One of the hardest things to do is to be able to tell the truth about who you are even when you aren’t ready to. You may or may not remember, back in September of 2013 Mister Cee was forced to admit that he’s had sexual dealings with male prostitutes after a transgender blogger named Bimbo Winehouse outed the beloved Hot 97 DJ on YouTube.
Since Mister Cee made his pubic announcement, everyone has pretty much been mum about the situation until now. Mister Cee recently opened up to GQ Magazine about it. Inside Cee tells the story of how his bad dealings with women is what caused the desires of yearning fellatio from transgenders. He also talks about how he felt like a dead person when he saw his face in the paper after being arrested for dealing with a male prostitute and the aftermath of it all.
Peep the excerpts below.
On the Kane tours, he says, he was “fucking everything in sight.” The whole time he had a steady girlfriend, too. Once, he says, coming off tour, he gave her gonorrhea. “It was the most horrible thing I ever did to a woman in my life,” Cee says. She called him last year, after Cee had a run-in with the guy she was dating, just to tell him off again. “I mean, cursed me out, just called me all types of faggots and homos.”
And then there was one last great love, who didn’t trust him and so broke his heart. This was around 2000. She became suspicious about what he did when she wasn’t around, and she started calling other women in Cee’s life—friends, co-workers, whomever—to vent her suspicions: “She was the last woman that I could really, fully, 200 percent trust. After me and her broke up, it just got harder for me to trust women.” It wasn’t misogyny, exactly—or maybe it was. Either way, it was the end of any real intimacy in Cee’s life.
He was in strip clubs a lot, he says, at the end of that relationship. “And I started tricking in the strip clubs. I don’t know if you know what tricking is—you’re taking [the girls] out the club”—literally right outside the club—“and you’re having sex with them.” He’d do it in places where he wasn’t liable to be recognized, usually spots around downtown Manhattan “where white guys was going,” he says.
It’s hard to say how the “other thing,” as Cee sometimes calls it, got started. But he knows when: “Around 2005, 2006.”
Though it is perhaps hard to believe him, he says it never occurred to him until he started doing it. It wasn’t a long-held fantasy or a desire he’d held at bay for a while and then succumbed to. But soon he found himself on Christopher Street, a couple of blocks from the Hot 97 o∞ces, nearly every weekend, “out there—like, really out there.”
He never really asked himself why he was doing it and still can’t entirely explain why he was drawn to this specific, highly particular thing. This conversation we’re having right now, over shrimp and fried rice, is only the second or third time he’s ever actually tried to put it into words. Certainly it’s the first time he’s told the story to a reporter. “The best way I can explain it is that I was so knee-deep into doing it that it became a part of me,” he says.
“It’s also the rush of: Get horny, A and B—you know, one plus one equals two. You get horny, go out, go get your shit off. It became a part of my routine. Even though I was fearful, there was a part of me that felt invincible, too.”
The things he did to himself to avoid telling the truth. In 2011, after he was arrested—it wasn’t the first time; he was caught in 2010, too, “fucking trying to pull my pants up, and I’m scared as shit”—the New York Daily News wrote an article reporting it. “Mister Cee, a popular HOT 97 deejay and record producer,” it read, “was busted for public lewdness after cops caught him in a car receiving oral sex from another man, authorities said.” The day the article came out, Cee says, he felt like an actual dead person. “Literally dead, in the casket, in the coffin.” In his mind, a whole funeral scene unfolded: who came and didn’t come, who was mourning, who was laughing from the back of the pews.
He slept a lot after that, he says. Drank so much soda he almost lost his sight. “I would buy two-liter Fanta Orange, two-liter Sprite, two-liter root beer—and I live by myself—just guzzling them. That’s how I was getting through my pain, fucking going to sleep and drinking soda. And I’m not even a soda drinker. I drunk so much soda to the point where my diabetes—my sugar level went so high, I started getting blind.”
The court mandated a therapist, so he went and told lies to a therapist. He had stories he would tell: It was a woman in the car with him, not a man; he’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time; there were bloggers, haters, unnamed malevolent forces spinning stories, trying to bring him down. He even lied to the cops, who took care of him the first couple of times he was arrested—“Once you walk in the station, all it takes is one black officer to recognize you”—but whose patience ran out when the arrests continued to mount: “When I got arrested in 2011—this is just my theory—that came out from the D.A.’s office. That leaked from the D.A. That didn’t leak from a precinct. You know, after a while, I’m making deals with the D.A.: ‘I’m never going to do this again. I’m never going to do this again.’ And they’re like, ‘Okay, all right. All right.’ And they let me slide the first couple of times. That third time, they was just like, ‘Yo…’ ”
It didn’t matter that when Cee started getting caught, friends and other artists got in touch or sent their support. 50 Cent. Wyclef. Busta Rhymes. In 2011, Cee says, “I reached out to Jay Z for a favor, and he came through in less than a day.” Even then, he was afraid of what might happen if people learned the truth. Both his parents are dead. So is his grandfather. Now Cee takes care of his grandmother, his aunt, whoever needs help. “I hold my family down, man,” he says.
So he continued to lie. “It wasn’t even about losing the job. I was just afraid of what the perception was going to be about me and that people was still going to want to stand behind the Mister Cee brand,” he says. Promoters. People he worked with. And if they didn’t, “how was I going to be able to continue to support and take care of the people that I care about?”
Read the rest of this story here.