It’s a rainy Thursday morning in Harlem (although monsoon might be a bit more descriptive of what we’re experiencing *LOL*) and I’m taking stock. I’m not nearly as self-sufficient as I want to be. The easiest way would be to commit myself to The Job, but I still haven’t found what I’m looking for. (Yes, I’m still looking.) That in and of itself is a difficult enough prospect, but I’m also noticing that no one I know seems to have found that stride either - especially up here in Harlem. I know people who have jobs they don’t mind, but I don’t know anyone employed at doing what they really love doing. That’s always been my focus.
For contrast, here’s the last time we did a full close-up on a beauty contestant in a similar predicament:
Personally, as an openly Black gay guy, is our world safer for kids (who may or may not be lesbian or gay or bisexual or transgendered, but who get teased for being so to the point that theycommitsuicide) because this particular white openly gay celebrity chaser tried to railroad this particular white, blond beauty pageant contestant into his belief system? Something tells me, no.
Yes, we do need marriage equality (which is really just equality) in America. Any two consenting adults should be afforded the same rights and class privileges of …
… but if kids can’t even grow up within a safe environment to make those adult choices for themselves, who does that help?
The ability to disagree as adults is another issue. Perez Hilton (both a fake name and an homage to the type of celebrity he chases) wasn’t trying to have an intelligent conversation about marriage equality with an equal. He was judging her and knew the title of Miss USA could depend on her answer, reducing the importance of marriage equality down to a predictable publicity stunt. Well, there you go. You chose to act like a crackhead trying to bumrush someone on the street for a dollar - and she said “No.” I’m sure that the legions of activists and politicians who struggled to actually make marriage equality a reality in our lifetime will stand with me to applaud your tireless efforts. Especially at such an illustrious forum where conversations between straights and gays aren’t exactly high at the top of the list of things to do. Thanks so much for representing.
Seriously, our kids need us to be dedicated to making sure that there’s a place for everyone at the table and that we’re communicating with each other - not diversity because it’s a trendy way to attempt to shut people up who you assume do not agree with you.
This particular woman said, “No, you will not.” Because of her religious beliefs, she opposes same-sex marriage. It was a fleeting moment, but she knew the game and decided to play it. Yes, ultimately she’s saying, “People like me are normal and people like you are not.” - which looks like inequality to me. Still, what happens when people like her become teachers and other adults who supervise children and when one of those children look to someone like her for support because other kids are driving them to question whether or not they should continue to live because they might be gay? (Yes, it’s a run-on sentence; that’s why I blogged it.) The truth is that scenario is more real than it isn’t: unfortunately, kids committing suicide because either they question their sexual orientation or have it questioned for them isn’t a new phenomenon. Even if that supervisory adult (or another kid) chooses to support that kid, that usually happens within a framework that doesn’t support either of them. And many adults who don’t support kids like this are just fucked up uncaring people who just happen to have jobs supervising children. Heteronormative? Okay. Although that’s probably the way that most of us got here, heterosexuality has never been nor will ever be the only way we exist sexually. No matter how many buxom cheerleaders, musclebound touchdowns or beer commercials you throw our way. Instead of artificially stratifying ourselves into red and blue states, let’s make sure we all have a chance to define what is normal within our own lives and that little people all get chances to grow up into big people who are afforded opportunities to make adult decisions.
Online social networks are kinda scary. For one, there are the corporations behind the scenes. I think I understand a little about why they’d want to protect themselves - the Internet is global, so they’re global corporations - but assuming ownership over other people’s content is more than a little shady. If someone left a comment on my blog and wanted to later delete it, I wouldn’t say “No, I own it now and you gave me person to do whatever I wanted with it when you left it on my site.” I’d probably just go ahead and delete it. After all, my blog is mainly about my opinion. Sure, I want blog about things to make people react and interact - if I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t blog.
I’ve been a freelancer for a while now, but one without a real strategy for how to make it actually work. I’m rethinking that strategy a bit. Part of it involves touching up my own site and developing more of a presence on sites like LinkedIn. I’ve had an account there for years now, but can count on one hand the times I logged in. It just didn’t seem like either anything worth putting energy into or that I wanted to manage.
Which brings me to the other side of online social networks - managing the connections I make with other people. That’s even more difficult for me; I can delete my account from a corporation’s site much more easily than I can click a button that instantly defines both me and the person on the other end as less than the friends we once were. But people change - and sometimes people grow apart. I hate having to be the person to say “Look, what’s going on between us?” but that has a way of falling into my lap much more often than not. Sometimes, it’s just too much.
Maintaining my LinkedIn account (which I’ll link to once I’ve edited my profile) is primarily about being available for freelance gigs, but there’s still a person on the other side of that account that I’m linking to - or that I choose not to link to. Not quite the same as less business-related social networks, but still not the same as dealing with a faceless corporation. I know that I’ll just have to take it one step at a time.
“People who grew up thinking race relations in this country were no more problematic than an episode of The Real World are going to get a dose of reality that will make television look like fiction again.”
I can already think of three of those doses. You’ve probably already heard of the assassination attempts. They (coincidentally, of course) seem to only target one candidate, who also happens to be the Black frontrunner in this election. (And there will probably be more to come after he’s elected.) You’ve probably also heard about that ‘crazy’ girl who, as an active supporter of his opponent, scratched her face and lied to police (and media) to make it seem as if someone who resembles and/or supports the Black frontrunner beat her up.
