Diddy’s Poor Defense

In light of Sean “Diddy” Combs’ federal arrest on serious charges, his legal team’s defense includes a troubling appeal to his contributions to the black community. This perspective implies a duty to support him that overshadows his alleged victims. As discussions of racial inequality flare, the article critiques the narrative that equates Combs’ plight with broader racial issues, emphasizing the importance of accountability in the hip-hop industry and urging a focus on healing rather than preserving its legacy.

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By Michael Arceneaux

After Sean “Diddy” Combs was arrested on federal charges including sex trafficking, kidnapping and bribery, his legal team released a statement.

It contained everything you’d expect from attorneys defending their client: he’s an “innocent man with nothing to hide” and “he looks forward to clearing his name in court.” Somewhere in that story, Combs’ attorneys decided (I think we can safely assume with his insistence) to add that he had “worked for the past 30 years … to uplift the black community.”

Anyone who cares about the advancement of the black community should be offended. The message implies that black people have a duty to support Combs at the expense of his alleged victims. And if we don’t, we will be helping to take down one of the few black men who broke barriers and gained a seat at powerful (white) tables in the corporate world.

His legal team appears to be exploiting the sentiments of some of Combs’ fans, particularly during a heated election cycle in which issues of racial inequality have been foregrounded. His supporters have repeatedly taken to social media en masse to point out that while Combs sits in prison, Donald Trump, a white man convicted of 34 crimes and found guilty of sexual assault, is running for president.

I understand the sentiment, but both men profited from their wealth and power. And while we can’t deny that Trump’s whiteness and his status as a former president have given him more opportunities to fail forward — and that he needs to be held accountable — that doesn’t mean Combs should get a free pass in court or in the court of public opinion. And that’s without even mentioning Trump’s convictions for criminal financial crimes. The criminal charges against Combs aren’t exactly comparable.

And if we Real If I were to add race to the mix, I would argue that he has taken more from the black community than he has given. I have found his brand of advocacy hollow and self-centered ever since I was a college student in the early 2000s, and so have some of the people he has worked with throughout his career. The most common examples stem from accusations that he made his fortune by not fairly compensating the predominantly black artists on his Bad Boy label.

To understand why Combs, his legal team, and supporters feel the need to shine a light on his place in black history, it’s worth looking at why the hip-hop industry has had a code of silence for so long.

Among other things, many believed that staying quiet was a way to protect one of the few avenues for black people to build wealth and equity. While black artists are the face of hip-hop culture, the business side of the industry — such as labels, recording studios, and marketing — has traditionally been controlled primarily by white men.

When someone like Combs stepped up to occupy those business spaces and brought other black people with him, the community didn’t want to compromise the accessibility and what it represented. Combs reaped the benefits of that power dynamic for years.

Keep in mind that the indictment lists incidents “beginning in or about 2008, through the date of filing,” and that Combs “provided a variety of controlled substances to victims to keep them compliant and compliant” and that he kept videos “that he filmed of victims performing sexual acts on commercial sex workers.” It was so abusive that “victims were typically given intravenous fluids to recover from the physical exertion and drug use.”

At the same time, he flourished and was feted. He launched a cable network in 2013 and bought a tequila brand in 2014. Vanity Fair published a glowing profile of him in 2021. He received a Lifetime Achievement Award from BET and reached billionaire status in 2022. A year later, MTV presented him with the Global Icon Award and New York City Mayor Eric Adams gave him the key to the city.

Now his empire is crumbling and his followers want to turn it into a story about a black man being put down for his sex life.

To be sure, the indictment singled out parties that Combs described as “freak offs.” Social media commentary and news reports predictably emphasized the name and the “supplies” that police had seized from his home — namely, the 1,000 bottles of baby oil and personal lubricant. However, the public should avoid sensationalizing this aspect of the case. It only fuels the spin that Combs and his legal team are trying to put on the charges. This case isn’t about kink-shaming him; it’s about an alleged sexual predator being held accountable.

