approached, I had not yet fulfilled this goal and the ghosts were haunting me... My 2010 resolution began as a series of self-examination questions in my windowless, corporate office at Forbes Magazine. As I was sitting there, unhappy, I asked myself what really mattered to me. Well, let's start with what didn't matter to me: this expensive suit, my title as Manager, these company projects that I was working on, and in general, money. It took me awhile, but I finally realized that money would not make me happy. And as I came to this realization, I felt a certain freedom and happiness that I had not experienced in awhile. This was a feeling that I had not experienced in the five years that I had worked at Forbes Magazine. But I've felt this "passion" before: top-rocking to break beats in b-boy circles, writing poems, receiving a call from some guy in prison who thanked me for the records I was spinning on Harvard radio.
In a sense, the ghosts of Hiphop and my ancestors sat me down, slapped me around a little bit, and woke me up, demanding that I be true to myself. And this is what Hiphop is really about... the truth. So as Hiphop sheds its skin everyday, redefining itself as it is lived, expressed, honored, examined, abused, and co-opted by its practitioners, admirers, and perpetrators, I do what I can as an individual to pay respects to the spirit of Hiphop, to make sure that I also shed my skin and replenish my soul. My 2010 resolution is to be true to myself, to finish this collection of poetry not only for myself, but also for "my people." And I would not have been able to come to this resolution if not for the spirit of Hiphop.

Chhay Chhun aka DJ Bobby Drake
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chhay.chhun@gmail.com