TOURÉ IS A FORCE OF NATURE.

A writer, cultural critic, father, television personality, disseminator of knowledge, deliverer of opinions, ace tennis player and consummate storyteller who lives, in his own words, “to talk about the world in ways that could challenge how people think”. His intimate profiles of hip-hop royalty for Rolling Stone in the 90s and early 00s earned him Most Favoured Nation status — Touré is the one everybody wants to confide in. Not only because he sees the person underneath the personality, but because he really loves talking about Black people and the beauty of Blackness. His stories are a celebration of our shared humanity through a particular Black cultural lens that works to connect us all through mutual understanding. Touré loves to argue and to play board games. He is a voracious consumer of all kinds of culture, and he is a fierce friend. 

OK, full disclosure: Touré is someone I love, like a member of my family. He’s like the precocious younger brother who is constantly teasing and ribbing me, but through all those interactions secretly guiding me towards finding my better angels by forcing me to look at things from a different angle, be it a book, a film or the political landscape. I first became aware of Touré at some point in the mid-90s. He was one of those downtown NYC characters who was always on the scene. That writer at the party with one name who I would see over by the DJ booth hanging out with some luminary like Run-DMC. 

But he first came into focus for me in the maternity ward at NYU Langone hospital – I was overdue, hoping that a stroll down the hall would hasten childbirth, and there was Touré, that guy from around, who, as it turned out, was helping his own firstborn emerge. Our kids ended up at the same school, and as our friendship developed during class trips and multigenerational playdates, I started paying closer attention, watching with interest as his voice developed and sharpened, as he expanded from hip-hop’s favourite magazine journalist and author, to co-hosting The Cycle, a news and political talk show on MSNBC, to engaging with his ever-expanding audience through YouTube and TikTok. Always telling it like it is by captivating us with brilliant storytelling, and breaking down what can feel like an overwhelming torrent of news by putting the facts into context, sharing the relevant history, and keeping it real.

Even though we’ve known each other “for ever”, I still learned a few things about Touré when we sat down to talk for Brownstone Cowboys. I learned that his deep connection to his parents inspires his writing, his parenting style and even his favourite sport. I learned that he studied TikTok for a year before figuring out how to bring his authentic self to the platform in a way that made sense. I learned about the methodology behind Oprah’s interviewing style. And I learned how important it is to listen and make space for people to tell their own stories. 
 

Because the more we take time to really hear the stories of others, the more clearly we understand our own.

BW When did you first know that you wanted to become a writer?

T In my late teens I already knew that writing came easily to me. I remember some writing assignment that we did, where I wrote something that was like, really, really funny. And everybody in class was laughing, like, appropriately. So that's interesting. Also I remember that this was around when Toni Morrison was winning the Nobel prize, and everybody was proud of that… my mom was super proud of that – she was already a big Toni fan. So it was just like, this being a writer is a respectable profession that my mom would think was cool. It’s a way of living up to what my mom would want from me.

And I think I felt like there was an opportunity in writing to help Black people. Early in my career when I was an intern at Rolling Stone, somebody had written a cover story on Dr Dre and Snoop Dogg and there was this sort of undercurrent in the piece of like, "Wow, these aliens are so different." This othering of Black people, the alienisation of Black people in this way, was damaging. I wanted to write about these people and show the full complexity of them as human beings. I’m like, "Those are my brothers. Those are my cousins." I would go and sit with them, like we're chilling and create media that's like, "These guys are brilliant and we're going to put them on a plane of being brilliant, but I'm not going to otherise them because they're cool. They're like me, they're like you."

BW So how did you move from a lowly intern at Rolling Stone to being hailed as hip-hop’s favourite interviewer? What is it about your approach that makes you such a comfortable person for artists to talk to?

T I remember my father was an accountant, which meant that tax season, especially March, April, May, you're barely seeing him because he's at work till like 10, 11 o'clock all the time. He drove us to school in the morning, and during that period that would be the only time we would have with him the whole day. So I remember being very young, clocking this whole cycle and prizing the 20 minutes in the car in the morning. And I remember thinking as a very, very young person, like four or five, what is it that he would be interested in talking about so that he will want to have the conversation?

