He was never my boyfriend, but he was my first. We met the first day of new student week, freshmen year. He helped my dad carry all my bags to the third floor of our dorm. He was tall, charming, funny, and incredibly handsome. As my parents kissed me goodbye, my dad said, “Be careful… Continue reading The First Time
Imagine a 15-year-old black boy sucking dick on a staircase while his mother thought he was at the library. Or a 15-year-old boy going to Pride to have sexual encounters with random men on the street. Or even a 16-year-old boy scared to go to the supermarket out of fear that he might see the… Continue reading What’s the Real Danger Here?
2014: A conversation with my father I walked with my father to the store in the rain. “So…” my dad said. “I heard that you were gay.” “I am,” I said as I moved from underneath his umbrella. “Well, you know you are going to hell, right?” I paused, getting drenched in the rain. “And who… Continue reading Love as a String
I’m not ashamed to admit that I was a homophobic and racist man: not because I’m proud of it, but because I understand that my mindset was a result of systemic marginalization and programming. From the aggressive inner city to the ultra-masculine military, I wasn’t given the best environments to cultivate my understanding of my… Continue reading Sexuality, Race, & #MyGayPride
Nia King is an Oakland-based art activist and author of Queer and Trans Artists of Color, a collection of her interviews. As a long-time admirer of her work, I thought I’d turn the tables and ask her some questions about “artivism,” selling out, and who her queer and trans people of color (QTPOC) icons are.… Continue reading Poc Art
I woke up on Sunday morning in my grandmother’s apartment, smelling the steam that came from my ironed dress pants that hung on the wall. I could hear the loud voice of Pastor Joel Osteen on the television preaching about forgiveness and the goodness of God. “By the glorious grace of God” or “Turn to… Continue reading Sundays With My Grandmother