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.

Don't let anyone steal your PRIDE - no matter what you have to do to keep it!

I think everyone who knows me pretty well knows that I’m always so psyched over PRIDE festivities, no matter where they are. Celebrating PRIDE is what makes me tick, what gets my juices revving, what I live for each year. I am so happy that PRIDE Month is here, and I want to do everything I can do to honor everything about it.
I can’t quite put my finger on it, but this year PRIDE in Asbury Park wasn’t exactly what I had expected. I had fun, but I felt like I was in need of doing something much more earth-shattering. I don't know what I could’ve done to celebrate it any grander.
I mean, the parade, despite rainfall, turned into a good time, as the rain passed right before the parade commenced. Someone was shining over it. After all, some joke that my motto is “Everyone loves a parade”, and it’s the truth. There were various parties that were a lot of fun, and I had a good time at each event.
I think that one thing that did put a damper on my PRIDE was a person I feel pretty close with caused a lot of drama, and I felt like I was caught in between a rock and a hard place. I never like feeling that way, because growing up with parents who fought every hour of the day, I always feel like I had to be the peacemaker. And trust me, that is a really rough place for a youngster to be.
That’s why, despite the occasional appearance of Miss Bernadine and her now-famous temper, I try to be a peacemaker. I hate to have that duty in some situations, but if you grew up in a household where the heads of that household argued relentlessly and never spoke except through yells, it’s an inevitable role you’ll fall into.
PRIDE weekend in Asbury Park, for me, is my “coming out” birthday. This year marked 15 years for me. I think that’s why it meant so much to me and I put a lot of emphasis on it. I needed it to be as best as it could be. You see, by coming out, I had given up a lot but I was happy that despite giving up so much, I was also gaining so much.
I was gaining my freedom to be who I wanted to be, who I was born to be. I was gaining a slew of friends in my gay world, who I just knew would have my back because we stick together. We all have war stories, and we’ve all had to deal with struggles to be who we are. I was gaining a sense of purpose in my life. But above all else, I was gaining pride in myself and learning how to love myself as a gay man.
In the process of my transformation, I was also losing a lot. I knew that despite my strong desire to be a drag performer, my mother, despite being okay with her son being gay, she would never accept her gay son in a dress. So I honored that wish – thus ending Olivia Twisted’s career.
I was also going to have to give up my life as a religious leader in my church. Such lifestyle was not acceptable. I had devoted so much of my life to religion, and doing so much in my religious life to make the leaders proud of me. I have to be honest, there has been a number of tough struggles I’ve faced in my life, and I always have a nagging feeling that by choosing to live my life as the gay man I was born as, I am always being punished for it. I don’t tell that to people, because that is an awful feeling to have in your life. But I guess I need to say it now, because there may be others who feel that way sometimes. It can depress you more than anything, and it can make you feel less-than.
I also lost a couple of friends by coming out. They were two of my best friends, both heterosexual. It’s very funny to reflect on it now, because the male best friend just couldn’t accept my lifestyle and it hindered our friendship; we hardly speak to this day. The other friend, a female, I knew that she loved me and always had my back. But she was torn between my friend’s prejudice of me, and my desire for her to choose between us. I felt like she ultimately chose him, and our friendship suffered. She has since passed away, and not one day goes by that I don’t miss her and regret my decision to let her go and let her be best friends with him without putting her in the middle any longer.
For all of those reasons, and a few others, PRIDE celebrations mean so much to me.
So when I was put in the middle of a terrible situation this PRIDE weekend, it tore me apart. And realizing that this person who I’ve grown to care about might not have cared how much of a terrible situation I was being forced into, it hurt me. He alienated so many people in my life, and it was painfully obvious that I can no longer let this person be a significant part of my life. He caused too much damage, and I have to acknowledge that he will never get it, no matter how many people try to explain it to him.
When you’ve spent your entire life being the peacemaker in really stressful situations, you get plain tired of having that role. And I am tired of having that role.
I guess this PRIDE weekend showed me that I can no longer be cornered in a place where I lose my PRIDE and my exquisite love for PRIDE (both the festivities and in myself). So I am so very thankful that my brothers and sisters in the LGBTQ community always pull together to put on a great weekend – from Tea dances at The Asbury (the new hotel in Asbury Park) and Paradise; to the pool parties at Hotel Tides and Paradise; to the drag performances and dance parties at Georgies and Paradise. We all came together to support each other and show our PRIDE. I was so happy to drive the Hotel Tides car in the parade, and so proud that each year I get to share the ride with my best friend Ryan and the Pink Prom’s king and queen. I get to enjoy Pink Prom, my fundraising baby, all over again as the crowned king and queen ride in the parade with us. I’m also happy that I get the chance to celebrate with those friends who I don’t get to see as much as I’d like.
This year I was going through a couple of professional struggles, so I guess that’s why I needed my personal situations to be on-point this PRIDE weekend. And also why having to come to the realization that it’s that time to cut someone loose is especially painful for me.
But … let’s make PRIDE Month a great and enjoyable time for everyone. No need for chaos, confusion or turmoil. Personally, I need nothing but celebration for myself and my fellow LGBTQ community members. I just haven’t got time for the pain.
(**Editor’s note: This blog post also begins a slight revamp for my blog detailing the goings-on in Asbury Park’s LGBTQ community, as my blog’s name has changed. A few more changes forthcoming …)

