My Real Life Noah's Arc Episode

Like so many of us, I went out to support the Noah’s Arc movie. Although I have always looked at the show from a very critical vantage point, I still felt some obligation to go out and support. I can’t really say that I thought it was all that great of a movie as I found there to be a number of things that I saw flawed in the film. Many folks love the series and the movies because they say they see themselves in the characters – I for one have never felt that way. So it strikes me as odd that my life at the moment feels like an edited scene from Noah’s Arc.

So after me and my homie lover friend ended whatever it was we had, we decided to be friends. When he broke up with his boyfriend I was there to lend a shoulder and a hand. I would be a liar if I said the possibility of us being in a relationship didn't pop up in my head from time to time. Yet, I had met someone great that I was/am getting to know and he needed time to deal with ending a four year relationship. We would joke about him dating and so on, but it was all in jest and neither of us were really seeing anyone seriously at the moment. Last week we spoke and he was telling me about a guy that he was kind of interested in. I told him he should try it out. Though I found out last night that they been out on a date before he decided to bring him up to me. So today he invited me to have dinner with him and the guy. I feel like shit. Because out of know where all these feelings have come flooding in. Now the question is why wasn't I good enough? I am jealous. I am envious. I am hurt. I feel unwanted, undesired and relegated on to the ranks of a friend not good enough to exist with.

I'm trying to figure out what this all means. Am I in love with this Negro? Damn. I definitely need to work through my emotions. I think that I'm going to go to dinner. Look amazing. Bake a wonderful desert. Be my charming smart self and keep it moving. Let's pray that I don't fall to pieces, cry, cuss anybody out or fight.

At the end of the movie Ricky reveals to Noah that he loves him and he can't understand why Noah can't love him the way that he loves Wade. The resolution - Noah and Wade get married and everyone is happy. Only tomorrow will tell how this one all pans out.

A Bus Ride, A Man, Questions

You never know what you're going to get on the streets of Harlem, especially on a Saturday morning before night has turned into day. Revelers head home after an evening of dance and debauchery with old friends, new acquaintances make there way to dimly lit rooms where they will exchange Hennessey flavored kisses, unbutton shirts rife with tinges of smoke and YSL and devour each other with thrust and groans, arched backs, curled toes and beads of sweat that make a trail down the spine. Oh yes, this is Harlem on a Saturday morning before the sun's arrival. I know, I have been a participant, but this morning I will settle for merely being a voyeur. Make no mistake, it aint all sexy, this is still Harlem, and on early mornings like this one you find folks making there way work - relief for the third shift, doe boys on the corner jockeying for customer and those without homes making refuge in coveys of store fronts and bank vestibules happy for Harlem's brand of peace and quiet. I am on the other hand performing a ritual different from both groups, making my way to catch a bus bound for Washington DC to see someone - a friend certainly - a lover possibly. We had met during a literary exchange on James Baldwin and have been exchanging courtesies via late night phone calls and midday emails ever since. I met eyes with the others on the street that early morning as I made my way to the train. They were just as curious about my early morning plight - urban boy carrying an overnight bag and wearing a Colgate smile - as I was of theirs. On the train I had nagging feeling that I had left something behind - yep I thought - toothpaste and a toothbrush. No worries though, this was easy enough to replace. The train was quiet, half full, and even though there was no commotion going on, you could feel energy at rest humming through the train car. Getting off the train my mind became peopled with thousands of thoughts.

I boarded the bus. My excitement weaned and was replaced by sleepiness, I knew then that skimming the pages of GQ wouldn't be enough to keep me from curling up into a crescent and placing my nocturne head on the window for a 4 hour nap. My sleeping was met with a platitude of teeth sucking and heavy sighs - I snore and find no necessity to apologize for those things that are beyond my control, so these expressions of distain did nothing more than encourage me to rest my eyes a bit. When I arrived in DC I made a mad dash to Starbucks to make use of the facilities, my bladder thanked me. After handling my business, I sent him a message letting him know that I had arrived in one piece. It was a miracle that I wasn't shanked on the bus. He was still in route. Not a big concern for me. I ordered coffee and made small talk with this Asian kid about sneakers. I was really excited once he arrived. We hadn't really made plans and check in at the hotel wasn't until 3. We did a little walking. A little talking. He seemed really tired, which was cool, but at the same time not so much, it makes it hard to wade out whether this tiredness is self-induced out of non-interest or the real deal. We had lunch which provided for a boost from the previous hum-drum. He was beginning to liven up a little bit. Once I checked in we went up to the room and talked and laughed and played. This was more like the guy I had come to know. We both needed a nap. So we slept. It was nice. He lay next to me in his boxer briefs and t-shirt. I was a taste more conservative in sweats and a t-shirt. This seemed so foreign, but at the same time very domestic - safe, at home.

