Doug Cooper Spencer

An Interview with Writer/Producer, Demetrius Bady (on his series, 'Moesha' and 'Nothing Personal', His Documentary on Homophobia in Black Hollywood)

“I had the most success on Moesha where I spent 5 years… it was still a very hostile and homophobic work environment. Most of it, especially in the beginning, I suffered in silence. The first season I almost quit every single day...” ~ Demetrius Bady

“At Moesha I was gay in a black world that preferences and privileges heterosexuality and in West Hollywood, I was black in a gay world which preferences and privileges whiteness.” ~ Demetrius Bady

“(She) called me and asked me to find out if I knew or could find out if the person she was about to cast as a thug was gay or not. She said to me, ‘Not that I care. I just don’t need my main thug coming out of the closet in the second season and ruining my show.’ ” ~ Demetrius Bady

DCS: Hi Demetrius. Tell us a bit about yourself. What brought you to Hollywood?

DB: I came to Hollywood twice really. The first time I was 19 and thought I knew everything. I had just gotten back from living in Europe for a year. I had written a TV pilot called The Culture Club about a group of international exchange students who hung out at this club owned by Little Richard.

Somehow, someone I knew got a copy of it to Little Richard and he asked to meet me. We became really good friends. I had been here for a couple of months and I remember being broke and hungry and going to see Richard and he looked at me and said, “Child, what’s your mother’s number?” I gave it to him. He picked up the phone and called her back in Michigan and told her that he was sending me home. So, Richard hangs up the phone and tells me, “You are one of the smartest young men I have ever met. Go home and go to college and then come back. All of this mess will still be here.” He bought me a ticket and I went home. I enrolled in a community college for a year and transferred to the University of Michigan at Ann Arbor.

After Michigan I entered the doctoral program in History at Northwestern University in Evanston. I loved it there too and I was thriving but I ended up having to withdraw because my family was in some serious financial trouble. I needed to get a job fast.

I called a friend from Hollywood who I had kept in contact with over the years and as luck would have it he had just sold a TV series to Nickelodeon called, My Brother and Me. So, that Friday, I was still a graduate student and that Monday I was in Orlando Florida working on the set as an assistant.

We did thirteen episodes and one of the show’s creators and executive producers, Calvin Brown, Jr., let me co-write two episodes with him. When the show was canceled Calvin suggested I give Los Angeles a try. He promised to introduce me around and he did. I arrived in January of 1995 and got my first TV staff writing job a few months later on Sister-Sister.

DCS: What is it like being black and gay in Hollywood?

DB: That’s a peculiar question. I mean, I know why you asked it theoretically but you might as well have asked me, “what’s it like to be alive at all in Hollywood”. I mean, I have no other frame of reference, no other point of departure.

I must tell you that when I first read it I immediately thought of Robert F. Reid-Pharr and his brilliant book of essays, Black Gay Man. In it he says, and I’m going to pull the direct quote because I think it’s important:

“My relationship to the projects of producing either a queer or a black aesthetic is at best tentative, complicated, undecided.

While I celebrate the work of black people, gay people, and black gay people in almost all of my writing, I remain particularly suspicious about the precious ways in which we hold onto our old identities and fashion new ones out of them.

I still have to resist the impulse to flinch when someone refers to me as a queer and to positively run for cover when someone refers to me as a black queer, as I have not yet rid myself of the suspicion, left over from my childhood, that I am being politely hailed as a nigger and a faggot.

But to be less abstract about it I have to say that being an openly-gay black gay man in Hollywood has been challenging to say the least. Certainly I have had some very real successes. I have written and produced or had scripts produced on four different shows, My Brother and Me, Sister-Sister, Moesha, and All of Us. I had the most success on Moesha where I spent 5 years and while the executive producers Sara Finney and Vida Spears were extremely supportive, it was still a very hostile and homophobic work environment. Most of it, especially in the beginning, I suffered in silence. The first season I almost quit every single day and a friend had to talk me off the ledge.

It was so bad that some nights I would get off work. I would take a bus to West Hollywood and just sit at a café and try to heal. Of course this didn’t really help because West Hollywood is problematic for an entirely different but equally disturbing set of reasons. I might as well have been invisible. At Moesha I was gay in a black world that preferences and privileges heterosexuality and in West Hollywood, I was black in a gay world which preferences and privileges whiteness. I didn’t fit in anywhere and so just getting through the day became an endless series of compromises and negotiations. How much of what kind of whose version of me would be acceptable to the most number of people while doing the least amount of damage to my soul?

(Part 2: 'Nothing Personal': A Documentary About Homophobia in Black Hollywood)

DCS: Are you currently working on any projects?

DB: YES! I’m so excited. I’m currently in the middle of a very special project. It’s a documentary called, Nothing Personal. It’s a provocative documentary about homophobia in Black Hollywood.

DCS: Can you tell me about Nothing Personal?

DB: Nothing Personal was inspired by my life. Black Hollywood was and is a very homophobic place. Now, I don’t mean to suggest that Hollywood in general is not a homophobic environment because it is. I think it’s a grand misperception on the part of the rest of the country that Hollywood is a welcoming and nurturing place for gays and lesbians. Hell no. Yes Hollywood may represent an improvement from some other parts of the country but the industry is really a part of greater Los Angeles which is part of California and don’t forget that California just passed Proposition 8.

