A Black Gay Poet Struggles Against Adversity

 Pressin' My Way (Shady Facts, $10) is a self-published book by Lawrence DeWyatt Abrams containing honest, vivid, and brave poems about what it means to be a double threat in contemporary America--black and gay.

In the lengthy introduction (which could use considerable cutting), a 27-year-old Harlem resident, writes that "it has been my words that have provided a healing salve for my most wounded spaces" and "very often [poetry] is the only thing that stands between me and insanity."

This rising young poet, who heads Gay Men of African Descent (GMAD), has created a book about spirituality, sexual identity, and love.

Among the best poems in Pressin' My Way are the comical "Fairy Queen" ("Take off those high heels/go in the bathroom/find some ivory/and wash your face/'cause blue is not your color."); the terrifying "Edge" ("Razor blade, you and I are old friends"); and "Somewhere Under the Bridge," the beautifully written homage to the late African-American poet Donald W. Woods, Abrams's mentor.

Despite adversity in its many guises, Larry Abrams reveals in this very slim volume (53 pages) that he is more than willing and able to continue to press his way.

Note: This article was originally published in the Manhattan Spirit newspaper on March 15, 1996  as part of its monthly Manhattan Pride lesbian and gay supplement.

New York AIDS Forum For Black Men And Women

A forum on AIDS for black gay men and lesbians, sponsored by an ad hoc group of black gay and lesbian activists, was held Feb. 1 [1984] at Hunter College. One of the purposes of the forum was to counteract the widespread belief among black gay men, and the black community in general, that AIDS is a white disease. This perception is fostered by nearly exclusive media attention given to white gay men with AIDS and causes blacks to have a diminished interest in AIDS educational forums and events.

The first of February was chosen because of its significance as the beginning of Black History Month. Gwen Rogers, the forum moderator, said the event would demonstrate that black gay men and lesbians were "concerned about all aspects of our oppression." The forum, she continued, provided "the opportunity for us to raise issues of the struggle against AIDS, to raise the issue of AIDS as a health concern, and to raise the demand that health care is a right."

The audience, numbering between 90 and 100, some of whom were white, heard the following panelists: Leonard Brown, M.D. ("The Medical Facts of AIDS"); Raymond Jacobs, resident recreation therapist at Beth Israel Medical Center in New York ("Psycho-social Issues"); Jessie Cadet ("The Impact of AIDS on the Haitian Community"); and Bruce Hall, a black man with AIDS ("Reflections of a Person with AIDS"). Diego Lopez, a social worker who was called to speak at the last minute, expressed his concern for quality health care and asked the audience to help him and others reach the black gay community with AIDS information.

The ad hoc committee, while planning this forum, said Rogers, a psychologist, did not "view the AIDS question in isolation," but saw it as being part of the overall concern for better health care delivery within the total black community. They also saw the socio-economic ramifications of the disease, which has a 40 percent mortality rate. Rogers saw the forum as something that will help unify the gay, as well as the black, community.

Dr. Brown's presentation of the medical facts on AIDS included the by-now familiar rundown on symptoms and treatments. Jessie Cadet's presentation was short and to the point: "There is an urgent need for more money for AIDS research and the oppression of Haitian immigrants by U.S. officials must end."

The two speakers who gave the most interesting presentations in terms of information, if not style, were Hall and Jacobs.

Hall, a 29-year old ex-New Yorker, now living in Chicago, was diagnosed with AIDS in September 1983. He felt, following the diagnosis, that it was unfair for him to have come down with this disease, especially after several years of abstinence from drugs, alcohol, and sex with multiple partners. He's presently involved in a monogamous relationship, and although he and his lover have not refrained from having sex, they do not exchange body fluids. Hall is also in a self-imposed program of hypnosis, weight-lifting, and bicycling. Although it's part of his battle against AIDS, he's not sure if any of it works.

Jacobs spoke of the isolation and psychological crisis AIDS people endure, leaving them angry, guilty, and ashamed. He's observed a tendency to moralize and to believe that having the disease is due to the wrath of God.

Jacobs placed AIDS people in three categories: those with the disease who have not contracted a major illness; those with a major illness who are working their way towards death and dying; those, like Hall, who have recently been diagnosed.

