The Countdown Continues

I have a cold that just won’t let up, but I’m grateful that it’s happening now.  I’d hate to get sick right before my trip.

My school is year-round, and we began a new session last week.  I told my students “Listen, all we have to do is get to April 14.  Because April 15, ima be on that plane, heard?”  Several of them were excited for me, and one wanted to know how much it cost me.  I was hesitant to tell him because I didn’t want it to seem like I was bragging.  But I thought about it, and I felt he needed to know so he could make his own plans some day!

I told him flights to London were expensive, and I wasn’t eager to pay that much, but I really wanted to go.  I then explained that it was much cheaper to stay in an Airbnb than a hotel, and some people his age might opt to stay in a hostel.

After I explained the cost, he definitely felt it might be attainable for him.  If not London, then maybe someplace closer.

Anyway…

A few things happened to me a few weeks ago that led to a shift in my writing priorities.  First, I began reading Eric Braeden’s book I’ll Be Damned.  Second, I saw the Maya Angelou edition of American Masters.  I was deeply moved by the later, and it became crystal clear to me that Maya’s life was changed by the writing of her life.

I’ve never been an elegant writer, at least it doesn’t feel like it on my end. So I’m not saying that I can write something that will ever get a Pulitzer or Nobel Prize.  But I think I finally realized that there is meaning in my life thus far.  I used to think I could never write my autobiography because I wasn’t old enough or that it wasn’t interesting enough or that I wouldn’t be able to be objective or introspective enough.

Then I realized that perhaps the reason I couldn’t move forward in writing about my vampire gang or about Adrian Collins was because I hadn’t yet paused to take stock of my own life yet.

And truly, it’s the perfect time to do so.  I am teaching students who are old enough to be my grown children.  Had I had a child at 19, that child would be 18 by now.  Hell, I could be a grandfather!  So in seeing these students navigate their own lives, I feel somewhat fulfilled, even satisfied, that this is the time to investigate what has been and what could have been, so that my next level of being is even better than the first.  It was a transformative experience for Maya Angelou and I am hoping for the same thing for me.

Mind you, I am not trying to be the grandfather of any movements.  I am just trying to be a writer and a teacher.

What About Love? A Terrible Essay About Moonlight

Every time I’ve seen Moonlight, I’ve called–or struggled to call–the first great love of my life.  I want to tell him to watch it.  I guess I’ve already told him in some way.  We’re friends.  We’re collaborators.  I love him.  I resent him.  I hate him.  I forgive him.  I forget him.

I see Moonlight and I remember.

This film will be an emotional roller coaster for anyone who was once a gay black boy.  Your mileage may vary.

I have been asking my straight male friends to go see this film as soon as possible.  I have seen it twice now.  I want them to know.

I write the love that I want to see.  I write the love that I want to have.  I write the love I thought I had sixteen years ago.

I am 37.  I know what I am doing with every facet of my life except this.

The human brain is not fully developed until at least age 25, and I believe that.  I want so desperately to believe that the love I fell in sixteen years ago could be that impulsive, basketball and pledge boots love that became Adrian and Isaiah from my novels, that could have grown into the Barack and Michelle of the black gays.  I want to believe, also, that the bloody, transformative love between Justin and Dante in my last novel, could have been based in that kernel of love I once felt.

And the poems that I look back on.  I am ashamed.  I am embarrassed.  The lack of development in my brain is evident in the simple verse and histrionics, but what can you tell a 21-year old who’d had his first taste?

Moonlight wrecked me.  The actors, superb in any way, portrayed the kind of romance that I want:

Innocent love.

Forgiving love.

Redemptive love.

No one looks at me.  That’s what this feels like.

Ashton Sanders (Chiron) was my favorite actor.  Walk with me… he gave the kind of performance that Cynthia Erivo gave as Celie in Broadway’s The Color Purple revival.  With his body, he became Chiron.  Every walk, every tear, every mumble.  I believed him as I believed her, every toe point and frown.

What about love?

I believe Moonlight to be a love story, more than it is a story about mass incarceration, drug addiction, bullying, or homophobia–yet it is all of those things, too.  It has to be.

What about tears when you’re happy?

I’ve seen Moonlight twice now.  The second time, I saw how the actors looked at each other and I believed them and I wanted to be looked at that way.

Last week, I thought someone looked at me like that.