When I got to Los Angeles, in 1995, it was almost unbearable. I remember once during the first few weeks of the first season of Moesha, I was still a writing assistant and my desk was right outside the writer’s room. There was a talk show called Rolanda on and the topic of the day was women who find out that their husbands are gay. The writer’s were discussing it and the comments were just disgusting. I had just met some of these people (the writers) but I still respected them all a great deal for what they had accomplished.

At some point one of the writers came out of the room and left the door open and all of this homophobic vitriol came pouring out like a mudslide. I felt trapped. I didn’t know what to do. It went on and on and eventually I started to shake and my hands started to sweat. I got up from my desk and ran into the office of a writer I barely knew, Ron Neal. I thought he was still in the writer’s room but he was in his office. I didn’t have to say a word. He just looked at me and said, “I know. Just breathe and sit down.” I sat there for about 10 minutes in complete silence. We didn’t say another word and we never discussed it again in all the years we went on to work together.

I decided to do the documentary when one day a couple of years ago I was at Outfest supporting Quincy LeNear and Deondray Gossett with the premier of DL Chronicles. I had known them both since they first arrived in Los Angeles and was so incredibly proud of them for their accomplishments. We hadn’t talked in a while but they told me how much they had admired me when I was on, Moesha because I was openly gay. Back in the day Quincy and Deondray were either always on or around the set because their friend, Tamiko Brooks (now a wonderful writer in her own right) worked on Moesha as a writer’s assistant.

Well I really was shocked to hear them say this because I had never thought about it. It had never occurred to me that anyone was watching. It planted a seed. I began to wonder out loud how many openly gay and or lesbian writers were out there. I made some phone calls and talked to some friends and began the process of getting some of them to talk on camera. It blossomed from there.

DCS: Has Nothing Personal been picked up by a network or distributor yet?

DB: No. Unfortunately not. But I’m very positive that it will. I’m in the process of acquiring funding for Nothing Personal. I’ve had some very solid interest.

DCS: You told us some of your experiences with homophobia in Hollywood can you give me some other examples?

DB: There are so many. But I’ll give you one that was particularly painful. Once a friend of mine, one of my best friends at the time who also happened to be one of the few Black show runners (a person who oversees day to day management and creative operations of a T.V. series) in Hollywood, called me and asked me to find out if I knew or could find out if the person she was about to cast as a thug was gay or not.

She said to me, “Not that I care. I just don’t need my main thug coming out of the closet in the second season and ruining my show.” I couldn’t believe it. A black woman called a gay black man to find out private information about a black actor so that she could possibly deny him employment. I remember getting sick to my stomach. Again, I didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t an evil person. She certainly knew that I was gay and in fact, had championed and supported me on several occasions.

I think I was stunned. But again, I didn’t challenge her. I didn’t speak up. I was worried that she might not hire me on her show if I confronted her. That one bothered me for a long time. It still bothers me.

DCS: I think of Paris Barclay (NYPD Blue, ER, CSI, Cold Case, Lost, etc,) when I think of successful black gay producers and writers. What other black LGBT person, would you say is at the top of the game in your profession?

DB: There are quite a few right now and I’m going to feel bad if I leave someone off the list. But off the top of my head I think of Quincy and Deondray with the DL Chronicles. You have Wanda Sykes who is really headed into another stratosphere right now. There is, of course, Patrik-Ian Polk who did Noah’s Arc. You have people like Billy Porter, Nathan Hale Williams, Maurice Jamal and of course, Lee Daniels. So, there are some people out there doing good stuff and really making a difference.

DCS: Usually, blacks and other people of color are relegated to supporting roles in T.V. unless it’s comedy. Do you foresee any change?

DB: I do. I mean, part of it is simple demographics. The country is changing and television will change right along with it or become obsolete. One of the things that would help is if Black writers and T.V. executives brought more layered and complicated characters to the screen.

DCS: How do you feel about gay stereotypes on T.V.?

DB: They have their place. I mean, you have to have a sense of humor and be able to laugh at yourself and even at your community. The problem, of course, becomes when the stereotypes are all you have. If you’re going to ask a group- - any group- - to laugh at themselves then you also have to be willing to take that same community seriously. I’m of the belief that television and film should provoke. I think television and film succeed if everyone is uncomfortable for a few minutes before it’s over.

DCS: With the internet becoming such an important part of our lives, what do you see as the future of the television and film industry?

DB: (laughing) Doug, if I could answer this question then I’d be a rich man. No one has quite figured this one out yet. I just hope to be there when they do.

DCS: Man. That was a lot to digest. Thanks, Demetrius. It’s good to hear from someone in our community doing work behind the scenes in Hollywood. Now take a breather, then get back to work on Nothing Personal.

DB: You’re very welcome Doug. You take care as well.

