When Houston’s hip-hop station, 97.9 The Box, released an AI-generated “Houston Rap Mount Rushmore” featuring Beyoncé, Scarface, Slim Thug, and Paul Wall, it was presented as a celebration. But it should have been a wake-up call.
The real tragedy isn’t who made the list. The tragedy is that this is what we’ve come to celebrate.
The men on the real Mount Rushmore — Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, Lincoln — built something that outlived them. They founded nations, fought wars, expanded liberty, and laid foundations for generations they would never meet.
And what did Houston’s rap legends build?
They built fame, personal wealth, and brands to sell back to a community still stuck in the same brokenness they rapped about escaping.
No neighborhoods were built. No institutions were built. No blueprints were passed down.
We crowned men and women for surviving the storm, but none for building the ark. We celebrated escape, not establishment.
This is the crisis:
We don’t celebrate builders anymore. Instead, we celebrate the performers. We don’t look for pioneers. We look for personalities.
And that is why the story keeps repeating itself; generation after generation:
Famous
Broke
Angry
Forgotten
The future doesn’t belong to those who rap about survival. The future belongs to those who build something stronger than survival — something that lasts.
Until we stop mistaking celebrity for leadership, until we stop trading builders for entertainers, Black America will continue to chase shadows, while other cultures build empires.
It’s not about who’s talented. It’s about who’s building.
And right now, there aren’t nearly enough men with dirt under their nails and blueprints in their hands. That’s the Mount Rushmore we need.
