Some people use the word ‘mecca’ to mean an occasional hotbed of visibility (and debauchery). I’m talking about a neighborhood where we could greet each other walking down the street and actually talk to each other. Atlanta? I’m not so sure about that anymore. For one, everything’s so spread out and isolated. And every time I’ve visited, the other Black gay men I noticed were either scurrying home to their own cul-de-sacs or drunk at a bar. Or drunk at the mall. Um, not quite what I had in mind …
Continue reading In Search Of A Black Gay Mecca.
