Emil Wilbekin, a luminary of unyielding creativity and boundless curiosity, emerged from the heartland of Cleveland and Cincinnati, Ohio. He was adopted at six months and christened “Mr. Reporter” a sobriquet during his formative years born out of his relentless penchant for discussing matters of import within his household and neighborhood. His youthful enthusiasm often led him into precarious situations where he discovered that the power of words could yield both praise and, at times, reprimand.

At 12, Emil began his literary odyssey perusing GQ, Vogue, Mirabella, and Ebony Man more. His bedroom walls bore witness to his devotion, adorned with vibrant figures featured in Essence, Ebony, Rolling Stone, Interview, and Life Magazine.

His undiagnosed dyslexia posed a formidable hurdle, affecting his reading, spelling, and mathematical acumen, and his summers were dedicated to rigorous study while his peers reveled in leisure. The Caribbean and Midwestern work ethic instilled by his family molded him, as did his English and math tutors—two remarkable Black women who equipped him with essential skills and resilience required to surmount adversity.

Emil’s trek from an inquisitive young “Mr. Reporter” to an esteemed journalist who served as editor-in-chief of Vibe and Giant, then editor-at-large of Essence, is now a professor at the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT). Furthermore he has written for Architectural Digest, Elle Décor, Vogue, Essence, Ebony and made appearances in movies and tv series exemplifying the boundless potential of perseverance.

Before we explore your remarkable career, I’d like to dive into your early life. If I understand correctly, you were adopted. Please elaborate on how this experience may have shaped you, or perhaps you didn’t notice much impact due to its occurrence at such a young age.

Interestingly, my parents told me I was adopted at six and celebrated it, emphasizing “they chose me,” which was radical. In hindsight, they were armoring me because they could tell I was gay or queer, creative, and sensitive. They knew that as a Black boy, I would become a Black man, and I needed to hear that truth at a young age. Thanks to their method, I’ve never had hang-ups about it. That said, I’ve worked through feelings of abandonment in therapy regarding my birth parents, and it sometimes shows up in my relationships.

You’ve had the unique experience of attending Hampton University, an HBCU, and Columbia University, an Ivy League institution, representing two distinct educational environments. What valuable lessons did you learn from these contrasting experiences?

I’m the eighth person in my family to attend Hampton, a legacy tradition. Hampton’s motto, “The Standard of Excellence,” instilled a rigorous approach to education. During freshman year, I had the most challenging journalism professor, Lottie Knight; the lessons she imparted have stuck with me. Hampton also emphasized Black history and identity. While I studied French, the focus was on West Africa. What I got from Hampton was the experience of meeting all these beautiful, brilliant Black people who are mostly all successful now and have a real sense of communityMost people who attend HBCUs have that sense about them; it makes you feel like you’re somebody, like your part of a more extensive community and fabric of Blackness that is intersectional. That’s powerful, especially in this country, which is riddled with systemic racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc.

I was a little nervous going into Columbia. I would say, “I hope my education is up to par.” I got in there and slayed those kids and was like, “Where did y’all go to school, ’cause?!”

During the late 1980s, pursuing a master’s degree in journalism wasn’t as common as it is today. What motivated and influenced your decision to do so?

My parents were superheroes. My mother earned bachelor’s and master’s degrees in music, a Ph.D. in sociology, and a Juris Doctor, even attending law school while pregnant with my brother. My father, an architectural engineer with a master’s, also became a lawyer. Work, God, and education was central in our household. My father served as the commissioner of buildings and inspections for Cincinnati, alongside running a law practice. I started working at his law office at age nine on weekends. It was great because it debunks these myths about Black fathers.

Few individuals can boast of writing for prestigious publications like the New York Times, Chicago Tribune, and Associated Press. How did you accomplish this so early in your career?

My professors at Columbia leaned into me. Samuel G. Freedman, a New York Times best-selling author who covered religion, encouraged me to write about hip-hop. When I graduated, he told the folks at the paper that they should have me write something about the genre, so that’s how the NY Times came about. Martha Nelson, editor at Savvy Woman and the first female editor-in-chief at Time, Inc., guided me in fashion. Word of mouth led me to opportunities with the Associated Press and Chicago Tribune, thanks to networking with friends in the magazine industry. I covered the men’s market for AP while working as an assistant at Metropolitan Home. This was my version of the movie “Mahogany.”

What makes Emil pivot from these hard-hitting news organizations to a music publication that would become Vibe?

Jonathan Van Meter, part of our “Last Thursday of the Month” Club, was chosen as editor of Vibe, a magazine co-founded by Quincy Jones. Vibe aimed to be the Rolling Stone of hip-hop, combining impactful news with stunning visuals. Jonathan requested to hire several of us from our club as founding editors, and pending interviews and meeting the qualifications, I became one of the founding editors at Vibe.

Your career trajectory from music to style editor, fashion editorial director, and eventually editor-in-chief is not a common path, even to this day. What do you think made this possible?

