It was around the late 70s that the teen-age Antonio Hardy, through friends’ recommendations, came across the teachings of the Five Percent Nation – one of the first groups to spread Islam to African-Americans in New York City. The Harlem neighborhood witnessed young Black people learning that the Black man is God, that Islam is a natural way of living and understanding the universe, as well as Supreme Mathematics and the Alphabet. What transpired is the Muslim Big Daddy Kane (Kane also being an acronym for “King Asiatic Nobody’s Equal”) with an entire generation of Black hip hop artists enriching the golden age of American hip hop with Islam.

Islam has had a growing influence on the communities in New York City. The Great Migration brought African-Americans from the South to the East Coast, and groups like the Moorish Science Temple of America and the Nation of Islam introduced this community to an entirely new religion. Over the late 20th century, NYC welcomed countless Muslims fleeing violence in their home countries into its multicultural arms. Such were the times for a burgeoning Muslim community that contributed to the NYC life, aesthetic, and arts.

Islam pushed through the harder realities of the 21st century, where post-9/11 Islamophobia and restrictive laws during the 2010s aimed to push Muslims to the social periphery. The recent primary victory for mayoral candidate Zohran Mamdani who apparently also made a hip hop track himself served a both victory and vindication for Islam in New York City, where its visibility has been both visceral yet obfuscated.

New York City rapper and singer/songwriter Sumaya Nazar also contributes to this fight for Islam’s recognition in her latest EP 1446. Standing on the shoulders of hip hop giants, in a way, this is her way of reconciling New York, Islam, blackness, and her own self.

From speaking up for environmental issues and shelter fundraising, to raising awareness on vestiges of Western colonialism, Nazar has never shied away from taking a political stance. “People love political rap until it comes from an African woman,” she said on one Tiktok. Hip hop thus naturally came to Nazar as a perennial form of Black resistance.

In one of 1446’s most politically outspoken tracks “THE SUN (interlude),” African cinema godfather Ousmane Sembène’s voice rose through layers of old-school synths as he answered a question about whether Europe would understand his cinema. “Europe is not my center. Europe is on the outskirts. After 100 years here, did they speak my language?” he said. Standing on the shoulder of such a giant, Nazar continues decrying the Eurocentrist legacy of colonialism.

Her reference as “daughter of the sun of the revolution” harks back to lyrics on her other song “EGO OFF THE SHELF,” which alludes to her father’s influence on her music. “Lately I’ve been feeling like my soul is leaking out of me except for when my Baba say he’s proud of me/Still can’t forget the times he doubted me/Yet when I think I can’t go on I think of all my father been through and I say how did he.” Nazar’s identity and fight is not singular. It is a continuation of a decolonization legacy bestowed upon future African-American generations, as perpetual peace-seeking from perpetual violence. As she puts it, “When are my people gonna learn their lesson?/Freedom married to a weapon,” the young rapper calls for harmony and connection among African nations amid divisive times.

It has been almost 40 years since Big Daddy Kane first put “As-salamu alaykum” in his breakout single “Ain’t no half-steppin’.” References to Islam, and Supreme Mathematics spread across New York hip hop’s golden age through names like Kane, and Wu-tang Clan until its eventual decline at the turn of the century. Hence, it becomes an homage to both Islam and Black Hip Hop cultures as Nazar grapples with her religious identity over 90s Hip Hop production in the track “FLOAT ON (ft. zane).” Nazar and her collaborator, zane, both seek a return to faith in the midst of outside chaos. As zane began to ask, “Lost in a sermon of pride and divine, spited by wine, who serves the purpose of God?/But I still can’t do right,” and Nazar reciprocated, “Searching for imaan when I don’t have it/Ask God why all my friends turned to addicts,” the one’s fight to protect faith entangled in worldly turbulence. In a chorus resembling a faint string of thoughts, both speak of a world both cynical and hopeful, “Ain’t no peace where I sleep/Ain’t no bird by my window/ Another cloud turns to gray where I stand/ I just hope you wait on me.”

Through confusion, faith still continues to guide Nazar and zane, just as it had for previous generations fighting for civil rights. “Even through mistakes I know my Lord with me/Sumaya can’t break, they gonna have to kill me,” Nazar says. More than just a personal statement, it is a generational recognition of the faith-led fights for rights by African-American churches and many other groups embracing Black power.

The constant running and fighting never seem to end for Nazar, as illustrated by the track “RUNNIN’,” featuring one of the EP’s most maximalist productions. In a mantra-like iteration of “I had to stop running,” layers of synths and 808 drums float over ticking sounds that both irritate and intensify. All then culminates in a sonic U-turn that pours continuous background falsettos into slowed reverbed synths.

Much can be interpreted from her pre-chorus, “Something in my nervous system/Disconnected I can’t fix/Half the time I’m something different/I had to stop,” for it triggers one’s allusion to mental illness or emotional exhaustion. However, one can realize its alignment with the already established uneasy soundscape, and how it connects to the music video, which features camp-esque choreography and disruptive transitions. 1446’s chaos and breeziness reached an end by the start of “DOWNSIDE,” a standard bar-chorus-bar-bridge-chorus where Nazar pulls off an emotional implosion as she reconciles her own vices after the downfall of a 6-month relationship, “Looks like Nazar outgrew it/ So screw it cus I blew it/ And I knew if I pursued it/ I cannot lead to improvement/ Detriment is my amusement.” Vulnerability runs through 1446 as the rapper reflects upon her troubled mind, her faith, and now her past. Through all the mistakes and pains, for one to take a step is for one to stand still amid trembling chaos. As Nazar puts it, “If I was wise, I advise for a compromise/ But I can’t/ Easy to fall if you never take a stand.” And for all the histories and legacies she stands on, Nazar continues her, and her community’s, own shot in the dark as everyone navigates religion, music, society, and themselves in this volatile age. One has to be brave to speak up, and to go to the end with the fight.