Paris Alston: This is GBH's Morning Edition. In the late '80s, Boston was turning out boy bands. You had New Edition, New Kids on the Block, and in 1988, producer Maurice Starr, who was the force behind both of those groups, was trying for a third. He pulled his son and two other boys from Roxbury to form Perfect Gentleman. That group's fame didn't last like the other two. Its lead singer, then known as 12-year-old Tyrone Sutton, says it wasn't long before he found himself on the streets selling drugs to make a living. But that didn't last either: Years later, as a young adult, Sutton realized he wanted more. That's when he decided to convert to Islam.
Taymullah Abdur-Rahman: I was in a position where, as a young Black man, you constantly had to live on your toes, so you have to pretend like you know it all. And I remember my first time going to Mecca and feeling like a child, because I felt like I could get rid of all of these false facades, this pseudo-machismo. And so for me, it was embracing the fact that I don't know it all. And it's okay.
Alston: He changed his name to Taymullah Abdur-Rahman, and as he was redefining masculinity for himself, he was also doing that for hundreds of men in prison through the Massachusetts Department of Correction, where he worked as a Muslim chaplain for 10 years. He also grew to appreciate other religions and identities as he matured in his own, something he says was critical during the two years he was the Muslim chaplain at Harvard. It's a place he says increasingly needs to be inclusive and tolerant of all its students, in light of rising religious tensions amid the war in Gaza. Abdur-Rahman details his evolution in a new memoir, "American Imam: From Pop Stardom to Prison Abolition." When I met up with him at his Spentem store in the South Shore Plaza, where he now spends his time convening youth and community members around restorative justice, he told me he began writing the book in 2008.
Abdur-Rahman: I was basing it on just the idea that I used to be in the music business, now Muslim, but I wasn't able to get it off the ground. And that was a good thing, because over the next 10 years, I started meeting people outside of my worldview, and I was able to shift my intellectual position and change a lot of how I believe. And really, I wanted to make a book about that aspect of my life.
Alston: And that's really pertinent now, because we're living in a time where religious hate is on the rise and we're dealing with a whole war. But you talk about the interfaith connections that you've made with Jewish people, with Christian people, and you talk about this need to be tolerant, but you also square that with your experience as a Black man, obviously a Black American Muslim, but having experienced life as a Black man first. Is there something that we can learn by looking at the war in Gaza through the Black American Muslim lens?
Abdur-Rahman: And I would say as a Black man in America, there's always a very thin, veiled marginalization going on. Every day you step outside, I know my identity is disruptive. So what that allows me to do is to really hone in and empathize with other people all over the world who have that same veil of oppression, some of it more overt than others, but it's always there. People who are in these regions just so happened to be Muslim, along with being whatever ethnicity they are in, but the political climate is causing them to be in these positions where they may do extreme things. And we're not justifying it, but we're saying it's more of the politics behind it. Some people weaponize Islam, that's true, but we can't say that Islam is a religion that condones violence or advocates violence. So what we want to do is look at people's overall condition. And usually we find in these places they're being oppressed not only by their own regimes, but possibly by other outside powers as well.
Alston: Rap music and music in general, obviously has been such a big part of your life. And you talk about how early influences on you musically, folks like Big Daddy Kane or like A Tribe Called Quest, these were all Muslims, and that was kind of planted, that seed was planted in you early on, which then went on to positively influence you to come to terms with your faith.
Abdur-Rahman: Yes.
Alston: We know that rap music has a lot of negative influences now, but do you see today's rap music as being able to positively influence youth, and young Black men in particular?
Abdur-Rahman: Great question. No. Our youth look to role models that appear on TV and on social media. And unfortunately, those images around music are misogynistic, they are negative, they're filled with drugs, they're filled with all ills. And I don't want to be a preachy person, but I do think that we can be a little bit more responsible. And it's not just on the rap artists. Rap artists make what the public demands. They make what the record companies demand. Right now, music is incapable of having a positive message because that's not what corporate America wants. And the people have been put to sleep by all of this negativity.
Alston: The music that you made when you were a member of Perfect Gentleman, I mean, it was a positive message in many ways, right? It was like puppy love. Like, who doesn't like puppy love? And I was watching the video for "Ooh La La," which I had not seen before reading your book. And I was like, look at Taymullah. There he is, in that blue sequin suit.
Abdur-Rahman: That's me, that's me.
Alston: With a little fade and a little rat tail.
Abdur-Rahman: That's funny.
Alston: When you look back at those videos, what do you want to say to then young Tyrone?