However, you probably have not heard of this: Brandon McClelland was a 24 year old Black man who was hit by two white men in a truck on September 16, 2008. His body was dragged underneath their truck and pieces of his body were found along that highway. Were the local (white) police who investigated the case either as effective or as responsive as they could have been with the obvious forensic evidence? Take a wild guess.
Let’s reacquaint ourselves: there’s Noah and, for those like me who forgot, A is for Alex, R is for Ricky and C is for Chance. (For those of you who don’t already know that all, well, almost all of these are openly Black gay men, may I suggest DVDs of series one and series two of the groundbreaking and, for some reason, cancelled show on the Logo cable network channel? *co-sign with Ernest Hardy* and *CO-SIGN with Kenyon Farrow*. Besides that, you’ll probably be able to find plot-spoilers all over the Internet, but after viewing it last night with a buddy who lives nowhere near any of the 5 theaters where this film is being shown (and making a killing at each and every one of them), I will only confirm that “Yes, there is a broom.” and “Yes, they do jump over it.” Before that, much drama ensues. Go see it for yourself.
At first I was going to title this post “The End of Technology” or “Technology Kills Art” or something equally ominous, but (obviously) decided against it. We’re living during what feels like the end of something, but I can’t quite place my finger on it. So I won’t.
There are many artists from the 80’s due to release albums/CDs/(whatever you call a thematic collection of songs now) this year. I’ll probably post either a series of reviews or a birds-eye view of many of them later this year. I mention the 80’s because that’s the decade when many artists became much more comfortable with using technology to create their art - especially musicians. Just imagine Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)” without its famous synth line (discovered by Dave Stewart accidentally playing it backwards) or Prince with a real drummer and without a Linn drum machine. And what would the 80’s be without the advent of the promotional music video? I’ve been watching Grace Jones’ (and Jean-Paul Goude’s) masterpiece video “A One Man Show” on YouTube (1, 2, 3, 4, 5) for the past week. (Yes, it’s been on my list of Videos That Should Be DVDs along with Prince’s “Sign ‘O’ The Times” for a while now.) You might also want to check out Miriam Kershaw’s article “Postcolonialism and Androgyny: The Performance Art of Grace Jones” for a more scholarly analysis of that period of Grace’s art.
No, I don’t want to be an activist anymore either. There are many other ways that I’d rather be spending my time and energy, too.
For instance, I want to take even more beautiful pictures and exhibit them in galleries and museums all around the world. I want to spin house music and classics at parties that exist wherever we are and help people feel a higher high, a spiritual love through dance. I want spend lots of time with my nieces and nephews (and perhaps my own children, someday), teaching them everything that I know and encouraging them to be their own personal best. I want to continue to define and redefine my own personal best and strive toward that vision. I want to luxuriate in the fruits of my labor and revel in my own self-actualization, too.
There is a new urgency surrounding the latest episode of a continuing crisis; I’m referring to the videoclips of the recent gay bashings in Jamaica and relating them to Buju Banton’s performance here at Madison Square Garden tomorrow evening. (If you haven’t heard about any of this, please refer to Terrance Heath’s blog.) I am concurrently working on resurrecting my podcast series in order to respond in protest, so be on the lookout for that.
However, the purpose of this particular entry is not to talk about the specifics of that.
I’m writing this at around 4am on Saturday morning. Yesterday I spent most of the day emailing and calling people that I know personally in my community in the hope of garnering a response greater than any that I could undertake by myself. I did not leave Harlem. I started out by making a deposit at my bank to fund my domain renewal and my upcoming global telecommunications. I walked over to Halal Roti Plus (one of the sponsors) in an attempt to engage in a productive dialogue with owner Don Grant. When I arrived, I was greeted with the same poster that I’d previously seen around Harlem promoting tomorrow’s event, but Mr. Grant was away at a doctor’s visit and was not available for comment. I crossed the street to inquire about community relations at the Amsterdam News. I walked back down 125th Street past the Apollo Theater to the Harlem State Building. About a month ago, I ran into the wife of State Senator Bill Perkins at a local restaurant and she encouraged me to physically go and remind the Senator’s chief of staff of some photos I’d taken of them during an event he sponsored this past February in celebration of Black Style Now and Fashion Week. I did just that. His chief of staff gave me her business card as she was leaving the building with the Senator. I took the opportunity also to tell them about Buju’s upcoming performance (and our Internet-based response); she hadn’t heard anything about it and actually thought he wasn’t performing anymore. We continued walking east on 125th Street and relayed to them as much as I could before going back home to organize a bit more. At the end of the day, I ended up conferencing with Tokes Osubu, executive director of Gay Men of African Descent for my podcast. We accomplished that, however, we both agreed that the need is ultimately so much greater than a response to Buju’s latest machinations or to any specific crisis.
It is time, to coin a biblical phrase, to separate the wheat from the tares.
I attended John Amaechi’s booksigning last night, held at the Barnes and Noble on Astor Place. It looks like it’s the last date of his HRC-sponsored book tour.
As I mentioned to a good friend later that evening, a man like him really reminds me of how much I want a husband. No, he doesn’t have to have all the answers (although I hope to pose some good questions to Mr. Amaechi to coincide with the resurrection of my podcast) and no, he doesn’t have to be a 6’10” ex-NBA player, but yes, there has to be a certain dynamism and humility. To hear John question his own psychological process in front of a room full of adoring customers reminded me of that. I would not call it fearlessness or even overcoming fear. I think it’s putting fear into perspective and seeing that the moments we have to connect are opportunities far greater than fear.