We went out for dinner, and as we waited it became quite apparent that he was the "touchy feely" type. We had discussed, but I'm not sure how one really prepares for that. PDA is really not my thing. So when I suggested he stop, I felt his disappointment. I felt bad, but at the same time I didn't have ill intent and it made me feel uncomfortable. I could see that he was sensitive. If previous relationships had taught me anything, it was that I usually didn't fair all that well with guys or girls that required this kind of attention. I made a mental note. I knew this needed to be addressed. I had requested Busboys and Poets as everyone I knew in DC had made mention of it at least once. It was cool… the service horrible, but cool nonetheless. We walked back to the hotel. I stopped to get a toothbrush. It was nice. Nice to talk to a guy with a good head on his shoulders that showed consideration. He was really nice, smart and attractive I thought. Once we got back to the hotel, I felt my Scorpio nature rise within me. He indulged me, but was tired. I order dessert while he slept. The following morning eager to pick up where I left off, I felt a little let down as I felt that the goal was to please me and nothing else. We headed out and grabbed brunch in Adam's Morgan. He insisted on carrying my bag, I insisted I could take care of it myself. I like a gentleman, but I'm capable. I'm not looking for every door to be held open for me. I wasn't due to leave until seven, so after brunch we went for coffee and hashed out some things. I had a chance to meet his best friend. She was charming and called things as she saw them. I so appreciate that. Before I came to DC there was certainty. At this point I'm left with a lot of questions, some that I need to explore alone, others I need to explore with him. I arrived home after midnight. I was exhausted. And as I walked down that same block in Harlem that I had done many hour before I smiled to myself knowing that whatever happens this was a no lose situation.

Wonder...

"Janie had spent most of the day under a blossoming pear tree in the back-yard. She had been spending every minute that she could steal from her chores under that tree for the last three days. That was to say, ever since the first tiny bloom had opened. It had called her to come and gaze on a mystery. From barren brown stems to glistening leaf-buds; from the leaf-buds to snowy virginity of bloom. It stirred her tremendously. How? Why? It was like a flute song forgotten in another existence and remembered again. What? How? Why? This singing she heard that had nothing to do with her ears. The rose of the world was breathing out smell. It followed her through all her waking moments and caressed her in her sleep. It connected itself with other vaguely felt matters that had struck her outside observation and buried themselves in her flesh. Now they emerged and quested about her consciousness."

This is pretty damn close to what/how I've been feeling this past week or so. Since my "break-up" it's really been about getting back out there on the dating scene. I didn't want to spend days and days rehashing the events of the break-up over and over again. What was the point? As a result, I began to engage a few guys I had met along the way. They were all pretty different. They ranged in age from 22-32. From student to self employed. From feminine to masculine. I had my bases covered. I scheduled dates here and there… bowling… dinner… the park… a concert. It was fun. They were great guys, but I questioned how far we could go. Still I entertained and enjoyed the ride, when out of left field this kind of amazing dude presents himself. He's dope. He presented himself from a friend perspective, which I could so vibe with, but the more we talked the more I wondered into territories that expanded beyond friendship.

The homie-lover-friend called the other day. His boyfriend broke up with him. I listened and let him know I was "sorry." I thought I would get sucked back in… but all I could think about was picking up my conversation with this dude. I regard him with wonder.

