How do you talk to an angel?

This will be the most difficult blog post I've ever had to write.
One week ago we lost one of the greatest individuals a person could be blessed knowing. Brian Holland was not your typical friend. He was a special spirit, someone who could always make you laugh and who always took you under his wing and made you feel welcome, included and loved.
A number of people have said to me that the best way for me to help deal with my grief would be to write about him. I've begun this blog post three times, and each time I've had to stop, erase it and walk away. But I know that to process this all, I was going to have to finish it.
So that's what I'm doing.
Brian was cherished by every person he met. No one could ever have anything bad or negative to say about him. For awhile I've been wracking my brain trying to remember the first time we met, and for the life of me I couldn't recall. Then I remembered, and knew that the reason I was having such a difficult time remembering was because with Brian, he just entered your life so effortlessly that he seemed like he'd known you all of his life.
Brian and I met over laughter. About 8 years ago, we were in a bar and we'd never met before. In fact, we weren't even standing near one another. Then something happened to someone in the bar and we both laughed - and only us. Not a big deal, but most people say that I have an infectious laugh. And I'd come across another person who had an infectious laugh as well. So somehow we ended up near each other and just looked at each other and laughed uncontrollably.
Thus began my friendship with Brian. Laughter brought us together, and we've been close friends ever since.
He was a sweet soul, and he brought that out in me. A good number of people do have the opinion that I'm sort of a Pollyanna, that I see the world through rose-colored glasses. Brian allowed me to be that way, even though I felt like most others were not a fan of my "cute optimism". He was perfectly fine with it because he, himself, was the same way.
I'd come to the Game Nights he held with his housemate Gary occasionally when I could get off of work, and I'd hang out with Brian at the bars/clubs. It was always fun. I'd even started working with Brian in May.
But I think what bonded us the most was our jukebox sessions. So many nights over the years Brian and I would hang out and overtake the jukebox, playing '80s songs, dancing and singing at the top of our lungs. He could always match me word-for-word, and would just have an absolute blast.
In fact, that is what we did the night before he died. Brian and I hung out and had one of our jukebox sessions. We hung out all night doing exactly that, laughing, singing and dancing to the jukebox.
Then Brian left. And that was the last moment I would ever see my dear, sweet friend, one of the best friends I have ever had.
(Editor's note: I started this blog last week - as you may know by the second line referencing "one week ago". Up until this last line, I had to leave my computer and pick the blog up again today. I believe I can finish it now.)
Now I don't want this to be a sad post, because Brian would be very upset if he knew this blog post made anyone cry. I've done a lot of crying, as have many of us. Some have been beating themselves up internally because this man was such a huge part of our lives. Some have wished that they had made certain that he knew how much he was cherished by you.
I know, because I've been doing the same things.
But then I'd view some photos of the two of us laughing, acting crazy, singing, dancing, making funny photos outside of Georgies and a few other places. I'd lend solace and comforting words to others who were feeling lost without Brian. I'd try to make as many plans as possible with my friends and enjoy our time together.
And Brian was one of the best huggers I'd ever met. He never just hugged you; he squeezed his joy into you with one of his bear hugs. And he loved it when you did the same to him. Brian knew the power of a hug, and that, among other things about this kind soul, allowed happiness to spread.
Some already know this, but I've been kicking myself a lot that I didn't walk home with Brian that night. Also that I didn't keep my eye on him more that night, to make sure he was okay before he left. A few of us just got lost and lifted up in the music, singing and enjoyment. That's what we always did, and Brian loved that about our jukebox sessions - no worries, not a care in the world; just singing, dancing and having the time of our lives.
And Brian wouldn't have had it any other way - enjoying time with people. One of the reasons why I miss my dear friend so very much.
But if we can learn anything from knowing him, it's that he was a free spirit that loved to watch over everyone and make certain their time with friends was one they'd never forget. So let's continue that tradition, that liveliness in him that he spread out to all of us.