Hall told this reporter in a later interview that he visits AIDS people in hospitals so they know that someone cares and that there are people with AIDS who are able to function. These visits, he feels, "might give them some hope."

A question-and-answer period followed the prepared presentations.

This is article was originally published in the Gay Community News of Boston (February 18, 1984).

AIDS Forum For Black Gays Slated For Black History Month (1984)

An ad hoc group of black gay and lesbian activists is sponsoring an AIDS forum to be held February 1 [1984] at Hunter College [in New York City]. The group was formed, said DeWitt Hoard, a social worker and group member, because they "had attended several symposiums and noticed that there was a lack of blacks in the audiences and among the symposium participants." This lack of participation is attributed by many to a widespread belief among black gay men, as well as the black community in general, that AIDS is a white disease, a perception fostered by the exclusive media attention given to white gay men with AIDS. The fact that 26 percent of those with AIDS are black is an indication that "we've been hit just as hard by this epidemic," said Isaac Jackson, another group member, "and it is vitally important that information be disseminated throughout our community."

The group decided  to hold this forum on the first of the month because it is the beginning of Black History Month, a date which becomes "quite significant," said Gwen Rogers, the forum's moderator, "when you consider that we, as black lesbians and gay people, certainly are concerned about all aspects of our oppression. This will be the opportunity for us to raise the issue of the struggle against AIDS, to raise the issue of AIDS as a health concern, to raise the demand that health care is a right, and to highlight the fact that as lesbians and gay people, we've certainly been a part of the struggle and this is a way to be very visible and active."

The ad hoc committee see the AIDS issue as being part of the overall concern for better health care delivery with the total black community. They also see the socio-economic ramifications of the AIDS epidemic. "We have seen a number of attempts," said Rogers, a psychologist, "either by people who are talking about funding for AIDS research or by other anti-gay people to say 'Why should there be funding for AIDS research when there isn't funding for sickle cell?'"

"Gay issues for blacks," said Hoard,"take a third stand and maybe even lower on the totem pole." There are people, he further said, who see this attitude as an indication of black homophobia, however Hoard sees it as more of "a prioritizing situation wherein the black community is many times focusing on employment and housing. I think," he continued, "it's important that somehow we begin to put all of the problems that we have within the black community together under an umbrella situation. Somewhat like under oppression because oppression certainly gets involved in unemployment, in housing, and it also gets involved in a situation like AIDS."

The forum, which is being co-sponsored by the Lesbian and Gay Community Center of Hunter College, will deal with the following topics: "The medical Facts on AIDS," "AIDS and the Crisis in Black Health Care," "Social Services for People with AIDS," "The Impact of AIDS on the Haitian Community" ("There's been a great deal of racism," said Rogers, "that's been whipped up in terms of our Haitian sisters and brothers, primarily by the government and the press."), and "Personal Reflections of a Person with AIDS." There will be four panelists at the forum. A question-and-answer period will follow the presentations.

The forum is free of charge and open to the general public. It starts at 7 p.m. and ends at 10 p.m. in Room 615 of the West Auditorium at Hunter College, located at Lexington Avenue and 68th Street, in Manhattan. The school is accessible to the IRT Lexington Avenue line.

Note: I wrote this article on January 15, 1984. It was subsequently published in the New York Native.

An AIDS Forum At Hunter College (1984)

An AIDS forum for black gays, sponsored by an ad hoc group of black gay and lesbian activists, was held on February 1 [1984] at Hunter College [in New York City]. One of the purposes of the forum was to counteract the widespread belief among black gay men, as well as the black community in general, that AIDS is a white disease, a perception fostered by the exclusive media attention given to white gay men with AIDS thereby causing blacks to take less of an interest in AIDS forums.

The first of the month was chosen because of its significance as the beginning of Black History Month. It would show, said Gwen Rogers, the forum's moderator, that black gays and lesbians were "concerned about all aspects of our oppression." The forum, she continued, provided "the opportunity for us to raise the issue of the struggle against AIDS, to raise the issue of AIDS as a health concern, and to raise the demand that health care is a right."