A challenge to our younger generation: Get moving, before you are left behind

I won’t make this blog too long, because I want to make sure I am able to hold everyone’s attention span because this one will be sort of like a Public Service Announcement.
Last week the LGBTQ community lost one of its own, a true spirited soul who grabbed life by the balls and, with a smile, dazzling bowtie/sneaker combo and no complaints, lived life. Her name is Pat, and when she passed away, everyone who knew her felt it strongly. This was a woman who knew about our history, LIVED the history and the struggles, and always made everyone – including the younger generations – know that just because being gay is tough right now, it does, indeed get better.
She was a testament that true love can conquer all. After years of being separated by some forces beyond control, she was reunited with the love of her life. I’m not going to go into details – that’s her and her partners’ story to share. If you knew the story, you’d feel just how I feel … that true love can conquer all, and there is hope for me that I will find true love also.
Okay, that is just a smidgen of Pat’s life. And what she accomplished during her life in the LGBTQ community is something that inspired me to follow suit and do things to continue the struggle and try to make things better for gay people coming up behind me. Not only Pat, but a slew of other LGBTQ community members served as a role model for myself and others my age to do whatever we needed to do to make things a bit lighter for our younger members.
So, in 2010 I spearheaded a four-part series in my newspaper, the Asbury Park Press, to promote all of the good work, struggles and inspirational moves by the members in Asbury Park’s LGBTQ community to advance and enhance life in our city. I was surprised that my effort was the first one to do an entire series on our community, in our community’s paper. I also started one of the city’s first blogs devoted to the LGBTQ community. And in 2013, I founded Asbury Park’s Pink Prom, a fabulous event to celebrate our lives and give all proceeds raised to a deserving LGBTQ organization. Now, in its fourth year, I am proud of all that it has accomplished.
I’ve done exactly what I wanted to do, to pick up the torch and give back to our community. I learned so much from those people who’ve come before me, and I have passed it on. And so many others in my age group have also done so much to do the same.
Now, I am not coming down on our younger generation in the LGBTQ community. Especially since there are groups out there like the PRIDE Network and Project R.E.A.L. (just to name a couple of them – there are more) who are continuing the struggle and making sure life for the LGBTQ community continues to prosper. But I have to say, I’ve been worried. If it were not for organizations that I’ve named, along with a few others, I’d be downright petrified.
But, where are all of the other younger generations making strides to help young members of the community, and what are the young people doing to make sure that life continues to prosper for young gay members?
Young people – have you asked yourselves: “What am I doing to not only party and have a good time, but what am I doing to continue to battle the struggles, what am I giving back to make things great for my fellow younger gay communities, and what should I be doing to pick up that torch that is going to be left blazing by my fellow gay brothers and sisters as they pass on?”
Young people, take it from me, just because gay marriage is legal, and some other outrages have been rectified for gays, it by no means lets us off the hook. We still have so many struggles that we MUST overcome … have any been following what has been going in North Carolina?
Well guess what … North Carolina might be just the beginning of the backslide. Who know what else will cross our paths to put our LGBTQ community behind the eight-ball? We could be in for a whole different type of struggle, and I know that partying and having fun with life is a great way to live – I’d be a liar if I reprimanded anyone for doing that. That, my friends, is something I love to do, and I won’t stop doing it until I am six-feet under, believe me. But I, myself, have also been doing things to help our community.
Young people, here’s a challenge. Take a long look in the mirror, and ask yourselves: “Am I doing anything right now to help my fellow gays, so that the struggle for us will be a little lighter?” If you can wholeheartedly answer “Yes,” then I am so very proud of you!
But if you wholeheartedly answer “No, but it’s okay because there are others out there doing things; they will make sure everything is okay for us,” then I cannot say that I am that proud of you. Point being – it takes a village. And if you are content with letting others do all of the work, then what benefits are you truly reaping?
This blog post is not a way of coming down on the younger generation, although it might seem that way. Nor is it a way of tooting my own horn. My reason for posting this is not only to give props to younger members in the LGBTQ community for helping to overcome our struggles, but also to challenge those not yet making a difference to make a difference.
It’s time to make a difference, people. Actually, it’s way past time.