Many, myself included, have been writing for years about the need for the music industry to have a #MeToo movement. Hopefully the reckoning is finally here.

If you love and respect hip-hop, you should want to see anyone who harms the culture held accountable. Now is the time to worry not about saving Combs’ legacy, but about undoing the damage he’s done to the art form.

Exposing the Hidden: Combs Indictment Sheds Light on Sex Trafficking

By Barbara McQuade

Victims of sex trafficking, it is said, often hide in plain sight. I was reminded of that truth this week when Sean Combs, the music mogul also known as “Puff Daddy” and “Diddy,” was indicted for alleged conduct dating back to 2008. The offenses included racketeering conspiracy, sex trafficking and transportation to engage in prostitution.

According to the indictment, Combs forced women “into frequent, days-long sexual activities with male commercial sex workers” during events that “Combs called ‘Freak Offs,’” which prosecutors described as “elaborate sexual performances that Combs arranged, directed, and often electronically recorded.” The potential penalty for the charges ranges from a mandatory minimum of 15 years to life in prison.

At a press conference on Tuesday, Manhattan District Attorney Damian Williams was asked why it took so long for law enforcement to intervene in the reportedly long-running scheme. Williams dodged the question, focusing instead on the current charges. But one reason sex rings can persist for years is that bystanders are unaware of what is happening right before their eyes.

The myopia is caused by common myths about sex trafficking. People imagine victims bound and gagged, in handcuffs and chains, and held captive in a dungeon. Instead, victims often walk around openly in public, side by side with their traffickers. Even when help is nearby, victims do not run away. It can be difficult to explain to a jury why a victim would stay with someone who is forcing them to perform commercial sex acts.

In the cases I saw when I worked as a federal prosecutor, drug traffickers lure their prey with one or more tactics. They may offer expensive gifts, addictive drugs, or promises of a glamorous career in modeling. The trafficker then uses these enticements as leverage against his victims. Nude photos taken under the guise of creating a modeling portfolio are held over a victim’s head as potential revenge porn. Drugs are used to keep a victim, now addicted, dependent on the trafficker for another hit. Threats of physical violence and even assault are used to force the victim into submission. To bystanders who only see the victim in public, this may appear voluntary.

The indictment accuses Combs of engaging in precisely these types of acts against his victims — “obtaining and distributing narcotics to them, controlling their careers, abusing his financial support and threatening to shut it down, and using intimidation and violence.” The indictment also alleges that some of his employees — his private security team, housekeepers and personal assistants — acted as intermediaries and concealed the abuse. I expect that charges will eventually be filed against these employees, perhaps after prosecutors determine whether they will cooperate in prosecuting Combs.

But what about witnesses who weren’t on his payroll? What about the airport staff and catering staff who must have seen some of this activity? Or the hotel guests or employees who probably heard some of this activity? something when Combs kicked and dragged one of his victims in the hallway of the InterContinental Hotel in Los Angeles, a crime captured on surveillance cameras and exposed by CNN?

Most of the time, witnesses remain silent because they do not realize what they are seeing. They may know something is wrong, but write it off as a private quarrel. And if the perpetrator is someone with wealth, fame, and power, the reluctance to believe what they see is even greater.

A charge like this can raise awareness of how sex trafficking really works, which in turn can help reduce this heinous crime. There are now training programs to help gas station and hotel workers recognize the signs of trafficking—the person appears to be afraid of their partner; has outward signs of injury, such as bruises; appears to be deprived of sleep, food, or medical care; or appears to be under the direction or control of another person, such as asking for permission to use the restroom. Signs in women’s restrooms provide resources for victims of sex trafficking. These efforts are worthwhile, but they’re just a start.

A case like Combs’s indictment isn’t just an attempt to bring an alleged perpetrator to justice and save his victims. It can also provide a teaching moment for the public. Not all victims of sex trafficking are in ropes and chains. Some are walking around right before our eyes.

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