Make plans to spend time with your friends - and keep those plans as long it's humanly possible;
If a friend calls you or texts you, make certain you return their call or text as soon as possible;
If you see an acquaintance of yours out somewhere by themselves, make every effort to welcome them into your presence, because you may be making their time out that much more special;
Hug someone with the biggest and friendliest hug you can muster;
Tell your family and your family of friends how much you love them as often as possible;
And above all else, don't let anyone who is still hurting terribly over the loss of this great man suffer alone.
Brian and I also shared something very interesting - a special martini called the Purple Haze, created specially for us by our good friend David Hoffman. I haven't been able to bring myself to have one yet since Brian has passed, but hopefully very soon as a way to celebrate my love and adoration for him.
And also something that will always bring joy to me in remembering Brian - he was the first Prom Queen of my annual LGBTQ fundraiser the Pink Prom. David was voted Prom King. But the reason Brian will always hold a special place in my heart is probably because of what he said to me when he realized he was up for nomination. Being the humble man that he is, Brian pulled me aside and said, "I can't believe you have me down for queen ... I'll never win and it's a waste to have me in there because so many people are more deserving!"
That was Brian in a nutshell - always modest, humble and thinking about others before himself. He was a man I will never forget and will always love.
Rest in Peace, my dear sweet friend! You were one of my best friends and none of us will ever forget you!

Lessons this queen has learned throughout 2017 will ultimately make 2018 catastrophic for some of you out there

This may seem a bit shady, but hey, if you don't like shade, stop reading here!
2017 was just a bad year, and just some things learned:
1) I had to finally realize that even though you help others through their benefits/fundraisers/financial gains or losses, they will suffer from amnesia when the shoe is placed on the others' foot and not lift a finger to reciprocate;
2) People aren't afraid of Karma's reign of terror because they might think they are above it all;
3) Trust is an honor that should be handed out like a bag full of money; only give it if you can afford to do so because not many people are worthy of trust these days;
4) Never ever let anyone hold the cards in your life, because they will deal you down the drain when they feel they can get away with it;
5) People will not give you what you deserve, even if you have put your blood, sweat and tears into it; they will only do so when they assess what they can get out of you first;
6) The nice gestures you bestow on others, you might as well keep it for yourself. Although I've decided I'm not going to stop giving to the worldwide causes - battling cancer, HIV/AIDS, diabetes, etc. ... just not bending over backwards to aid those who've let me down personally;
7) People can be selfish, even the ones who you trust with your life;
8) Don't put all of your eggs in one basket, because those eggs won't survive the fall off the wall;
9) Never let anyone - anyone at all - know the ideas that are in your head for any plans you want to accomplish in the future, because when you least expect it, they will pass those ideas to others to use as their own. Not only that, people have big mouths (it's just an inevitable mistake people make, sometimes without even thinking), and before they know it, they've betrayed you and have placed you behind the eight ball;
10) NOW THIS is probably the most important lesson I've learned: Do it like Dominique Devereaux and Alexis Carrington Colby ~ stop being a Krystle Carrington or Claudia Blaisdell ("Dynasty" fans will understand the references) ... Payback is a b&@ch, and it's time for Bernadine to step back up and take the reigns ~ go after what I want and don't let anyone, anyone get in my way ever again!!
11) I've learned something I've known for years, but had forgotten ~ People aren't promised to be in your life forever, so appreciate them when they are. I lost a really good friend when he passed away a few weeks ago; a person who I was able to talk to about things that a lot of others can only guess how we as African-American gay men feel on a daily basis. He was always there to talk with; but I've learned, sadly, that there will be those friends in your life that will take you for granted and feel as if they can stop talking to you and just pick up where you left off months later. That is a misconception that some keep in their minds to make it easier on them; sometimes when you let a friendship dissipate, it's close to impossible to resurrect like no time had passed.