The audience, numbering between 90 and 100, some of whom were white, heard the following panelists: Leonard Brown, MD ("The Medical Facts on AIDS"); Raymond Jacobs, resident recreation therapist at Beth Israel Medical Center, New York ("Psychosocial Issues"); Jessie Cadet ("The Impact of AIDS on the Haitian Community"); and Bruce Hall, a black person with AIDS ("Personal Reflections of a Person with AIDS"). Also Diego Lopez, a social worker, who was called to speak at the last minute, expressed his concern for quality health care and asked the audience to help him and others to reach the black community with AIDS information.

The ad hoc committee while planning this forum, said Rogers, a psychologist, did "not view the AIDS crisis in isolation" but saw it as being part of the overall concern for better health care delivery within the total black community. They also saw the socio-economic ramifications of the disease, which, according to Dr. Brown, has a 40 percent mortality rate. Rogers saw the forum as something that will help unify the gay as well as the black community.

Much of the medical information given has been around awhile. Jessie Cadet's presentation was short and to the point: there is an urgent need for more money for AIDS research and the oppression of Haitian immigrants by U.S. officials must end.

The two speakers who gave the most interesting presentations, in terms of information, if not style, were Hall and Jacobs.

Hall, a 29-year-old ex-New Yorker, now living in Chicago, was diagnosed as having AIDS in September of 1983. He felt, following the diagnosis, that it was unfair for him to have come down with this disease, especially after several years of abstinence from drugs, alcohol, and sex with multiple partners. He is presently involved in a monogamous relationship and, although he and his lover have not refrained from having sex, they do not exchange body fluids. Hall is also in a self-imposed program of hypnosis, weight lifting (two 40-pound dumbbells), and bicycling (18-30 miles a day). It's part of his battle against AIDS, although he's not sure if any of it works.

Jacobs spoke of the isolation and psychological crisis AIDS people endure, leaving them feeling angry, guilty, and ashamed. There is the tendency to moralize and believe the disease resulted from the wrath of God.

Jacobs placed AIDS people in three categories: those with the disease who have not contracted  major illness, those with a major illness who are working their way towards death or dying, and those, like Hall, who have recently been diagnosed.

Hall told this reporter in a later interview that he visits AIDS people in the hospitals so that they know that someone out there cares and that there are people with AIDS who are functioning. He felt that these visits "might give them some hope."

A question-and-answer period followed the presentations.

Note: I wrote this unpublished (?) article on February 9, 1984. An earlier version was written in January of that year, probably for the New York Native.

Bruce Hall Fights To Regain His Airline Job

Before Bruce Hall was put on what he calls "forced medical leave of absence," he had been a flight attendant for a major U.S. airline. Management made the decision to relieve him of his duties when they learned of his AIDS diagnosis not because they believed AIDS is spread by casual contact--they don't--but because, says Hall, in a telephone interview, "They're worried about the public perception should the public find out that this airline is flying people who have AIDS." The fact that the airline informed its 8,200 flight attendants "that there's no reason for them to fear someone with AIDS on board the airplane," he continues, means that "they have destroyed their own case."

Hall wants his job back. And he is putting up a courageous three-prong fight: against AIDS itself, the perception that the disease makes those it strikes vulnerable to all viruses and bacteria instead of specific ones, and job discrimination toward people with AIDS.

His battle with the airline is quite involved. Simply stated, it consists of complaints filed with the following organizations: the union (his case is tied to a similar one in Los Angeles with the same airline), the state human rights commissions in New York and Illinois (New York, he learned later, rejected the complaint after he told them about the Illinois complaint; a complaint, explains Hall, filed in one state is binding in all other states. He filed in both states because "I'm between both addresses."), and the U.S. Department of Labor, Division of Federal Contract Compliance "because the airline flies the U.S. mail. I gave them the background story the other day." And, according to Hall, the department agreed that discrimination did exist in this case.

If these complaints are "resolved unfavorably," Hall intends to go to the state courts, and if necessary, to the federal level.

Regarding his condition, he vigorously and enthusiastically reports that he is "feeling healthy as a pig."

This article was originally published in the Boston-based Gay Community News on December 8, 1984.

Learning To Live With AIDS

September 1983. The date may not have much significance to many people but to Bruce Hall, a 29-year-old black gay man, it had profoundly changed his life, perhaps forever. That was when he went to his doctor with a temperature of 103 and throat thrush and was diagnosed as being among the 3,210 people with AIDS, a disease, says Leonard Brown, MD, of New York's Community Health Project, with a 40 percent mortality rate.