Changing My Password

As far back as I can remember, whenever I'm dating someone, or am in a relationship, I tend to use that person's names as password - be it to log into my email, login at work or as some sort of test question if just in case I forgot a password. I know it sound a little crazy, probably even a little unsafe, but I guess the psychology behind it is that serves as a reminder of that person and your association with them as something special. Whatever the case, this morning I logged in at work, and I was informed that my password expires in 2 days. I had an option to change it now or wait. I laughed to myself because my login is the home-lover-friend's name, and as of this morning our relationship has expired. I always knew I would know when it was time. That I would have to be prepared however the situation went down. I'll spare too many of the detail, but it wasn't the best experience… It was needed though. What I found out was that his was this unsated desire to be at a higher place of enlightenment- knowing and understanding the language, the correct responses and even helping other to explore and examine themselves, all while avoiding the situation himself. How easy it was for him to point out things that I should work on, when he wasn't really willing to do any work of his own. I was made to even believe that I had created this whole relationship… he said that I didn't even have the qualities that he would want from someone in a relationship. He said he couldn't understand why I would even think that he would leave his boyfriend of four years for me. It stung. Yet, we would lie together in his bed; hard flesh pressed against soft, when he needed a listening ear I was there, when he needed financial help I was there - so I was a bit thrown. So you're a user? I was even blamed for "disrespecting" his relationship with his boyfriend - though his licking and tasting, telling me he loved me and inviting me to mother's day dinner were not forms of disrespect? I had misinterpreted it all.

I thought that I would be sad… that I wouldn't be able to get out of bed this morning… that I would cry… but I'm actually ok. I that's not the kind of "love" I want. Despite his methods, he taught me so much and I can only appreciate that. We had begun to work on some things professionally together, so I'm trying to figure out how to resolve these things without there being a lot of complication. I understand my place in all of this. I understand my error. I take it. But when it's so fucked up… it's just that… so fucked up.

So this morning… instead of waiting two days… I change my password.

Ne me quitte pas

I rose early today. It’s the first morning of solitude that I’ve had in seven week after turning my apartment into a hostel it seems. My friend and former ex was my lodge mate for almost two months. I can’t really say that it was a bad experience. We have often that we would bite the bullet and get married if we both were still single at 30. Having share this time in my too small overpriced New York apartment, I don’t think it would be all that bad. We would stay up late nights and talk about everything from Jenifer Hudson (neither of us are fans) to politics to the cute boy behind the deli case at Whole Foods often times over strawberries dipped in sour cream and brown sugar or a bubbling bowl of cheese queso and chips. It was cool. As I looked out into the streets, the overcast sky with the infinite possibility of rain, Nina softly purring Ne me quitte pas and bustle of people scurrying to the train and into taxis the thought of companionship rest heavy on my soul.

Things had been strange. My friend departed and my homie-lover-friend returned from his trip to visit his boyfriend. While he was away, our conversations had been brief but really intense. He told me how much he missed me. I missed him too. There would be moments in the middle of the night where I would want to call. There would be moments where I would run into someone that smelled like him, shared his funny blue/grey eyes or someone that had the same stride of swagger and confidence that accompanies each of his steps. Damn. Pride. Respect. Fear. All held me hostage unable to dial those ten digits.

I went of a little date of sorts on Saturday – cocktails. I followed in up with an invitation to a dinner party on Sunday. I wanted let him know that he fucked me up. That I can’t even begin to imagine my life with someone that doesn’t embodied the qualities that he possesses despite a cute face, fat ass, personality and 401k.

When he got in last night I headed over. Sweats, a t-shirt, a fitted – I was posturing. I wanted him to think that I didn’t care. I should never play poker, because as soon as I saw him the façade melted away. We talked. I didn’t want to ask too many questions. Did you break up with him? I wanted to know, but I was afraid of the answer. He asked me about our relationship and how I defined us to other people. I took the safe route and said friends with possibilities, when in my heart you are my lover, my confidant, advisor, teacher, friend and homeboy. I wanted to lay with him all night. He was nervous. I guess that meant no break-up. I wondered home around 1 – a homeless lover in search of a fix. I wasn’t sure what to feel. I texted the guy from Saturday. He responded with “what you trying to do this late.” My reply was “trying to see you.” It wasn’t truth but I need to purge my pain. What better way than slick skin pressed against each other, warm breath against necks and being inside a place that warm and safe if only for one night. Somewhere between texting and caressing my pillow, I fell asleep. The universe knows what’s right. I checked my phone and his last text asked if I was coming by or not. I responded with an apology this morning – I didn’t want to complicate his life with my shit.

