Frank Ocean comes out: a brave move in the exaggeratedly heterosexual world of hip hop

What it means to be the first out gay star in urban music.

Of the many remarkable things about R&B singer Frank Ocean’s announcement that he is gay, let’s start with his choice of words. Last night he wrote on his Tumblr that what he was about to post was originally intended for the thank you section of his forthcoming album, Channel Orange, but had been brought forward because of gathering rumours about his sexuality.

He then posted an exquisitely moving account of his first love affair with a man. “I don’t have any secrets I need kept anymore,” he writes. “There’s probably some small shit still, but you know what I mean. I was never alone, as much as I felt like it… as much as I still do sometimes. I never was. I don’t think I ever could be.”

Ocean’s poetry and precision makes it a personal statement more than a political one, worlds apart from the stilted, formal language customarily used by celebrities coming out of the closet: remember Ricky Martin’s “I am a fortunate homosexual man” two years ago? You don’t have to be gay to identify with its sentiments. You simply have to know what it feels like to be in love.

But despite the quiet intimacy of the language, Ocean’s statement has made a big noise. For years, various big rappers, both male and female, have attracted speculation over their sexuality but none have confirmed it. Earlier this year underground rapper Lil’ B announced his new album would be called I’m Gay but quickly backtracked by adding a parenthetical “(I’m Happy)” and avoiding the issue. Now, in a stroke, the landscape has changed.

It should be noted that Ocean is a singer rather than a rapper and that the hip hop crew he’s affiliated with, Odd Future Wolf Gang Kill Them All, is an unorthodox outfit which, despite its excessive fondness for the word “faggot”, already has one out member: female DJ/producer Syd Tha Kid. But Ocean has a major label deal and appeared on Jay-Z and Kanye West’s colossal Watch the Throne album so he has enough of a profile to qualify as the first out, gay star in the world of urban music. Hip hop mogul Russell Simmons calls it  “a game-changer”: “Today is a big day for hip-hop. It is a day that will define who we really are.”

It comes at an interesting time for LGBT musicians. Until this year, an openly gay artist had never topped the US Billboard charts: the likes of George Michael and REM’s Michael Stipe did so long before coming out. But in May, former American Idol runner-up Adam Lambert ended that drought with his album Trespassing. In the same month Jamaican dancehall artist Beenie Man recorded a video apology for his previous homophobic lyrics, while Tom Gabel, of Florida punk band Against Me!, declared that he would henceforth be known as Laura Jane Grace, making him not exactly rock’s first transsexual but its first arena-headlining one.

But Ocean’s move is still courageous. Openly gay musicians rarely fare well in the US; hip hop/R&B, where exaggerated heterosexuality is the norm, is uncharted territory. Even though the initial online response has been overwhelmingly positive, not every listener will be happy listening to Channel Orange, or last year’s brilliant online mixtape Nostalgia, Ultra, knowing that the love songs are about another man. Ocean also risks being forever defined in the public eye by his sexuality. Neil Tennant of the Pet Shop Boys once told me why he didn’t come out until 1994: “One of my reasons for not coming out [earlier] was that you get typecast, so you become ‘gay pop star Neil Tennant’, and I didn’t used to be that. People use the gay thing to marginalise you.” About his lyrics up to that point he said, “I always quite liked that ambiguity. Now people just say, Yeah, it’s gay.”

Time will tell whether Ocean’s candour affects the fortunes of Channel Orange, or whether he inspires some high-profile closeted performers to follow suit. But his impact on the wider world of hip hop, R&B and beyond is undeniable. Research regularly shows that the key factor in changing people’s attitudes to issues such as gay marriage is having an LGBT friend, colleague or family member: personal experience informs the public sphere. Conversely, gay celebrities can influence private views and deeds. Ocean may just have helped countless gay teenagers to realise that they are never alone.

Dorian Lynskey tweets: @dorianlynskey

Frank Ocean performs at Coachella. Photo: Getty Images

Dorian Lynskey is a journalist living in London. He blogs at:

33RevolutionsPerMinute.wordpress.com

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Scarred lands: visiting the villages Boko Haram left behind reveals the toxic legacy of terrorism

The progress and challenges of Nigerian communities rebuilding after Boko Haram’s insurgency begins to wane.

