“50 Years of Hip Hop Violence”
My Response to Danyel Smith’s Article
Danyel Smith’s compelling narrative in her recent article paints a haunting picture of her experiences with Sean Combs, also known as “Diddy.” Her vivid recounting of the trauma and abuse she endured provides a critical lens through which we can better understand the complexities of power dynamics within the music industry, especially from her perspective rooted in the 90s. I respect Smith’s courage to confront and articulate her past, and it speaks volumes in a culture where such abuses are often shrouded in silence, especially when faced with the threats and seeming power of the man they called “Puffy.” And besides, she has that license from traditionally published magazines, to traditionally produced TV shows and traditionally promoted music and live events.
Not me. I was raised to be independent. My Superstar Magazine was makeshift, written and printed on my own dime. My TV show started out as public access, even tho I syndicated it in 2 million homes throughout NY, NJ and Conn. And my live shows, from producing concerts with Russel Simmons standing at my box office to collect the 2nd half of the fee for his performers, the the live stage shows I produced at Bentley’s nightclub in New York City; all of this was playing it by ear, under-financed and me trying to figure life out as a non-commissioned player in entertainment. So when these Diddy-claims started popping up one after another, I finally had to reach into my bag of books. I couldn’t help adding my seasoning and contrasting this with my memoir, “The Night Puff Tried to Kill Me,” released this past December 2023. In my short book, I offer a broader and even surgical context of Combs’ behavior from my perspective. My journey is detailed with perseverance and survival amidst the chaos and violence perpetuated by Combs. Having been profiled by The New York Times previously, my own story is not new to readers, but the feature didn’t disclose this part. Only now is it relevant and essential to revisit this specific event I escaped, in light of Smith’s revelations but also the unknown toxin that preceded social media, street cameras, and cellphones.
Get Relentless Aaron’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
My Personal Recount
My Early Life and Encounter with Combs: Growing up in Mount Vernon, NY, my path constantly crossed with Combs’ as we progressed in entertainment — he with the dancing and music, me with the concert promotions, television, and magazines. However, my official meeting with Sean Combs was detailed in my memoir:
“Inside Bentley’s nightclub, Andre Harrell introduced me to ‘Puffy,’ setting the stage for us to do business, but it was also a pivotal moment in my journey.”
“The Night Puff Tried to Kill Me,” delves into the multifaceted violence that Combs inflicted. And while Smith highlights the gender-based violence and harassment women faced, my memoir extends this narrative to include the broader spectrum of his violent tendencies. This violence was not limited to his immediate circle or gender; it spread to anyone who dared to stand in his way or challenge his authority.
Experiences in the Music Industry: In my journey, the challenges I faced were not merely physical but also psychological. Combs’ tactics of intimidation and control extended beyond personal encounters to professional dealings, affecting careers and lives. The impact of such behavior is pervasive, creating an environment of fear and submission. My memoir captures these moments, however my limited series, based on a true story, is a way bigger task since film making incorporates different details, leaving much up to the viewer’s imagination. Nevertheless, the goal will be to provide a firsthand account of surviving in an industry where power often trumps morality.
Contextualizing Violence and Power Smith’s article underscores the sexual and emotional abuse that women in Combs’ circle faced. However, it’s crucial to acknowledge that the violence was not confined to these boundaries, and include instances of physical threats and professional sabotage that came at me and put two other men in danger who were in the vehicle with me. And be clear, “an instant” is all it took for a bullet to hit Natania Reuben’s face. An “instant” is how quick Comb’s kicked Cassie on the hotel hallway floor. So, then this broader perspective is vital for understanding the full extent of Combs’ influence and the culture of fear he perpetuated.
Reflection on Resilience and Redemption Both Smith’s article and my memoir ultimately highlight resilience. For Smith, confronting her past and sharing her story is a powerful act of reclaiming her narrative. For me, writing a memoir was a means of processing my trauma and offering a testimony of survival. Be clear, if not for my quick wit and Marine Corp-trained maneuvers, I would not be here today. Dodging Combs’ attack, gunshots, and goons in lower Manhattan on a late party-night was heroic not just in saving my own life, but the two men who rode with me. The violence inflicted by Combs is a dark chapter of my life, but I was resilient and able to endure. I wonder sometimes how many others like me did not endure. Escaping his attack was a testament to human strength and the unyielding desire to survive.
Final Thoughts Danyel Smith’s article is a critical piece in the puzzle of understanding Sean Combs’ legacy. He is not the first who has exercised monstrous behavior and influence that money can buy, but he is a major part of the equation we know as the abuse of power. It adds a valuable dimension to the ongoing conversation about such abuse in the music industry, behind closed doors, and (as in my case) how it can spill into the streets. My memoir underscores this man’s potential to hurt people, providing additional context through my personal testimony. Together, these narratives are a powerful indictment of a culture that allowed such abuses to flourish and a call to action for change and accountability. As we celebrate 50 years of hip-hop, with its music, personalities, money, power, and fame, we must also recognize the many casualties. The stabbings inside hip-hop events, the shootings before, during, and after concerts, and the bodies left for dead. Here you have a man who was proprietary on every level of pain and suffering. The stampede at CCNY, the shooting at the recording studio, the abuse towards women, and lil’ ole’ me under the streetlight in Herald Square.
We cannot celebrate 50 years of hip-hop without acknowledging these painful truths. This is who Sean is, but is this who WE are?
Check out this interview with Olivia Fox as she goes deeper:
https://www.listennotes.com/podcasts/the-olivia-fox/the-book-hustler-Puw8dJQcE4R/#google_vignette
