MHM Psychocultural Artist Series: Introducing Notorious BSSG (Black Sheep, Scapegoat)
Updated: 2 hours ago
An Interview with A Universal Role In Many Family Systems.
Before Notorious BSSG ever put his name on a record, other people had already been putting his name on things for years: family tension, someone's hurt feelings, a holiday that went "left," an argument he participated in, an argument he did not participate in, a tone, a boundary, a facial expression, something somebody heard he supposedly said three years ago. The list could go on and on. His name stayed in circulation.
That is part of what makes the Black Sheep Scapegoat role so difficult to recognize from the inside because when a story about you has been repeated long enough, by enough people, it can begin to feel less like someone else's interpretation and more like evidence of who you are. Eventually, you may find yourself trying to solve a question you would never have thought to question in the first place: What is wrong with me?
Notorious BSSG knows that question well.
Now, he has a different one. "What if their understanding of me didn't define me at all?"
For the first installment of the MHM Psychocultural Artist Series, Mental Health Monarchs® sat down with the newly self-defined Black Sheep Scapegoat, otherwise known as Notorious BSSG, following the release of his debut single, "Blame It on the Black Sheep."
He had some things to say.
MHM: Was there a moment when you realized you weren't being judged only on what you did or said -you were being judged through a reputation that had already been built for you?
BSSG: Yeah. I think the moment it really clicked...
was when I realized the people closest to me seemed more hell-bent on who they thought I was without being curious about who I actually am...
That did something to me because I kept feeling like I always had to prove myself, somehow. I thought if I explained myself better, calmed down more, chose the right words, or showed them I meant well, they'd eventually see me differently.
But I started noticing no one cared about how I felt.
If I reacted, the conversation suddenly shifted to my attitude instead of the harmful thing I experienced. If I got frustrated, that became proof I was difficult, instead of me simply being mad because I felt mistreated.
And that's what confused me for a long ass time because when you're younger, you don't necessarily have language for that. I wasn't sitting there thinking, My family is f*cked up! They keep telling me how I feel, what I meant, and holding my responses against me without addressing me as a person who'd been hurt.
I kept being cast as the problem, so I started to think that maybe I really was the problem. Maybe I am too sensitive…all that sh*t I kept hearing.
So, after hearing that kind of sh*t long enough, I started watching myself through everybody else's eyes. I questioned my reactions before I trusted them. I would leave conversations replaying everything I said, trying to figure out where I went wrong.
That was probably the hardest part. It wasn't just that they had an idea about me.
For a while, I started using their idea of me to understand myself.
MHM: If you were hearing that version of yourself over and over, how much of it did you eventually start believing?
BSSG: More than I want to admit...
I wish I could give you that nice version where, deep down, I always knew exactly who I was, and everybody else was just confused about me. That ain't what happened.
I believed a lot of that shit.
And I think that's what people miss when they tell you, "You know who you are. Don't worry about what anybody else thinks." Man, that sounds good, but these weren't random people on the street. These were the people I learned myself around. So, when enough of them kept saying I was difficult, selfish, disrespectful, too sensitive, always taking something the wrong way...I didn't have some secret, fully formed version of myself tucked away somewhere that knew better.
I legit kept looking for evidence that they were right. I kept dating similar people and everything, and I didn't understand why I kept finding myself in similar situations.
So, I kept trying to overexplain everything, and I replayed conversations to figure out how I could say something in a different way so nobody could twist it or get mad at me. I would leave a situation and run it back in my head like I was studying game footage.
Did I say that wrong? Was my tone off? Should I have just let it go? Was my face doing something? Maybe I need to call back. Maybe I should apologize first.
And sometimes I would apologize when I didn't even know what the hell I was apologizing for. I just knew somebody was upset with me, and somewhere along the way I learned that if somebody was upset with me, I probably did something wrong.
That wore my ass out.
Because eventually you're not even responding like you anymore. You're monitoring yourself while you're talking. You're trying to have the conversation and watch yourself have the conversation at the same time.
And after a while, they don't even have to be in the room before you start anticipating their objections before you've even opened your mouth.
That was probably one of the hardest things for me to unlearn: I had spent so much time trying not to be who they said I was that I hadn't spent nearly enough time figuring out who the hell I actually was.
MHM: So, what finally made you stop assuming the problem was you and start questioning the pattern itself?
BSSG: Honestly? I got tired of feeling like shit. That was really it…
I was tired of replaying everything. Tired of feeling confused after conversations. Tired of getting into relationships that somehow left me feeling the same way my family did. Tired of wondering whether I was too sensitive, too much, too defensive, too whatever-the-hell somebody was saying about me. I felt like I didn't know who I was outside of what someone else said.