Alas, a few good things have happened in 2017:
1) I was elected to the city's school board, so people must at least trust me and know I will do my best;
2) My drag life of Miss Savannah Georgia took off, thanks to my very hard work and some supportive queens who have been there for me. There are a couple of queens in the drag community who absolutely let me down, and I guess it has become evident that if Miss Savannah can't kiss their butts, they won't help her at all. C'est la vie;
3) I learned that if you are forced to recreate yourself, do it! I went back to school to add Digital Marketing to my long list of skills in the industry, and although it was tough, I learned just how tough I am;
4) I learned some valuable personal lessons, which I can implement into 2018, because I will no longer play the fool;
5) I have discovered who actually has my back, and just because I haven't confronted a person on their backstabbing, doesn't mean I've just let it slide or I am oblivious to their deceit. After all, we've all heard about revenge being best served cold, right?!?
6) My fundraiser, the Pink Prom, is still going fierce and continues to be one of the most successful LGBTQ fundraisers in New Jersey!
Now people, this may seem like I'm being a cold-hearted ice queen who has let the woes of the world get the best of me. But just the contrary ~ I've just learned the lessons, how best to maneuver the pitfalls and am ready to do battle the only way I know how or should have known how.
I am a strong person, and there's just no more time left to let things trample over me. Anxiety and depression are tough things to overcome, but I'm no longer sitting back and letting it take the reigns. I continue to struggle with anxiety, but that is okay; just something I have to live with on a daily basis. But I will never ever let myself fall prey to depression ever again.
I put this blog on hiatus a little over a year ago for a couple of reasons (not important to go into right now). But I've come to realize that because I did that, some may have assumed that I was ripe to take on the role of victim. Sadly, it's pretty clear what happens when a person assumes.
So if anyone thought that I was content with the status of "victim", well my friends and enemies, you have assumed wrong!
So as it goes, my lines to live by, from this moment on: Do it like Dominique, battle like Alexis, drag it like Savannah, and burn it down like Bernadine!
Oh yeah, and Happy New Year, y'all!!

The truth behind Savannah Georgia's entrance into drag society

I’m going to let you know right up front before you continue reading any further – this is going to be a very emotional blog post.
First I will need to set the stage for you. When I came out to family and friends almost 15 years, I did so at a cost to myself. Despite the costs, I was still determined to make my mark on the world as a proud African-American gay man. Only thing was, I didn’t quite know how to do it right. Being a perfectionist, I always had to do everything perfectly.
At the time, I couldn’t care less about disappointing anyone – except my mother. So when I finally came out to her, I was very happy that she told me that she loved my unconditionally – gay or not. That’s the kind of bond we shared.
Let me back up a little … I didn’t tell my mom when I first came out. A number of months had passed before I finally told her. The months prior to telling her, I was acting like an old fashioned newbie. How most people know me these days, well, that’s not how I acted when I first came out. I had many heterosexual friends, and only a couple gay friends who I could interact with at the time.
After hanging out, as a “new” gay, with my only other gay friend, his boyfriend was a little too friendly with me, and after a little while, that friend didn’t want me around his boyfriend, nor around him either. I wasn’t trying to be a homewrecker; I just wanted to make a lot of friends. The reason I am mentioning this is because at that pivotal time in my life, with not many to turn to and not knowing hardly anyone in the gay community, it was hard to deal with issues new to me.
Something else I ventured into with this friend of mine was the drag community. He took the time out to introduce me to a couple of other drag performers, and with his much-needed help, he got my face painted, helped me to pick out a little drag name, Olivia Twisted, and I hit the stage a couple of times and did my twirl lip syncing to my songstress divas Whitney, Diana and Natalie.
The final time I stepped onto the stage, some 15 years ago, was a disaster. It was shortly after my friend let his irrational jealousy end our friendship, and I had no clue whatsoever of how to drag up my face. See, he’d done that for me the couple of times before, and back then, I was new, young, slightly naïve about how to be fabulous, and I was just a clueless mess. I didn’t really know any others in the gay community, and I felt awful about so many things in my life at that time.