The homie-lover-friend phone this morning to see if I was ok. I told him I needed companionship. He thought he was providing it for me. He is. But at the end of the day I go home alone. I don’t want that. Nor do I want to be a wet memory in between the sheets. I’m going to leave the office early today. We’re going to catch a movie. Maybe I’ll make dinner. Is this situation better than being with someone like the guy on Saturday? Who know anymore?

It’s starting to rain. I want to go out into it and let it wash me like a baptismal spray - washing away the insecurities and the unsure-ness that surround all of this. I don’t want him to leave, but I want all of him.

Damn that Nina Simone.

Studio Museum of Harlem, Dior, Love and Anthony David

Last night I had the opportunity to attend the opening of Kehinde Wiley's The World Stage: Africa, Lagos ~ Dakar, his first solo exhibition at The Studio Museum in Harlem which features ten new paintings from his multinational “The World Stage” series. It's amazing. I'm a huge fan of both Wiley and The Studio Museum of Harlem; the openings for new exhibitions are always something I look forward to. The openings usually draw an eclectic mix of folks - smart, hip, fashionable and trendsetters in their own regard and last night was no exception. The coupling of all this artistic energy and a few cocktails had me in bliss.

I have to talk about my purchase of the month for a second. I found a vintage Christian Dior track jacket this weekend. It's in great condition and a bought it for a steal. It doesn't get much better than that.

Moving on, I must admit that things are going really well with the homie-lover-friend. He's really an amazing man. I have never met anyone else like him. I've always said that my barometer for determining whether a relationship is worth it is "does he make me want to be a better man?" In this case - hell emphatically yes! We've been spending a lot of really good quality time together and merging our business interest as well. It seems to just flow. It may sound really strange, but he's taught me (still a work in progress because I have my moments) how to really love from an unconditional vantage point that's void of insecurity and ego. This means that I'm not seeking anything back in return. In this, his having a boyfriend has less of an affect on how I am able to be in this relationship because I love without the condition that he has to break up with his boyfriend. I know some folk may not be able to feel that, but that's where I am right now. I am also not going to block myself from anything else that may come along at this point. We will have to see how it all falls into place, though the homie-lover-friend has been doing a lot of talk about us settling in Atlanta.

I have officially decided that will not be returning to law school in the fall. I need to really figure out how this works into my life and things that I would like to do. I should probably be in film school or something that really feeds my creative energy. Whatever the case may be, I am in anticipation for greatness.

Lastly, I have had the Anthony David song "Words" on repeat for the last week. Check it out the lyrics really ring true.

Love Him?

"Love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters? “This is by far one of my favorite quotes from James Baldwin. It's been the through-line of my week thus far, that along with "Stay Down" the Mary J. Blige joint. This week, starting last Friday, has proved to be so many things. It seems like me and homie lover friend get closer and closer day by day. The average on looker would have no question that the two of us are partnered. However I have these huge moments of where uncertainty creeps in. I am very intimately involved in all aspects of his life. At this point I am working on a business project with along with him. This has meant for me, meetings with investors, researching real estate and working with consultants on the project. He wants me to take an active role in all aspects and maybe leave my current position at some point. This would ideally be great. This is what you want to do with your partner, but because he is not, I am really nervous and scared. He's currently working on his PHD, I understand his stress level and would love to work full time while he focuses on school, but I feel like I have to have a boundary.

The problem is that my love for him has no bounds, yet the manifestation of it can't fully be actualized as the situation currently exists. How foolish would I feel having done all of these things together and he ends up sharing those things with someone else? I have to safeguard myself, right? The other night we got into a bit of an argument and he said that maybe we shouldn't do this. That maybe we should not be in each other's life at all. I cried (an ugly Oprah cry). He cried. We ended up back at the same place, but even more emotionally open having taken this moment of raw emotion as a conduit for love making. I walked home with the taste of him on my lips more confused that ever. I asked myself if one could really fight for something when there's really not any opposition, only their shadow. I am not doing anything wrong so why am I fighting and who am I fighting.

