The stereotypical hip-hop emcee often posseses a lengthy criminal background. Some were gangbangers while others sold drugs. Some were reputedly wife beaters, killers, robbers and thieves. But the last thing one would expect from such a ruthless genre is homosexuality.

Hip-hop is among the last forms of artistic expression where homophobia is not only accepted, but brazenly encouraged. The phrase “no homo” is a common slang term sprinkled throughout hip-hop culture meant to clear any doubt that a man is gay.

But the red-blooded world of hip-hop was awakened in early July when the high-profile, double-platinum hip-hop/R&B artist Frank Ocean, who has penned songs for Kanye West, Beyoncé and Jay-Z, revealed that his first love was a man.

This was especially shocking for some, as Ocean is a member of the rap collective Odd Future, which is notorious for its misogynist, violent and homophobic lyrics. Group frontman Tyler, the Creator even uses gay slurs 213 times in his solo album, “Goblin.”

While Ocean is the most prominent emcee to admit same-sex orientation, he is hardly the first. Many LGBT hip-hop artists, such as the ’90s group Rainbow Flava, have been making music since the genre’s inception under the umbrella term “homo-hop,” or queer hip-hop, a style of music often containing aggressively pro-gay lyrics that directly confront the perceived homophobia of mainstream rap.

Juba Kalamka has been rapping since 1988 and worked with multiple music groups in Chicago in the early ’90s. Kalamka eventually became fed up with his personal dishonesty regarding his sexuality, which drove him to move to San Francisco in 2000 where he formed the homo-hop group Deep Dickollective, or DDC, with Tim’m West and Phillip Atiba Goff.

“I got to a point, I was kind of on the edge of coming out; I was married, had a kid,” Kalamka said. “I really didn’t feel like I had a space to talk about the stuff that was going on with me.”

Kalamka explained that DDC did not set out to change popular opinion about homo-hop, but to poke fun at the lack of recognition of the genre.

“We’re really doing some parodic black theater combined with hip-hop and poetry,” Kalamka said. “Even when I was doing DDC, there was no point at which I harbored any notion of that particular project becoming some kind of mainstream phenomenon. That wasn’t my intent.”

Eventually, DDC became a serious, socially-conscious rap collective that helped pave the way for future queer hip-hop artists by directly addressing homophobia, racism and sexism. Kalamka helped produce PeaceOut WORLD, the first public homo-hop festival, which ran from 2001-2007 and gathered known and unknown LGBT rappers and disc jockeys from around the world.

Kalamka said the queer hip-hop genre has since become more mainstream, primarily because some LGBT emcees aren’t trying to make a statement. They strive for fame and success just like anyone pursuing a career, he said.

“I think I was a little naive and disappointed,” he said. “I had this idea that there were people who were participating in [homo-hop] for more than just, ‘I happen to be queer, and I’m experiencing this homophobia.’”

As an openly gay artist, Kalamka said he is aware of many record labels’ practice of tricking artists into believing they will be able to be true to themselves and then forcing them to conform to mainstream expectations once they’re signed.

“This is about money,” Kalamka said. “If you’ve got $50 and the person who signed you has $50 million, who has the power in that setup?”

Tessa Hall, assistant program director of music for Clear Channel Communications and a radio host at Washington D.C. station, HOT 99.5, said introducing anything unconventional to Top 40 radio is difficult, if not impossible.

Hall said much of the music considered for radio is provided by major record labels that have groomed their stable of artists to appeal to the mass market.

“The mainstream audience has already been fit into a nice little mold,” she said. “You pretty much know if [a song] is going to be a hit if it talks about this, that, or the other, because that’s what everybody’s used to.”

New York-based artist Luke Caswell, who performs under the name Cazwell and is considered a leading figure in homo-hop, said he disaffiliated himself from mainstream hip-hop at the start of his career when the industry rejected him because of his sexuality.