And despite all of that, I was still determined to keep dragging myself on that stage and do the best I could. So then after that disastrous time where my makeup looked like I was auditioning to be the next Pennywise clown, and my clothing looked like “Dynasty’s” Dominique Devereaux right after one of her epic catfights – I wanted to keep it going and make myself better.
Then it happened – my mother’s health started deteriorating, and I found out that although she had no issues with her youngest son being gay, she would never accept her son ever being in a dress. It would have killed her, and so then I made the decision to immediately stop doing any sort of drag. In my mindset during those years of naivety and guilt over being myself, I couldn’t cause my mother any more aggravation, especially since she was battling for her health.
Plus, I’d rationalized to myself – I wasn’t any good beating my face, I didn’t lump myself into any drag style, I felt like people didn’t get me or my style – or lack thereof, and plus I didn’t have any drag family to help me along the way and kick my ass when I made mistakes in drag.
To put it in the most literal terms – I gave up. That was something that I wasn’t used to doing – giving up. I’d always been an overachiever, and to be honest with myself that I was giving up put me in a very undesirable depression.
Fast forward to 2016. I made significant changes since 2002. I won’t go into a lot of details, but looking back on myself then, and looking at myself right now, I am blown away at myself. And I don’t say that in an effort to brag or boast; I say that because I’m damn proud of myself and how far I’ve come as a gay man. It brings me to tears.
I am a professional man who has struggled to get to where I am, and wouldn’t change it for anything. I have a successful LGBTQ blog that not only makes people laugh at the craziness we all get ourselves into but shines a light on what we as a community need to do to further our success. I founded and instituted an annual successful fundraiser, the Asbury Park Pink Prom, which benefits several LGBTQ groups and organizations. I have a boatload of friends in and out of the community who I have come to cherish, respect and admire.
But running a close second to the prom, I think I can safely say that the thing I’ve done as of late that I am so proud of myself for accomplishing would be for resurrecting my drag. I’m going to have to say that giving up that passion years ago, for whatever reasons – fear, shortsightedness, pleasing mom – I’ve secretly kicked myself thousands of times. I’ve never wanted to admit that to anyone because I was trying to keep that part of myself very much under wraps.
Giving up a passion you have is almost like dying a slow death. I was dying a little, seeing my creative juices wither away was killing me. I’ve always admired so many drag performers’ tenacity, style, passion, determination, flair, love of the craft. I felt like I’d lost a big part of myself over the years, not finishing what I started.
Admitting to myself that I was feeling incomplete has been a tough pill to swallow. I hadn’t shared that with anyone because, well, because I wasn’t sure if anyone would understand those feelings – especially knowing me as so many people do.
And after going through eye surgery in August, that was the impact I needed to get my ass in gear and I promised myself that no matter what happens, I’m doing this drag. So that is just what I’ve done.
This past Sunday at the Toys for Tots benefit at the local gay bar Georgies, I reintroduced my drag. Miss Savannah Georgia took the stage, and God, I felt alive and rejuvenated. I know I have a ways to go, and I cannot adequately express in words how I feel right now. And I have to give props to a few people, because without them, Savannah wouldn’t have made it to the stage that night. I won’t get into naming all of the people who have helped me along this latest journey (it’d be a long-ass list), but one does deserve my shout-out …
If not for Lea Sky, fellow local drag queen and a dear friend and sista, for helping me get this face together and making sure I felt fabulous, I don’t know what I would have done. I felt beautiful, and thanks to her help, I was able to beam and shine, and I was able to stomp the stage without fear bogging me down.
Another thing that is so vastly different this time around is the support and love that I finally feel from others around me who have been fabulous in doing their drag for so long. It's such a relief to see those queens around me and offering advice, support, good laughs and a kick in the butt when needed.
I’ve always been aware that so many in the community see me in a certain way, not really needing help and being self-sufficient, so it has always been difficult for me to ask. I know that I do come off that way, sometimes way too often. It’s a blessing and a curse.
