The song ultimately trades in the same theme of racialized self-hatred as Harlem Renaissance author Wallace Thurman’s 1929 novel, The Blacker the Berry. On the world’s biggest stage for celebrating music, Kendrick indicts everyone with ill intentions toward his people in prime time, unapologetically. He’s aware of white supremacist plans for his community, their hatred for his culture. He runs down all the hated features of his hair, his nose, his penis. He’s under no illusions about the fake niceties of micro-aggressive racists and he lets it be known. Trump hasn’t yet been elected still Kendrick seems to speak directly to the basest of his constituency among the nearly 25 million people glued to their televisions, tablets, and smartphones. He repeats the line, which slowly, dramatically unfolds into “The Blacker the Berry,” the second single from his celebrated major label sophomore album, To Pimp a Butterfly. Terrace Martin cries through a saxophone to Kendrick’s left, imprisoned onstage in cell block 29. “I’m the biggest hypocrite of 2015,” he says, invoking his most controversial line that year.

Kendrick leads the night’s nominations, one nomination shy of the most (12) any artist has ever received in one year: the late king of pop Michael Jackson, in 1984. Most of the audience at the 58th annual Grammy Awards waited all night for this moment. He lifts his chained wrists over the microphone mount, sweating, concentrated. Only blue jeans set Kendrick’s uniform apart as he shambles his way to a microphone stand, center stage at the Staples Center arena in downtown Los Angeles.

A four-man chain gang shuffles directly behind him, dressed in drab blue prisoner uniforms. Kendrick Lamar is in chains, shackled and shuffling.

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