And for a long time, I thought about therapy, but I still didn't think therapy was for me.
I had some of the same ideas a lot of Black folks grow up hearing. Therapy is for white people. Therapy is for people who can't handle their own problems. You don't go tell some stranger your business. What is somebody who doesn't know your family gonna' tell you about your family?
All that! [he laughed]
And honestly, the "stranger" part ended up being one of the reasons it helped me.
I needed somebody who did not already have a role for me to play.
Somebody who wasn't going to leave our conversation and call my auntie. Somebody who didn't need to protect anybody's feelings because they'd known them for thirty years. Somebody who wasn't already waiting for me to become the version of me they had heard about.
Talking to a therapist wasn't like talking to my grandma or my favorite cousin. I love them, but people who love you will sometimes give you advice based on what they would do, what they think you should do, or what would keep the "peace." Mannnn, f*ck all that. I feel like that's part of what kept me feeling stuck.
It took me a couple of times to find a therapist who fit, but my therapist wasn't trying to tell me who to be. She kept helping me understand who I already was without others' opinions clouding it. She kept pushing me to understand myself, like the things I valued, what my patterns were, what I felt like when I felt dismissed, why I kept overexplaining, why I kept ending up around people who made me feel like I had to prove something, and she kept pushing me to think about what actually belonged to me and what I had been carrying because somebody handed it to me years ago. Your granny or your favorite cousin can't really do that the same way. Na'mean?
And that shit was uncomfortable AF at times! I ain't gon' even hold you. I was like, hell nah, a lot in the beginning, but when I really heard myself without someone fighting me for feeling the way I did or thinking what I thought, it was pretty- what she'd say is "affirming." I literally had to ask her what affirming meant. I had to ask her what boundaries meant too, because wtf is that!? Whatchu' mean, boundaries? Like a barricade? Man, I didn't know none of this shit. [laughs]
Therapy didn't just give me somewhere to talk about what everybody else did wrong. I had to look at myself too. I had to admit I shut down sometimes, held onto shit too long, and I could get angry and say things differently than I meant them because I was so frustrated with constantly feeling misunderstood. She helped me realize I was holding a lot of things inside instead of dealing with them forreal, and it caused me to blow up more times than I want to admit. Basically, I had patterns I needed to own.
For the first time, accountability didn't mean, "Okay, so everything really is my fault." I could say, "Yeah, I did that," without agreeing that I caused everything before and after it. I could own my mess without taking the blame for every misunderstanding like I'd been trained to believe.
And once I started understanding that, I saw myself differently outside of the "problem child" everyone kept trying to make me out to be because I was expressive and couldn't ignore stupid sh*t. I'm not saying I was perfect, but damn. I know when something feels off and when something feels unfair. My stance was not letting anyone play with me. TF you think this is!? Play witcha' mammy, not me. But my family didn't take well to being challenged in that way, so me peeping out shady shit was me being problematic. Know what I'm saying? Folks don't like to be challenged or called out, so, a lot of times, me saying something made me the bad guy because folks either didn't want to (or didn't know how to) deal with their own shit. I'on know. I was appreciative that somebody could see me and respect my thoughts and feelings for once without bullshittin'.
When you've spent years letting other people tell you who you are, clarity feels like finally being in on your own damn life. Like, ohhh…y'all don't get a vote on who I am. I get to be me without everybody else deciding whether I'm doing me correctly. If I'm not harming anybody and you don't like how I'm showing up? F*ck ya. TF!?
Sometimes you don’t need to become easier to understand. Sometimes you need to find people who actually want to know you.
MHM: You spent time trying to figure out who you were outside of everybody else's version of you. So why turn around and make your first record about the very shit you were trying to stop carrying?
BSSG: Because I wasn't carrying it the same way anymore...
That's the difference. When I was living in it, I was always trying to explain myself. Trying to get somebody to understand what happened, why I reacted, what I meant, what they did first-all that shit.
By the time I wrote the record, I wasn't asking anybody for permission to tell my story anymore. I was just telling it.
And music gave me somewhere to put all of those moments and feelings that used to stay stuck in my head. Some shit sounds ridiculous once you finally say it out loud.
Like, how the hell I get blamed for something and I wasn't even there? FOH.
The shit is funny now, but it wasn't funny then. [laughs]. That's probably when I knew I had a record. I wasn't trying to heal inside of it anymore, I wasn't lo-key asking for permission to say what I feel. I just expressed my experience without feelilng like I needed to ask anyone if I should. Know what I mean?
