Yes, Russell Simmons has been preying on younger women all is adult life. Thats what he likes, fine. But when they reach into the teens… and when you couple that behavior with the allegations of 20-plus women, what’s your excuse? Was he “buying NBC?” Were the girls “Fast and knew what they signed up for?”

This is the Ovation, The Timeline, and The Soundtrack We Sang Along To for far too long.

Why we need to talk about the math, the music, and the men who stood up.

I watched the video three times before I let myself feel anything.
A high arched window. An exit sign glowing over wooden doors. Rows of men in cream uniforms with red on the shoulders, bow ties, pressed collars, gray heads and young faces. Then the camera finds him. Russell Simmons, a baby blue sweater draped over his shoulders like he just stepped off a yacht, rising halfway out of his seat while the room gets to its feet and claps.
His caption says the Minister paused his address to acknowledge him, the brothers stood, and it brought him to tears. He calls Farrakhan his dearest mentor and second father. He says the Minister told him to come back to America and serve the Black community. He writes, “inshallah, I have work to do.”
You have work to do. On that much, we agree.
But before we talk about the work, we have to talk about the math. And we have to talk about the music that taught us the math didn’t matter.

The Math
Here is the part that started all this. In her new documentary and in an interview with PEOPLE, Kimora Lee said she was 16 when Simmons came after her, a man roughly 18 years older. She remembers him in the front row of her shows, cheering loud, coming backstage, sending oversized flower arrangements.
Simmons’ response didn’t dispute the pursuit. It disputed the birthday. His spokesperson said they met at a Mary McFadden show in February 1993, and since Kimora was born May 4, 1975, she was 17 years and 9 months old.
Let that sink in. Seventeen and nine months. That number came from a man defending himself, and it still places a 35-year-old record mogul sitting ringside at a high school girl’s runway walk, choosing her.
I’ll be straight with you, because precision is how you earn trust. In New York back then, 17 was the age of consent. Kimora herself once told Vanity Fair nothing happened until she was 18. So this is no courtroom case. It’s a character case. And character is exactly what that room full of men stood up to endorse.
Tyra Banks saw it. She was a teenager too. Kimora says Tyra kept her at her apartment an entire weekend so she wouldn’t go home and return his calls. Kimora thought Tyra was hating. Today she says Tyra was protecting her. Think about what that means. The only person in the story acting like a grown-up was a child.

The Paper Trail
Accountability needs a paper trail, so here it is.
February 1993: Simmons’ spokesperson places the first meeting at a Mary McFadden fashion show, putting Kimora at 17 years and 9 months based on her May 1975 birthday. Simmons, born October 1957, is 35.
1998 to 2009: They married in 1998, had daughters Ming and Aoki, separated in 2006, and finalized the divorce in 2009.
2017: Multiple women publicly accuse Simmons of sexual assault. He denies it and steps down from his businesses and charities, including Def Jam.
January 2020: On the Record, the documentary following several of his accusers, premieres at Sundance to repeated standing ovations. Note that. The first standing ovation in this story went to the women.
November 2023: Simmons signs confidential settlements with Sil Lai Abrams, Sherri Abernathy, and Wendy Carolina Franco, while admitting no wrongdoing.
October 2024: Those three women tell a court he hasn’t paid more than $3 million owed under those deals. Abernathy alleges he raped her in 1983. Abrams alleges he raped her in 1994.
January 2025: Court filings show he also owes at least $8 million to three more accusers.
February 2025: A federal judge tosses a Jane Doe rape suit on jurisdiction after Simmons argues he’s a “stateless” American living on a permanent Indonesian retirement visa at a Bali resort he co-owns. Her filings say he admitted in deposition that he still pays a Manhattan apartment lease for his children and keeps office space in midtown. She refiles in state court.
2026: Simmons sues HBO for $20 million over On the Record. Warner Bros. says it stands by the filmmakers. More than 20 women have now accused him.
He has denied every allegation. He has never been convicted. Say that out loud, because it matters. Then look at the rest of the list and ask yourself why a man this sure of his innocence keeps settling, stops paying, and argues he doesn’t live anywhere.

The Room
Now back to the hall.
I grew up in Mount Vernon with the Minister’s voice in the air. I’ve heard him move rooms that nobody else could move. He has pulled men off corners and out of bottles. Respect where it’s earned.
And that’s why this stings like it does. When a man with that much moral weight pauses a sermon to spotlight Russell Simmons, and a sea of disciplined Black men rises on cue, that isn’t a private kindness. That’s a public verdict.
So to every brother in that clip who stood and clapped: I’m not calling you evil, but YOU CHIMPED-OUT!. I’m asking you a question you owe yourself. What did you think you were applauding? The Def Jam founder who changed your life in 1986? The donor? The friend of the Minister? Or the man as he stands today, with that timeline behind him?
Because the women on that list are Black women. Some of them are the daughters of men who look exactly like you. Loyalty to a mentor never requires disloyalty to them.
The Soundtrack of Predation
Here’s the part that keeps me up.
Every day in this country, men who aren’t famous walk into courtrooms and walk out with decades. No publicist counting the months. No retirement visa. No hall of brothers on their feet. Just a public defender with forty other files.
Then there’s the other door. The one with the velvet rope. Money, beats, brand, nostalgia. Behind that door, you can be accused by more than twenty women and still get a standing ovation in a house of worship.
I’m not asking for mercy for one door or vengeance at the other. I’m asking for one door.
I’ll be honest about my own part in this. I grew up believing pursuit was manhood. Flowers for a stranger. Carrying a girl’s books home. Push for what you want. That was nature, as far as I knew. I was on the hunt. That’s all I knew.
Then I went back and really listened to the music that raised us. Decades of hit records, rock, soul, pop, and yes, R&B, casually romancing girls who were sixteen. We sang along at cookouts. We played them at weddings. Nobody flinched. That’s how a culture grooms its men without ever saying the word.

Look at the playlist.
Gary Puckett & The Union Gap: “Young girl, get out of my mind / My love for you is way outta line.” He knows it’s wrong. He sings it anyway. We cheer.
The Beatles: “Well, she was just seventeen / You know what I mean.” The wink is built into the melody.
Benny Mardones: “She’s just 16 years old / Leave her alone, they say.” The warning is in the lyric. The chorus ignores it.
Bruce Springsteen: “Hey, little girl, is your daddy home?” The tension is the hook.
KISS: “Christine Sixteen / I don’t usually say things like this to girls your age.” The admission is the punchline.
The Rolling Stones: “I can see that you’re just 15 years old / No, I don’t want your ID.” The swagger is the point.
R. Kelly: “Age Ain’t Nothing But a Number.” Written by a grown man for a teenage girl. The title is the blueprint.
We didn’t just hear these songs. We absorbed them. They taught us that the line is a technicality. Get as close as you can. If the beat is good, the morality is negotiable.

What We Owe
We are men. We have hunger. I won’t pretend otherwise and I don’t trust anyone who does. But hunger is the reason fathers exist. It’s the reason mentors exist. It’s the reason a big brother puts his hand on your chest and says, not her, not like this, not ever.
An ovation is a mentor too. It teaches every young man watching what the elders will forgive.
So here’s what I’m asking you to do. Watch that clip again. Then read the timeline again. Then decide which side of it you want your name on when your son asks you about it someday.
Tyra picked her side at seventeen.
What’s your excuse?

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