And that becomes, sort of, the genesis of me as an interviewer: what do you want to talk about? I'm trying to figure out what you want to talk about and to listen to what you're saying, to get you into where you want to go. And when you're talking about what you want to talk about, you're going to be super open and happy to have that conversation. And it has to be a flowing conversation, right? So I have to be listening. The first big interview I did was a feature on Run DMC. I kind of just knew how to have a conversation and have short questions and keep them flowing. (You know, Oprah is the best at this. Short questions, emotional questions, making you talk a lot. Lots of follow-ups. But you may not even realise she's doing her third or fourth follow-up, because she's just so short and surgical.) And I remember when the hour was up, Run stood up and he said, “Dope interview,” and he walked out, and I was like, this is great.

You have to talk to them like they are a real person who has a job. I went with Snoop to his house and was noticing a middle-aged man saying, "I have lost the living room to my children. So I have this whole other space that I have to take for myself.” So you're a dad, like so many of us. He was coaching his son’s football league team. And I noticed we were in his man cave, his little dog house, in the backyard, because he lost the living room. And there's one picture on the wall. Most reporters would have thought, "Oh, you're in a photograph with Diddy." I said, "Who's the other guy?" That's his father-in-law, who was the biggest pimp in Long Beach in the 70s. Asking that question, and listening, led to him talking about his previous three to four years of basically leaving his family to become a professional pimp, building a stable. I was recently married then, like two, three years into marriage, and, well, if I started pimping, my wife would be like, “What the fuck are you doing?” So I’m not asking, “What does this say about your image?” I’m asking, “What did your wife say about this?” And he said, “I already told you that her father was in the life, right? So she was kind of used to it. She was kind of like, "Just don't bring the girls over here.” So I just got this whole story that put the current Father of the Year phase into context.

BW And now you’ve graduated from magazines and hosting TV shows, and you're doing your own programming. How has your experience with legacy media informed what you do now?

T Well, there’s still lots of interviewing, but yes, as traditional media continues to constrict, a lot of us are using the same skills in an independent space. For me, the crux of it all, that sort of ties a lot of it all together, is storytelling. And I feel like I'm a really, really good storyteller. I remember very clearly from age five, if there was a birthday party, all the kids in the neighborhood went there and had an experience and came back. I was like, "Well, I am by far the best at explaining to the adults, this is what happened." I can give you a report on what happened that fits with what everybody experienced. Not just “Here's how it was for me.” A lot of people will tell a story based on how they received the information, rather than how the story happened in the world. A better storyteller will tell the story as if they are looking at the world with a drone. When people are like, "Oh, you're a great storyteller," that is the compliment that I want the most. 

BW How does political commentary fit into the work you're doing now? It’s such a strong vein that runs through everything.

T Just always been super interested in politics. My father worked in City Hall when we were younger. So we talked about politics — Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan… When I was in high school, I interned for Dukakis for President. If you're talking about racial justice, you have to talk about what's going on politically.

BW So now it’s like you’re giving people the words they need to go out and have those conversations with their friends and family.

T I think the audience on MSNBC comes to us saying, "I’m with you. I’m lefty. I get it—but I don’t understand exactly how. Can you explain it to me?" And then Rachel or Chris or Joy, or me, is like: "So here’s the problem with the tariffs." Even with democratic socialism, if you didn't say that phrase and you told them, "I think everybody should have healthcare, and workers should be protected, and we should have a $15 or $20 minimum wage, and we should help the working class get to work more quickly and efficiently," all of these things poll extremely well. But when you say "socialism," people freak out and think, "Oh, they're talking about Lenin and taking away our property." Nobody's talking about that. Just explaining the reality of these situations is really valuable.

BW I’m interested in your transition — the difference between being a voice for Black people in establishment media and the newer social media world.

T You can go farther. In an intellectual sense, you have to sort of shout to be heard. But you can go farther; you can say whatever you want. You see it on the specific issue of Israel and Palestine. My wife is from Beirut, so I had a higher level of information about what was going on in the Middle East than most Americans. When I’m doing MSNBC, I am fully aware that our media — and our government — are completely pro-Israel. We are not telling the true story. On corporate media, there was no space to be critical of Israel and pro-Palestinian. That was unthinkable. Now, I am able to explain this in a pro-Palestinian way that was not possible inside of a building.

If I was a host on MSNBC and I said, "Trump is racist," I might end up having a meeting. "Can you please not say that? Can you please couch it in a softer way?" Now, the whole video might be like, "Trump is racist," saying it over and over. You don't have a building behind you that’s going to be like, "Can you tone it down?"