To Hall, a native of New York City, now living in Chicago, the diagnosis was unfair. Especially after years of abstinence from drugs, alcohol, and multiple sex partners. He had even quit smoking cigarettes. (Although during the interview in a Greenwich Village restaurant, Hall bought a pack of cigarettes and chain-smoked four of them. he attributed his smoking to nervousness caused by the interview. He later left the pack of unsmoked cigarettes on the table.) But none of that seemed to matter. He had to learn to live with a disease that not only debilitated its victim but also intensified homophobia and mass hysteria. These last two cost Hall his job.

He had known about AIDS for a long time. He just didn't think that he would get it. His black gay friends deluded themselves by thinking of AIDS as a white man's disease. They don't anymore.

However, Bruce Hall is a fighter. He says he doesn't want to live his life in a bubble, being afraid of everybody and everything. To counteract that feeling, he has put himself through a self-imposed physical fitness program involving bicycling 18 to 30 miles a day, lifting two 40-pound dumbbells up to one and a quarter hours a day, and much walking. He is also undergoing hypnosis, although he is not sure of its effectiveness against AIDS. In the past few months, Hall has seen a vast improvement in his weight and he has not caught any colds, he says, since the diagnosis.

Hall graduated from Wesleyan University in Connecticut in 1977 with a B.A. in sociology. He is presently attending Loop College in Chicago where he is studying for a certificate that will enable him to counsel alcohol abusers.

Recently Hall delivered a presentation, with three other panelists, among them Dr. Brown, at an AIDS forum for the black gay community in the West Auditorium of Hunter College [in New York].

This excerpt is from an article about the late Bruce Hall. It was originally published in the New York Native in 1984.

Blacks With AIDS

Black gay men with AIDS are invisible as far as most of the black press is concerned. Fortunately, Essence magazine doesn't see it that way. In the August 1985 issue, there is a beautifully written, although disturbing, article by Marie Blackwell which details the psychological and physical deterioration of her 36-year-old brother Chet, who eventually died a little over a year after being hospitalized when it was suspected that he had the dreaded disease.

Any African-American who believes, after all this time, that AIDS is a white man's disease, should be required to read this piece, entitled "AIDS in the Family." Blackwell writes that shortly before Chet's death, his body, which had once been "tall, lean, and muscular," had gone down to 98 pounds and "contorted itself into a fetal position--he couldn't straighten his limbs. His eyes were bulging with fear, and he kept the covers over his head the entire time" she visited him in the hospital.

Blackwell confesses that she was "almost totally ignorant about the extent of AIDS contagiousness." If her family had been readers of the Native, a lot of their fear and ignorance after Chet's release from the hospital would have been dispelled. But Chet was fortunate to have a family that loved him enough to be there when he needed them, whether at home or in the hospital.

The family, admits Blackwell, "were angry at him" for being gay because his "choice" of lifestyle had such a profound "impact on all of us." But, "whatever Chet's sexual preference, he was still our big, silly, lovable brother" who, among other things, "cheered us up when we were on punishment."

Jill Nelson's sidebar, "The Facts About AIDS," excellently capsulizes statistical and medical data in nontechnical language. She makes one interesting parenthetical  comment: The discovery of AIDS in Africa "coincided with its discovery in the United States." In other words, there's some doubt in her mind about the African connection.

I wish that Native writer Craig Harris's short story, "Cut Off From Among Their People," which appears in the black gay literary magazine Blackheart 3: The Telling of Us, had been reprinted in the same issue of Essence. It would have given a gay perspective on the disease.

Harris's superb story is about Jeff, a grief-stricken black gay man who attends his lover's funeral and is given the cold shoulder by the family of the deceased. Although Jeff was faithful to his lover, "spending endless hours by his side, covering hospital bills, always keeping [the family] abreast of his condition" while the lover was hospitalized, the family disregarded these acts of love by not asking Jeff for his assistance in making funeral arrangements.


This article was originally published in the New York Native (August 11-25, 1985). It was an item in a "Media Watch" column I wrote for the paper.