And I thought that perhaps not even he ever looked at me like that.

But I don’t think it was anything, really.  I think it was just a moment that I wanted to see, that somehow my hand pushed the planchette to the answer I wanted to see at that moment.

I write these moments.  I watch these moments.  Thank you, Barry Jenkins.  Thank you, Tarell McCraney.

But I do not live these moments and I don’t know that I can.

Posted without revisions and with all due anxiety.

In This Lifestyle…

It has been quite a long time since my last update.  Please forgive me, people.

I became a writing teacher a few months ago and it has been one of the best decisions I could have made for myself as a novelist.  For me, this feels like the ultimate act of service as a writer.  I have been very fortunate to work with some amazing students who have enjoyed our readings and take their development as writers very seriously.Continue reading “In This Lifestyle…”

Fraternal masculinity amid LGBT justice

I recently read with great interest my fraternity brother George M. Johnson’s editorial entitled Black, Greek, and Gay? It’s Time for Organizations to Fall In Line, posted on Ebony.com on May 12, 2016.  Special thanks to my sistergreek @thereadingdiva for bringing it to my attention.

There are many parts of Brother Johnson’s piece which I agreed with and other parts which troubled me.  It is my intention to gently rebut his editorial while respecting our bond as fraternity brothers.

I became an Alpha in Spring 2003 through an amazing chapter. I had great sponsors and the majority vote of a chapter who believed in me and loved me as I was, even with my long dreadlocks and bohemian aesthetic.  (I had even earned the alias “Eric Benet” because of that look.)  I knew then that I owed it to myself to be authentic.  If the brothers had a problem with it then surely Alpha would not be the chapter or organization for me.

Two years after I made it, in 2005, my first novel Lazarus was released.  That was the true test:  would the publishing of this fictitious story of a gay black college student pledging a fraternity turn the fraternity against me?

Controversy was minimal and Lazarus performed well.  The success of the novel helped me gain access to even more gay members of my own fraternity as well other members of the gay community throughout Greekdom.  Through Lazarus, I had spoken to the issues that Brother Johnson mentioned: the lying, the fear, the anxiety of being a gay member of a fraternity.  It was not my direct experience, but it was always my concern.  Perhaps I was able to avoid a lot of personal heartache in my fraternity for being a gay man because I had already put my protagonist, Adrian Collins, through what I had imagined could be the worst that could happen.  Adrian’s experience was traumatic.  Mine was not.

Surely I had controversy and I had haters.  I speak on those things when colleges and universities invite me to present lectures.  Those negative experiences may have been fiery, but they were few—just enough to let me know that my fraternal experience would never be roses and rainbows one hundred percent of the time.  Through it all, I have tried to stand as an example for those who might come behind me.  I hope I have been seen.

I believe that Brother Johnson paints Greekdom with a wide brush which perhaps may be unfair to those gay brothers and straight allies who have been fighting from within to make positive changes.  Over the years I have seen a shift among straight members of my own fraternity.  Those who at one time may have been bystanders to overt and covert homophobia, both online and within chapter rooms across the country, have now become upstanders.  They are men who will fight for the gay applicant who is perfect for the organization in every way.  They are men who will curtail gossip about the orientation of various candidates for office.  They are men who speak out in favor of all progressive causes—not just the ones which won’t call into question their own orientations.

I am proud of those brothers for those reasons, and because they have fought for me when I was too tired or unwilling to fight for myself.  Besides, it is not up to gay people to solve homophobia.  That is for the straight brothers to fix.  All I can do is be me, right?

Surely there is more work to be done to shift the culture of Black Greekdom, especially as “white” Greekdom is becoming more in tune with LGBT issues.  I was invited to Bucknell University by a chapter of Chi Phi Fraternity–a leader in inclusion on their campus.  I am sought-after for advice from other individuals, chapters, and offices of fraternity/sorority affairs on how they may improve their efforts.  To date, several national, predominately white fraternities and sororities have already adopted gay and trans-inclusive language on their own.

Brother Johnson is right to demand that predominately black fraternities and sororities also fall in line.  Indeed, I am concerned that if we don’t, we may ultimately be disinvited from college campuses which want to ensure that their organizations are safe places for all of their students.

