PSA for The Parents of Gay Children...

“Parents are our blessing; parents are our burden.”  Whenever I make a new connection with a gay individual one of the questions I usually ask is if they have told their parents that they are gay and if so how did their parents react.  I am amazed at the variety of responses that people share.  The reactions from parents are varied, insane, and are as numerous as the drops of water in the ocean.  Some parents could care less about their child’s gayness- they were hippies in their own time, believe in free love, and just want their child to be happy.  Other parents completely ignore the idea that their child is Gay- they know it but they don’t acknowledge it.   These parents just try to convince themselves that everything is going to be ok as long as they never talk about it.  Some ultra Christian parents plead the blood of Jesus all over the place and pray that their child is “healed” or “delivered” from being gay.  The angry parents try to force their child to just stop being gay and frown upon or even forbid certain mannerisms, clothes, or anything else they deem “too gay.”  My mother’s way of dealing with my coming out to her was convenient amnesia.  She acts like she forgets that I’m gay.  Some parents experience a combination of the aforementioned responses and the child must deal with their reaction accordingly.  As a parent, no matter how you respond to your child’s coming out one thing I know for sure is that you can never “Un-say” any negative statement once you have said it.  Spoken words are concrete.  So I offer the following advice to parents.  

Think before you speak.   I understand that you are worried about your child, you fear the bullies in the classroom as youth and in the board room as adults.  I realize that the gay life for your child is not the plan you had for them.  I know that you are worried about depression, HIV/Aids, and perhaps their souls or relationship with their faith.  I know that in your mind you have their best interests at heart and are concerned about what people will say.  I’m sure you question the idea of grandchildren.  I get that you are confused and lost because you have no idea what it means to be gay.  You have watched too many news stories, read too many articles, and have held too many prejudices to try to be content with your child’s gayness.  I know that you are hurt, upset, worried, afraid, and confused.  I also know that youlove your child and that one day the love for your child will strengthen you to see past their sexuality.  When that day comes your relationship with your child will be hindered because of the negativity you spoke.  Don’t speak rashly, think before you speak!  Think of the courage it takes for them to live their truth.  Think of the worry, the guilt, and the fear that your son has had to overcome as he tries to figure out if you will still love him.  Imagine the thoughts that he constantly endures as he wonders if he is allowed to come to family functions and how he will be treated once there.  Close your eyes and visualize him crying every night beating himself emotionally because he doesn’t have the power to change who he is.  Picture him begging God to change him.  See him trying to figure out why he is being punished.  Think of how alone and afraid he is as he determines that the very people who should love him unconditionally seemingly don’t.  Put yourself in his shoes and think of how you would feel at his age having to tell your parents the same thing.  Think, feel, and imagine your child’s pain, grief, and worry.  It is pathetic that we live in a world that would rather see someone sacrifice their own happiness so that others could feel better about themselves.  

Moreover, it is sad that some parents have expressed more hate to their children than a stranger ever could.  If you have already talked crazy to your child please remember exactly what you said.  Not what you intended or meant- REMEMBER WHAT YOU SAID.  Remember how you said it.  Remember the moment you said it.  Unless it was positive, unless in substance it reflected unconditional love and acceptance you were wrong.  If you said anything mean, hurtful, or hateful to your child- you were wrong!  If you have ever called him a sissy or worse yet a faggot-you were wrong!  If you ever told your son to stop walking a certain way, or saying things a certain way- you were wrong!  If you ever allowed a family member to berate or belittle your child- you were wrong!  If you ever told him that God hates him- you were wrong!  If you ever told your child you did not or would not support him in this “lifestyle”- you were wrong!  If you called him nasty or unnatural- you were wrong!  If you told him that he needs to be straight and change- you were wrong!  If you told him that being gay is a choice- you were wrong!  As a parent your job is to love your child.  Your job is not to like or even agree with everything they do but it is your job to love the way no one else can.  It is wrong to hurt them and say you are trying to protect them.  Love is patient.  Love is kind.  You are wrong if you purposely hurt someone in the name of love.  Your words cut deep and cannot be taken back once you have said them.  I do suggest you apologize and pray that they forgive you.  Unfortunately, while they may forgive they will never EVER forget- they always remember what you said, how you said and when you said it.  Speak responsibly.  1Luv, DL 

I Made it!

