THE BELL LAP: Trapped In the Closet: The Preface

The other day I was sitting at the Greenhouse Diner with a bunch of people when suddenly this girl pipes up and says, “What do you get when you cross a pirate and a pedophile?”

“Aaaaarrrr-Kelly,” she shouted while snorting hot coffee out of her nose.

I had to tame the urge to toss my mad small orange juice in her face.

I am a fan who has worn his respect for R. Kelly on the extra-long sleeve of his extra-long white tee since the days of Space Jam. When the R. controversy spiraled out of control around 2001, I felt like I was the one under fire. Was I really some sort of sexual deviant just because I liked to listen to songs with lyrics like, “I swear I never seen a t-shirt looks so tight / My triple-X on your body, girl, you make it look so right”?

Deep down, though, I always knew that R was innocent. I mean, I’ve seen the video of “R. Kelly” urinating on a young girl, and whether or not the distorted figure in question is Robert Kelly seems secondary to the fact that he is peeing with an erection, which everyone knows is impossible.

But while I would never put it past R to achieve the impossible, the real lesson was that the haters will always hate. As sexual scandal petered out, new rumors and public shaming rose to the surface. In 2004, Kelly had the humility to admit that he is too talented to read and write: “For the record, R Kelly is not the best at reading and writing. I don’t have no shame in saying that.”

Pundits declared the admissions an “outrage.” But I think his alleged ignorance wasn’t their real problem. People are always asking me, “How can he move from a gospel hymn straight into a song in which juicing a woman is analogized to smoking drugs?” R deftly diffuses the paradox with a simple analogy: “It’s like how you see a lot of fat people at health clubs.”

He’s right. This dichotomy is not hypocritical; it is human. Moreover, it is what we need to hear as Harvard students. In the cut and thrust of a good college career, R. Kelly is the only true prophet for the student who embraces all aspects of campus life. He is the guiding light for the sinning scholar who travels from the Kong to Lamont in the twilight hours, hoping to purge the pecadillos of Saturday night vis-à-vis a sick study session. Because when it comes down to it, each of us is not just “one thing.” You don’t need to know how to “read and write” to understand that fundamental nature of man.

R’s most recent opus, the 12-chapter “Trapped In the Closet” series, challenged fans more than ever with its absurd soap opera plotline. Many people dismissed the experiment, which beneath the surface is a profound meditation on sexuality and fidelity in the 21st century. But I kept listening, and Kelz broadened my horizons once again. He opened up my closet door, moved aside the skeletons and Air Force Ones, and made me look into the deepest corners to remember why I’ve still got love for the R.

And that’s real.

Tabernacle.