This blog post will not be my usual one. Usually I write about the goings-on in and around the LGBTQ community in Asbury Park. This one, although it may hit close to home for several members of the community, some will not be able to relate.
Yes, so many will be able to empathize. I know they will. And as much as they’d like to put themselves in my place, they just can never do it. They can make a valiant effort, but to be brutally honest, they have no idea what it’s like for this guy.
As an African-American male, I have had to endure a lot of struggles and strife. Add being homosexual to that mix, and I just cannot adequately explain how difficult it is for this man, or my fellow African-American LGBTQ brothers and sisters.
The very recent deaths of two African-American men by law enforcement strikes very close to home for me. And as the story unfolds behind both deaths, I’m sure people will acquire their own opinions. As they say, the jury is still out, and I will not make any statements on it at this point.
But as those deaths hit, it causes me to think about myself. I have never been silent about how upsetting and at times discouraging it makes me when I see how the African-American community is treated. It burns me up. Sometimes I feel like being an African-American man has been a detriment, both professionally and personally. I absolutely hate to feel that way, and my father would curse me if I ever said that to him.
My father, someone who I admire and look up to, busted his butt working, working and working just so his family could survive. Not only is he a successful businessman (he climbed to the top with his own bare hands because he never wanted to answer to anyone), he is also a retired and highly-respected police officer. He did everything he could to make the streets safe. But he would never do what some officers have done in recent years, striking against African-American males in the way so many have done.
For myself, on the job, I’ve had to struggle harder than others to make a dent in my career and climb that ladder of success. To this day, it’s a constant struggle. I feel as though there are members in my industry who, no matter how nice and gentle I am, they will always see me as a strong, black man who might be difficult to handle. That has been the cross I’ve had to bear; I cannot help the way I look, nor the color of my skin.
Even members of my LGBTQ community who work in media and publishing, but aren’t a member of the African-American race, will never understand what I’ve had to go through, and what I continue to go through. I’m not faulting them for it – I mean, why should they care if it doesn’t affect them, right? And why should others in Corporate America and the business industry care if it doesn’t affect them, right?
Wrong.
This is when some may start shaking their heads in disagreement, but it has to be said. It’s wrong because even though a person isn’t forced to struggle with race equality, they should make every effort to help those struggling with it.
There are members of the LGBTQ community who are constantly saying that heterosexuals do not understand our struggles and what we have to endure every day for equality. And I agree with that assessment. I’ve witnessed it firsthand, and I’ve had to endure that as a gay man.
But I must say this, with no apologies … there are some people – gay and straight – that have no idea what it is like for an African American in this world. And sadly, some of my LGBTQ brothers and sisters haven’t even given it a second thought. And that makes me a little pissed off.
When a person is homosexual, sometimes it is never known unless they speak up and give the secret away. But when a person is African American, there’s no hiding it, and there’s no escaping it.
There’s no escaping the constant fear that if you get pulled over, and if you don’t act charming and demure, you will get in a lot of trouble. You might even lose your life because of the color of your skin.
There’s no escaping the constant fear that even if you go through school at the top of your class, you will still be turned down for a job because of the color of your skin.
There’s no escaping the constant fear that you will forever be struggling to get a leg up on the competition in your field and you will always be passed over for promotions and advancements for your fellow non-minorities. It can force a person to lose faith in their workplace, and their industry altogether.
There's no escaping the fear that you will be followed by security and overzealous employees in most stores and establishments that you go in to shop, simply because you linger in an aisle just a bit too long. If you go into that store with a bag from a previous stop, that fear most likely will cause you to make certain that bag is closed tight and secure under your arm, so no one will think that you put something from their store in it. And trust me, it's not guilt ... it's a terrible fear to have, even when you would never steal anything.
There’s no escaping the constant fear that, if you are gay and haven’t come out yet, that your African-American family members will never understand or forgive you. I hate to say this, but for African American gays, especially those devout in their religions, there is an odd reaction from family when you come out. It is so difficult to put into words, and if you ask me one-on-one I will try to explain the dynamics to you. But there is just a type of unsettling fear that only my fellow LGBTQ African-American brothers and sisters can understand. Forgive me for not being clearer, but it’s hard to explain.
There’s no escaping the constant fear that no matter what you do in your lifetime to make things easier for the younger generation, it will never get better. This hits close to home because no matter how much I’ve tried to do to make things better for my fellow African Americans, it’s discouraging that my nephews, who have kicked butt being in the top of their classes and careers, might not get any more relief from the struggles than I have. Breaks my heart.
I’ve done a number of things to help make life better for my LGBTQ community … and will continue to do so. But perhaps I’ve been a little lax as of late in doing things to try to make life better for my African-American community.
It’s never too late. But I fear there is no escape.
I also ask a favor: If you truly want to know what my fears, experiences, tortures and struggles as an African-American gay man has been, you are more than welcome to ask me; I welcome the conversation. But ... and this is a big BUT ... do not ask me just to ease your guilty conscience because you aren't one and don't fully understand my pain, or because you think it is the politically correct thing to do. Because that will anger me more than words can say.
I'm sorry if that is not the politically correct manner to fashion that statement. But as most of you already know, I'm rarely politically correct.