Recently I was a little under the weather and had to take some time to stop everything that I was doing.  Once I stopped planning, working, and moving I rested and started thinking.  Although I pride myself on meditating every day I must admit that self reflection is different when you are forced to do it as opposed to choosing to do it.  During my recent infirmity the universe forced me to stop and think about my life.  I thought about my past, my present, and my future.  I considered my friends, my family and my foes.  I contemplated past choices that I made in life and love.  I calculated my current level of success and compared that to where I thought I would be 10 years ago when I graduated high school.  I reflected about first hiding, then coming to terms with and finally accepting my sexuality.  I remembered lost loves.  I mulled over brief encounters, one night stands, girls, guys, debts, loans, successes, failures, and the like.  More than anything I meditated on the idea of self-acceptance.  I thought about the reason I started this blog and the myriad of emotions that it has directed me through.  I thought about the anxiety I felt when confronted with the truth of my homosexuality.  I thought about the pain I felt not being secure enough to live my honest life before those closest to me.  I thought about the tears I cried in private that I never admitted to others.  I thought about the burden of the pain and secret I held.  I thought about everything I have done, wanted to do or didn’t do.  I thought about everyone who still loves me, those who stopped loving me, and those who changed how they loved me or at least how they treated me.  I thought about things that I had never thought about before.  I nearly drowned in my thoughts not knowing if anything good could come from my thinking.  I didn’t know if I was in a positive place or a negative one.  Have you ever dealt with something, or thought about something and didn’t know if it was good or bad?  That’s how I felt.  Then as if on cue I heard a song that completely described my feelings in one three word statement- I made it. 

Gospel Singer Marvin Sapp has a powerful and inspiring way of ministering through music.  His new song, My Testimony completely encapsulates my thoughts, feelings, and emotions.  When I heard the lyrics it was as if a small part of my soul was awaken for the first time: “So glad I made it!  I made it thru.  In spite of the storm and rain , heartache and pain I’m still alive to say I made it thru!”   The last few years of my life have taken me through fears and frustrations that I thought I wasn’t supposed to ever endure.  I was an athlete in school.  I earned a 30 on my ACT.  I was accepted into every college I ever applied to.  I came from a good family.  I worked hard.  I gave back to my community.  I did everything I was supposed to do but for the last few years I thought that the universe or God was punishing me.  I have had to deal with physical and emotional pain and heartache that I never thought imaginable; however, I can now say that I made it.  A year or so ago I was diagnosed with a disease that tossed me completely into a deep depression.  (NO! it’s not HIV/AIDS or any other sexually transited disease but I do love and always pray for my brothers and sisters who are positive.)  Coming to terms with my sexuality did not help me in dealing with the disease because at times I had people around me tell me that my illness was punishment because I am Gay.  Being sick, being tired, and being gay caused me to be weary and constantly confused.  Moreover I had to deal with judgment from self as well as others and understand what everything meant.  I prayed, I wrote, I meditated, I cried, I worried, I ignored, I listened to music, I loved, I hated, I tried everything yet nothing seemed to work.  Finally I surrendered to the will of God.  I gave up trying to please anyone but God and in doing so I heard the almighty tellme “one day at a time my child.”  I stopped fretting about my career, my gayness, my family, my worries, my illness and even my future.  I just started living each day in the present and trusting myself and God.  I learned from Eckert Tolle’s book A New Earth that one must always be in the present because worry comes from only two places- thinking about the past and anxiety about what will happen in the future.  Once I learned that lesson I had no more fear or worry because I just think of the present moment and then I am proud that I made it.  Made what you asked? Made it through each day without loosing my mind.  I’m glad I made it through a decade since graduating high school although I am not where I thought I would be.  I’m glad I made it through the judgments and criticisms from self and others.  I am proud of me for never giving up on myself.  I am proud of me for loving me even when those I trusted to love me didn’t always do it right.  I am thankful to God for never giving up on me and for constantly encouraging me to make it.  So if you find yourself like I was- lost in your head, smothered by your thoughts I beseech you to be your biggest cheerleader and trust that you can make it!  No matter what has happened in your life- you can make it!  No matter what anyone has done to you, said about you, or thought about you- you can make it!  No matter what mistakes you have made, are making, or thought about making- you can make it!  Be thankful for your pain, struggles, heartaches and fears because they have made you who you are and they gave you the strength to be able to make it!  1Luv, DL

Book Excerpt - A Lesson in Self Hatred

Here is an excerpt from an essay I wrote for an anthology enitiled "Marginalized Men"  To obtain a copy of the email me. 