I am giving myself through the weekend to really access what it is I want and need. I know that it's going to hurt to walk away, but I may have to. I don't want to pretend. I want everyone to know that he's it. I hit the jackpot. That he's all mine. You can have it all.

Love, Heart Ache, Broiled Eel and Chaka Khan

So last Friday I took advantage of "Summer Fridays," the period between Memorial Day and Labor Day, where those in fashion or fashion related industries either work only half day or not at all on Friday. I love it. It may be one of the best perks. My homie lover friend had informed me earlier in the week that he wanted to take me out for a really special dinner. All I had to do was show up. I slept until noon, got a fresh cut and paired my fresh and rested face with a light weight slate grey summer suit, a casual, but crisp, white button down, chucks and a driving cap. I met him in Soho for dinner at Woo Lae Oak - an amazing Korean restaurant. He took the liberty of order for us. We started with Jang Au Gui; broiled eel in a sweet Soy Sauce. The presentation was great, as the ell was served on hot river stones which rested on a bed of sea salt. We followed that up with Korean Barbeque… we choose the salmon and the sea scallops. Each table is equipped with a smokeless grill - so we were responsible for grilling the salmon and sea scallops. They were seasoned to perfection. We added a couple of more dishes to our dinner and ended it by ordering three deserts - tropical snow, a green apple sorbet and a caramelized pear. It was one of the best dates I have had.

Let's fast forward to this Friday, where things have dramatically changed. Although we have spent everyday together since Sunday and they have been great day, emotional, but great, I have arrived at the place where I am no longer interested in being with someone that can't be with me in totality. I can't believe I wrote it… lol. As incredible as he is, I have to remove myself from what I feel to be is an unhealthy relationship. Maybe we just had bad timing. Maybe I needed him to show me what I really want from someone. Maybe you can have more than one soul mate. I'm not going to make some dramatic departure. We bought advance tickets to see films on Saturday and Sunday that are apart of New Fest, New York's LGBT Film Festival. After that I will slowly push back, maybe start dating again and throw myself into a few projects. This situation has allowed me to make some good decisions. Finally telling some of my close friends that I was gay, and finally deciding that the time is now for me to have that conversation with my parents. He is all about music and he exposed me a Chaka Khan song that plays on repeat in my ipod and it sums it all up:

You know it hurts me

When I can't be next to you

And though we're young I know

You feel the same way, too

Deep in our hearts we know

It's just a matter of time

'Cause we'll be together one day

And when we met

Out on the streets along the way

It wasn't by chance that we

Were passing by that day

As sure as there's a moon

And stars above I know

We'll be together for sure

As sure as that nose on your face

We were meant for each other's arms

Just as one and one make two

You were made for me

I was made for you (boy)

Don't try to hide that smile

I know that's on your face

And when you stare (look) at me

I'll look the other way

And we won't give away

What we know from the start

That we've got that love in our hearts

Deep in our hearts

In our hearts we've got that love

In our hearts we've got that love

In our hearts we've got that love

Oh deep down in our hearts

We've got that love

Oh we're very into lovin', yeah

Oh that love in our hearts

We've got that love in our hearts

Oh baby, we've got that love

What a Man, What a Mighty Good Man

My man is smooth like Barry and his voice got bassA body like Arnold with a Denzel faceHe's smart like a doctor with a real good repHe always got a gift for me everytime I see himAnd when he comes home, he's relaxed with pep


