In my youth, no TV show told me I was a good person.
No movie told me the dreams of a little black boy like me were important.
No high school social activity was designed with me in mind.
Homecoming dance? The prom? Valentine's Day?
None of that was for me and my kind.
"I am somebody. I love myself. I'm so much more than a faggy black boy."
Nothing I saw in this world said this world was for me. Nothing told me I was worth something. On TV, in the movies, in books, in plays, in musicals, in fairy tales, no one ever said “I love you” to a faggy black boy.
Matter of fact, black boys like me didn't exist in the stories of my childhood, the boyhood tales
of my adolescence, the cinematic dreams of my youth.
Growing up, not once did I see myself in art, nor did I see another person dreaming of loving a black boy like me.
I had to learn how to fall in love with myself and my dreams on my own. Thankfully, I discovered voices, characters, storylines and buddies who, in my dreams, helped me feel worth something.
Fortunately, I lived long enough to share some of those dreams in
my novels, my short stories, my essays, my living by example. Yes, a faggy black boy who grew up hating himself, his family and the world can learn to love.
Yes, a faggy black boy who wasn't good enough in sports, or manly enough to hang with the bros,
or smart enough to know the bros were just faking it themselves--that faggy black boy can make a life for himself beyond all the crap he was spoon-fed by the world.
I am somebody. I love myself. I'm so much more than a faggy black boy. I deserve love and happiness as much as any other soul on earth.
I've learned to love myself. Now I hope someone in the world can learn to love me, too.
I grew up a liberal thinker in a conservative Midwestern town, a homo-inclined jock on homophobic sports teams, and a black boy who attended mostly rich, white schools.
Some white men still don't know it.
I look at the gay life around me--online, offline, wherever--and it doesn't look like any world I would ever create, live in, choose or be a part of.
Should've known better. Acted differently. Been smarted.
Yeah, me and my buddy wear cologne alright: Ode de Buddy, the scent that sends us both on a natural high.
Did you hear good things about black people in your household growing up?
New owner of a pro basketball team announces he's gay and that only gay players are allowed on his team.
What do I blog about on this funky blog?
Just bought my first mp3 song of an openly gay singer: Adam Lambert, "If I Had You."
them telling me to "Go West" on the 8-track tape in my car. And yet, my socially-retarded ass was one of the last to find out: those guys are fags! (as one friend put it).
Why am I posting shot after shot of me on a blog called Funky Black Poz Jock?
When I was younger, I wondered: what makes older people attracted to other older people, not the young and beautiful?
I love my HIV-positive tongue! My tongue gives me so much pleasure and joy, allowing me to taste and savor so many wonderful flavors.
I love sports, but I hate the homophobia perpetuated in sports.
In my youth, no TV show told me I was a good person.
of my adolescence, the cinematic dreams of my youth.
or smart enough to know the bros were just faking it themselves--that faggy black boy can make a life for himself beyond all the crap he was spoon-fed by the world.
Guy passes by. Seconds later, a noxious cloud engulfs my senses.
August 1990: A funny thing happened after my 10-year high school reunion.
When the evening was over, I returned to my childhood home. Mom and I chatted about the reunion, then she noticed the unused film in my camera.
barely look at them.
it in high school, then couldn't see it ten years later, at my 10-year high school reunion.
Here in the early part of the 21st century, real men are allowed to have bromances and man crushes, something the real men of the 80s who didn't eat quiche and the real men of the 70s who didn't use male grooming products would never do.
If I had a buddy, I'd pinch myself to make sure it's finally happening, after seemingly a lifetime.
I am not gay, nor have I ever been gay. I repeat, gay does not = me.
I've kissed neg men. Neg men have kissed me.
As someone who's been living with HIV/AIDS for 25 years and counting, it's important to me to give young poz guys some hope.
I dream of a place where my buddy and I and our good friends can hang out.