If you don't know how to act properly at a drag show, then stay the hell home

Have you ever seen the popular gay film, “Torch Song Trilogy?”
If you haven’t, you should really think about turning in your gay card. The film is, hands down, one of the best LGBTQ films ever made, let alone one of the best films period. True, in my estimation it is one of the best films, and since this is my blog, what I say goes.
But there is a scene in the film that is very topical currently for a number of reasons. The scene to which I’m referring is when Arnold, aka female impersonator Virginia Ham (performed flawlessly by Harvey Fierstien), is doing one of her numbers in the club, and a group of male hustlers (one of which is portrayed by Matthew Broderick) begin heckling and causing a major disturbance. The group is manhandling Virginia, shouting obscenities and trying to embarrass her.
At this point, one of the regular patrons – who thoroughly enjoys Virginia’s and the other drag queens’ performances – is so disgusted by the group’s blatant disrespect that he jumps out of his seat, pulls out a knife and threatens to stop the ruckus – by any means necessary. There are a number of times that I, myself – an ultimate fan of drag performances, felt like doing what that patron in the film did.
This brings me to the point of this blog post – how proper audiences should behave at a drag show.
One of my personal rules for this blog is to not flat-out name anyone, just for the cause of not pointing a finger or putting anyone on the spot. I’m breaking that rule, just this once. And I’m not pointing a finger, except perhaps to give a big thumbs-up to a number of drag queens who, literally, take my breath away with their awesome spirit, drive and performances.
The rule is being broken for this blog post because it not only leads into what I had to witness this past weekend, but also because it smacks of disrespect for drag performers all over the world. Some audience members for so many years have not given the performers their due respect, and it’s time that the tide has turned.
I won’t go into details, but this past weekend at an event, some audience members at a local drag event were so disrespect, so blatant in their ignorance that a popular drag queen had no choice but to “school” them on a couple of things not to do during a drag queen’s performance. And she was absolutely correct. For those of us who understand the proper etiquette, it just boils my blood to see audience members act so discourteous, disrespectful and out of control during a drag performance.
During her performance, they sat right off of the stage and spoke in such high volumes, loud and boisterous that I couldn’t even hear a queen read a question off of one of the game cards. And not only was she speaking into the microphone, but I was standing right next to the stage. To top off the rude display of ignorance, one of those jokers had the audacity to grab on one of the drag queens’ body parts – a definite no-no, not only during a drag performance, but even for a regular person casually walking down the street. Why does anyone have to tell a person this? You would think their parents raised them right, or at least made an effort to raise them right. No home training whatsoever!
These performers put their blood, sweat and tears into what they do, and they are there to entertain. It’s their job – for some of them it’s their career. And these performers warrant, no they deserve our respect. There’s a saying, “Being a drag queen takes big balls,” and that is true.
Now come on, people. Why anyone should have to share with you what proper etiquette should be during a drag performance – or any show, it’s just beyond me! But if I must, I will offer you a number of instances. It’s certainly not all of them, but it’s just a few to get you started on your way to knowledge and understanding.
1) Do not grab at a drag queen’s body. No part of her body. You wouldn’t do it to a random woman walking across the bar, so don’t do it a drag queen walking across the bar.
2) If you must, absolutely must, talk loudly and in a boisterous, screeching voice, take a seat at the back of the bar, far enough away from the stage that it does not interrupt the performance and those patrons who wish to enjoy the performance can do so without hearing your loud mouth.
3) At some arenas, a drag queen’s stage is at the front, and the audience flows back several yards. Drag queens work for tips, and they deserve those tips. So if you don’t plan on taking any money out of your pocket to show respect for them and tip, please take a position away from the front of the stage to allow for tipping patrons to be able to do so and not struggle to get through the crowd just to tip them. When you do so, it’s almost too difficult for tipping patrons with a drink in the hand to make it through. Thus, some drag queens don’t get as much in tips as they should.