(NOTE: Since this interview, Producers, Quincy LeNear and Deondray Gossett, writers and producers of the DL Chronicles, have joined as producers of Nothing Personal; and Paris Barclay, former director/producer of NYPD Blue, ER, CSI, Cold Case, Lost and other shows has agreed to appear on film in the documentary. The producers continue to seek funding for Nothing Personal. For more information, you can contact Demetrius Bady at: Callandresponseproductions2@Gmail.Com)

Take one black same-gender loving author (Sapphire), one black same-gender loving film director (Lee Daniels), add in one black gay supportive entrepreneur (Oprah Winfrey) who brings along her best ‘might be gay’ black friend (Tyler Perry) and what do you have?  The movie, ‘Precious’.

But that’s not all you have, what you also have is an example of what can happen when the talents of black gay creative personalities and the black gay supportive community come together (i.e., also including staunch pro-gay supporter Mary J. Blige, who sings the theme and Mo’Nique and Mariah Carey in co-starring roles).

In a piece I wrote a few years ago, I heralded what I called ‘The New Renaissance’.  In that piece I said this New Renaissance ‘bounds with the energy of Alvin Ailey, and speaks as bold as the paintings of Basquiat; yet it is grounded in the headiness of James Baldwin and Audre Lorde. This explosion of arts and letters is taking place all over the world and its roots are firmly planted in the black LGBT/SGL experience.’

I also wrote that ‘I’ve been astounded not only by the spirit of these artists, but also by the boldness of their expression. But most of all I’m startled by the fact that these artists are often overlooked by mainstream media as well as the more parochial media; those media that suggests to represent them…’

With the combined energies that have created the film, ‘Precious’, I hope to prove myself wrong.  Now it is up to us, those communities who do support the talents of the black LGBT creative community and those who might normally choose otherwise, to come together and share in such an astounding event.

The film, ‘Precious’ carries on a tradition honoring such black LGBT creative luminaries as Langston Hughes, Josephine Baker, George Washington Carver (who was a prominent sculptor as well as scientist), James Baldwin, Johnny Mathis, Lorraine Hansberry, Alice Walker, E. Lynn Harris, and many, many more, all of whom have left an indelible imprint on world culture.

What makes ‘Precious’ even more precious?  The combining of black LGBT and black gay supportive talents to make what promises to be a gem of a movie.  Now it’s up to us to show our favor.

I ended my piece on The New Renaissance by saying, ‘Now the journey has begun'.  And it has.

As a veteran of the armed forces, I know there are many LGBT men & womyn who have given their lives & service to protect this nation. The irony of it is many people come out in the military (the largest gay community in the world) because it's the first place they come in close contact with other LGBT people. I did.

But here's one story that caught my attention last year. I'm re-posting it: Major Alan Rogers, a black gay man, was killed in Iraq. He served with valor in the U.S. Army and gave his life by throwing his body on his fellow soldiers to protect them from an explosive device.

His story caused some controversy because in 2008, The Washington Post decided not to mention that he was a gay man who supported gay rights. Major Rogers's family said he would not have wanted the fact that he was gay put out, but according to his close friends and members of several gay organizations he supported, he would be proud.The verdict is out on whether or not he would have wanted the public to posthumously know that he was gay, but it's not out on the fact that he was a brave black gay man, an extraordinary man, who gave his life for his country.

There’s been a dialogue going on for years in the black LGBT/SGL community regarding identity. There are many who refuse to call themselves ‘gay’, ‘lesbian’, etc. And that’s all fine. There’s always room for discussion and shifting paradigms. But what I often notice is for many, the discussion tends to center on what not to call ourselves, often falling short of naming ourselves and giving identity to our lives. Instead, what I hear is the argument to not ‘label’ one’s self, when, in reality, the effects of naming one’s self and labeling one’s self aren’t competitive.

Recently, a group of us put on a festival here in Cincinnati called the ‘Eyes Open Festival’. It’s a festival that celebrates the arts in the black LGBT/SGL community. A few people from our community find the festival unsettling. You see, it’s the fact that we use words like lesbian, gay, same-gender loving, etc. that frightens them. They say they’re nothing more than labels. Yet, some of those same people had no problem going to the NAACP’s national conference which opened here that same week. If I recall, the ‘CP’ in NAACP stands for ‘colored people’- - a label or a name?

To be more accurate, labeling restricts people to description; but unlike owning a name, it risks falling short of illuminating the ‘self-worth’ of the subject. Alone, it fails to recognize the fullness of the spirit and the vitality with which the person is imbued. On the other hand, naming yourself- - naming yourself in truth- - gives voice to who you are, your history, your community, your potential and that sense of rightful place. A label becomes a name when you give it life. The differences are subtle, yet substantial.

Am I merely my name? Of course not. I’m more. However, in stating I’m more I also acknowledge my name as a relative to all the other components that make me, me. To do otherwise would be to pigeonhole myself. And yeah, that would be foolish.

It would be foolish for me to look no further than the fact that I’m a same gender loving man, just as it would be for me to look no further than my blackness, my maleness and other qualities that inform me. Naming myself serves as a resource to connect me, not divide me. Yet I will by no means abdicate any vital part of who I am because each of those qualities help determine my thoughts, my values and my actions.

