One day in rehearsal, I watched him perform a version of his new solo “Songs to Make Your White Girl Cry.” I didn’t know whether to be offended, whether I loved it, or whether I thought he was full of shit. But I was drawn to the material. It was craziness–Jaamil doing his thing–draped in girls accessories, reciting a pussy manifesto, playing misogynist rap videos about cocaine. Jesus. But this is the thing about his work, it makes you wonder what you think, what you feel. It confuses and delights you. It is messy and confrontational and funny and smart.