As a child, I was painfully shy and my childhood church helped me to find my voice.  I always felt awkward because I was a young intellectual and had difficulty fitting in while I was in elementary and middle school; I was always in programs for gifted students which isolated me.  Rarely were black students in my class and those who were I really didn’t relate to nor did I relate to many of my white counter parts as well.  Although I did have friends and played sports, I never really felt like I belonged.  I didn’t feel that I had something that I flourished in outside of academics.  Although my scholastic acumen has diffidently paid off now that I am a grown professional, being the smartest in my class really didn’t bring me a lot of popularity early on.  Being active in the church gave me a place to grow and flourish.  The church helped me to develop my voice and find my way and grow as a dynamic leader and confident public speaker because of the training I received in our youth group.  Furthermore, my church helped me to foster and develop some of my closest friendships that I still hold dear and near.  The church has not only been a blessing, but also a burden to me.  I simply cannot help but to be grateful for the institution that taught me both to love and loathe myself.  And for all the good that my church has done for me I cannot help but to remember the covert pain that it has inflected upon me.  I can honestly say that I have struggled with my sexual orientation for as long as I can remember; however, it was the church that taught me that being gay was a problem. 

In my childhood church, we had members who were gay- both men and women.  Seemingly no one had a problem with them during the worship experience or even beyond that.  Everyone seemed to get a long and disregarded the giant gorilla in the room.  Even though no one ever addressed our gay members publicly, privately it was a very different story laden with whispers and judgmental faces.  Most of the Christians that I know have two selves- the one who goes to church and the one who doesn’t.  The older I grew, the more I was introduced to the non-church side of many of the adults I respected growing up.  Usually, I was introduced to the not- so-holy side of my Christian mentors at social and family functions outside of the church or in the kitchen/fellowship hall of the church.  The first day I ever felt the wrath of Christian hate was sitting with my grandmother and her contemporaries around the church’s kitchen table.  It was a very black Golden Girls moment as the female seniors sat at the round table talking about everything and everybody.  Soon the topic of the preacher who was in town for our fall revival was the subject of the conversation.  We were actually preparing the heavy hors d'oeuvres for the after the service fellowship and as we sat at the table, they began to rip him to shreds.  I don’t remember who started the conversation, but I remember they spent what seemed like hours degrading him and belittling him for his perceived femininity.  When they started to talk about him, I was just terrified in my spirit because he was the first preacher I ever felt a connection with at the church.  Something about his swagger and style of preaching spoke directly to me.  He was average height and build but was extremely cool and immaculately dressed.  During the preceding days of the revival he delivered some of the most powerful and dynamic sermons I had heard- not to mention  he was one of the greatest pianist and singers who had ever entered the sanctuary.  He was what my grandmother and her crew called a “triple threat” because he could preach, sing, and play the piano well.  For some reason, they did not care that he had the three blessings because they said he was “funny acting,” “sweet,” “not right,” “a fairy” and “a punk.”  They talked about how he had a big behind which was of course “a dead giveaway” they explained.  They repeatedly mocked him as they belittled his voice and his mannerisms.  As a child, I was so shocked I didn’t know what to think.  I remember asking myself how could they sit here and talk about that man like that.  How could they stand up, wave their hands, jump, shout, cry and encourage the man as he preached the night before, yet sit in the very building and talk about him like a dog the next day.  The more they talked about the preacher, the more uncomfortable I grew.  I didn’t know why I was so troubled with their behavior but I didn’t like it at all.  These were the same people who I looked to for spiritual advice and counsel, yet they were acting like the biggest hypocrites in the world.  I had seen them pray for and speak highly of drug addicts, alcoholics, even sex offenders as they encouraged them by saying things like “Praise God! He’s trying to get his life together. God bless him!”  It didn’t make sense to me that they could be so negative about the man who came and preached such uplifting and beautiful messages.  I saw people give their lives to Christ because of his sermons.  I saw people’s lives being changed as he ministered to them through song.  I saw the Holy Spirit move in and through the worship services because of the atmosphere that he prepared. What difference did it make that he was a little effeminate?  I soon realized that it made all the difference in the world. 