Also, naming yourself, is an essential part of loving yourself. I’m part of a larger order, but I’m also who I am in that larger order and I’m proud of it.

While we may go on talking about what we do not want to be identified as, just remember to also search for an identity that embraces who you truly are, the essence of you (and remember, if it’s not truth, then it’s not essence).

Just like being black, male, female, daughter, son, brother, sister, cousin or anything else, having an identity refines and empowers personhood.

And believe me, since you’ve already been labeled by people who would oppose your very right to exist, it would do best to name yourself. To own yourself.

We're all afraid of losing things that are important to us.  Love, life, money; whatever it is, losing what we've accepted as something valuable to us can be frightening.

For gay men and womyn, the idea of loss is always near.  Losing the love of family and friends, job and respect hangs over our heads with every thought we might have of people finding out about our sexual orientation, so most of the times we simply choose to keep who we really are a secret.

We fear loss.

What gives the idea of losing things so much power?  And how much power should we really give losing something?

On some levels, who we are as a person has been shaped by those elements that have been the most prevalent in our lives; social constructs, the cultures of family, and tribe are probably the most obvious examples, so to remain associated with those structures gives us a sense of security- - even when that sense of security might only offer false hope.  Nonetheless, the belief that you're secure becomes comforting.

The need to feel anchored to something is important.  That's why we seek that line that keeps us tethered to people, places and things with which we are familiar.  That sense of belonging empowers us since as human beings we’re social creatures.  The idea that we might be without whatever it is that has named us, that has informed us of who we are and who we are supposed to be can be daunting.

However, while that might be the case, it’s important to realize that sometimes we have to shift our attachments, or our allegiances; not that we should destroy our relations, but that we have to alter our relations in order to grow.  In short, we have to lose something, in order to move on to other things.

Here’s an example:  When I was in my early twenties, I was a husband (in the traditional sense) and a father; and while I loved my family, I wasn’t happy with who I was becoming.  My wife wanted the house with the white picket fence in the suburbs and a few more kids.  I no longer wanted that.  I had begun to grow in different ways and I knew I couldn’t live the life she wanted.  I had come to terms with the fact that I was gay; I also wanted a life that would lead me to travel the world and explore my creative nature.  It was who I felt I was meant to be.  But what then?  How would I start my life over?  And was it right for me to destroy the life I had with my wife and daughter to continue my journey?

Those years were a struggle for me, and they were beginning to take its toll on my sanity, because you see, no one should ever be forced to live, imprisoned in a life that’s not theirs.  Eventually, I had to make that decision to leave the life I had been prepared for in order to lead a new, more unexpected one.

It was a painful thing to do to leave my wife, and my daughter, or so I thought.  But then I realized, ‘hey, I’m not leaving them, I’m still here.’  I realized that I was adjusting to a new life that could still include them.  Needless to say, the whole scene was ugly when I made the decision to leave my old life; but I knew I was doing what I needed to do to become a more fulfilled person, and also, what my wife and my daughter needed for me to become the best person for them.  There were times afterwards when I wondered if I had made the right decision, and after falling on hard times I wondered if I was being punished for my decision.  Even some of the people who had once been there for me had turned their backs on me.

But life flows in many directions and along those directions comes different experiences and different people.  In time, I came to meet new people who validated me; and with that came new experiences.  I can now say I’ve done what I know I was meant to do with my life.  As for my former wife, that choice has helped her as well because she found the life she needed.  And my daughter, wow, she has grown into an amazing, independent womyn.

In all, I had to lose many things in order to gain wonderful things.  Now I know that instead of loss, it was renewal.
Life moves along many streams.  Don’t be afraid to put your boat along a different path, because in the end each of those streams flow back to the same ocean.

The National Equality March on Washington made headlines this past weekend, and deservedly so. But I wonder how many of the people who marched on the nation's capital carried with them the true meaning of equality?

You see, there's a distinct class structure even within the gay community that defies equality. It reflects the very constructs of class that exists in the larger society. In the gay community, it's one that places the concerns of rich white gays and lesbians over others. It even engenders the same imperialistic notions we see in the larger society.

For example, there were some marchers who suggested that a conference of black LGBT writers, artists and thinkers from around the world who gathered last week in Austin for the third Fire & Ink Cotillion, change its date in order to accommodate the National Equality March, even though the Fire & Ink conference had been set long before the suggestion of the march. To add fire to the flames, some of the marchers even declared that the refusal to change the Fire & Ink conference date is further testament of lack of support by the black LGBT community. They didn't look at the fact that we are fighting the same fight, but on different fronts; instead they continue to hold to their white-is-right notions. It's an imperialistic view that grows out of a legacy of racism. How will those marchers address this type of attitude?

Equal rights for gays and lesbians will pass legal muster sooner than some might think. It can be seen in the presence it has in conversations regarding civil rights and in the changing views of a growing number of former opponents such as the black clergy as well as members of the Republican Party. But once equal rights for gays have been won, where does the larger LGBT community go in terms of fighting injustice? Are equal rights for same-sex couples the final challenge for the LGBT community? How far will words like freedom, equality, justice and liberty fly in the gay community once the fight for equal rights has been won? Will issues like racism, health & economic disparity, gender inequality and gender identification (i.e. trans gender orientation), just to name a few, take center stage?