Another Black Gay Supplement Proposal

Patrick Merla, Editor
New York Native
28 West 25th Street
New York, NY 10010
December 17, 1987

Dear Patrick:

I have received the following articles for the Black Gay Supplement to be published in February 1988:

1. An article by Reginald T. Jackson about gay men and their importance to the black church.

2. An article by David Frechette about racism within the gay community.

I have enclosed with this letter two three samples of Baltimore photographer David Weems's work. A portfolio of his work--maybe three or four photos--might be used for a full-page pictorial essay.

I think that issue of the Native should have as its cover photo a photo of a black gay man. (The last two supplements were mentioned on the cover in a little box in the upper left right hand corner.)  Since a number of black men I've spoken with say they would buy the paper if they saw such a photo on the cover, it makes good financial sense to draw attention to the supplement in that way.

A small notice should be published in the time we have remaining announcing the upcoming supplement and the need for submissions.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely yours,
Charles Michael Smith

Note: This proposed supplement never came to fruition. I don't recall the reason.

Suggesting An Idea To A Black Gay Magazine

Stephen Johnson, Editor/Publisher
Whazzup! Magazine
2501 Ivy Drive, Suite 19
Oakland, CA 94606
February 12, 1997

Dear Stephen:

The now-defunct New York Native, a gay newspaper I wrote for from 1983 to 1988, had a regular feature called "Carbon Copy" in which the paper published letters that readers sent to government agencies, organizations, news media, etc. regarding some gay-related issue. I think Whazzup! should publish something similar.

Sincerely yours,
Charles Michael Smith

Reporting A Celebrity Arrest

Gregory Victorianne, Editor & Publisher
Buti Voxx Magazine
5120 South Harper Avenue, Apt. #A-7
Chicago, IL 60615-4160
May 22, 2000

Dear Gregory:

Thanks for continuing to send me issues of Buti Voxx. I have included them in my "Homosexuality--African-American" file.

One other thing, in Issue 37 there is an item that states that " R&B [singer]Teven Campbell brings da Summa of 99 two A close w/Some Smoke & Solisticin' [sic] A Black Cop 4 Some Dick...." I went to the library to see if I could find a newspaper or magazine article about the aforementioned on the computer. I could find no mention of it. I would appreciate it if you could direct me to a printed source. I would like to put that also in my file. If you have a copy of an article about Tevin Campbell soliciting a police officer,please send me a photocopy.

Again, thanks for sending me Buti Voxx.

Sincerely yours,
Charles Michael Smith

This letter received no response.

A Former Foster Care Child Tells His Story

Washington, D.C. writer Mickey C. Fleming, a 33-year-old black gay man, was sitting in a friend's home one evening. Over a glass of Riunite wine, Fleming revealed his experiences as a foster care child. His friend, overwhelmed by what he had heard, suddenly exclaimed: "You have a great story to tell. You should write a book!" At first Fleming, lacking self-confidence, rebuffed the idea by saying: "I'm not a celebrity and I'm not good at that kind of thing." But after awhile he decided to take his friend's advice; he immediately began the arduous task of putting pen to paper. The result is his recently published autobiography, About Courage, a paperback original from the Los Angeles-based Holloway House. (It was one of five books nominated for a Lambda Literary Award in the Gay Men's Debut category.)

Fleming sees the book as his way of "exorcising personal demons." Those demons include sexual victimization by older boys at two foster care institutions and a deep-seated self-hatred stemming from a belief instilled in him by others that he was "a bad person, an evil person." Before writing the book, a friend told him that "it would be a good way to release all that anger and hostility. When I wrote the book I came to really see why I was angry and who I really am. In the process of writing," he continues, "I was able to get back at certain people." More importantly, Fleming says, "I wanted to educate people about what goes on in the child welfare system. Of course, I
didn't touch on half of the things that went on at Junior Village." (In 1973, a series of articles in the Washington Post brought about the closing of JV, writes Fleming, "because of an alleged history of abuse of the very children it was designed to help.")

Another goal of his is to reach out to those with a similar background of abuse. Among that group are gay youth; he hopes to inspire them "to believe in themselves."