            Sitting at the table listening to allegedly devote Christians spew such hatred about a man that I admired soon became too overwhelming for me, and I eventually snapped and yelled, “HE CAN’T HELP IT!”  As the words burst out of my mouth, tears gushed from my eyes while snot oozed from my nose as I felt my face slip into the ugly cry. As I sat at the table trying to gain my composure, a holy hush fell over the room.  No one knew how to react as the twelve year old boy sat in tears after defending the effeminate preacher.  I cried and cried.  I sniffed and cried.  I cried tears that I would not even understand until later in life.  I cried because I was gay even though I didn’t know it at the time.  I cried because I felt such hatred from the very people I loved.  I cried because I neatly knew that he could not help who he was and that he was just trying to let God use him the best way he knew how.  As I cried, the women just stared at me.  Unfortunately, my grandmother was the first to respond as she asked, “Do you have something to tell me?!?”   Grandmother’s eyes burned of hatred as the words oozed from her lips and I was terrified.  I am not talking about an “Oh, she’s going to spank me” fear- hell I was 5’10 in the 5^th grade, so I’ve been taller than most of the women in my family for as long as I can remember.  I wasn’t physically afraid; however, my spirit was petrified.  The look in grandmother’s eyes that day was a look of hatred as her eyes seemed to glow with fire as she stared through me without blinking.  She stared at me with an intensity that I have never experienced since.  He stare burned a hole in my spirit that created wounds that have never healed.  I didn’t know how to respond or what to say.  Had I been brave, I would have yelled “I’M GAY,” but shit I was twelve, and although I think my body and heart knew, my mind couldn’t even comprehend it yet. I wished I could have came out then - got it over with shocked all those old broads, and then went on with my business.  I wish I was brave enough to just stand up for what I believed in but at that time, I wasn’t sure what I believed in.  I didn’t know I was gay. I didn’t know what it meant to be gay; I just knew that somewhere in my spirit I had to cry out in defense of someone with whom I felt a kindred relationship.  As my grandmother’s burning face heaved looks of judgment and revulsion onto me, the other ladies silently sat looking confused and nervous.  Eventually, someone else from the church entered the kitchen, and her sheer presence in the room dispersed the thick tension.  I continued to sit at the table acting as if tears were not drying on my face.  I sat there because I felt that it was important to act as if the previous few minutes never happened.  Evidently, I was not the only one who felt that it was necessary to do this because no one sitting in that room on that day has ever brought up that incident again (to my knowledge). Even though I’ve never really thought about that incident since, it occurred and even though no one has brought it up again (to my knowledge), those few moments sitting around that table changed me forever.  On that day at that moment in my church that I loved surrounded by the people that I loved, I learned how to hate myself.  Moreover, I also learned how to hide myself in order to keep the love and acceptance from those in my life.  It wasn’t fair for them to put me in that situation because that day they officially taught me to hate the person I was to become.  That day I learned to mask my true self in order to appease the church and the people in it that I loved.  Although I didn’t realize it at the time, that was the day I learned to be the DL Dude.

After that incident, I spent my teen years going to church and working harder than ever.  I was active in local, regional, and national activities of the AME church.  Everywhere I went, I took the lesson that I learned from my grandmother and her judgment cronies with me- I learned how to manage people’s perception of me.  It is crazy that the church is the place where I was taught to be black and proud as well as Gay and ashamed. Even though the church says “Come as you are” what they really mean is “Just come, and I will turn you into the person I really want you to be.”  Eventually, I was great at being a “good church boy.”  Hell, I should have won an Oscar!  I sang in choirs, played the piano, prayed prayers, and lead ministries.  I loved the feeling of serving what I thought was God but was actually just the church. Eventually, I developed such an affinity for worship and spiritual matters that individuals began to insist that God was calling me into the ministry.  I loved the idea of serving God in such a passionate, committed, and sacred way, and I knew that as long as I could keep managing people’s perception of me, I would not have any problem.  I prayed and prayed and felt that God revealed Christ to me and I did indeed felt called to preach, teach, and minister.  The first thing I did was look up that revivalist preacher that I remembered from childhood.  No matter what I never forgot about him and I just felt that it was essential that I build a relationship with him.  Since he served as the senior pastor of a church in my denomination, it wasn’t difficult to get a current email address for him, and we began chatting online.  He was a blessing and encouraged me to pursue ministry.  I was hesitant, but we prayed together and he always encouraged me that God had great things in store for me.  In the midst of his encouragement and praise, I could not help but feel a willingness to share with him the other desires that I was secretly dealing with.  I can now look back on my life and say that I know I have always been gay; however, by the time I graduated high school, I spent most of my energy trying to convince myself and others that I wasn’t.  I never admitted it, but I started looking at gay porn online by the time I was in middle school; moreover, I ventured into gay chat rooms at that time and had inappropriate conversations with men who were three or four times my age.  Hell, the truth is I didn’t know what I was doing or what I was talking about, but I remember feeling wrong, dirty, and ashamed because I remember the look my grandmother gave me when she thought I might be gay.  I wanted to ask the pastor about my feelings and ask him if God really would call me.  I wanted to ask him if I was wrong for being one way in public and another way in private.  I wanted to ask him why it felt so good and natural to masturbate to gay porn and why did it feel so filthy afterwards.  I wanted to ask him a million questions; however, the lesson that I learned at the kitchen table in the church was not to let ANYONE I loved or admired think that I was gay because if I did, they would hate me.  The pastor and I built a friendship; however, though I am sure he knew it, I never told him my truth.   