“There are unspoken rules to hip-hop as a culture, one [being] you can’t be a fag,” Cazwell said. “When I first started my career, I was in a rap group, and all I desperately wanted was to be accepted. But I came to the conclusion that no matter how good I was, I was still gay, so it didn’t really matter. Straight people in hip-hop really don’t want to have anything to do with gay people for the most part. Until recently, there’s been major association issues.”

Cazwell said he paradoxically began to create a name for himself once he bowed to the industry’s unwritten rules against homosexuality and left the hip-hop scene altogether. After performing as an opening act for Lady Gaga, Cazwell was featured on her no. 1 hit, “Just Dance” in 2009. In August 2010, Cazwell released the song “Ice Cream Truck,” and its homoerotic music video went viral with more than 1 million views on YouTube in one week. Cazwell now holds a prominent place in the dance/club scene and performs in clubs worldwide.

“Rather than getting a culture to accept me, I just created my own scene and my own sound and had people come to me,” he said. “I actually wasn’t expecting [the widespread success], which is unusual because I’m always expecting to be a huge hit. But sometimes you come up with really great things if you’re in the mindset that you don’t care what anyone thinks.”

Other LGBT artists say they’ve seen a shift in the industry. Lashunda Nicole Flowers, frontwoman of the lesbian hip-hop group Yo! Majesty, said most mainstream hip-hop is simply stolen from underground musicians.

“Mark my words, this Frank Ocean guy came out, and we’re gonna start seeing a lot more of these artists come out of the closet,” said Flowers, who is better known as Shunda K. “Being gay is popular now. It just shows how fake all these motherf—–s were.”

Yo! Majesty gained a following after playing at the South by Southwest Music Festival in 2007, collaborating with producers such as Basement Jaxx and touring with Peaches, Gossip and the Brazilian new wave group CSS. Combining eyebrow-raising lyrics with hip-hop, hard rock, gospel and electronic elements, Yo! Majesty harnessed a sound that was brand new to the genre.

Shunda K said she struggled with her own sexuality throughout her career. She describes herself as a devout Christian and was briefly married to a man. She said she also understands the industry’s power in pressuring artists to pretend they are something they aren’t in order to increase their level of fame, even if that means faking heterosexuality.

“The fans have no idea these artists are faking it to make it,” Shunda K said. “They just take their word and run with it. They’re just faking themselves for the purpose of selling records or for entertainment, but behind closed doors they’re boo’d up with the same sex.”

Shunda K said Yo! Majesty’s fanbase exploded once she was true to herself and that her proudest achievement—aside from having 30,000 fans screaming her lyrics at a concert—has been making an impact on her fans and encouraging them to be themselves.

“After Yo! Majesty shows, some people come up to us in tears,” she said, “Like, ‘Oh my God! You don’t know how much you’ve impacted my life. Just because I’m gay or just because I’m a minority or a nobody, according to society, seeing you onstage tonight just made all that s— go out the door.’ Being able to show them that you don’t have to sacrifice your integrity just to be successful is what it’s all about.”

Yo! Majesty recently regrouped after a long hiatus and hopes to release a single within the next year. Shunda K said she has different values in mind this time around after witnessing record labels’ control of the industry.

“Now my career is not about how much money I make, and having the fanciest cars and the best looking girls,” she said. “Now I’m going to really give you the whole truth and nothing but the truth. My eyes are wide open. I’m not being programmed to be controlled by the masters that be—the puppet masters.”

Kalamka said he thinks it may be a while until there is a level playing field throughout the industry.

“[We’re] waiting for an old machine that’s falling apart, that’s still trying to maintain a space in a hypercapitalistc paradigm that’s ultimately a racist paradigm, ultimately misogynistic and sexist and homophobic and transphobic,” Kalamka said. “Waiting for your opportunity to be a part of that context on the basis of whatever parts of yourself you can cover that will normalize you so they will accept you is blaringly and incredibly dishonest, if not ridiculous. I would also say that it’s not something I’m waiting for.”