“Sometimes it’s when I go to bed that what happened comes back to me.” Two years ago, Boko Haram militants stormed into 23-year-old John Amida’s home late at night in a village in Gwoza, Borno State, northeast Nigeria. Shielding his eyes with his hands from the torchlight saved his life. He shows me the mark in the centre of his forearm where the bullet aimed for his head went instead.

“All my friends were either killed or abducted,” he says. “I don’t try to forget what happened because it’s not possible; it’s with you even when it is not in your mind. The best thing is just to keep on living every day.”

After a broadly effective 18-month military campaign, Boko Haram remains a deadly yet waning force. Many communities once occupied by Boko Haram are now liberated. In Adamawa, just south of Borno, over 630,000 people previously displaced by Boko Haram have returned home.

With them, over 170,000 internally displaced people (IDPs) now live in camps, or – like John and his family – in host communities. He and his family live in a home vacated and lent to them by a local. All over Adamawa, IDPs live in homes shared with residents or given to them temporarily in exchange for help, crops or token sums of rent.

Adamawa is a serene, largely rural, mountainous state. Even deep into the dry season, driving through the roads that cut between its vast countryside, its land is incredibly scenic. But within local communities, in more rural, isolated villages north of the state’s capital, Yola, the picture is more complicated.

Gombi, a small town a few hours’ drive from Yola, was recaptured from Boko Haram in late 2014. Much of what was destroyed in the insurgency – shops and small businesses – have been rebuilt or replaced. The local government buildings have been largely restored. The impact is still visible but, according to locals, decreasingly so.

But in less urban areas, like in Garaha, a village in Adamawa, rebuilt homes sit next to broken, abandoned houses, churches, mosques and buildings blackened by the fires that damaged them. Local government officials say the damage across Adamawa by the insurgency has set the state’s development back by a decade. Funding for rebuilding the state, which local governments complain is insufficient, is concentrated on urban areas.

According to Chief Suleimanu, a traditional ruler in Garaha, mental health issues are widespread but few are financially able to access support. While some people have been able to move on, others are still dealing with the consequences.

“Many couples and families have separated,” he tells me, detailing how in some couples one partner feels attached to their home while the other can’t face returning, or feel there is little to return to.

“The same with the children, some of the young people have gone to bigger cities like Kano or Abuja because of a lack of opportunities.”

Many returnees, who left camps in Cameroon to come back to Adamawa, are from families who have lived in their villages for generations. Their ancestral roots anchor them to their homes because their farmland is their main source of income. Non-agriculture-based industries provide few jobs. For many people, fleeing their homes meant abandoning their livelihoods.

As of 2015, 52 per cent of people in Nigeria lived in rural areas. Their relative isolation is a blessing and a curse. Larger rural spaces provide them with adequate land to cultivate their crops – but it also leaves them exposed.

During Boko Haram attacks on Garaha through to early 2015, there was minimal protection from security forces who often take hours to arrive.

For many people living in rural Adamawa, life is getting harder and easier at the same time. Armed herdsmen, mainly from the Fulani ethnicity have become a greater threat across Nigeria, partly due to tensions between land ownership and cattle grazing.

According to locals, killings by herdsmen have increased this year. But villages are addressing their vulnerability. Armed vigilantes, some of which formed due to the lack of military protection against Boko Haram, are increasing. The police services are often too far away or too under-resourced to protect them. But some vigilantes now have more weapons and vehicles due to help from state services and locals. It is not an ideal solution but it has made places like Garaha safer.

With this new-found relative safety, villagers have begun farming again. With cash grants and donated tools from charities like Tearfund, it has been easier for thousands of people to begin cultivating land. In many villages there are small, lively recreation centres where young people play snooker and watch sport. Many of their places of worship have been rebuilt.

But the situation is grimmer in communities where such charities are not present.  Without resources, state or non-government help, rebuilding is a real challenge.

Adamawa is a state maxing on its credit of hospitality, relative safety and appreciation of agriculture. A recession in Nigeria and a severe food crisis in the northeast have added pressures on returnees and IDPs. Liberated communities will need more help and attention before they truly feel free.

Emmanuel Akinwotu is a journalist based between Lagos and London who writes about Africa, migration, and specialises in Nigeria.