Through college I remained active in denomination.  I went away to school and found a nice Ame church reminiscent to the one that I grew up in and decided to prepare myself for a life in college.  I studied well and continued to date a young lady that I honestly fell in love with back home.  People always ask me how I could fall in love with a woman though I have always known that I was gay.  My answer is simple: you can’t help who you fall in love with.  I loved everything about her and planned that we would one day get married.  Although we had sex, I still enjoyed viewing gay internet porn, but at that time, I told myself it was “ok” because I could stop at anytime.  Eventually the porn caused me to resent who she was because during our love making sessions, I tightly closed my eyes and pictured myself freaking whatever gay porn star I was in love with at the time.  Although I am sure she did not know that I was in love with gay porn, she did feel that something wasn’t right in our relationship, and she dumped me.  I was crushed and tried everything in my power to get her back.  I showered her with flowers, candy, stuffed animals- I even purchased her a beautiful gold Tiffany necklace in an effort to get her back.  Eventually, I literally begged her to come back to me, but she was uncompromising, and I nearly lost my damn mind.  I wasn’t so upset because I had lost a girlfriend; I was upset because I had lost part of my cover.  Some part of me thought that if I did not have a beautiful, smart, Christian girl on my arm in a serious relationship other people would find out my secret.  Moreover, I was afraid of finding out that I REALLY was gay.  Up until that point in my life, I had never done ANYTHING with a guy, and I convinced myself that as long as I refrained from engaging in any relationship with the same sex that I was straight.  To that end, I worked to convince others but really myself that I was straight by bedding any girl who would let me.  I did what I learned from my grandmother and her cronies around the table- the only thing that matters is that you don’t allow people to think you are the person who you really are.  Eventually, it was difficult for me to even know who the hell I was.  One part of me was in the church all the time working, singing, praying, and leading while another part was at home in my room jacking off to gay porn and yet another part of me was engaging in crazy amounts of sex with random women.  I wanted to serve God in ministry, but I didn’t know how much longer I could keep up the act.  Each day I worked to try to force myself to be someone that my grandmother and the other church women could be proud of, yet it just led to me being a zombie who slipped in and out of different characters but who was essentially dead to the world.  I worked so hard to convince other people not to hate me that I began to hate myself more and more.  Finally, something happened that forever changed me and forced me to be honest with myself.   

One morning as I was running late for church, I got the news via Facebook that the preacher whose ministry I had adored since childhood was found dead in his home.  I won’t even attempt to explain the way that I felt because mere letters organized as words on a page can never even begin to convey how I really felt.  Over the next several weeks, a part of me died as I learned how the pastor fell to his doom.  Each day, I woke to visit the online newspapers and news stations in the pastor’s city to catch up on the latest concerning his story.  Eventually, I learned that the pastor was entertaining a twenty-something year old male along with the young man’s teen cousin.  During the course of the evening, they consumed pizza, marijuana, and liquor -all surrounded around the pastors promise to pay the twenty-something year old for a sexual favor like they had done before.  At some point in the evening, the two young men beat the pastor and robbed him for cash, jewelry, and the pin number for his debit card.  They bound him, stabbed him over 30 times, and left him bound and bleeding to death on the floor of his home as they stole his car and drove it around for the next week.  The pastor laid on the floor bound, stabbed, and beaten to death for a week until the police found him.  Each day as I read the online news articles, I felt indescribably saddened by not only the story that was unfolding but the comments that online newsreaders were making.  A myriad of derogatory names and sentiments trailed each online story as an example of the hatred the readers had for the once adored and beloved pastor.  In essence, most of those commenting on the news stories felt that the pastor got what he deserved because he was gay.  The man was beaten, bound, stabbed nearly forty times in his head, chest, and body then left to die naked and alone on the floor where he laid dead for a week, and people commented that they thought he got what he deserved because he was Gay. Really?

Contact me to buy a copy of Marginalized Men to read the complete essay and other stores as well!

1-Luv

The Power to Choose!