BW Do you feel like "shouting" compromises the nuance of what you’re talking about?

T I still want to tell a true story. Part of the thing is that the right-wing media ecosphere is very much captured by the outrage economy and the battle to say something wilder and crazier than the next person in order to be heard. Just saying "immigrants should be removed" is not enough. You have to say, "I want them removed and their fingers cut off." Then that clip will make the rounds. The Left doesn't do that. I want to be accurate. I want to be honest. I want somebody to say, "What you said is correct. It's factually honest." I don't think the Right cares about that at all.

BW And in today’s media landscape, where all news is fake news, how do you gain people’s trust?

T My audience knows who I am and many of them say they have known me for a long time so I have credibility with them already. At the same time I always try to speak from a place of research rather than opinion. That establishes a basis for what I’m saying rather than it’s just what I thought up.

BW: How did you develop your current social media persona? It’s been such an evolution.

T: Oh my god, it’s a whole thing. I watched TikTok for a year trying to figure out: How do I fit in this space? I will never dance. I will never do trends. I don’t want to do jokes. Then I found the whole essay thing on TikTok was really starting to rise. I started to tell stories from my journalism career. When you go out with a Jay-Z, there’s always an anecdote.

I was in a helicopter with Jay-Z going from the Hamptons to Manhattan, and Aaliyah and Damon Dash were there. It was super dark and you cannot see. I'm just the writer so I cannot say, "Hey, it's really dark." Jay-Z's the super tough guy so he's not saying shit, and Aaliyah is just a plus one. But we were all feeling like what the fuck? Finally Damon caught the vibe and was like, "Can you fucking see?" And the guy goes, "Oh, sorry. I can see just fine." But then he flicked on a light and like, "Oh.. now we all can see." You tell that story — oh my god, people freak. I got a hundred more stories like that with DMX, with Lauryn. I can mine the old work for stories that people want.

BW: So how do you decide what stories you're interested in telling?

T: I mean, you know, that depends on a lot of things. The drama. Is there a villain in the story? Is it surprising? Is it dramatic? I mean, you know, I'm doing this White Passing project, which happened by accident. I'm like 10 deep, and I have to keep going, because I just walk down the street and people are like, “Oh my God, White Passing Hall of Fame!” So with this project you kind of know right away. For exam-

One of the greatest compliments is when you run into people a generation above me — the aunties or uncles. 
The grown flight attendants who say, ‘You are doing the news in a way that makes us proud’.

ple there’s this woman, who's the daughter of a slave master and an enslaved woman, cuts her hair, puts on a man's suit, grabs her husband, who is a brown skinned slave, and they get on a train, and she's like, “I'm a sickly white slave owner, and this is my slave, and my bandage, I can't really talk, but I'm taking him up north for something that we have to do for my health.” And it's a much more dramatic story than that, but I mean that alone… it’s so exciting!

Overall, there’s a hope that you can be of service to Black people—to tell stories, to point out ideas. 
 
You’re not a toady; 
you’re not a cheerleader. But you are an honest broker whose whole presentation is valuable.

When our conversation ends, it’s clear that storytelling isn’t just Touré’s profession — it’s his way of moving through the world.

The renowned Nigerian author Chinua Achebe once wrote that “the storyteller creates the memory that the survivors must live with. It is only the story that can continue beyond the life and the death of a man — and the storyteller is the one who will make that memory.” For Touré, storytelling is a form of sacred maintenance. And it’s also as natural as breathing. Whether he’s teasing out the narrative of a messy break up, explaining the complexities of political theory, or shining some light on why a light-skinned Black person might choose to pass as white, he is fundamentally building a memory of Black life that refuses to be othered.

At his core, Touré is still that five-year-old kid in the car during tax season, meticulously figuring out which questions to ask to make the 20-minute conversation with his father matter. In an era defined by a fractured "outrage economy," Touré is our truth-teller. He isn’t just chasing the next viral clip; he is laying down the bricks of a story that makes sense to the world — ensuring that everyone —  the young Black kids and the neighbourhood elders alike — sees an empowering reflection that celebrates their inherent dignity. What I love the most about Touré, whether we are hanging out in Ft Greene or I’m catching his latest Instagram post, is that he is always connecting, always engaging, always challenging folks to go deeper. Storytelling is Touré’s love language, and by centering our humanity, this revolutionary love keeps all of our heads high, our vision clear, and our feet collectively moving forward towards a better future.