But I am asking my community, my family, my dear friends and comrades a sweet favor. If you could find it in yourselves to open your arms, hearts and lives to greet Miss Savannah Georgia, she’d dearly appreciate it. It’s been a long journey for her to arrive in New Jersey, and although she’s a little weathered because of the path she took, she’s a joy to behold and you will not regret it – trust me.
Oh yeah, in case anyone is curious why I chose to use Savannah Georgia, it’s an homage to one of my Top 10 films of all time, “Waiting to Exhale.” Savannah was the name of my all-time favorite diva Whitney Houston’s character in the film. In addition, “Midnight Train to Georgia” by Gladys Knight and the Pips was my mother’s favorite song.

Open relationships are great, as long as you keep it classy

Open relationships – whether each party knows about it or not – has been a prevalent concept for individuals for years. For some, it’s just a way of life. For some, it saves their relationships. And for some, it’s just a hard habit to break.
Before I get stoned by the masses, I have nothing against open relationships. I think in many cases it’s a positive aspect to explore. After all, who says a person can only love or be involved with just one other person. Open relationships can really be a great thing.
And I will put this out there – I, myself, have been involved in open relationships. I have seen it from both sides. I was not only in a relationship with a guy who persuaded me to open up our relationship to outside forces – so to speak; I was also, at one time in my life, the other person who was brought into a couple’s open relationship.
So I am not a person who can judge others who are in successful open relationships. After being involved in the situation twice, I know that it’s just not for me at this time in my life. I don’t have the patience, I guess, because I want to be someone’s one and only. It is difficult to find that these days, but I’m always hopeful. Hey, they didn’t use to call me Charlotte (“Sex in the City”) for nothing.
And as long as an open relationship works for all parties involved, it’s a win-win. I praise you, and I’m all for it. But … when your open relationship gets sloppy, that’s where I must call it out. If you want your relationship to expand to others in the community, that’s your prerogative. More power to you.
But when some drama within it spills over to others, who have nothing to do with it, that’s where I think you need to take a close look at yourself and your relationship.
When you have one partner in the open relationship crying at the bars, belly-aching about how it’s not what he or she wants but can’t bring themselves to make the other partner stop it and just be with them, sir or madam, it’s time to take the high road. Maybe it’s time to get out of that type of relationship.
When you have one partner acting like a fool in the bars, like they have to make a scene and take home every person they encounter just because they have permission, it may be time to rethink what and who you want. Classiness should triumph over any showing of tragic behavior because it leads to others in the community to see you in a certain way, and sometimes it’s just not in the most positive light.
When you have some overzealous people making a fierce beeline to a man or woman who they know full well are in that type of relationship, and they literally embarrass themselves with their blatant flirtations, making out and sloppin’ sugar right out in the open for all to see, it doesn’t demonstrate that you have a lot of pride in yourself.
My advice: If you absolutely must get involved, or be involved, in an open arrangement, just keep it classy and be charming. It goes a long way in showing yourself in a positive light. Plus, people do inevitably talk about you – it’s just a way of life.
And I can’t be a hypocrite, because if I were to be absolutely honest with you, I have been guilty in the last few years of “sloppin’ sugar” with one or two gentlemen who were in this sort of relationship. (Just for kicks, sloppin' sugar is sometimes the Southern manner of speaking of two people kissing in public, in case you weren’t aware; it also refers to people acting fake while being sweet to others - but not what I'm talking about now). But I’ve since learned my lesson, so I’m hoping to provide you with my insight.
I know, I know – I do share a life’s motto with a number of people: “Whatever anyone thinks about me is none of my business.” And I do agree with the concept that you shouldn’t really care what others think of you. But it’s just not what people might think about you; people will surely sooner or later begin to treat you in a certain way, by the way you carry yourself.
Now I’m sure that not too many people even had a clue that I’d been involved in open arrangements. And there’s a reason why … less than a handful of people who know me know my personal business and relationships. That, it would seem, is how it should be.