I must admit that before I came to terms with my sexuality one of the greatest misconceptions I had about the gay life concerned the abundance of individuals burdened with HIV and aids.  I never considered the sexual health aspect about being gay because I had an unrealistic idea of homosexual sex.  Before I was actually brave enough to engage in sex with a man I adored free online gay porn.  A few times a week I searched for clips of black men engaging in freaky sex-capades overshadowing the terrible plots.  You know how most black gay porn is- freaky cable guy is about to cancel your stolen cable but will keep it on for some head; or perhaps a dude breaks into your apartment and ends up getting ass; or maybe a drug dealer has to take it up the booty because he’s short on money for his supplier; or of course two dudes have to get it in before their girlfriends get back from shopping, etcetera and excreta.  I never related to the plot lines and before I ever new intimacy with a man I couldn’t relate to the actual intercourse; however, I did relate to the fantasy.  I longed to know what it was like to hold a man, touch a man, kiss a man, taste a man, experience head from a man, and most of all slide inside a man’s tightness.  At that time I didn’t realize that I was actually glamorizing gay pornographic sex.  Moreover, not only was I glamorizing the sexual acts, I was glamorizing the idea of unprotected sex.  I didn’t think it was a big deal that most of the flicks I watched featured raw sex, actually I was turned on seeing the cum drip from the dicks/asses of hot men.  I never actually took the time to consider the irresponsible logic of such scenes or the danger of glamorizing such reckless activities.  It wasn’t until I actually started talking to guys and realizing that many of the guys I sought to get to know where positive that I thought about HIV/Aids issues.  I was completely stunned to find out that so many men my age or younger were dealing with the disease.  Furthermore, I was even more surprised when I realized that so many of my fellow gay contemporaries did not practice safer sex habits.  Therefore, it seems that while many of us in the twitter-verse, Facebook-land and blogosphere are talking about sex, showing sexy pictures and sharing sexy videos it is still not popular to address the white elephant in the room- HIV and Aids.  For some HIV/aids has become an inevitability that they don’t even try to avoid.  Some claim to know everything about fleeting, various sexual positions and how to suck a mean dick, but they know very little about practicing safe sex.  Not only that but I am saddened that a lot of men I encounter are so irresponsible with their sexual choices.  My heart bleeds because of the lack of knowledge of my people. 

We must do better!  We must be better caregivers of our body, mind and spirit.  As a man I understand the immense sexual desire that constantly flows through our beings.  I understand that often times our hormones lead the way but beloved we must learn to make smart decisions.  There is no such thing as “its just sex.”  Anytime you engage in a sexual act with someone you share not only sexual fluids but you share their body.  For a brief moment the two of you become one.  Tops literally enter into a bottoms body.  In order for anal sex to occur many things must happen.  The bottom’s body must submit to the top’s penis.  Call yourself a “power bottom thug” or whatever – it doesn’t matter.  In order for your body to be relaxed enough to take dick you must be submissive and accepting in some way.  You physically let your guard down to relax your anal muscles enough to let a foreign object slip inside of you; in doing so you hurt yourself.  Most men who enjoy bottoming admit that they like pain.  Pain is an essential part of anal sex.  Yes, pleasure follows the pain; however, each time you accept a dick inside of your ass you are letting another person hurt you.  When we consider sex from this perspective we must then question each person we let inside of us.  We must ask ourselves, Is this person someone I will allow to hurt me?  Then we must take a step further and ask, is this person someone who will stay during the healing process?  In other words, if you like to cuddle, be held, caressed, and shown affection- then why do you allow people to penetrate you who only want to bust a nut?  After we have been penetrated we feel both physically and emotionally open.  Remember that not everyone who wants to have sex with you will treat you well in those vulnerable moments.  Additionally, if you long to be in a relationship why do you consciously choose to lay with people who you know are not looking for a relationship?  Moreover, for those who prefer to penetrate why are you willing to enter into someone’s body if your intentions are different than their own?  Whenever we penetrate someone we essentially allow their body to hold or carry a part of us.  Even though gay sex cannot procreate we are still entrusting someone to seize our life maker- our preciousness that separates us from women.  Our penises are more than just pleasure sticks.  Our dicks are the shafts that help us to rid our bodies of certain toxins which allow us to be strong and healthy individuals.  Our male organs produce hormones that keep us sane and secrete the lifeblood containing our sperm.  We must intentionally decide who is worthy of such trust and responsibility.  At the end of the day we are men- we are squirrels trying to get a nut; however, the last time I checked we could do so ourselves.  We must transcend the idea of meaningless or random sex if we are really going to greatly reduce the frequency of new HIV/Aids cases among black gay men.  The prevalence of HIV/Aids in the black gay community has little to do with unprotected sex.  Indeed, sex without a condom increases ones chance of contracting the disease; however, condomless sex masks the underlying issue of making poor sexual choices.  We have a lot of work to do if we are going to start properly dealing with these issues.

The work must begin with our infected brothers.  If you are positive please know that HIV/Aids is something that you have- it is not who you are.  You are a being.  You are a man.  You come from a long line of kings who were able to organize and mobilize communities to stand together and bring about change.  Do not let the illness define you.  Do not beat up on yourself for making poor or ill-advised choices.  Do not be ashamed of your status or your story.  Shame is a tool that our oppressors use to keep us in psychological bondage.  Shame keeps us from being free to forgive ourselves and subsequently save the lives of others.  Shame hinders us from learning who we really are and utilizing the inner strength and ability that we possess.  Do not let shame ruin your life.  Shame fosters hurt, resentment, pain, lethargy, emotional self-mutilation, and a host of other damaging and debilitating thoughts, ideas, and actions.  Free yourself from the shame so that you can cherish the individual that the Universe created you to be.  Free yourself from shame and embarrassment so that you can put that energy to good use.  Mentor newly infected individuals, lobby for antidiscrimination laws and fair healthcare- work to educate young people and the surrounding community about the things you have learned along the way so that they can make informed sexual choices.  Be a beacon of hope, light, and encouragement!  You are more than your status.