Some might say it's too soon to ask such questions because the basic fight for equality hasn't been won. I disagree. There were many who marched on Washington who are well aware of their elite status; yet, there were numerous others who marched who may remain disaffected even after gay rights have been won.

The National March on Washington was necessary. However, true advancement towards equality happens in the hearts and minds with a full awareness of what equality means. If not, all the posturing we saw this weekend in the nation's capital was half baked or even a sham.

Tyler Perry scares me. Not in a horrific way, but in the ‘what is he really up to when it comes to being gay?’ sort of way. Not him being gay, I’m not that concerned with his sexuality (even after the vague response conerning the subject recently in Essence Magazine), but to my being gay; to the safety in my living my life as a gay man.

You see, from some of the company he keeps, kids like Donnie McClurkin, and the donations he makes, like the $500,000.00 he donated to Greater St. Stephen Baptist Church whose pastor, Paul S. Morton has been known to speak out against my equal rights as a gay man, I’m not sure if I should help fatten Tyler’s wallet or turn and run like hell whenever he comes out with another play or film.

I mean, would you give money to someone who just might be in bed with your enemy? Would you give money to, say David Duke, the white supremacist if you are black? You just know he’s going to use that dollar you gave him against you. No, I don’t think you would.

Now before you go hollering that I just compared the ‘beloved’ Tyler Perry to the vile David Duke (and hey, it’s all relative), let me clarify: I’m simply saying, just as I wouldn’t pay money to see a film that I know would fatten the coffers of someone who has put his past resources towards denying my right to live a full life as a black person, neither would I pay money to see a film by someone who appears to vest his dollars and interests in homophobic institutions and someone who seems to have close alliances with homophobic public figures.

There’s a strong chance that both of these men, Tyler Perry and David Duke, will use the money I gave them to work against me.

Given that, maybe those of us who support equal rights for the LGBT community should turn away from any product Tyler Perry produces until his stance becomes clear.

I hope that is not too large of a request to ask, because unfortunately, black gays and lesbians seem to not put their hearts into boycotting. It’s as if we’ve relegated that concept to the ‘sanctimonious’ area of race relations. Look at the recording artists who sling epithets at our community, yet who profit royally from the dollars some of us still spend to support them, only to have them use that money to pop more caps in us. Hell, just look at how many of us pay bucks to sit in church congregations that don’t embrace us. I don’t know if the constant message of disenfranchisement has made us victim of our own self-hatred, or what, but we simply don’t take strong stands against our detractors, especially when ‘we just love them’.

Yeah, Tyler Perry is scary. And it’s been announced that he has yet another film coming out. But here’s one black gay man who won’t give him any of my financial support. Instead, I think I’ll sit this one out until I can get a better grasp of where he’s coming from.

(Note:  Update.  Now that Tyler's become a part of Oprah Winfrey's camp, maybe he's changed his tune, because we all know 'Mama Oprah' doesn't go for homophobia ~ Doug)

Memories aren't easy to erase, and when they’re shared by many they tend to linger. For example, I was on my way home from work recently when a black teen got on the bus. The young man and the bus driver, a white middle-aged man, spoke a few words to each other; then the driver turned the young man away. The young man didn't have the correct fare. A black woman appearing to be in her late middle years came to his aid with what seemed to be a sense of urgency.

Later, another black teenage male got on the bus and was turned away. This time a black man, also appearing to be in his later middle years, sitting in front of me called out with the same urgency as the woman to see if the young man needed his help. Unfortunately the young man didn't hear him and got off the bus.

I watched the man in front of me and the woman who had helped the other kid. They were both visibly shaken.
Still, a bit later another black male teen got on. He tried to hand the driver a transfer slip but the driver shook his head and asked him to disembark. He did. By now, several of the black riders were stirring in their seats as a grumbling sound passed among them and I found myself doing the same. The driver did have a sharp arrogance about him. But then I noticed something. The people who appeared most upset were black womyn and men in my age group. Civil Rights babies.

It seemed those of us who recall the years of struggling for our equal rights as black people still felt the sting of memory, and the memory’s sting burns deeper when we see what we feel is deplorable behavior towards black people, especially by white people. Could the bus driver’s behavior been the result of racist feelings that wouldn’t allow him to grant any type of reprieve to the young men because they were black? Was he, the driver, acting out that unspoken rule of hierarchy we all carry around in our heads but rarely speak? You know what I’m talking about, the one in which the most privilege and entitlement goes first to white people then on down to black men. In all honesty, I don’t know if that was the case, so I can’t make that a declaration, but I do know old wounds had been re-opened that evening.

As I got off the bus and began my walk home, I wondered, 'how long will those memories carry their sting?’
I sometimes find those memories a burden because they tend to not be as reclusive as I want to believe. Those memories are very much alive. They arc and flex and make themselves known at the slightest urging and they sometimes press me to action without much thought. But I know that those memories are also a part of my instinct for survival. Those memories have been placed on my shoulders, and those other Civil Rights babies, black people born before 1965, to ensure those injustices never happen again.