Abdur-Rahman: I would tell that young boy: Keep dreaming. And also don't allow this moment in your life to define you. A lot of times what we find is like, if you have a moment of so-called glory and it happens at a time in your life, one moment that may be six months or a year, the rest of your life is spent chasing that moment of glory, trying to get back to it, or finding outlets that will allow you to talk about it and elaborate on it. So I would say keep dreaming, because that's where new self-discovery comes, and you find that you're capable of more than just singing and dancing.
Alston: You mentioned how there was no one to really guide you at that time about, like, what to do with all the thousands of dollars you were making, for instance, or even when you went out and were writing for Dr. Dre, like, it just so happened that you didn't write your best rap that day, but I brought up for me, well, what if those careers did pan out to be bigger than they ended up being? How do you think your life would be different?
Abdur-Rahman: I do believe I would have been dead or in jail, involved in drugs, something violent. But I think that is when God started to actively engage in my life is going out to LA. Being with Dr. Dre and failing. Ultimately, that was one of the greatest blessings in my life.
Alston: Abdur-Rahman will be launching his book at the Harvard Club this Sunday from 2 to 5. You can find more details on eventbrite.com. You're listening to GBH's Morning Edition.
In the late '80s, Boston was turning out boy bands.
You had New Edition and New Kids on the Block — and producer Maurice Starr, who was the force behind both of those groups, was trying for a third. In 1988, he pulled his son and two other boys from Roxbury to form Perfect Gentlemen. But that group didn’t find the success of the other bands.
Its lead singer, then known as 12 year-old Tyrone Sutton, said if he could talk to his younger self, he would tell that child to “keep dreaming.”
“And also: Don't allow this moment in your life to define you,” he told GBH’s Morning Edition. “A lot of times what we find is like, if you have a moment of so-called glory and it happens at a time in your life — one moment that may be six months or a year — the rest of your life is spent chasing that moment of glory, trying to get back to it, or finding outlets that will allow you to talk about it and elaborate on it. So I would say keep dreaming, because that's where new self-discovery comes, and you find that you're capable of more than just singing and dancing.”
His early success led to some other disappointments, he said, like when he went out to Los Angeles to write for Dr. Dre happened to not write his best rap that day. After his music career fizzled, he found himself on the streets selling drugs to make a living, but that wouldn’t last, either. Adbur-Rahman says, however, that his short-lived fame may have been a blessing.
If his music career continued, he says “I do believe I would have been dead or in jail, involved in drugs, something violent. But I think that is when God started to actively engage in my life is going out to L.A., being with Dr. Dre, and failing. Ultimately, that was one of the greatest blessings in my life.”
Years later, as a young adult, he realized he wanted more. That's when he decided to convert to Islam.
“I was in a position where, as a young Black man, you constantly had to live on your toes, so you have to pretend like you know it all,” he said. “And I remember my first time going to Mecca and feeling like a child, because I felt like I could get rid of all of these false facades, this pseudo-machismo. And so for me, it was embracing the fact that I don't know it all, and it's OK.”
He changed his name to Taymullah Abdur-Rahman. And as he was redefining masculinity for himself, he was also doing that for hundreds of men in prison through the Massachusetts Department of Correction, where he worked as a Muslim chaplain for 10 years.
He now spends his time convening youth and community members around restorative justice through his organization, Spentem.
Abdur-Rahman details his evolution in the memoir "American Imam: From Pop Stardom to Prison Abolition." Though it's a new release, he began writing the book back in 2008.
“I was basing it on just the idea that I used to be in the music business, now I'm Muslim,” Abdur-Rahman said. “But I wasn't able to get it off the ground. And that was a good thing, because over the next 10 years, I started meeting people outside of my worldview, and I was able to shift my intellectual position and change a lot of how I believe. And really, I wanted to make a book about that aspect of my life.”
His experience feels especially pertinent now, in a time where religious hate is on the rise. In his book, he writes about the interfaith connections he’s made with Jewish and Christian people, and talks about the need to be tolerant.
He also squares that with having experienced life as a Black man first. That’s something he thinks of when he looks at the war in Gaza, he said.
“I would say as a Black man in America, there's always a very thin-veiled marginalization going on. Every day you step outside, I know my identity is disruptive,” he said. “So what that allows me to do is to really hone in and empathize with other people all over the world who have that same veil of oppression, some of it more overt than others, but it's always there.
“People who are in these regions just so happened to be Muslim, along with being whatever ethnicity they are in, but the political climate is causing them to be in these positions where they may do extreme things,” he added. “And we're not justifying it, but we're saying it's more of the politics behind it. Some people weaponize Islam, that's true, but we can't say that Islam is a religion that condones violence or advocates violence. So what we want to do is look at people's overall condition. And usually we find in these places they're being oppressed not only by their own regimes, but possibly by other outside powers as well.”
Abdur-Rahman will be launching his book at the Harvard Club this Sunday from 2 to 5 p.m. Tickets and more details are at eventbrite.com.
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