Today, former New Jersey Governor Jim McGreevey will appear on Oprah to discuss his new tell-all memoir, “The Confession” which hits stores today. In the much anticipated book, McGreevey discusses his life-long struggle with sexual identity. The memoir also vividly details the former governor’s extra-marital indiscretions.

According to sources who attended the taping, Oprah delves deeply into McGreevy’s story, struggle, and current status. At one point, McGreevey confesses that he started his affair with a man while his wife was hospitalized after giving birth to their child.

Although many see the book as nothing more than a steamy gay tell-all, McGreevey and his hype men are selling it as an all-American narrative of struggle, failure, redemption, and success.

How convenient.

Although I have yet to see the Oprah show, I have serious concerns about the differential treatment that McGreevey is already receiving in the media. As he mounts his national book tour, McGreevey is given an opportunity to openly discuss his struggles and failures without having to carry the stigmatizing labels of “down low,” “predator,” and “pathological” that accompany Black men who engage in similar practices.

A few years ago, when J.L. King released his ridiculous tome “On The Down Low,” Oprah framed his appearance as a Public Service Announcement for Black women everywhere. Based on King’s questionable personal story and unfounded social scientific claims, Oprah sparked an endless conversation about “dangerous” Black men whose sexual mendacity was crippling the community by spreading HIV/AIDS.

In McGreevey’s case, however, Oprah and others are treating the ordeal as an individual act of public truth telling. Although McGreevey’s book details the back-door dealings of numerous politicians and everyday husbands, the focus has remained exclusively on McGreevey’s own doings rather than a signpost of a gay White epidemic.

In fact, little mention has been made about the verified acts of ethical turpitude between McGreevey and the citizens of New Jersey. After all, he did place his lover in a critical governmental position –the State Department of Homeland Securty– for which he was largely unqualified. Somehow, in the midst of preparing his homecoming festival, we have forgotten that McGreevey  violated more than his wife’s trust.

To be clear, I do not wish to subject McGreevey to the same dehumanizing Down Low discourse that Black men must endure. Instead, I’m hoping that we acknowledge the differences in representation and learn that it is possible to discusss Black men with equal care, compassion, and critical understanding.