Is this type of collective memory peculiar only to black people? Most definitely not; it belongs to any people who have witnessed abominable oppression and discrimination for any length of time to their community. Jews, Indigenous Americans, Latinos, womyn and same gender loving people, for example. The common sting each group feels when injustice is done to their group relentlessly burns with each encounter.

So the memory is there. I just have to keep it in check so it doesn’t consume me or spur me to quick acts of indictment. I need those memories, but I need to let them inform me of correct action based on sound ethical decision and fairness whenever injustice is done.

Not only do I have to keep those principals in mind, but I have to remind myself that I can’t misappropriate the role of victim. That I, as a black man, cannot feel that injustice has been done only to my group. That’s a lot to carry, I know, but I believe the role of victim should carry two loads: that of having been victimized as well as the burden of responsible action.

Collective memory has weight, but it’s a necessary weight. And those of us who carry that weight should not suffer through it; rather we should let that weight transform us through the lightness of clarity.

"Almighty God created the races white, black, yellow, malay and red, and he placed them on separate continents. And but for the interference with his arrangement there would be no cause for such marriages. The fact that he separated the races shows that he did not intend for the races to mix."

That statement was part of the decision handed down by the Virginia State Supreme Court in 1958 regarding interracial marriage and miscegenation. In the name of God and the courts, it was the ruling that sentenced Mildred Jeter Loving, a black woman, and her husband, Richard Loving, a white man to one year in jail for a marriage that was not only illegal but immoral as well. So declared, the opinion was not just that of the court, but it was viewed as God’s edict as well. It’s amazing the court’s opinion in 1958 had such a parochial, self-serving world view. But what’s even more amazing is that the court attributed its decision to the wishes of God. Unfortunately, that was how the world was in 1958. Thank God that was in the past. Or was it?

Today, here in the dawn of the 21st century, we still use our concepts of God as a means of denying rights to others. Most contentious of which is gay rights. And what’s sad about this habit is that it uses the same tired religious gesticulations that were once used to support slavery, to subjugate women, to declare wars, to decimate entire peoples, and yes, to justify laws that forbade miscegenation and other forms of racism. And as if not to have learned from past mistakes, there are those who go on using God as the prime agent to further hateful ideas as law.

Poor God. We dump all our self-conceited desires and ruminations on Him, or Her, or It.

We go on, day after day, misappropriating perceptions of God to suit our personal wishes. What started out as a way of explaining the unexplainable, the concept of God fell into dirty little hands that sought to use it to acquire power while denying rights to others.

This habit of using God as a fallback for dirty little deeds is why the U.S. Constitution prohibits the state from endorsing particular religions, the implication of which is a separation of church and state. The framers of the Constitution were historically close to a time that showed them just how dangerous it can be when the two entities, church and state, are entwined.

Sure we all carry ideas of God inside our heads and our hearts, but to use those ideas to commit forms of oppression, to deprive people from attaining their full worth in compliance with the greater good of society, is crippling for society as a whole.

Having perceptions of God isn’t inherently wrong. However subjective, they engage us in much of what we do everyday. But there is a point when we simply should not use those views as overriding judgment when we create, execute, and interpret laws. When we do we become caught in a dangerous quagmire of competing personal views, some of which can be caustic. Instead, principles of ethics, humanism, fairness and common sense should be the prime sources of thought in pursuing the course of law.

Mrs. Loving, who was described as a shy, quiet woman who simply wanted to live a dignified life with the person she loved.

I’m sure God didn’t mind.
(Note: The sentence was given a 25 year suspension in which the couple was banned from the state of Virginia. Eventually, the U.S. Supreme Court overturned the decision in 1967.)

Wait a minute. Do I really have to ‘explain’ why I’m gay? Some people seem to think so. For instance, I once heard someone talking about the fact that he is gay. The conversation becomes a bit obfuscated around the issue of homosexuality as an orientation, but during the conversation the guy seemed to have felt it necessary to explain why he is gay. It appears he took the role of the apologist.

During the conversation he says he was molested as a child and he says due to the molestation he believes who he initially might have been changed.

Given the context of the conversation, was he talking about being gay?

Now I applaud the fact that this guy spoke openly about being gay, and I respect his experience but if he was speaking of his development as a person who is gay turning on the fact of having been molested, then I have a question about his response: What if he was destined to be gay regardless of the incident?

I have a friend who once told me he had been molested as a boy by a man while visiting the man's apartment, and that was why he was gay.

Huh?

When I asked my friend why was he, a child, in that man's apartment he thought for a while, then his eyes brightened with something he hadn't recalled: He had a crush on the man and would go over to visit him. Now, I'm sure we can all agree the man was wrong for taking advantage of my friend, then a boy, but that's not what I'm talking about here. I'm talking about the fact that all those years my friend used the molestation as an explanation of why he is gay, not having realized that he was gay all along.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no intention of diminishing the act of child molestation, nor anyone’s experience with it. I’m speaking of the habit some have of associating homosexuality with a history of trauma and also, to consider why some feel it necessary to explain their being gay in the first place.

