Let’s talk about something that has not been talked enough — decades, even.
You see, every few months, a song goes viral. A new artist (or sometimes an old one we forgot about) drops a beautiful rendition of a song, and suddenly the internet turns into a courtroom.
People are out here shouting, “They stole that from so-and-so!”
“They’re not even giving credit to the original artist!”
And — let me guess — the original artist is black, and the one singing the viral version is white, right?
Now pause. Before we go further, breathe. This is not one of those blogs where I ignore history, or pretend racial injustice hasn’t shaped the music industry. Trust me, I know it has. I’ve read, I’ve researched, and I understand it. But this post? This post isn’t about that.
This is about people typing with their emotions instead of their facts.
Let’s start here: covers have existed forever. Some of the biggest stars in music — from Whitney Houston to Mariah Carey, Aretha Franklin to Luther Vandross — built legendary moments off covers. Yes, songs that someone else originally sang.
Now here’s where it gets spicy.
Sometimes, that original singer? They weren’t even the originator.
Let me say that again: the person you’re defending in the comments might not even be the first person to sing that song. They might’ve done their own cover. Or someone wrote it for them. Or it was part of a licensing deal. Or it’s been passed around so many times it’s basically public property by now.
But what do people do instead?
They rush to the comments like keyboard warriors:
“This white artist is stealing our culture!”
“They didn’t even tag the original singer!”
“Black people don’t get respected in music!”
Wait. Hold up.
Did you stop to ask:
Who actually wrote the song?
Was the version you loved even the first one?
Are you defending the performer… or just projecting?
Because I’ve seen it too many times: outrage, rants, accusations — all based on wrong information. And the worst part? When someone calmly explains the history, people ignore it. No likes. No apologies. Just tumbleweeds and continued misinformation.
Here’s my thing: if we want to protect black artistry (and we should), we have to respect the facts just as much as we respect the feelings.
We can’t scream “they stole it!” when the person we’re defending was also doing a version of someone else’s work. That’s not empowerment. That’s selective memory.
Music is a shared language. It travels, it evolves, it loops back. There are cases of genuine theft, yes — and those should absolutely be called out. But let’s not lump every cover into that category just because we’re used to a face or a voice.
Sometimes a white artist covers a black artist. Sometimes a black artist covers a white artist. Sometimes the original was neither.
So next time a new version of an old favorite pops up, let’s ask better questions:
Who wrote it?
Who sang it first?
Who got paid?
And most importantly:
Is this an opportunity to appreciate the song’s journey — not just the face we’re used to seeing?
Because if we stop arguing in the comments and start reading the credits, we might all learn something.
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