Although he has been told that "a lot of changes have been made since I was a client of the system," some things remain the same. "I have talked to foster mothers, especially when I'm on a radio program. They  call in with horror stories. A lot of it sounds very much the same as when I was there. One of the complaints is that the system doesn't put much money into taking care of the children. Another one is that often the children are taken out of one home and put into another many foster parents feel this is detrimental to the children's well-being. The children can't get fully grounded."

The one thing About Courage has done, other than dispel some of Mickey Fleming's anger, is to incite anger and stir up a little controversy. especially among family members who probably didn't like such revelations like the one about the time when two weeks after his so-called "illegitimate" birth in his grandfather's house in North Carolina, "Granddad removed the welcome mat" from under his daughter and her three children. "They are all upset because I'm telling the truth," declares Fleming, in a telephone interview. "But, of course, they want to live in a state of denial."

And some in the gay community are not happy either. "My story is not typical of most gay people. I came from an institutional background. As most people know, it is in such institutions as Junior Village where a lot of forced homosexual sex goes on. Someone else needs to write a book about homosexuality from just living a normal life, having a mother and a father. I can't write that kind of book; it wasn't my experience. I try to tell these people--'Don't get angry with me because I'm telling my story.' They say to me: 'People will read this book and think homosexuals are made that way.' I'm not even saying that's how I became a homosexual. All I'm saying is these are the things that happened to me. People who read the book carefully will see I had an attraction for men even before I was raped. I even enjoyed the fact that they were paying attention to me, hugging me and all that kind of stuff. When the penetration happened is when I didn't enjoy that."

Others, like Ma Banks, one of his former foster parents, "loved the book. She's been promoting it for me. She's got every person in her church to buy the book. She understands. She knows my story."

Meanwhile, Mickey Fleming is at work on his next book, a novel, that "will focus more on other characters that I didn't bring out too much in About Courage."

This article was originally published in Outlines (Chicago) in February 1990.

Gays Are Black, Too

In the black community, homosexuality is a very controversial subject. So much so that the thought of having a relaxed and meaningful conversation with a gay person is as unthinkable as shaking hands with the grand dragon of the Ku Klux Klan.

Writes Shelby Sankore: in Players magazine: "Homosexuality of any kind seems to find less acceptance among Afro-Americans than other groups in this country." This negative attitude is largely based on a host of myths and stereotypes that have been perpetuated for decades.

Because of this attitude, the gay black youths I spoke with have not revealed their gayness to their families. (I've been told of cases where kids have been thrown out of the house after announcing to their parents their feelings for members of their own sex.)

A 20-year-old male college student told me, "I've never mentioned it to my mother because I have an uncle who's gay and my mother doesn't like him at all. She's turned off by it. But I don't fear being thrown out. She's very attached to me. That's why I know she would never throw me out. She would worry too much. But she would make my life miserable if I were to tell her."

This article is intended to encourage, in the words of Dr. June Dobbs Butts, an assistant professor of psychiatry at the Howard University College of Medicine, the emergence in the black community of "men and women who respect one another for the ways in which we are alike as well as the ways in which we are different. Only then will we understand that our sexual similarities outweigh our sexual differences." (The emphasis is hers) For the record, Dr. Butts identifies herself as heterosexual.

Above all else, gays are part of the human family. Whether we agree with their lifestyle is unimportant. We should concern ourselves with the content of the person's character, not what he or she does in the bedroom--and with whom.

To paraphrase a National Gay Task Force pamphlet, if the person is loving and responsible today, he'll be that way tomorrow. His gayness changes nothing, except perhaps our attitude toward him.

I'm not saying I have no misgivings about some aspects of the gay lifestyle. I do. But so do the young gays I spoke with. For example, they disapprove of those gays who are into sado-machischism. They disapprove of man/boy relationships. One of them is totally opposed to cruising and prefers "a monogamous relationship. One to one."

The point is, we should be willing to allow people the freedom to choose how they will live their lives--without fear of slurs, violence, and discrimination. So long as they are forcing their lifestyle on others, why should we care?

It should be acknowledged that none of us can say for certain whether we would ever engage in a homosexual affair, just as none of us could say for certain whether we would resort to cannibalism if we found ourselves stranded in some frozen wasteland with no other  food source.

Says Truman Capote, "People are whatever they are under different circumstances, under whatever particular pressures there are."