In answer to the latter question first, the need for some to explain that they are gay most likely stems from the dynamic relationship between the oppressor and the oppressed- - the oppressed feels obligated to appease his or her oppressor even to the point of believing the views of the oppressor. Therefore, many homosexual persons have come to believe it’s their obligation to explain themselves to heterosexuals, because, after all, it’s the homosexual who is somehow wrong. It’s a relationship that has been around for a long time.

Now, addressing the first matter: To summarily draw a connection between homosexuality and incidences of trauma implies that homosexuality simply has to be a symptom of a ruined spirit, but you know what? I don’t buy that. Such an inference is an overstatement.

But this conversation goes deeper than it appears because, you see, by taking the apologist’s point of view of having to explain one’s sexual orientation, we stand to lose out on what it means to empower ourselves, to simply love ourselves for who we are, cut and dry. No explanations or apologies needed. That goes for anyone. We should all love ourselves.

And the problem doesn’t stop there. By apologizing for being gay we can also potentially hand our power over to the person we’re explaining ourselves to. Remember, there are those who don’t want to extend unconditional acceptance to a gay lifestyle, and to give people like that an inch, well, they could end up taking a mile.

I, for one, do believe I was born gay, and no, there is no traumatic experience onto which I can hang a justification. In a story I wrote for Amazon Shorts called ‘Bad Damon’, I recount a particular summer in 1964 in which a boy (myself) had a crush on a man. I sought that man every day of that long, hot summer. I was gay. I was a gay boy without war wounds, plain and simple. No result of trauma, just gay.

Ironically, the trauma that did cause me to act against my nature was society’s demand that I not be who I am. It’s what led me, as a young man, to seek a lifestyle that was unnatural to me- - heterosexuality. So I guess you could say I’m able to explain my heterosexual ways because I was molested by society.

Look, molestation is a horrible thing that should not happen to anyone. But to use that, as well as any traumatic experience, as a constant justification of one ‘becoming’ gay should really be scrutinized because there are victims of molestation and other forms of trauma who are not homosexual and never have been. Also, there are many same gender loving people who have never been molested.

But in the end, you know what I think? I think the fact that I’m asked to explain my existence to someone is what’s really traumatic.

Growing up gay is a challenge. From the day you first realize your difference, you immediately draw strategies of defense. Those measures can range anywhere from outright confrontation to secrecy and denial. Ostensibly, secrecy is usually the easiest road to take.

In an often hostile world that refuses to validate your existence, being gay or lesbian quite often requires giving up modes of self-validation and refuting self-worth. In the process, discourse that affirms a homosexual existence is usually lost, especially if those matters posit topics that affirm our humanity and our spiritual existence. In response to such challenges, I have offered this manifesto.

The Difference of My Sexuality
~ I assert that my homosexuality is no more exclusive than difference in height, or those who might have a natural tendency towards obesity as compared to some who cannot for the life of them gain weight. It is no different than those who are born to function primarily with their left hand while others cannot function with hands at all; or those who have near incomparable physical strength and those whose frailty allowed them to live only for a day.

In nature’s tendency towards diversity we have been given people whose minds mainly grasp abstractions while others, logic. It is the will of the force of nature that deals in diversity, just look around at the different races that people this planet. If nature can offer such diversity, why then would it not offer homosexuality as a complement to its course? My homosexuality is no less an aberration than merely difference.

The Pain of My Difference
~ I reject the notion that my ‘difference’ causes pain. The pain is caused by ignorance, fear and bias, not my sexual nature. It’s the same pain that once made some cry out that the physically challenged be thrown to the wolves, or that the existence of other races be the agent behind social woes.

Sadly, it’s never the pain brought on by my detractors’ own social or personal maladies that is investigated. Instead they choose to make others the source of their discomfort. Quite often, people will form fragile matrices in which to house their own short comings.

The Harm I Cause
~ As well, I refuse to allow my detractors to lump me in the category of rapists and molesters. Rapists and molesters harm. Heterosexual and homosexual rapists and molesters cause harm, not heterosexuality and homosexuality in and of themselves.

The Nature of My Sexuality
~ I refuse to believe my sexual orientation is unnatural. My homosexual orientation developed as a course of nature, it was not artificially induced. Therefore it is natural. Quite often, what is meant by those who use the terms, ‘unnatural’, or ‘not normal’, is that my sexual orientation does not match that person’s moral beliefs, just as it was used decades ago in matters of interracial marriage.

That stated, I understand the implications of such an argument go further than it appears. It underscores the reasoning that homosexuality is a matter of choice (in that case, why not heterosexuality as well?). It’s the implication that since it is choice and not of nature, it is not of God; therefore it can be (and should be) undone.

Only I know the depth and history of my feelings and I know it was not by choice. Only I know this, and I do not owe anyone else an explanation unless I choose to do so. Given the pain of disenfranchisement, even death that many of my sisters and brothers go through in life, I doubt many would have ‘chosen’ such a life. However, I say to all my sisters and brothers: love who you are just as you love the skin you’re in. It is the gift God gave you. It’s called Life. Yours.

