When Frank Ocean sings, I listen. But when Lonny Breaux writes, something else happens. Waves of a new consciousness envelope me and suffocate my ability to comprehend how all of these perfectly constructed words can take on a life of their own.
Nostalgia, Ultra was the soundtrack to an entire summer of searching. It played in constant loop as I went on journeys I assumed would lead to finding myself post-college graduation. I never really knew if I was coming, going, settling or growing, but hearing those songs will always bring me back to a time of fleeting fear and freedom, a place I am sure someone on the brink of revealing their sexuality frequents.
I had no idea who Frank Ocean was personally, I knew nothing of his personal story, but I knew I loved him and I knew I would continue to love him song after song, track after track. I knew one mixtape in, that he would always be my Nostalgia, Ultra.
After a year-long love affair with his melodic sounds, I read one of the most beautiful pieces of literature I have ever come across: His coming out letter.
Word after beautiful word, Frank spoke about a summer he fell in love…and you know the rest.
Did I care that the elusive artist I had grown to love was once in love with a man? No. Did it break my heart that when he was singing the beautiful words of “Strawberry Swings” at concerts he would never pass me a wink that would be the beginning of our leap into a future of blissful lexicons together? No.
It didn’t hurt one bit and I didn’t love him any less.
This morning, after Frank’s coming out letter and one Channel Orange later, I sat down to read the GQ article in which Frank artfully dodged questions about the “boxing in” of his sexuality and labeling his sexual preference. Some presume that Frank isn’t open to admitting he’s more than bisexual in fear of losing his fans, both male and female. But let’s be honest, does it really even matter? Trey Songz could gyrate his well-oiled pectorals in circular motions until his hip joints fail, but does that mean he will ever choose you and only you to love and to muse? Most likely not.
In the GQ article, Frank Ocean reveals the sole reason he is able to sing about life, love and experience is because he loved, he lived and he experienced, and it just so happens that he experienced all of the aforementioned with a man.
He stated:
“I had never been in love. I had never been heartbroken. When that happened, that’s really what changed everything. That turned me into a real artist. It made the difference between somebody hearing something of mine and being like, “Wow, this is a fresh approach,” and somebody hearing something and crying, you know?”
I know.
The truth is, without boxing in his sexuality, Frank leaves the ability to dream a free one. He maintains the power to sway the adoring women in the room, and the fantasizing men alike – why would one want to give up that spot?
Gay, straight, bisexual, it’s all moot. He is a human on the search for love, whether it’s in search of love within himself, his music or another man, that is none of our business, as long as the end result continues to be beautiful.
I live by a simple rule: if it’s love let it be love, if it’s lust, allow it to be lust, but just don’t muddle the reality of others while searching for your own inspiration. Frank Ocean hasn’t muddled our reality, he’s simply altered the fantasies of a few adoring female fans who believed they would be “the one.”
Gay, straight or an elusive place in between, the ladies will always love Frank Ocean because after all, what good is a jewel that’s still precious?
Rachel is the Associate Editor and Senior Style Writer for GlobalGrind.com, proud graduate of a SUNY school, and as sarcastic as they come. Follow her on Twitter for random daily ramblings @MiissHislop