My heterosexual female friends keep me informed on almost a daily basis that there are no good black men out there. They give me statistics, quote Essence Magazine and give me the 411 on their latest quest to meet a good black man at the newest hot spot, in an all out attempt to support their hypothesis. These women have tried internet dating, speed dating and even the office fling. Some have allowed family and friends to hook them up on dates. Others have cooked, cleaned, worked-out, gave it up on the first date and even enlisted the “three month rule.” They have been to the singles ministry at church and even learned to “pole dance” to unleash their “inner-freak.” The battle cry of “they are all either gay or in prison” resonates stronger than ever among these women living in a post J.L. King Era. I have gotten these calls for years now, and I don't expect them to end anytime soon. Yet, the new trend for me has been that for every one black woman I speak with about the lack of good brothers, I talk to two black gay men with the same issue. I yell into the receiver “I thought they were all gay, so what's the problem?” That usually gets me a chuckle or deep sighs from the other end of the receiver. Perhaps I am overly optimistic, but I find it hard to believe that there are no good black men out there? In fact, I know more than a few. So if there are good black men out there, why then is it so difficult for us to meet and maintain a good relationship with them?
I guess one would have to define what qualifies someone as a “good black man?” Our definitions end up looking more like a laundry list of sounds bites we've heard over the years of what a good man should be than anything else. The list usually goes something like the following: He has to be attractive, in shape, financially secure, love his mother, be honest, have a big car, a big house, big hands, a big dick, good teeth, good credit, good manners, and good dick, have a 401k and speak five languages. That's the short list y'all. In fact, most would forgo the good credit and 401k for the big dick. In all seriousness, these attributes would be nice, but I have to ask how realistic it is to find all these things in one individual? Further, we must ask ourselves if we possess all those things that we are looking for in a potential partner. If my credit is “jacked-up” and my figure is less than fly, how then can I have a heightened expectation for a potential partner? The focus tends to be placed entirely on what the other person can bring to the table, as opposed to what both parties can contribute to the growth of a relationship. While the visceral is important (it is the thing that usually draws us in), I think we have to be able to move beyond that being the primary criteria. Qualities like good communication skills, spirituality and a good relationship with family should be paramount if we are in fact seeking to be in a lasting relationship. What this means is that we need to learn how to date, rather than completely immersing ourselves too quickly in situations. I have found that we tend to approach dating in inverse order; we meet, have sex, and if the sex is good, decide to move forward in the engagement of courting. So, we end up falling for the great smile, nice body and the good sex, as opposed to falling for the person in their entirety. Having already fallen, we become disappointed once we become acquainted outside of the “tall, dark and handsome illusion” and find that our compatibility is limited only to hot sessions between the sheets. The same becomes true when we place great emphasis on one's professional life. I joke with my friends about handing out my resume to potential dates to see if it gets their stamp of approval. My occupation is what I do, not necessarily who I am. It has no bearing on what type of friend, lover or parent that I am. The garbage collector or the MTA worker could quite possibly be really good black men, but our narrow scope keeps us from giving it serious consideration.
Aside from having a flawed definition of what a good brother is, I think that we have to also examine our patterns. If we take a moment to look at past relationships I think that we begin to see patterns form. Examining these patterns allow for us to see where the relationship went wrong, and by doing so we are able to avoid making the same mistakes over and over. In this, we have to be honest about the role in which we played in the detriment of the relationship, as many of us like to play the victim in a defunct relationship. By virtue of the fact that so many of us “come into our gayness” later, I have found that there are some really good black men out there who merely do not know how to have a relationship with another brother. Many of us have been told all of our lives that homosexuality is nothing more than a sexual perversion, and a lot of us bought into the hype. Thus, we tend to negotiate our relationship with other men from a purely physical vantage point. With this being the case, there is never really a conscious effort placed of moving the “relationship” to a higher level. I think that black women are at an advantage here, as there is a standard by which heterosexuals can measure themselves. The fact that most of us have never really seen long lasting gay relationships modeled for us puts us at somewhat of a disadvantage, because we are learning as we go. Though I know that many would argue that good relationship qualities transcend orientation, I personally think, based on my experiences, that the nuances and idiosyncrasies that exist in same sex relationships are unique. The fact that we live in a world dominated by gender roles makes it can make it difficult for two men to coexist. There is this unconscious or maybe conscious thought that someone has to assume a less dominate role in the relationship, and this can sometimes act as a road block in finding and establishing long lasting relationships.
The Salt-n-Peppa /En Vogue collaboration that created the song “What a Man, What a Mighty Good Man” became an anthem of sorts for black women celebrating their men. The thing that I loved about the song was that each woman celebrated the individual uniqueness of what made their man good for them. It seems to me that we are all looking for a prototype – the perfect man, as opposed to honoring what it is that we really want, and even better, what we need in a man. At the end of the day we will need more than abs and biceps to sustain something real. My intent is not to debase anyone for their personal preference, as we all have them, but rather, to remind us to give serious consideration to the possibilities that exist beyond the margins of our list. Good black men are out there. They exist in various sizes, hues of brown and professions – and there is one out there for all of us.