In case it is not abundantly clear, I also firmly believe that transmen are simply men, transwomen are simply women, and they should pursue membership in the fraternities and sororities which match their gender identities, regardless of the gender assigned to them at birth.  I am not in the business of reviewing DNA reports or doing manual checks to ensure that one’s sex matches my own.  That has nothing to do with whether I feel like I get along well with you, serve well with you, and trust my fraternity with you as a leader and as a man.

However, I did have to pause and check my privilege on another matter in Brother Johnson’s essay.  And I checked it but I still disagree.  He says:

Being Black and Greek is not exclusive to the hetero population, and our platforms and values can no longer act as if this is the case.

Yes, I agree.  If my fraternity can take a stand on immigration issues, we should have long since taken a stand on marriage equality—well before it became the law of the land.  But…

While many Black LGBTQ people have gained membership into these illustrious organizations, we have only been accepted so long as our gender and sexuality doesn’t cross the line of what’s deemed acceptable. For Black LGBTQ people both our Blackness and sexuality matters. Like everyone else, we are are the sum of all our parts–not just the pieces that you like or choose to accept.

Welllll….

When it comes to my pursuit of membership, I was accepted for who I was with no hesitation.  I was what my chapter wanted, even though my performance of masculinity leaned toward the artistic rather than the athletic.  I fit.  In the tapestry of diverse masculinities which Alpha embodies under the surface, there was space for me as the starving writer—space which may not have been available had I pursued another fraternity.

I do, however, acknowledge my privilege in this tapestry.  Straight brothers sometimes presume that I am straight unless otherwise challenged.  It seems like no matter what, I am always coming out to *somebody.*  I’ve written four novels with gay main characters, done huge speeches on being gay, worn a rainbow necklace, and still some 50-year brother might ask me when I’m going to get a girlfriend.

I happen to find such naiveté among brothers endearing, but I also recognize that I get a kick out of being “unclockable” to certain eyes.  I have never been “straight-acting” or “gay-acting”—I’ve just been myself, whatever that means in a given moment.  For me, wearing a floppy sunhat would not feel authentic to me—nor would wearing a baseball cap with a football team on it.  And yes, I acknowledge that one of those decisions would be heteronormative and masculine-friendly—so I’m not saying this is about a hat.  This is not about hats at all, but again, authenticity.

I can empathize with a gay man wanting to be in a fraternity, because that’s who I was.  I wanted a brotherhood and a sense of belonging.  I wanted to feel like and feel part of men who thought as I did.  I found that.

I can intellectualize a transman wanting to be in a fraternity because, again, they seek that sense of sameness and oneness.  They want the same sense of brotherhood and belonging that I sought, and that’s why I have no issues with a transman pursuing membership like any other man.

Because there are so few black fraternities, they each seem to fit one of the various archetypes of masculinity:  the nerd/geek; the party animal; the playboy; the boy-next-door; and the outlaw.  (Or any variations on those themes.)  I believe that each of the fraternities purposefully manifests these masculinities in their aesthetic traditions (including stepping and strolling), as well as ritual, protocol, and programming.

Straight or gay, trans or cis, I am hard-pressed to find a member of any major fraternity who doesn’t embody the performance of that masculinity in their lives, especially when in a room full of their brothers.   Being in a fraternity is predicated on the acceptance and buy-in of the performance of masculinity, whether our personal performance of that masculinity is at level one or level ten.

Further, there is no better time or place to see the various masculine archetypes manifest than in the probate show/new member presentation.  Whether hypersexualized and heteronormative or modest and sexuality-neutral, I believe that these shows are still a performance of traits associated with manhood.  There is hard stepping, not soft stepping; a grit, not a smile; and outfits ranging from tuxedoes to army fatigues.

Gay men can be found in each variation of the archetype.  Certainly a transman could be found in each variation as well.

Where, then, is the feminine man if the traditional performance is one of masculinity?  Where is the home for the feminine man if the prevailing fraternities’ reputations are built on performance?

Each person who joins a fraternity agrees to this performance even beyond the new member shows.  This is exemplified in wardrobe requirements in the ritual to dress codes at chapter meetings and conventions.  I don’t believe these norms are a surprise to those pursuing membership.  If a feminine man was not feminine before pledging, then he has agreed to the performance of masculinity through one of the archetypes, from the nerd to the party animal to the outlaw.

We are all in drag, whether in business suits or fatigues and boots.  One who non-conforms may be in accord with the values of an organization generally, but would still have to identify with the aesthetic of the organization in order to truly qualify.

