Lauryn Hill Reveals Who Prince Was Running From | Why She Stayed Silent | HO

When you think of Lauryn Hill and Prince, you think of musical legends—artists whose influence runs deeper than the charts they topped or the Grammys they won. But beneath the surface, both were warriors, fighting not just for their art, but for their freedom.

Their voices, which once brought them global adoration, ultimately became the very reason the industry turned on them. Now, for the first time, Lauryn Hill is speaking out about the forces Prince was really running from—and why she, too, chose silence over speaking out.

Artistry Versus The Machine

Lauryn Hill and Prince have always been more than entertainers. They are symbols of resistance in an industry notorious for controlling, exploiting, and ultimately discarding its most creative minds.

Both artists fought for ownership of their work, for the right to create without compromise, and for the ability to speak truth to power—a battle that, according to Hill, comes at a steep price.

In a rare interview, Lauryn Hill reflected on her own journey: “What I’ve consciously decided to do is be patient and wait for those instructions again, as opposed to the instructions from the record company. I can’t fulfill their needs because it’s devoid of all feeling.

If it doesn’t move me, then I don’t think it’s worthy enough to put out there and move someone else.” For Hill, making music was never about churning out hits—it was about authenticity, even if that meant clashing with the powers that be.

Prince, too, was unafraid to challenge the system. Famously appearing with the word “slave” scrawled on his cheek, he rebelled against Warner Brothers, who owned his name and master recordings. “As long as you’re signed to a contract, you’re going to take a minority share of the winnings,” Prince once said. “A select few of us will do well. The majority will not.” His message was clear: the system was designed to keep artists in check, and anyone who pushed back would pay the price.

The Cost of Speaking Out

Lauryn Hill’s rise was meteoric. After conquering the charts with The Fugees, she made history with her solo debut, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, winning five Grammys in one night—a record for a woman at the time.

But her success came with a backlash. Almost immediately, Hill was hit with a lawsuit from Newark Entertainment, who claimed they weren’t properly credited or paid. Though she settled out of court for $5 million, the experience left her emotionally scarred and isolated.

In a 2021 interview for the Rolling Stone Amazon Music Podcast, Hill revealed, “No one from my label has ever called me and asked, ‘How can we help you make another album?’ Ever. Ever.” She described the pressure to follow up her debut as “enormous,” with “scores of politics, repressing agendas, unrealistic expectations, and saboteurs everywhere.” Hill said she was included in others’ narratives of success, and if her truth contradicted theirs, she was considered an enemy.

The cost wasn’t just emotional—it was professional. Hill became increasingly reclusive, shunning the spotlight and refusing to play by the industry’s rules. She described having to step away entirely: “There were many temptations, enticements, entrapments… whether it was the dependence on image or just some false sense of security. I had to step away when I realized that for the sake of the machine, I was being way too compromised.”

The Gendered Double Standard

Hill has spoken candidly about the double standards faced by women in the industry. “Men can often say what they want without being challenged, while women may face so much resistance for speaking about their rights,” she said. Her fight for creative control was met with resistance, and her refusal to be manipulated led to her being labeled “difficult.”

The media, too, played its part. Rumors circulated that Hill made racist comments about white fans, which she later clarified were taken out of context. “I make my music for young Black youth because I’m a young Black youth myself… That doesn’t mean my music isn’t universal,” she explained on Howard Stern’s radio show. But the damage was done—her reputation was tainted, and the industry had its excuse to push her further out.

The Cult of Silence

Adding to her troubles was her association with a spiritual adviser known as Brother Anthony, who allegedly encouraged her to sever ties with her management and friends. By the time she released her MTV Unplugged 2.0 album in 2001, Hill was a changed woman—performing alone, her voice damaged, her music raw and unfiltered.

She referenced Brother Anthony frequently, saying, “I started to see that my concept of spirituality was totally wrong… When I started to see that, two things happened: my creativity came back in overflowing abundance, and I got into direct confrontation with everybody I love.”

The industry, however, was unforgiving. Hill’s requests for collaborators to “do it for God”—meaning do it for free—alienated even more people. Then came her highly publicized tax evasion case, which landed her in prison for three months. By the time she emerged, her career was in tatters, her reputation as an unreliable performer seemingly cemented in the public mind.

Prince’s Parallel Struggle

Prince’s fight was even more public. After realizing he was being shortchanged by Warner Brothers, he waged a very visible war for his rights. “I wanted to buy my masters back… They said, ‘No way.’ So I’m going to re-record them—all of them,” he told Paper Magazine in 1999. “You can either give your money to WB or to NPG. You choose.”

He changed his name to an unpronounceable symbol, protested at award shows, and spoke out in interviews about industry control. But his battle, too, came with a price. Prince was labeled a control freak, stories circulated about his supposed mistreatment of women, and the media painted him as eccentric, difficult, and even unstable.

But according to Lauryn Hill, Prince wasn’t just fighting for his art—he was running from something much darker. In the final days of his life, Prince hinted at threats against him. Shortly before his death, he posted a cryptic message: “Just when you thought you were safe…” At his last Paisley Park party, he reportedly told guests, “Wait a few days before you waste any prayers.” Within days, he was gone—dead under mysterious circumstances that many believe were never fully investigated.

The Machine at Work

What connects Lauryn Hill and Prince—and so many other artists who have “disappeared” at the height of their powers—is what many insiders call “the machine.” This is the powerful, unseen force in the music industry that rewards compliance and punishes rebellion. Those who fight for their rights, who demand ownership and creative control, are quickly labeled as difficult, unreliable, or worse.

In Hill’s case, her refusal to play by the rules led to her being blacklisted. Reports of her lateness, her supposed erratic behavior, and her “difficult” reputation were amplified by the media, turning fans against her and giving the industry cover to shut her out. Prince, too, was painted as a problem, his genius overshadowed by stories of eccentricity and control.

Who Is Pulling the Strings?

The question remains: Who is really pulling the strings? Why are the artists who fight for their rights always the ones who fall? Is it a coincidence that Lauryn Hill and Prince—two artists who dared to challenge the system—were both silenced at the peak of their powers?

For Lauryn Hill, the answer is clear: the machine is real, and it destroys those who refuse to play its game. Her silence, she says, was a matter of survival. “There are forces in this industry that don’t want you to own your art, your voice, or your truth. When you speak up, they come for you. Prince knew it. I know it. And so do a lot of other artists you’ll never hear from again.”

A Call for Truth

As the industry continues to churn through talent, rewarding those who comply and discarding those who resist, the stories of Lauryn Hill and Prince serve as a warning—and a call to action. It’s time to ask who benefits from silencing real voices, and why the price of truth is so high.

Maybe, as Prince once asked, we should imagine what we could be like in our own game—one where artists own their work, speak their truth, and are celebrated for their genius, not punished for their courage.