by NLE Choppa has been in the headlines again, but this time, it ain’t for a new track or viral freestyle. Instead, the 22-year-old Memphis rapper found himself at the center of a cultural debate after his recent Playgirl magazine photoshoot. Rocking black lace underwear and thigh-high stockings, the “Shotta Flow” artist sparked accusations of queerbaiting—using LGBTQ+ aesthetics for clout without actually identifying with the community.
Let’s be real—this ain’t just about one photoshoot. This is about hip-hop, masculinity, and the rigid expectations placed on Black men when it comes to how they express themselves.
The internet wasted no time in coming for Choppa, with some accusing him of playing into LGBTQ+ imagery to gain attention without actually identifying as queer. Critics questioned whether his flamboyant shoot was a true form of self-expression or just a marketing ploy.
Choppa, never one to hold his tongue, clapped back in a video response: “I am not a gay baiter because I post a selfie in the mirror showing off how beautiful I am. I am not a gay baiter if I post a picture showing off how much God has blessed me from below the waist with something that got women going crazy. I am not a gay baiter because in my Playgirl shoot I showed a piece of my ass. I can’t show a piece of my own ass without being called a name? It’s my ass!”
Point made! Clearly, Choppa wasn’t about to let social media box him in.
This whole situation speaks to something much bigger—how society polices Black masculinity. Hip-hop has long been a space where hyper-masculinity reigns supreme. Street, thuggery, and clout are celebrated, while softness, vulnerability, or anything deemed “feminine” is ridiculed.
Think about it. If a white male pop star rocked lace or posed provocatively, it would be seen as edgy or artistic. But when a Black rapper does it? Suddenly, it’s an identity crisis, and he’s labeled a “queerbaiter” or worse. The same culture that once demonized artists like Prince and Andre 3000 for their flamboyance is still alive today, forcing Black men to constantly prove their masculinity.
Choppa himself has been vocal about his support for the LGBTQ+ community. He even performed at Atlanta’s Black Pride Weekend, telling the crowd:
“Every day, man, we wake up and we fight [for] acceptance. Whether it’s our skin color, whether it’s our weight, whether it’s how we look, whether it’s what our sexuality is. At the end of the day, I believe in one thing: I feel like everybody is equal, no matter how they drink their water, how they eat their food, how they piss, shit, or muthaf***ing sleep, do you feel me?”
Yet, despite his advocacy, fans still accused him of using the LGBTQ+ community for attention.
Choppa’s situation exposes the hypocrisy in hip-hop culture. Rappers can flex money, women, and violence all day, but the moment one decides to tap into a different form of expression—especially one that challenges gender norms—it’s a problem.
Let’s not forget, Young Thug wore a dress on his album cover. Lil Uzi Vert regularly rocks crop tops and painted nails. Even Tupac, one of the most respected figures in rap, once posed shirtless in a bathtub full of gold. These moments should remind us that fashion and artistic expression don’t define a man’s sexuality.
Despite the commotion, NLE Choppa seems to be a young Black man unafraid to embrace a side of himself that hip-hop culture has long rejected.
At the end of the day, Black men deserve the freedom to express themselves however they choose—whether that means rocking lace in a photoshoot, painting their nails, or keeping it traditionally masculine. The idea that Black masculinity must always be one-dimensional is outdated. And if hip-hop is truly about self-expression, then maybe it’s time we let artists like Choppa define themselves on their own terms.