MHM: Yes, I know exactly what you mean, but speaking of that-you actually say, "I wasn't even there. Still got blamed in the thread." Was that a real incident, or were you just talking shit by then?
BSSG: Both. [laughs]
There were definitely times I found out my name had entered conversations I had absolutely nothing to do with. And I remember thinking, Damn. I'm somewhere at the house minding my business and apparently still causing problems somewhere I'm not even at? Bruh?
The line in the song came easy because it captured the stupidity of the whole experience.
When I was younger, something like that would've stressed me out for two days while I tried to figure out who said what and whether I needed to clear my name.
Writing it, I could finally hear how ridiculous my whole family system sounded-and how ridiculous it had felt living through it. Like, what type of time ya'll been on? It didn't match, so I was like, eff it, let me pop my shit.
That's one of the things I like about music. You can tell the truth and laugh at it in the same sixteen bars.
I'm not ashamed of what happened to me, but I'm also not trying to build a whole identity around being hurt.
So yeah, the record got some of my pain in it, but I'm not hurtin' now. The pain can be in the record without still running my life.
Let the swag SWAG. Ya feel me?
MHM: The female voice on the hook changes the whole record. Why did you choose that emotional center?
BSSG: Man, I knew I didn't want myself doing everything…
The verses are me talking, doing a little singing here and there. That's my side of it. I'm telling you what happened, what it felt like, what I eventually understood.
But the hook needed to feel bigger than just me.
When she comes in singing 'Blame it on the Black Sheep,' it almost sounds like something that's been said so many damn times it became a family anthem-and half these families probably don't even realize they know the song. But anybody who's lived it already knows the words. Know what I mean?
What I really like is that the hook changes, even though the words don't change that much.
At the beginning, it feels like an accusation. "Blame it on the Black Sheep."
By the end, I hear it differently. It's like, Cool. Blame me if that's what you need to do. I know what belongs to me now, and I still ain't carrying that other shit home.
That's where I wanted the record to leave people.
Not with my family finally understanding me.
With me understanding me.
Notorious BSSG’s debut single puts his story where he wanted it all along: in the music.
Listen to "Blame It on the Black Sheep" by Notorious BSSG
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Listen to "Blame It on the Black Sheep" by Notorious BSSG
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Full Lyrics: BLAME IT ON THE BLACK SHEEP [EXPANDABLE LYRICS]
[Intro]
Yeah.
Funny how my name stay in rooms I ain’t even in.
Whole house got problems, somehow I got season tickets.
Go on then.
Blame it on the black sheep.
[Verse 1]
I grew up at the table where the story stayed fixed,
Everybody had a version, mine ain’t make the mix.
If I questioned what happened, I was starting a fight,
If I swallowed what I felt, then apparently we aight.
My name got passed round like a plate on Sunday,
Something went sideways, guess who did it some way.
Cousin lose his temper, “He been working too hard.”
I raise my voice once, now they studying my heart.
Auntie got concerns, Uncle got a diagnosis,
Everybody got insight, ain’t nobody getting closest.
One sibling get grace, I get character review,
They did something foul, “Well, you know what they been through.”
I make one mistake, now it’s evidence for trial,
Family court in the kitchen, been adjourned for a while.
If the peace only works when I swallow what I see,
That ain’t peace, baby. That’s everybody using me.
[Hook]
Blame it on the black sheep,
Something in the house break, put my name on it.
Blame it on the black sheep,
Truth make the room shake, put the shame on me.
Blame it on the black sheep,
Anything to keep that family story clean.
Blame it on the black sheep,
Long as nobody gotta ask what the problem really mean.
[Verse 2]
See, I ain’t saying I was perfect, that would be a lie,
I done slammed doors, said some things I can’t justify.
I done shut down cold when I should’ve stayed and spoke,
Held seventeen grudges, then exploded on a joke.
I can own mine. That’s the difference I learned.
Accountability ain’t volunteering to get burned.
I can tell you, “Yeah, I did it,” without carrying yours,
I can clean up my mess without mopping all the floors.
’Cause admitting one thing used to open everything:
“Since we talking ’bout your attitude, remember ’98?”
Lady, I apologized already. Can we finish this plate?
See, scapegoat math strange, two plus two make me,
Rain on the picnic? Somehow blame BSSG.
Family reunion tense? Must be something that I said.
I wasn’t even there. Still got blamed in the thread.