Everyone doesn’t need to know if Tom and Dick are fooling around because Harry opened the barn door and let Tom be in an open relationship. Being in an open relationship is totally fine, as long as people don’t have to have it thrown in their faces when they are just out on the town to have fun or grab a drink. Just show a little decorum in your actions. No one needs, nor wants, to see any illicit behavior right next to them at the bars.
Now I am well aware that there are some single guys and gals doing the same things at the bars, demonstrating less-than-stellar behavior right out in the open. And a blog on that will be due out soon.
It just seems as if more and more, some people who are involved in open relationships – in Asbury Park and beyond – are behaving like they just broke out of prison and need as much excitement as they can possibly find before law enforcement discovers where they are hiding out and force them to return to their place behind bars.
I’m sure some are reading this post and saying to themselves, “Damn, this guy is a freakin’ prude!” Maybe I am, and maybe I’m not. Who knows, and who cares? But I’ll tell you one thing – when I found myself getting involved in that type of relationship, I’ve been highly aware that no one needs to see that.
So just a suggestion – no one needs to see that.
(Editor’s note: There is no one named Tom, Dick and Harry in an open relationship … for those who’ve never heard it before, it’s a term used to refer to ordinary people in general)

Uplifting a person is great, but let's not get carried away

Welcome back!
I took a slight hiatus from writing my blog just to regroup, figure out some personal/professional issues, work on a rewrite of a novel, and to deal with a lot of situations surrounding my eye surgery (which I underwent on August 25th).
But I’m back, and ready to delve into my LGBTQ community in Asbury Park and see what issues need some shade, ‘er I mean light, shed on it. I began writing a blog a couple of months ago, but I held off on its publication because I wasn’t sure if it would cause me any bad karma, especially since I knew I’d be undergoing surgery. Hey, I’m somewhat superstitious and don’t need any bad karma landing in my lap pre-surgery.
But after some self-reflection, I decided to post it now. It’s a topic that has been needing some attention since so many people have raised a concern about it, and to top it off, it’s a topic that has gotten under my skin for some time.
I would begin this post by saying, “Don’t take it too seriously because I don’t mean anything by it.” But in all reality, I couldn’t care less if anyone’s feelings are hurt or their egos are slightly deflated. Why, do you ask? Well, I don’t care if anyone’s egos are deflated because that is, essentially, the target of this blog post. People’s over-inflated egos. And trust me, there are way too many of them in Asbury Park’s LGBTQ community. And I can’t totally blame them for it, because there are way too many individuals who are blowing up some people’s egos like adding helium to an already over-inflated balloon.
Some people are getting dozens of accolades and awards for doing things that they should be doing simply because they are part of the LGBTQ community. I mean, come on!
How many awards can a person in our community receive for putting together benefits, fundraisers and events? How many awards can a person get for writing about issues and other things affecting the LGBTQ community, especially if that is their job to do exactly that? How many honors or pats on the back can some people get for being a leader in the community, because the younger generation needs those leaders?
And then you have those who are way, way too confident for their own good, and you just walk on eggshells around them because you don’t want to crack that ego and have them go all ape-shit on you.
Now don’t get me wrong – it’s always a great thing to honor a person for the work that they do. I wholeheartedly agree with that concept. But when it’s done every few months, doesn’t it lose some of the impact? If I were alone in my thinking, I’d just keep it to myself. But sadly, I’m one of many who do feel this way.
I mean, unless you are an infant who is taking his or her first steps, we don’t need to honor a person every time they take a step, do we? It seems like we have fallen into that trap of doing this very act, but instead of taking a step, it’s doing an act.
So unfortunately, as our community has done this just a few too many times, it has caused a few members in our supportive LGBTQ community to blow others’ egos up to a massive size. Some people have begun to think that they are invincible, beloved to an extent that they might just expect a statue to be erected in their honor. Piling on accolades can also have an adverse effect … it could cause a person to become lax in helping the community and going above and beyond after time passes. They might feel as though their work is done.
I am all for giving people a pat on the back when they do something good for the community, but let’s not get carried away with the massive amount of praise. It is, indeed, going to some people’s heads in a less than positive manner.