Furthermore, those of us who are fortunate enough to not have contracted the virus must work to not judge those who do have the disease.  But by the grace of the Universes any of us could have tested positive at anytime.  I admit that in haste or foolishness I have not always made the most responsible decisions in the bedroom; therefore, I do not have the right to judge anyone who has tested positive.  All same gender loving males must work to love one another because we have a common struggle.  It’s not about positive verses negative or top verses bottom or #teamWHATEVER against #teamSO&SO- no, it is about all of us coming together and realizing that we have more in common than we think.  Being gay in America is not easy.  Being black and gay is a double hardship so we must learn to work together and love one another.  Do not be afraid to date, fall in love with or have sex with someone who is positive.  Just be educated, take precautions and have sex with the right people for the right reasons.  Sex is something that is beautiful and precious- do not give up everything to everybody.  Protect your body.  Honor your well being.  Love yourself and those around you enough to make good choices.  I know that many of us are young and trying to get as much ass/dick as we can, but I promise that sex is so much better when feelings are involved.  I am not asking you to be a prude or a Bristol Palin (born again virgin) but I am asking you to think before you smash!  Additionally, I promote the use of condoms at all times in all situations; however, I am not naive enough to think that there are situations and instances when you and your partner may decide for whatever reason not to use protection.  While I do not condone such behavior, I respect your right to choose.  I do hope that whatever choices you make you understand the magnitude of any consequences.  If you are the least bit unsure about what you should do- WRAP IT UP!  #teamCONDOM J

1Luv DL

The Greatest Love of All

Since starting this blog I have made a few really close friends on twitter and other social sites as I attempted to assimilate into the gay world.  I sought to not just “DO” what gay men do, but to actually learn what it means to “BE” a gay man.  In other words I was looking for more than sex talk.  I sought intellectual stimulation and personal development.  The more I cultivated friendships and acquaintances the more I realized that I had to be really careful of who I made connections with.  A few months ago, one of my longtime followers hit me up on twitter seeking to develop a deeper platonic friendship.  Honestly, I didn’t really know who the guy was because he changed his profile picture from what I remember so I kept him at a distance.  Some people have used their alleged admiration of my work as a way of trying to introduce their ulterior motives, so I am always a little leery of people whom I have not spoken with before being so bold.  Hesitantly I did converse more with the young man and eventually realized that I had tweet-vos with him on numerous occasions in the past when his twitcon was his ass and not his face.  (Sadly I remembered his ass but didn’t know his face)  Eventually, through our various tweet-versations and DMs back and forth we deepened our friendship and I really started to see him as not just another follower on twitter or a reader of my blog- I saw him as a friend and little brother.  Of course he is not my relative and he is rather attractive so boundaries are in place to ensure the innocence of our  mentor-protégé relationship.  With that being said I have taken him under my wing and see it as my responsibility to look out for him, advise him, support and encourage him as best I can.  It boggles my mind that I am now in a position to help someone else deal with the difficulties of coming to terms with their sexuality.  There is only one word that can summate how I feel- WOW!

In business I have long practiced the law of association- in other words I know to associate with those who are where I want to be or doing what I want to do.  The law is simple- work to learn from others by simply being in their presence.  The law of association says that if you desire to be successful in life you must purposefully associate with those who have achieved the level of success that you desire.  If you want to travel the world, become a writer, or start your own company, the law of association advises you to work to build connections with individuals who are doing what you aspire to do.  Through the personal experiences I address on my blog my new protégé sought to associate with me as he fights to be more comfortable with the truth of his sexuality.  I thank the universe that people other than me are being helped by the work of the blog!  I now feel a major responsibility to continue the positive work. 