He Ain't Heavy... He's My Brother

“I must believe, I must believe, that the heavy grace of God, which has brought me to this place, is all that can carry me out of it.” James Baldwin

The bond of brotherhood is formed in a number of different ways. For some of us it was created in dorm rooms over cups of ramen noodles as we discussed sports, girls and a plethora of other random bull-shit. For some, it happened on football fields, in locker-rooms and better still on neighborhood blocks where we cracked on each others mothers, lied about when we lost our virginity and spent summers shooting hoops well into twilight. For others, true brotherhood made its presence known in our allegiances to fraternal organization. And sometimes it happened merely because we were the only two “brothas” who worked in a certain area of the company. As a testament to the importance of brotherhood among black men, the film industry has taken liberty to explore it in movies like “The Wood,” “Brothers” and “Get on the Bus.” “New Jack City” exemplified the “g-code” using the biblical through-line “Am I my brother's keeper” as constant reminder to have your brother's back. Despite how it happened, the thing that remains consistent in most brotherly bonds is the presence of some kind of common connection, the commitment to stick together, to fight for each other, push each other in the right direction (or perceived right direction) and always be available to lend a helping hand. Black male life is not a monolith, and to that same point black gay life does not exist in a vacuum. There will always be differences. These differences can either bond or divide. However, what happens when we allow the thing that links us as brothers, as “family,” to create division and allow for the zeitgeist of non-brotherly behavior to rear its ugly head? Does brotherhood truly exist among black gay men?
We categorize ourselves in a number of different ways – top, bottom, fem, masculine, dl, queen, t-girl, just to name a few. I question if these labels force us to segregate, and by segregating, severing the ties that bond us together as brothers. I made a recent visit to my old friend “Adam” to see what the latest offerings are in the city. In only a few clicks, I was able to view firsthand the divisiveness that exists within our community. Preference has truly run amuck. On a site where everyone is a man who has sex with other men, it is hard for me to understand from whence all the hate is derived. One can express what their likes are without bashing. If we are all meeting on the common ground of sexual affinity to men, why then is it important to pick apart a person's individual lifestyle in such a hate driven way? If we are really honest with ourselves we realize that our struggle is the same. We all face the same discrimination. We may be tolerated if our life mirror a “normalized” heterosexual lifestyle, but the fact still remains that acceptance is far from being actualized. At the heart of this is the human tendency to react in opposition to things that we do not understand. It is the “fight or flight” response – where you either fight against that thing (i.e. feminine men, trans-gender men, men who are out of the closet) with every ounce of your being or avoid it as if it were the plague. Instead we should seek to find understanding. I made a personal vow with myself some years ago to not speak publicly with disdain about another brother (or sister). By doing this it allowed for me to place a greater focus on myself and find that the flaws I so readily pointed out in other people had more to do with personal insecurities than anything else. My hope is not some utopia where we all hug and sing “flower child” songs from the sixties, but rather that we adhere to the standards of brotherhood.
Donnie Hathaway's remake of the Hollies 1969 hit song “He ain't heavy, he's my brother” is a favorite on my ipod playlist because it provides me with a constant reminder to act accordingly and acknowledge the fact that I belong to an additional brotherhood of men. Though my admission into this brotherhood was not a matter of choice, I am still responsible for nurturing it. When I speak negatively about my brothers, it gives others outside the bond a false sense of entitlement to do the same. Further, we do a disservice to each other when we allow for such comments to go unchecked. Despite the gay sub-culture that I associate with most closely, I must make it my business to look out for all my brothers despite their gay sub-culture. That does not mean becoming intimately involved in the lives of every black gay man, but it does mean that there is an awareness that exist as we interact with one another. As we increase our collective camaraderie, it decreases the chances for others to attempt to divide us and use us as puns. Let us be the true embodiment of brotherhood and be advocates for each other. It's like Donnie says in the song, “His welfare is my concern. No burden is he to bear, we'll get there. For I know he would not encumber me. He ain't heavy, he's my brother.”