That’s talent. Had my name doing overtime,
I’m at home minding mine, still committing family crimes.
Then I started seeing patterns I had called personality—
Maybe I wasn’t “the problem.” Maybe that was functionality.
Maybe having one villain kept the rest from looking close.
Maybe pointing at my chair kept attention off the smoke.
Maybe “everybody agrees” don’t make a story fact.
Five people can repeat it and five people can be whack.
[Hook]
Blame it on the black sheep,
Something in the house break, put my name on it.
Blame it on the black sheep,
Truth make the room shake, put the shame on me.
Blame it on the black sheep,
Anything to keep that family story clean.
Blame it on the black sheep,
Long as nobody gotta ask what the problem really mean.
[Bridge]
Then one day I asked myself something simple:
What if their understanding of me
didn’t define me, at all?
Not “How do I make ’em understand?”
What if they just…don’t know me like that?
Mm. That changed some things.
[Verse 3]
I quit writing dissertations every time I told ’em no,
Quit explaining every boundary like I owed ’em a show.
Stopped presenting evidence, stopped begging to be heard,
Some people understand you and still don’t like the word.
I found folks who could disagree and still call the next day,
Nobody weaponized silence just to make me obey.
I said “Nah, I can’t do it,” and the friendship didn’t die.
First time that happened, man, I damn near asked ’em why.
I ain’t know relationships could breathe without a trial,
Could have tension for a minute and be normal after while.
Could say, “You hurt my feelings,” without everybody choosing teams,
Could talk about what happened without rewriting every scene.
The body know first. My shoulders dropped down,
Stopped waiting on the worst every time folks came around.
Stopped rehearsing every sentence, preparing my defense,
Started trusting what I noticed, trusting common sense.
And yeah, grief came too when the picture got clear,
’Cause knowing what you needed makes you feel what wasn’t there.
I can love who I love and still know what it cost,
I can mourn what I wanted without pretending what I lost.
I’m still human, still learning, still got things I gotta mend,
But I don’t need their misunderstanding to explain me in the end.
So keep the old nickname. Matter fact, make it bold.
Black sheep look good when he ain’t carrying your load.
I used to hear “different” and translate it into shame.
Now different just mean different.
And I answer to my name.
[Final Hook]
Blame it on the black sheep,
Go ’head, if that’s what keeps the old machine alive.
Blame it on the black sheep,
I ain’t taking every package just because it arrive.
Blame it on the black sheep,
I know what belongs to me and what don’t.
Blame it on the black sheep—
Just don’t expect the black sheep
to carry it home.
[Outro]
Notorious BSSG.
MHM: Okay, now that people can actually hear the record, how does it feel having something that personal out in the world?
BSSG: A little wild, honestly...
Once that shit leaves me and hits somebody else's ears, it ain't mine no more. I know what I was talking about when I wrote it, but somebody listening might be thinking about their own shit...like, their mama, their ex, some cousin they stopped fooling with, a whole friend group-hell, maybe even a job experience where everybody decided they were the problem. That's their life meeting the record.
And I actually like that. I don't need folks to connect with my exact story. I want something in it to make them recognize their own. Maybe they catch a line and go, Hold the fuck up…that's what that was? Or maybe they don't have a revelation at all, and they just run it back because that shit ride. [laughs]
Both work for me.
MHM: Something tells me you didn’t find your voice just to use it once because this doesn’t sound like someone who made one song just to get something off his chest. Are we gonna hear from you again?
BSSG: [laughs] Oh, absolutely.
I got more to say, more to write about, and more shit I'm noticing now that I'm not spending all my energy defending myself.
And like I said, every song ain't gotta be about my family crap; I'm a whole person, so I have a lot to share about my love, joy, relationships, peace, petty shit, good days, bad days…all of that.
Sometimes I might wanna tell a story, but sometimes I might just wanna make something that ride.
But nah, this ain't the last time you'll be hearing from me.
BSSG ain't done, baby.
MHM: Ahight, bet. What's next?
BSSG: [leans back and grins] Tour.
One More Thing Before We Leave the Venue…
Notorious BSSG is fictional. The family role isn't.
Neither are the self-doubt, overexplaining, misplaced blame, relationship patterns, grief, relief, therapy, laughter, anger, boundaries, or slow realization that somebody else's understanding of you was never supposed to become your identity.
That's what the MHM Psychocultural Artist Series is here to play with: real psychological experiences told through characters, culture, story, and music that actually has something to say. No beige, boring worksheet required.
Mental Health Monarchs®
Reflect. Reclaim. Reign.
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