That is why, last year, it was such a great idea to institute the #UPLIFT movement. The brainchild of one of my close friends, it shined a light on so many members of our community that do a lot for their brothers and sisters in the LGBTQ community but seldom get any recognition. One of the reasons that movement was so inspirational and timely was because it was, truly, an honor to uplift someone who may work behind the scenes doing things for our community but it was also great to give a shout-out to those who didn’t make any great standing to pat themselves on the back.
Now this would be my suggestion:
Honor whomever you would like to honor, that’s everyone’s prerogative. But do so sparingly. Let’s not overdo the praises, because it not only may cause too many over-inflated egos in an otherwise close-knit community, but it may also cause others to get a little sick and tired of hearing the person’s name and about their grandeur.
I’m sure there will be those who don’t agree with this and who think it’s totally fine to pile on the praises. And you are entitled to feel that way because everyone has an opinion. It’s just a good thing that in my eyes and the confines of this blog, the only opinion that matters is my own.
Much love to all!

Trust me, you do not want to feel my pain as an African-American gay man

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.

Tragedy in Orlando must be the catalyst for change for the LGBTQ community

I’m not going to lie to you, this is the second most difficult blog post I’ve ever had to write. The hardest one for me to write to date was one from about six years ago, the one I penned the night before my mother’s funeral.
I just knew, well actually prayed, that no other blog would be even close to that one’s difficulty. This one, is that one. The one that comes extremely close. The one I prayed I’d never have to write.
Early Sunday morning, in a nightclub – Pulse – in Orlando, Fla., individuals were all enjoying a night of celebrating life, dancing, having fun with their friends at the gay club. The same thing we do here in Asbury Park, as well as every city/town across the globe. My fellow LGBTQ brothers and sisters at Pulse were not aware of what would transpire before the nightclub announced last call. Sadly, a gunman knew exactly what would happen.
As the gunman opened fire, he destroyed the dreams, hopes, prayers and the lives of over 100 people.
At this point, this is what is known:
Gunman Omar Mateen killed 49 people and injured 53 others when he opened fire at the popular gay nightclub. Mateen was fatally shot by police;
Police have notified the next of kin for nearly all of the victims;
The FBI had questioned Mateen twice in the past, but he still legally obtained guns;
President Barack Obama said there were no links to a larger terror plot but that Mateen was inspired by “extremist information.”
So many lives were destroyed for what some may never know. This person, we’ve been told, had been to the nightclub numerous times and even reached out to some other gay men on social hook-up sites. Was he gay? Was he confused? Was he tortured in his younger years growing up?
I don’t know, and this is one gay man who doesn’t care! I don’t care what happened to Mateen in his life. I don’t care what he went through. I don’t care what forced him to do such a senseless, cowardice act. I just don’t give a damn.
This will be the last time I mention this monster’s name. He’s been given too much publicity, and I refuse to give him any further credence to live in infamy. He doesn’t deserve it. As a journalist, I have to lay out the facts as near as I can get them, which is why I had to mention the bastard.
I’ve had to stop and start writing this blog a number of times over the past couple of days. My mind just cannot wrap itself around why this happened. I do have one opinion, and it is something we may all have had to face. The LGBTQ community is in danger. We are being targeted for being who we are, and there are a lot of people out there who just do not like us, who hate us.
Not a lot of things frighten me, because I’ve been taught to never fear anything but fear itself. But I have to admit this, which is hard for me to do … I’m frightened. And I know too well that I am not alone in that feeling.
When I first heard about this tragic turn of events, I was flabbergasted, just totally in shock. As events unfolded throughout Sunday, I got mad, angry, tortured. I didn’t cry, mainly because I knew that I had to be strong for my many, many friends who would need a strong shoulder. I also didn’t want to break down in front of others. I’m not totally sure why; that’s just the way I was brought up.