Are fraternities and sororities ideal organizations for gender-nonconforming people?  Probably not.  A strong identification with not only the values and programs is necessary, but the culture, the style, the way that things are done.  The best of Omega or Kappa could surely be the best of Alpha.  What separates us is not talent or achievement, but style, method, and performance.  What works for the Sigmas may not work for the Iotas, but it still works.  What works for those of us who conform to gender may not work for those who are gender fluid, genderqueer, or nonconforming.  I respect that these organizations may not be for them.  They are still my siblings in justice.

My chosen drag when it comes to my organization is a black suit and gold tie.  Just as we get a twinge of pride when we watch YouTube videos of probate shows and see the new members dressed identically and stepping in sync, I get a large sense of pride when I enter a convention and see a thousand brothers who look just like me.  We move alike, we work alike.  Our thoughts may be different, yet we still know that our drag unites us in a certain way; that our sameness represents a unanimity of thought and action.

I don’t find that to be oppressive.  I find that to be inspiring.  I feel loved in the space that is my fraternity, a space where I feel I belong.  It is a space where I feel my fellow gay men and transmen also belong alongside straight and cisgender men.  Gender fluidity may be a bridge too far, yet I remain open to those ideas being challenged also.

***

Rashid Darden is a novelist.  He is also lecturer on LGBT issues as well as topics in fraternity and sorority life.  Contact Rashid here.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

Here am I with my friend Zoila who I hadn’t seen in years!

What a roller coaster the past few weeks have been!

For those of you who have been wondering, I have seen a few more films, namely The Boss (there were black people in it) and Eye in the Sky (there were black people in it and it was really good).  Although I enjoyed both films, I really just didn’t feel like writing about either of them.  I’ve also gotten a little bored with my overall mission of sharing my thoughts about race and representation in cinema.  I’ve been doing this for almost a year and I think I’m good.

I do still plan to stay enrolled in MoviePass and I will probably still review some films, but because I have so much else going on, I will only write about those films which I find particularly good, moving, or problematic.

***

I got a new job!  I am a full-time teacher.  I don’t blog about work.

***

But I do blog about the wonderful opportunities I have for public speaking!  The brothers of Chi Phi Fraternity at Bucknell University in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania invited me to speak at their annual Biff Hoffman Diversity Lecture!  The organizer and my host was a delightful young man named Patrick who ensured that I was well taken care of the entire time.

My mission was to facilitate conversations and give thoughts about the intersection of LGBT life and Greek life (and inevitably race, because I personally don’t separate being black from being gay).  I visited two classes, one club/collective, and spend significant time at the Chi Phi house speaking with their leadership and their members.

As I told them, if I had sons who attended Bucknell, I would be perfectly comfortable seeing them pledge Chi Phi if that was in their hearts.  I really mean that.  Great guys.

The actual lecture happened on the day Prince died.  Even though it was a somber day for me, I still had to make sure I made the evening meaningful for the listeners.  I told my personal story and did my best to link it to their experiences at Bucknell.

One of the recurring questions was “How do we recruit diverse people if diverse people don’t rush?”  My answer was layered, but for simplicity’s sake, I will say this to anyone reading:  Generally, don’t wait for “rush week” to recruit your guys–recruitment is a year-round endeavor.  And secondly, I don’t think people from marginalized communities want to participate in cattle-calls for various reasons.  I mean, why go to an American Idol audition when you can get discovered singing in a local dive bar?  Chances are about the same, right?

So meet gay folks and people of color where they already are:  the dorm (they gotta live somewhere), the caf (they gotta eat), and class (they gotta get knowledged)!

I know it’s easier said than done, but wouldn’t everyone prefer recruiting organically anyway?

That was just one of my pearls of wisdom.  Hopefully those wonderful folks at Bucknell walked away with something.

***

Of course, Prince died.  I am not sure what, if anything, I have to say about that, especially so soon after David Bowie’s death.  So many tears.  So much sadness.  Maybe one day.

***

I will be at DC Black Pride again this year at the Writer’s Forum.  I haven’t been a panelist in a few years so I am excited to promote my appearance in 47-16, a tribute anthology to David Bowie.

More about that later as well.

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I thank all of you who think of me, check on me, and pray for me.  I really do appreciate it.  Stay tuned!