
Sign up to save your podcasts
Or


Thirty years ago, I was 11 years old when I saw a boy on a talent show tape, rapping on stage. I was immediately captured. A few weeks later, he rode down my street on a moped, stopped, and we talked. And that was it. That was the beginning of everything.
His name was Monty. And he was my first love.
But Monty wasn't just my first romantic love. He was the boy who introduced me to the grit and the hood of hip-hop. He was the boy who showed me that the poetry I loved in Maya Angelou and Langston Hughes could also live in the streets. He was the boy who made me fall in love with hip-hop—and with myself as a writer.
This is my Brown Sugar moment.
A few weeks ago, I released an episode called "Brown Sugar: When I Fell in Love with Hip-Hop (And the Boy Who Showed Me the Hood)." And in that episode, I told the story of Monty—the origin of my calling, the man who shaped my identity as a writer, the man who, 30 years later, is still one of the most important people in my life.
And after that episode aired, something incredible happened. He called me. And he said: "I want to be on the podcast."
So today, I'm sitting down with Monty—my first love, my introduction to hip-hop, and the man who is the origin of everything I do—for a live conversation about our childhood, our 30-year friendship, and what it means to be someone's "first love" in multiple ways—not just romantically, but musically and intellectually.
In this episode, we talk about:
This is not just a conversation about nostalgia. This is a conversation about the origin of my calling. Monty introduced me to hip-hop. He shaped my identity as a writer. He is the reason I became a scholar, a cultural critic, a hip-hop historian. And 30 years later, we're still connected. We're still "my first love." We're still part of each other's story.
And that's the gift.
This is what the No-Bargain looks like. This is what it looks like when a relationship doesn't require you to sacrifice your authenticity, your body, your peace, or your calling. This is what it looks like when a relationship gives instead of takes.
Monty and I didn't end up together romantically. But 30 years later, we're still connected. And this conversation is the full-circle moment.
By Hilerie LindThirty years ago, I was 11 years old when I saw a boy on a talent show tape, rapping on stage. I was immediately captured. A few weeks later, he rode down my street on a moped, stopped, and we talked. And that was it. That was the beginning of everything.
His name was Monty. And he was my first love.
But Monty wasn't just my first romantic love. He was the boy who introduced me to the grit and the hood of hip-hop. He was the boy who showed me that the poetry I loved in Maya Angelou and Langston Hughes could also live in the streets. He was the boy who made me fall in love with hip-hop—and with myself as a writer.
This is my Brown Sugar moment.
A few weeks ago, I released an episode called "Brown Sugar: When I Fell in Love with Hip-Hop (And the Boy Who Showed Me the Hood)." And in that episode, I told the story of Monty—the origin of my calling, the man who shaped my identity as a writer, the man who, 30 years later, is still one of the most important people in my life.
And after that episode aired, something incredible happened. He called me. And he said: "I want to be on the podcast."
So today, I'm sitting down with Monty—my first love, my introduction to hip-hop, and the man who is the origin of everything I do—for a live conversation about our childhood, our 30-year friendship, and what it means to be someone's "first love" in multiple ways—not just romantically, but musically and intellectually.
In this episode, we talk about:
This is not just a conversation about nostalgia. This is a conversation about the origin of my calling. Monty introduced me to hip-hop. He shaped my identity as a writer. He is the reason I became a scholar, a cultural critic, a hip-hop historian. And 30 years later, we're still connected. We're still "my first love." We're still part of each other's story.
And that's the gift.
This is what the No-Bargain looks like. This is what it looks like when a relationship doesn't require you to sacrifice your authenticity, your body, your peace, or your calling. This is what it looks like when a relationship gives instead of takes.
Monty and I didn't end up together romantically. But 30 years later, we're still connected. And this conversation is the full-circle moment.