Speaking with so many others that day, we all knew that we needed one another in a way that we may have never had to before. I have a tight-knit group of friends, as well as love and caring friendships for so many others. Sunday evening something very special happened … we brothers and sisters in the LGBTQ community, as well as our fabulous heterosexual friends in the community who love and adore us, took a stand. A candlelight vigil was held at Paradise, Georgies and Hotel Tides – the three powerhouse LGBTQ and LGBTQ-friendly establishments in Asbury Park, and we all showed support for the Pulse Orlando victims, their families and friends whose lives were forever changed.
It was solidarity. It was something that we in the LGBTQ community do oh so well. We back each other up, support one another, give of ourselves for our LGBTQ family members in need, and we do something oh so fabulously as well – we come out swinging! It was so great to see it.
Then Monday morning arrived, and I woke up crying. Couldn’t stop crying. As I tried to write my blog that morning, it was impossible. Doing research online for the facts was just an impossible mission. Everywhere I looked, on social media sites, the tragedy was all around. Then I viewed a number of asses who were posting negativity about my community, and I just lost it.
I couldn’t write about the tragedy; all I could do was wipe away angry tears. I had no idea how I would be able to accurately cover the deadliest mass shooting in U.S. history, one that targeted innocent people just like me, a gay person. All I could do is stop writing and regroup, in other words, watch a few episodes of “The Facts of Life”. After all, when that show was on the air – one of my favorites – all I needed to do in my life was do chores, go to school, play kickball with my team at the park, get good grades, and watch TV. I so desperately needed that time to return. Who knew growing up and being a responsible adult would hurt my heart as it was since the mass shooting?
I couldn’t stop there. I had to watch a slew of episodes of “The Golden Girls”, “Designing Women”, “Kate and Allie” and “Fame” – the shows that made me smile and not worry about life and death.
And now as I write this, I feel a bit regrouped. I’m ready to get moving and joining my LGBTQ brothers and sisters in our next move. My heart goes out to everyone affected by the Orlando shootings. And now it’s time for action.
There will be a lot of benefits, fundraisers, support systems in the next few days and beyond to assist our LGBTQ brothers and sisters in Orlando. We know how to come together, and we do it better than any other group. And I know that I need to do more. We can do more. We can make certain that not only our voices but also our spirits make a dent in the laws that protect us when it’s convenient for the political leaders.
I don’t know if they know it, or perhaps our country’s leaders may be in denial, but when the vast members of the LGBTQ community set their minds on getting something done, WE GET IT DONE! We don’t stop until we get changes made, and it’s time. It’s time for us to make things happen, to help protect us. We need to do it for us, our LGBTQ community. Because if we don’t do it, who will?
We are not second-class citizens, and we shouldn’t be shoved into the background and treated as less-than. We need to hold Senate, Congress, the future president, his or her staff, every single politician on the ropes, hold their feet to the fire and make sure they know that if any of them want to continue to have any say in our future, they need to answer to us. Do you know that as of now, the millions of members of the LGBTQ community, along with our allies, hold enough clout to make a difference in all elections? We hold enough clout to change the gun laws. We hold enough clout to make sure the candidate we want to lose the presidential election actually loses. We hold enough clout to make the LGBTQ community a force to be reckoned with.
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hop up on my soapbox. But there are a slew of leaders in the LGBTQ community who want to make changes, by any means necessary. And I intend to be one of them. Please, please don’t let the victims who lost their lives in that nightclub in Orlando die in vain. We are a strong, united community, all across the globe, and it’s time that everyone knows that we are tired of putting up with being victimized. No more. No more of it.
We can celebrate life by partying, clubbing, having the time of our lives. But let’s also join our LGBTQ leaders in making a powerful difference. Because remember this – the tragedy in Orlando could have happened in Asbury Park, Philadelphia, Manhattan, Rehobeth, P-town, Fire Island, Vancouver, New Hope, West Hollywood, the list goes on and on.
Let’s not let this tragedy ever happen again. Let’s make a change. We owe it to them; we owe it to everyone who was in that nightclub.