For the past two years, I’ve been working on a book about Sean Combs. It comes out today. I grew up in the Diddy era. I never necessarily considered myself a Sean Combs fan but “Shake Ya Tailfeather” and “Bump, Bump, Bump” played on repeat on my iPod; Making the Band helped shaped my current dependency on reality TV; I used my tip money from hosting at Bangkok Gardens in college to splurge on Ciroc vodka because it seemed cool; a photo of him lazily sprawling on a hotel bed talking on the phone in a bathrobe was my Twitter header; an ad for his 2023 album was spray-painted on my sidewalk in Brooklyn. When Cassie made her seismic allegations, it forced me to reckon with the man whose influence had quietly been a presence throughout my life. I couldn’t shake the idea: who is Sean Combs? This book, speaking with more than a hundred people who knew him, worked for him and entered his orbit over the past three decades, aims to answer that question. It asks you to hold two truths at once: the cultural weight of what Combs has built and the harm hidden beneath it. I hope you’ll read. amazon.com/dp/1250411165?tag…