Dr. Dorothy Harris of Penn State echoes Capote's sentiments: "Circumstances and basic human need have a lot to do with your behavior at a particular time."

It is estimated that gays represent anywhere from 10 to 13 percent of the population. No one can be sure since there are gay people who have escaped detection by  masquerading as straight people. But what if we discovered that a close friend was gay. In what ways would this alter the friendship? Would it make Jenny or Joe any less the person we've come to know and trust? Think about it.

And while you're thinking, consider this thought from Dr. Butts: "...Our minds cannot function when we are gripped by fear." Once we overcome this fear and see others as people first--be they homosexual , heterosexual, bisexual, or celibate--it will go a long way toward breaking down barriers to communication.

This article was originally published in the Oregon Journal in Portland (August 15, 1981).

Note: It was syndicated nationally by the Los Angeles Times to replace Andrew Young's column. Young had to give up his column when he ran for mayor of Atlanta. The L.A. Times editor was initially reluctant (homophobic?) to send this column out because Andrew Young never wrote about homosexuality in the black community in any of his columns.

Surviving The Trauma Of Foster Care

About Courage by Mickey C. Fleming (Holloway House, Paper)

In his autobiography, About Courage, Mickey C. Fleming, a black gay man from Washington, D.C., relates the story of the evening he sat in a friend's home and revealed, over a glass of Riunite wine, his childhood experiences while in foster care. His friend exclaimed: "You have a great story to tell. You should write a book!" Fleming, at first rebuffed the idea with the remark: "I'm not a celebrity."

It's true , 99 percent of the autobiographies and biographies published each year are by or about the famous. To be quite honest, if this book had not been sent to me for review, I probably would have given it scant, if any, attention. Not because it dealt with foster care--an important and timely subject--but because its author, an unknown, was dropped in our midst without any introduction. After all, it's asking a lot to expect people to plunk down $2.95, plus tax, to read the life story, or confessions, of someone you never heard of.

In fact, while reading About Courage, I kept wishing that Fleming, who spent virtually all of his childhood in foster care, had introduced himself in the pages of a magazine, say Essence magazine's annual men's issue, rather than in a 224-page book. Despite all of the ups and downs in his 33 years, there still isn't enough compelling material here to warrant a lengthy retelling. A 2,000-word magazine piece would have been more fitting. His life as an absurd, self-hating, confused, and rebellious gay adolescent isn't really all that remarkable. Aside from giving current foster kids the feeling that they too can rise above their situation as well as providing them with a resilient role model (he goes on to college, later landing a job as an electrical draftsman), About Courage otherwise doesn't offer any profound insights into the foster care system or the foster child.  As a reader, it stirred no outrage in me. In fact, it would have been better if he had written about the Washington, D.C.-based orphanage, Junior Village, where he had spent some time as a child. (It was closed in 1973, after 26 years in existence, writes Fleming, "because of an alleged history of abuse of the very children it was designed to help.") All we're offered really is a succession of horror stories: his sexual victimization by the older boys at the orphanage, the on-the-job harassment of him by male co-workers because of his sexuality, his reunion with his mentally ill mother (strangely this episode is twice recounted--in Chapters 1 and 17, in almost identical words), his eviction from an apartment he shared with a resentful, irresponsible heterosexual couple who misuse the rent money he's given them.

Despite a few flaws in the book, it is clear that Mickey Fleming has writing talent. It will be interesting to see what his next book, if there is to be one, will be about. I hope it won't be a sequel. I also hope he'll use his own photo for the dust jacket and not a model's. If, in the words of one of the characters in the book, he and pop singer Prince "could pass for brothers," why the subterfuge?

This article was originally published in the Chicago-based gay and lesbian publication, Outlines (February 1990).

A Ringside Coming Out Story

The Final Bell
By M. S. Hunter (Alyson Publications, 191 pp., paperback)

Many men, especially if they're straight, would deny that boxing has a homoerotic appeal to them. But there's little doubt that it does. In M. S. Hunter's novel, The Final Bell, this appeal is mentioned early on. The "intense and intimate contact" of "nearly naked men" causes both spectator and participant to either sublimate or indulge these desires, much as modern dance does.

These same men would also deny the existence of gays in professional boxing. This belief would be instantly eradicated if gay boxers followed the example of Stormy Rhodes, the novel's black protagonist: break the silence.

