Hill’s raw honesty and exploration into Black womanhood, relationships, religion and self-love have been a guiding light for many young people over the past three decades, and I am no different. 

Twenty-five years ago, rapper and singer-songwriter Lauryn Hill transformed the music industry with the release of her solo debut, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. The critically acclaimed album won Album of the Year at the 41st Grammy Awards in 1999, making Hill the first hip-hop artist to win in that category. She became the first solo female artist to win five Grammys in one night. 

Hill’s debut broke musical and social barriers, thrusting Black women and rap into the mainstream. 

Hill’s raw honesty and exploration into Black womanhood, relationships, religion and self-love have been a guiding light for many young people over the past three decades, and I am no different. 

My journey with Lauryn Hill’s music began at a young age. I recall Saturday mornings at my mother’s beauty salon, staring out the window and hearing Lauryn Hill’s warning boom through the speakers, “Girls you know you better watch out/Some guys some guys are only about that thing.”

At seven, I wasn’t sure exactly what “thing” Lauryn was referring to, yet I knew I should heed her words of wisdom. 

I remember nights of driving home with my mother as Lauryn’s voice melted with neo-soul artist D’Angelo on “Nothing Even Matters,” as I watched the glow of the yellow street light wash over me. While I wouldn’t truly understand the meaning of these songs until I was older, I found beauty in them at a young age. I’ve come to realize that at the time, I was a very sensitive child with a love for music and art that expressed how I felt; little has changed about that.  

During my junior year of high school, I found myself returning to the album as a way to decompress throughout one of my most stressful years of education. It was then that I had become obsessed with “Every Ghetto, Every City.” 

The track finds Hill fondly reminiscing about her upbringing: both the good and bad. It follows her through her young childhood days of watching Saturday morning cartoons to adulthood. In the chorus, Hill repeats, “You know it’s hot/Don’t forget, what you got.” Throughout the chorus, Hill emphasizes the importance of staying true to honoring one’s roots. 

I find that to align with me to this day. As someone who grew up in the city, I have experienced people and situations that have shaped my worldview, and I have grown with them. They are a part of me, and I am a product of them. 

Hill’s vulnerability resonates with me today, as she manages to capture the essence of being a young adult and trying to figure it all out. Early adulthood can be painful, yet eye-opening. I feel as though Hill manages to bring life to feelings around topics such as heartbreak, self-love and figuring out your purpose through her lyricism. 

Hill managed to not shy away from vulnerability, but what I find to be the most beautiful is how she embraced love within that – most importantly, Black motherly love. In her achingly moving ballad “To Zion,” featuring guitarist Carlos Santana, the song takes listeners into her life as a teen mom, right as her career was taking off in 1997. She speaks tenderly of her first-born child, “Now the joy of my world is in Zion!” 

During my junior year at DePaul, I was enrolled in an African and Black Diaspora Studies course that focused on Black love. I was tasked with curating a presentation on what Black love meant to me. Given the freedom to choose the medium, I created a Black Love playlist and opened it with “To Zion.” Hill’s declaration of love and protection reminded me that oftentimes the first love we receive is that of a mother. 

 

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Many may question why Hill only released this album and never a follow-up. In my opinion, she wrote a love letter to us and Hip-Hop. Lauryn was able to showcase that there was humanity in hip-hop despite all of the violence surrounding it at the time. She also managed to eloquently show Black womanhood in such a distinct and rare light that the mainstream lacked at the time and ultimately paved the way for other Black women in music to follow suit. 

Hill ultimately taught me that in a world that will attempt to harden you, vulnerability is a gift. 

Header by Julia Hester