Rick James Names The 6 Gay Artists He Dated In Secret
The wild confessions, the silenced truths, and the music industry’s darkest closet finally opens

For decades, Rick James was known as the Super Freak. A flamboyant, rebellious, and unapologetically bold performer whose music broke boundaries and whose life often defied logic. But there’s one chapter of his life he barely hinted at until now—and it’s one that could shake the very foundation of music history.

Before his death, Rick James recorded a series of private audio journals. And this year, on the 20th anniversary of his passing, those tapes were unearthed—revealing stories the world was never meant to hear.

And among them? A bombshell revelation.

Rick James secretly named six male artists he claimed to have had romantic or sexual relationships with. Six artists whose public personas have never even brushed the idea of being gay or bisexual. Six names that, if proven true, could rewrite everything we thought we knew about sexuality in the entertainment industry.

He starts the recording casually, his voice deep, mellow, reflective.

“I loved women. Don’t get it twisted. But there were moments, nights, and souls I connected with that didn’t come in a woman’s body,” he said, pausing for a breath. “There were men too. Powerful ones. Famous ones. And most of them…they were scared. Scared to be real. Scared to be free.”

The admission stunned even his closest confidants. But what followed was more shocking.

He named names.

The first? A Grammy-winning soul legend. Known for his smooth falsetto and angelic lyrics. Rick described their relationship as “sneaky, passionate, and dangerous.” He said they would rendezvous in hotel rooms between tour stops, both terrified of being caught but addicted to each other’s presence.

The second was a rock icon. Yes, rock. Known for his leather jackets, screaming fans, and bad-boy image. Rick called him “the man who kissed me before every show backstage.” According to Rick, their secret affair lasted two years during the height of their stardom.

But Rick wasn’t just exposing names—he was exploring pain.

“They couldn’t be seen with me,” he said on tape. “They didn’t want rumors. They had brands to protect, labels to please. But in the dark, they loved me. Or they loved the escape I gave them.”

The third name? A platinum-selling rapper from the ’90s. Known for hyper-masculine lyrics and a history of dissing queer people in his songs. Rick didn’t hold back.

“That one hurt the most. He talked trash about me publicly, made fun of me, even after our nights together. But that’s how scared he was. He hated himself more than he hated me.”

The fourth? A beloved pop icon who danced his way into the hearts of millions. Rick was vague about their timeline but said, “We had a thing before he became who he is today. Before the fame made him forget.”

The fifth name hit even harder. An R&B singer from a famous family. Known for his soft ballads and emotional vulnerability. Rick said their affair was brief but intense—and ended when the singer’s father caught them.

“He slapped me,” Rick said. “Told me never to come near his son again. I didn’t. But the boy kept calling me. For years.”

And the sixth? That’s the one no one expected. A gospel singer turned mainstream star. Rick said their connection was spiritual and sexual. A bond born from shared pain, addiction, and struggle.

“He cried in my arms more than once,” Rick said. “Told me God would forgive him. I told him God didn’t need to.”

What’s more haunting is Rick’s tone. Not sensational, not proud—just honest. He wasn’t bragging. He was unloading a secret burden he carried for decades.

“I ain’t naming names to hurt nobody. I’m naming them so the truth don’t die with me,” he said. “I want the world to know that love is complicated. That even your favorite singer might be fighting demons you don’t understand.”

Naturally, after the tapes leaked, the speculation exploded.

Fans began dissecting lyrics, old interviews, red carpet moments. Who could the six be? Was he lying? Was he high? Or was this the industry’s best-kept secret finally unraveling?

Music journalists and queer historians weighed in. Some say Rick’s admissions are long overdue, a courageous act of truth-telling in an industry built on illusion. Others call it betrayal—outing people posthumously who never had the chance to speak their own truths.

But what cannot be ignored is the impact.

One of the alleged artists—though unnamed—released a cryptic Instagram post days after the story went viral. It read simply: “Sometimes the past comes back to free you, not haunt you.”

Another artist’s team issued a swift denial, calling the tapes “fabricated and false.”

But a third? Went silent. No comment. No statement. Just disappeared.

For Rick James fans, this revelation doesn’t change who he was—it completes the picture.

He was a man of contradictions. Loud but private. Free yet shackled. And in these tapes, he became human in the most raw and real way possible.

A producer who worked closely with Rick in the 80s shared a chilling detail. He said Rick once told him during a late-night recording session, “They’ll never know who I really loved. But one day, the music will tell.”

Maybe these tapes are what he meant.

It raises a deeper question. Why was the industry so afraid of queer love?

Why did these men, who could move millions with their voices, fear being seen in their truth?

The answer isn’t just homophobia—it’s control. The music industry sells fantasy, and queerness was never part of that mainstream fantasy. At least not openly.

Rick’s revelations challenge that. They force a reckoning.

Already, LGBTQ+ advocates are calling for a broader investigation into the industry’s “closet culture”—how executives, publicists, and managers silenced queer artists to protect profit.

Some are pushing for posthumous honors to be revoked from those who may have publicly supported anti-gay rhetoric while hiding their own truths. Others say it’s time for compassion, not cancelation.

As for Rick James?

His daughter, Ty James, responded to the leaks with a single statement: “My father was complex. I loved all of him. Let the world do the same.”

And what about the six?

Will any of them come forward?

Will they deny?

Or will they finally breathe?

One thing is clear. The conversation has changed forever.

The closet Rick broke open is not just about sex. It’s about power. It’s about pain. And it’s about finally telling the truth—even when the truth makes people uncomfortable.