Rhodes, a welterweight from the tough streets of Harlem, at the start of  The Final Bell is deep in the closet. So deep that not only is he silent about his sexuality, he's also silent about his poetry writing. "I can't have people in my profession knowing I write poetry," he tells Carlos Quesada, a gay Puerto Rican poet and airline ticket office employee, who he meets at a poetry reading and later falls in love with. [ A welterweight boxer weighs approximately 147 pounds.]

Carlos, because he has "a conservative family and a homophobic boss at work," named, interestingly Mr. Helms, is also closeted. But not for long. When Stormy wins the welterweight championship, he announces in the ring his homosexuality and kisses Carlos on national TV, which causes Carlos to wish "he could find a hole in the floor and fall through it."

From that moment on, all hell breaks loose: Stormy's trainer quits, Carlos eventually loses his job, they receive crank phone calls, and a rift develops in the Quesada family. But Stormy is convinced that he and Carlos "can take on the world." Carlos, on the other hand, is not so sure.

In all this chaos, there is a silver lining. Stormy gets his book of poetry published and becomes a hero to the gay community. His status as the first openly gay boxer lands him the grand marshal spot in New York City's Gay Pride March. Then tragedy strikes.

The Final Bell, set in 1997, would have more punch, no pun intended, if the story had been told from either Stormy's or Carlos's point of view and if Hunter weren't afraid to show explicitly two men engaged in sexual intimacy.

Hunter reveals his tin ear for African-American speech when he has Stormy say things like, "And this must be your brother Regilio what you tol' me about." He should read John Edgar Wideman.

Another flaw in the novel is Stormy's naivete, despite his "sophistication" about poetry. Wouldn't it occur to such a public figure that if he outs himself that he would be idolized in a symbol-starved gay community? And it's strange that Carlos isn't angry or standoffish for a time after being outed by his lover without his consent.

The Final Bell's best scenes, however, take place inside the ring, where Hunter's blow-by-blow descriptions are tension-filled.

This article was originally published in the Lambda Book Report (March/April 1995).

A Play's Exploration Of Four Thorny Issues

True to its title, Face to Face, a two-act play which ran recently at the National Black Theatre in Harlem (in association with the Brooklyn-based Rainbow Repertory Theatre), bravely confronted four thorny issues within the African-American community: homosexuality, color-consciousness, sexism, and class, with a generous amount of humor thrown in to ease the tension.

The action of the play takes place entirely in the inner city Washington, D.C. home that Neal (Jeff A. Haskins), a black nationalist undergrad at Howard University, shares with Marcus (Raan Lewis), a religious homeboy.

When Neal's brother Sammy (Bryan Webster), who is about to graduate from Notre Dame, calls him from the airport to announce his arrival in town, Neal rebuffs his request to stop by. It's clear there is no love lost. One cause of the tension is Sammy's "theft" of Neal's girlfriend Hillary. Another source of tension is Sammy's reputation as the "boy wonder" of the family.

While waiting for Neal to come home, Sammy meets Marcus. They instantly take a dislike to each other because of class differences. When Catherine (Tia Sinclair), a light-skinned classmate of Neal and Marcus, enters the picture, she accepts Sammy's invitation to dinner. Neal hits the roof when he learns he has lost another girl to Sammy. After he finds some love letters in Sammy's bag addressed to a guy named Tim, he sees his chance for revenge.

During the confrontation with Neal, Sammy gets his second attack of stomach pains (AIDS-related?) which forces Neal to regard his brother with more sympathy. That sudden change of heart I found unbelievable, especially since the brothers, Neal in particular, have such deeply rooted animosity toward each other.

Near the end of the play, Sammy, with suitcase in hand, prepares to catch his flight back to Notre Dame. Before he can set foot outside the door, he and Marcus come face to face again. This time the confrontation has a murderous result when Marcus, a closet queen, discovers his true feelings for Sammy.

Although Bryan Webster's acting is a little wooden and he and Jeff Haskins look too old to be undergrads, you'll be too involved in the swiftly moving story to care, especially when Raan Lewis, a truly gifted actor, is on the stage.

This article was originally published in the New York Amsterdam News (November 21, 1991).