Morality
~We think of morality as inflexible codes of conduct. But, in fact, our moral precepts are not so inflexible, they can be very pliant. History has shown us that. For instance, the difference between the moral standards that once viewed women as an adjunct to men, or ones that supported the belief of the inferiority of black people to whites are vastly different than moral standards of today.

Morality can be used to protect and enlighten in the most divine way, or it can be actualized as an agent of great harm and destruction. Therefore, I will only accept those things in life that do not harm others or myself, and ones that nurture and create a positive energy for me and my environment. So unless it can truly be proven that being gay works against this positive force, I will embrace it with the warmth it deserves no matter what others might think.  

God, Religion & Sexuality
~ God is an abstract concept that humankind has honed to explain phenomena such as being, death and circumstance; inexplicable matters that govern life. There are many views, all of which claim divine providence.

To say the concept of God is an abstraction is not to say It doesn’t exist. I, for one, believe God does exist. It’s just that our ability to fully understand God is greatly lacking. It is very difficult to understand something that cannot be fully realized as fact.

Even to the point that we have come to apply anthropomorphic terms to describe God speaks of our desire to come to terms with It. In the end, we can only come to terms with It, not explain It. We cannot explain or understand something so powerful, so infinite as God.

Beyond it all, this is where faith comes into play. So many people profess to have faith when all they really have is belief. Someone once described belief as wishing things to be as you are told they should be, and faith as a letting go of expectation, to be able to throw your arms open and accept what is not known or understood. Our beliefs are shaped by cultural, political and to some degree, personal influence, but very little faith. Belief taught me fear, but now, my faith informs me of love.

Finally, regarding God, I cannot leave this discussion without addressing the idea that God does not condone homosexuality. I challenge such a notion to be proven. If God is omniscient, then He knew I was going to be gay.

Free Will
~ I do not accept the idea of free will as an explanation of my homosexuality. That would be akin to accepting the argument of ‘choice’. Even the idea of free will as grace from God is arguable if it is set within the context of retribution. If God punishes us for our choices then free will was not given out of grace. I do not believe a divine entity that possesses omnipotence has need for free will. It would simply control what we do, not allowing us to fail, and would therefore would have no need to resort to retribution.

We have no idea of the wonder of The Mystery. The Mystery simply Is. How much control we have in divining our lives is small compared to the greatness of The Mystery.

The Mystery, God, created me to be in this life at this time and I will love Its wisdom without question because I know I live a life that has far more love than others who have tried to deny me. In that I take solace.

Faith and Belief, Religion and Spirituality
~ I refuse beliefs that are borne of culture and politic. I choose a faith that liberates me from such precepts and simply embraces the idea that everyone has the right to become self actualized towards a spirit that causes no harm to self or others, a nurturing spirit.

Therefore, I choose to walk a spiritual path (stumbling sometimes as humans do), than a religious one. The two are not the same because religion is man-made and is prone to all the influences I stated above, while spirituality is the essence of God. Many seek religion (earthly power), but few seek spirituality.

Homosexuality and Family
~I refuse to believe homosexuality causes the destruction of the family. If a family is firmly entrenched in love it will not allow the fact that one of its members is gay destroy it. If it does, then it needs to re-evaluate its shortcomings because matters of diversity as well as adversity will always arise within the family structure. That is the challenge of love. That is the challenge of family.

Homosexuality as a Contagion, and the End of Procreation
~ I do not believe if those of us who are homosexual act on our nature, then everyone will become homosexual and procreation would cease. Everyone would not become homosexual if someone who is homosexual chooses to live his or her life. Humans are not that monolithic.

Besides, if procreation is the prime reason for the validation of existence, then we are all in step to miss the fullness that makes us human. I believe the positive growth of our individual spirit (one imbued in love) is the prime agent of our individual lives, not the extension of the physical self. And given our tenuous relationship with the ecosystem, adoption would be a suitable fit.

The propagation of life is a powerful force. We do not know that sexual intercourse is exclusively needed to procreate. All living beings don’t engage in sexual intercourse in order to procreate (asexual reproduction). Therefore, we should not assume humans, if given the fate of the cessation of intercourse would no longer generate offspring. In a world that has offered the Immaculate Conception, such a notion is tenable.

Love
~I accept Love to be: “The will to extend one’s self for the purpose of nurturing one’s own or another’s spiritual growth.” (M. Scott Peck, ‘The Road Less Traveled’). I will love myself and seek this kind of love from others. I will demand it so I might know it. I have all the right in the world to seek the nurturance of my spirit free from the whims of others. I reject the games people play in their attempt to gain dominance over my life; it’s been done to many throughout the ages.

I understand that when you learn to love yourself, you are able to love others, and you grow beyond the borders of religious doctrine and demagoguery towards a true spiritual journey. You become open to wondrous things about your life, about Life period. You become the person God meant you to be. This I understand. This I accept.

In the end, I accept that the brilliance of ‘The Mystery’ we call Life will probably always continue, and will probably never be understood. And that ‘The Mystery’ is not as frightening as it might sound. It is fear that holds most of us captive to lives of trepidation, hatred and inconsequence, not love.

This I accept.