Heretofore, the work of the blog really was twofold- 1. To help me to process my self-discovery as it relates to my sexuality and 2.To help other men struggling with their sexuality realize that they are not alone.  Eventually, I added a third objective because I wanted the blog site to also help the friends and family’s of recently out individuals by showing them a  firsthand account of the pain and courage it takes to live a life of truth- thus praying that they will be less judgmental.  The response from this site has been overwhelming!  I appreciate all the feedback and well wishes I continue to receive on a daily basis.  I cherish all the positive tweets and facebook messages my readers send.  I enjoy the emails, liveprofile notes, and the like.  Now I understand that this site has the ability to do all those things I wanted to do more; I am grateful for such influence.    I am glad that the universe is using my life and my experiences to reach other people in a positive way.  Moreover, I am grateful that this platform has actually saved my life!  No, I am not talking about physically saved me from some impending doom or suicide attempt, but writing my story under the guise of anonymity has afforded me the opportunity to grow and fall in love deeper than I have ever fallen in love before.  Learning so much about who I am and what I have to offer has allowed me to fall in love with myself!  Before beginning this journey I always thought that I loved myself- I had no reason to think otherwise.  Now in hindsight I realize that the person who I am could not have loved me that much because just last year I was content to spend the rest of my life living a lie about who I am.  The truth is that I am a gay man.  I am not Down Low. I am not bisexual.  I am gay.  I realize that sexuality is fluid and I have nothing against anyone’s sexuality, but as for me I am gay.  I am not a man who sleeps with men- I desire more than just sex.  I desire intimacy, love, and companionship.  The entire time I was writing these blog posts and building associations with my online friends I thought that I was just coming to terms with the truth about my sexuality- WRONG!  I was really learning to love me for me.  I made the conscious decision to seek my real truth which resulted in knowing me better.  Always understand that real progress cannot be made if its foundation is not the honest truth.  Knowing me better resulted in appreciating all of who I am and all that I have to offer the world.  Knowing all that I have to offer the world presented the realization that I am worthy of love and being loved.  Realizing that I am worthy of receiving love offered the understanding that I cannot properly accept love from others if I have yet to accept love from myself.  Understanding the need for me to love myself introduced the actuality of me looking myself in the mirror and saying the following words to myself: “I love you!  I love all of you!  Nothing you could ever do or say or think is going to change that!  If you mess up- I love you!  If you fuck up- I love you!  If you disappoint me- I love you!  If you hurt me- I love you!  Please know that I will be your biggest supporter, encourager, and friend forever!  I love you! I love you!  I love you!”  

Hearing the words leave my mouth and float simultaneously back into my ears felt awkward and uncomfortable at first.  I felt like a school boy telling a crush how I felt about them.  I was uneasy and struggled to look myself in the eyes.  Once I was finally able to look into my own eyes I saw fear, doubt, hurt, anger, sadness, and pain.  By the time I finished my statement I saw tears swell in my eyes.  My mind told me not to cry because that’s not what men do.  Since coming to terms with my gayness I find myself sometimes pushing me more than ever before to do the manly thing.  It’s like I tell myself “it’s okay to be gay just not less of a man!”  I’m thankful that my mind wasn’t in charge of that moment because my heart told my lips to say “It’s okay!  Don’t be ashamed to cry!  If you cry I’ll cry with you!” Then it happened.  I cried!   All 6’5” of me stood in the mirror and cried like a big old baby.  It felt wonderful.  At that moment I don’t know why I was crying but it just felt like the thing to do.  The more I cried the better I felt.  I cried tears that I had been holding in for weeks, months, years and longer.  I cried for what seemed like forever.  My neck was soaked with tears and my eyes ablaze with redness.  I then looked back at myself in the mirror and for the first time ever I smiled at myself saying, “See, I still love you!”  I was relieved.  It took 27 years for me to get to the point where I heard the exact ‘I love you’ statement that I’ve been waiting for everyone else to say.  My parents never seemed to love me right.  No significant other ever made me feel exactly how I needed to feel when they said I love you or showed me their love.  Yes, everyone loved me the best they knew how but it still wasn't always what I needed.  Yes, there where pockets of good moments in every relationship, but eventually they would do or say something that made me question “how did you do/say that to me if you claim to love me?” Then I realized what Whitney Houston has being singing about all this time, “learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all!”  It is time for more of us to learn this lesson!  C’mon, don’t be scared!

In many ways I am proud of my young protégé because he is much braver than I.  He is a young adult who still lives in his parent’s home and has come out to them.  His family is like so many others because at times they use their disapproval of his sexuality as a weapon to hit him over the head with.  They have hurt his feelings and in turn I have been hurt listening to the pain in his voice.  I can only imagine the sorrow he constantly endures.  I cannot truly know what he is going through living with a family surrounded by tension and judgment; however, I can give him one piece of advice- Love yourself!  Many of us are waiting for our families, boyfriends, best friends or other loved ones to say everything that we want to hear.  We’ve played the CD over and over in our heads convinced that we know what real love sounds like and what we need to hear in order to believe it.  We want “them” to say words that complete us, that fulfill us, that inspire us, that warm us, and that reach those deep down guarded places in our spirits and affirm who we are and that we are worthy of being loved.  Unfortunately that shit ain’t gonna happen- or if it does eventually they will do/say something to fuck it up.  Therefore, my beloved brothers and sisters it is time for us to love ourselves and tell ourselves everything that we desire and want to hear!  Go ahead, find a mirror! 

1Luv.