Susan Taylor and Anna Wintour are two notable figures who transitioned from fashion and journalism into the role of editor-in-chief. At Vibe, I covered news and discovered emerging talent, helping break artists like Aaliyah, Brandy, Usher, SWV, Missy Elliott, and Maxwell. I eventually moved into fashion starting as style editor, a position and title I created, with approval to gain experience (I was denied the fashion director position because I was inexperienced) in market work and photoshoot handling. My first shoot was with Tyson Beckford when he landed the Ralph Lauren deal. I styled the Faith and Biggie’s “Hitchcock” shoot, plus the October 1995 shoot featuring them on the cover; those pictures changed everything.

Homosexuality and its relationship with hip-hop were hot topics for you back then. What inspired or motivated you to tackle this subject?

In the early to mid-90s, hip-hop was on the rise, and I frequented the Octagon club, dancing to artists like Foxy Brown and Lil’ Kim. It struck me that we were a part of this culture while working at Vibe, where many hair and makeup artists and stylists were gay. A whole community of us were involved in hip-hop.

I was interviewed by the New York Times after our National Magazine Award win for General Excellence. It was the first time I was asked if I was gay in a public interview, which surprised me, even though I was already open about my sexuality. This was in the ‘90s when HIV rates were high. Phil Wilson from the Black AIDS Institute reached out, urging us to address HIV and AIDS in the Black community, recognizing the significance of these stories from a journalistic perspective.

While you’ve been an advocate and catalyst for discussions about gay Black men throughout your career, what specific event or inspiration led you to launch your own platform, Native Son?

After handling digital at Essence, I became Editor at Large, responsible for booking talent for covers, festivals, Black Women in Hollywood, and social media exclusives. However, when Time, Inc. and Warner Bros. separated, I was laid off along with over 700 others. I called Barbara Biziou my vision coach, to tell her that I was let go.

I had never been fired or laid off, nothing of the sort; I was gagging in my Saint Laurent suit. Barbara said, “Congratulations, the universe gave you what you asked for. You’re now free of your corporate job, you have money as part of your severance package, and you have time.” The next significant thing that happened was Bevy Smith saying, “Own that you were laid off, tell people, celebrate it, and broadcast it.” That gave me this opportunity to not have any shame around it.

I took a trip to India to visit Punit Jasuja an ex-boyfriend; I extended my stay from four weeks to six and had an “Eat, Pray, Love” experience. I even wrote a cover story for Elle Décor India on his home during this time. While detoxing and journaling, I heard a voice that told me to focus on “Black Gay Men.” Reflecting on my privilege as an openly gay editor-in-chief of Vibe, I thought about the hardships individuals like James Baldwin, E. Lynn Harris, and Andre Leon Talley faced.

Realizing no platform represented our community, I decided to create one, leveraging my media and branding experience. I chose the name “Native Son” after spotting the book Notes of a Native Son by James Baldwin on my bookshelf.

Native Son’s website states that it ” embodies a global platform that illuminates Black gay/queer men and assures them of their worthiness and purpose in all communities in which they exist.” Is it primarily about acknowledging the existence of these men, or does it encompass a deeper and more profound purpose?

Native Son is more than just a platform; it’s a movement and a community with a strategic vision. It aims to portray Black, gay, and queer men as beautiful, successful, loving figures and fathers, normalizing their existence. We’ve partnered with AARP, Amazon Music, Citi, Gilead, Google, HBO, Cadillac, Bloomingdales, Byredo, P&G, Morgan Stanley and Netflix. The goal is to build a like-minded community, showcase our achievements, support each other, and boost our confidence to navigate the world.

Inspiration for Native Son comes from two places: the support and celebration of Black women at Essence and the Black trans movement. Janet Mock, Laverne Cox, and other Black trans women who prioritize discussions about violence against Black trans women on the red carpet over fashion inspired the desire to be in the community in a similar way for Black gay men. Earlier this month, Native Son and Netflix spent an evening together at The Chelsea Hotel as we gathered for George C. Wolfe’s Rustin film based on Bayard Rustin.

I wanted to spend this interview asking you a million questions about Hip-Hop and your experience with Biggie, Foxy Brown, Lil’ Kim, and Mary. J Blige, your touch points go on and on, but before we wrap, I’d love it if you could reflect on Hip-Hop’s 50 years?

Hip-hop was always a part of my life. “Rapper’s Delight” was released when I was 12. I remember seeing Heavy D perform live, thanks to a friend whose mother was C-suite at WBLS. I’ll admit that I felt challenged by hip-hop due to the prevalent misogyny and homophobia, which made me feel exposed and stigmatized. Today, though, it’s remarkable to witness the commercial success of hip-hop, with examples like Pharrell serving as the creative director at Louis Vuitton Men’s. His collection was the nexus of luxury and the hood.

IG (Personal): @emilwilbekin

IG (Brand): @nativesonnow

Web: Nativeson.us