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Solange 'Soul Angel'

ENTRE NOUS:
BOOK REVIEW:
"HIDING IN HIP HOP"
by Terrance Dean
by Dontré Conerly
dontre@bleulife.com

It is certain that many will talk about Terrance Dean’s new book, Hiding in Hop Hop, but whether it will “send shockwaves throughout Hollywood and hip hop” is a hyperbole not only of the book’s “shocking” revelations, but also of the literary ability of the author. Dean’s book not only has the misfortune of being pre-empted by the likes of E. Lynn Harris, Keith Boykin, J.L. King, and James Early Hardy—all of whom explored the down low phenomenon ad infinitum in the ‘90s (and in better written prose)—it also suffers from the hype surrounding its release. That down low men exist in the entertainment industry, and even that many of these men are celebrities, doesn’t really surprise anyone; however, which ones and whom is where many expected Dean to push the envelope in the genre. But, Dean chose to “protect” the identity of the A-listers by giving them pseudonyms and compiling vague, blind-item descriptions of the stars that are so wide-open, he could have been talking about practically anyone in the entertainment industry.

Readers of Dean’s book will largely concern themselves with the many celebrities and music industry “heavy hitters” he claims he’s bedded, but they will walk away disappointed that he not only refuses to name names, but his descriptions won’t pin-point any one person. While he provides numerous salacious stories of his accounts, at best his descriptions are just enough for you to make a guess of three or four that fit the bill. For instance, Dean writes of “Lucas”: "He’s a megastar.” No matter what film project he was attached to, it was bound to be a box office smash. In Hollywood, he is considered a golden boy and very bankable.” Well, let’s see now: Will Smith is known as box-office royalty, and he has been dodging those gay rumors; but, then, Samuel Jackson’s films have grossed more money at the box office than the work of any other actor in cinematic history, so he is considered box-office gold. Which one could it be?

On another instance, Dean details “Ella,” a slightly well known lesbian who is “a jovial and lively woman—quite short, dark skinned, and robust with a hearty laugh.” He says he recognized her due to “a recurring role on a few major television sitcoms as the witty and smart-aleck co-worker. She also starred in a few commercials for household cleaners.” Immediately, I thought, “What, the Pine-Sol woman is gay!”

His descriptions continue this way for another eight or nine characters, and no one is ever definitively ID-ed; but Dean says he never promised that anyone would be. “The intention behind the book was not to ‘out’ anyone,” he tells me. “The intention was for me to tell my story as it related to my life as a down low man, working and being in the entertainment industry.” For that reason, he says this his book is not a “tell-all” meant to muck-rake, it’s actually “a poignant memoir” meant to deal with the internal struggle of a down low man searching for true love. Those who don’t recognize that, he implies in our interview, simply don’t “get” the purpose of his book.

It is true that Dean’s book actually becomes a memoir in its latter pages, but for him to pretend that his book isn’t marketed on the sensationalism of a “tell-all” ignores all of the hype surrounding its publication, created by various blogs and even his publishing company. That he withheld names simply because he didn’t want to “damage someone else’s career” is suspect, especially after he gives us all of their dirty laundry, followed by a micro-resume that leaves readers (and journalists) to figure out for themselves who he’s referring to; within a small margin of error. I mention that without positive ID’s of these trysts, he runs the risk of people assuming he made up the stories and relies on a Catch-22 for credibility: no down low man, better yet a popular celebrity, will seek to dispute his tales, as doing so would expose their knowledge and participation.

The biggest irony is that Dean is right: while most won’t pick it up expecting a memoir, if read solely as a memoir the book is actually successful in its aim. Readers will struggle with Dean’s dearth of literary sophistication; however, that does not negate the fact that in the latter chapters of the book, when he sets aside the almost-braggadocious posturing of his sexual conquests and finds his voice, the book seems genuine and heartfelt. We follow Dean through his emotional turmoil of trying to overcome his physical desires for down low men, all the while seeking emotional validation from men who can’t offer him what he so desperately needs: love. Abandoned, emotionally, by his mother, and then physically robbed of her when she succumbs to terminal illness, Dean’s wayward sojourn to self-acceptance could have ended tragically, were it not for the love of a persistent grandmother. Unlike most in the down low community, Dean came to the realization that binges on sex and drugs only fulfilled his physical needs, leaving his emotional needs unmet; and given that none of these men were truly available, his need for them eventually vanished.

Now an out and open gay Black man, Dean still holds to some of his down low demeanors. He shows up for our interview in what became the down low uniform in his story: baggy jeans, a white t-shirt, construction boots, and a black hoody. During our conversation, he made obvious attempts to drop his voice when referring to “delicate matters” (read: sex) and kept looking about the restaurant to see if anyone was paying attention to our conversation. I asked him what he thought would happen if they overhead, and he just laughed. “I don’t know,” he smiled. I guess it takes a while for full assimilation.