#NationalComingOutDay I have two "coming out" stories. Since I've been rather open in the past few months, I figured I'd share my story. I'm sure there are other black boys going through worse right now. It's January 2003 and after 1am, clearly I'm thinking everyone's sleeping. I decided to call up a friend from college and we were just chatting about things we couldn't talk about in class. My aunt overheard the conversation I was having, stormed my room, snatched my phone. "After all these years you've been in church? And you know what the Bible says? And those disgusting words you were saying? Just disgusting", etc., gave me the Jesus spiel. The look in her face let me know my favorite evangelist and I would never be the same again. She avoided me and didn't acknowledge me for almost a month. It was now time to take me back to college for the Spring semester. That Sunday on the ride up after church, she asked me to reach in the back seat to grab a folder. It was white and heavy. "Open it and read out loud what's inside of it." I couldn't believe she LITERALLY printed article upon article of homosexuality being condemned in the Bible, what Jesus says about being gay, how you can't enter the kingdom of heaven, Sodom and Gomorrah, you name it! As I began reading her syllabus of gay bashing, tears rolled down my face, staining the ink of the pages. It got to a point where we hit Route 17 toward Mahwah and I couldn't take it anymore. I wiped my face, stopped reading and tried to unlock the car door to jump out of it. I'd rather be dead than to deal with this. She erratically pulled over into the Wendy's parking lot. I was still thinking about killing myself. The woman who practically raised me from 10 to 19 was now telling me what a fucked up person I am in Jesus' eyes. It gets blurry after that because I shut her out. She eventually said something to the groove of "I don't approve of it but I love you." She could've said that weeks ago and saved me months of depression following. Since then, she and I don't have the same relationship that we used to. And I miss that, I miss her. My mother on the other hand: different story. She was in jail at the time and I hadn't seen in her maybe 13 years at the time. My cousin, whom I'm also estranged from, told me she had seen my mother in the prison she worked at. I didn't believe her until I went to visit. For my second visit, I mustered up the nerve to tell her. This is how it went. I love telling this story. ME: Mommy, you sure you don't want any grandchildren? MOMMY: Anthony, I am 27 years old. I ain't trying to be nobody's grandmother chile. (At the time, she was approaching 50. Don't tell her I told you.) ME (*deepens voice*): Mommy, you SURE you don't want any grandchildren? MOMMY: Boy what did I say? I'm still young. You ain't making me old before my time. ME (*drops head and looks over glasses; voice shaky*): Mommy, are you sure? MOMMY: (leans in and holds my hands): Anthony, you are my child and I will always love you no matter who you chose to love, do you understand me? You are my gift from God and I will always love and support you. I broke down. Like...the ugly crying. When the snot is running from your nose and mixes with your tears and can't tell what's what? That kinda crying. Every since then, I've been able to accept myself more and more. Apparently, that was the key. More than often, black men don't have the same narrative with their matriarch like I do. Sometimes, they're kicked out the house. Beat by their fathers and family members to only go outside and be beat up by society. Do you think people would really CHOOSE this for themselves? I locked myself inside of my body for years. I faced self-hate, suicidal thoughts and never feeling real brotherhood from my community. People don't understand the pain, the solitude you endure because you don't want to lose your family, your friends, your community. No one is asking you to march in the Pride parade. But what we do ask is that you remember that we deserve the same love that you do: that unconditional love. Young black man dealing with your sexuality: when no tells you they love you, it's okay. I love you. God loves you even when they say God doesn't. I was told God would never bless me because of my sexuality. Not only did he bless me with the gift of music but God used that gift to get me on a Spike Lee soundtrack and featured in the film. It's afforded me performance opportunities in places and establishments you wouldn't believe I performed at. Don't let your sexuality stop you. Don't let it consume you. You are more than a sexual escapade. You are more than the faggot everyone is calling you. You are a man a purpose, a man of valor, a man of strength. Hold your head high, you the shit! If you, brother or sister, ever need to talk, I'm here for you. For real.
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