4) When a drag queen is speaking in the mic, SHE is speaking in the mic. Keep your mouths closed and don’t try to make yourself a part of her show. She’s got it covered; if she wants you to be a part of her show, she’ll call for you – don’t worry.
5) Unless you have to desperately go to the bathroom and the path there is right across the drag queen’s stage, there is no feasible reason that you must walk directly across her stage when she is performing. That would seem like the only emergency that would warrant a patron doing such an act. So if you need to cross her stage, do her a favor and wait the 4-5 minutes until her performance has concluded. Common decency, people. Common decency.
6) Don’t throw anything at a drag queen during her performance. Holy Mormon, Batman! I can’t even believe that I have to add this one on here, but sadly I do. I know you might want to be a part of the act, and think perhaps throwing a shirt, straws or ice is a good idea … trust me, it’s not. The only things remotely in the realm of decency to throw at a drag queen would be dollars at her feet or a little shade, but be prepared, because most every drag queen knows how to properly throw shade right back at you, and twice as razor sharp. So tread lightly with that. (*And for anyone who doesn't understand this, you can shower the STAGE with money as a tip, but THROWING money directly at a drag queen isn't the best course of action*)
These are just a few of the ways for patrons to display proper etiquette to drag performers during their shows. But if you’ve been guilty of doing any of these things, and if you believe none of these tips will help you to act a little better than you’ve been thus far, I suppose I only have one other suggestion that may bring it home for you.
You could try this … If all else fails, try acting how you would want an audience to treat you if you were doing drag. How about that?
Perhaps the reason why I can say that with all sincerity, and why it gets me a little heated when fellow patrons find it difficult to display proper etiquette during a drag show, is because of a little ole bitty named Olivia Twisted. Yes, I’ve performed drag years ago, when I first came out and tried to do my thing.
To be honest, sadly I was not very graceful at painting the mug. I did it just three times, but decided to put it on hold for a couple of reasons that, today, just seem to me like it was a cop-out. Those reasons: I know my mother was not accepting of her son wearing a dress, and her respect was everything to me. She was all for her son being a gay man, but she wouldn’t get on board with her gay son wearing a dress. She was way old school.
The other reason was because when I first came out, I didn’t have that support system, I didn’t have that close-knit group of family of friends in the gay community that I am proud to say I have now. All those years ago, it was just me, trying to make it as a young Black gay man on his own in a new world.
I have that courage these days that I didn’t have 15 years ago when I did it, because I’ve established myself in the LGBTQ community and on top of all that, I no longer give a damn what people think of me. It took me years to get to that point, and now here, it’s time to reintroduce Olivia Twisted. Hey, it’s just something I’m looking into and toying with at this point.
So if you are ever blessed to go to a show with a drag performer on stage, trust, it would be in your best interest to show proper etiquette. It’s very simple … and besides, you wouldn’t want to be embarrassed, because those memes of you acting like a damn fool at the drag shows will last forever.
Now go out and watch “Torch Song Trilogy” if you haven’t already.

Some people should have warning labels so we know what's in store for us

I want to begin this blog post by giving major props to those individuals working in the service industry. Whether you are a hotel, bar or restaurant manager … a server/waiter/waitress … a chef, cook or baker … bartender, cocktail waitress …. bouncer, security guard or barback … those individuals working as bellhops, maids, restaurant hosts, kitchen help, busboys, front desk workers or maitre d’s.
All of you have to put up with a lot of crap. And you will understand why I am praising you as this blog progresses.
But to put things into simple terms, it amazes me that in a world where so many people have to put up with so many situations, attitudes and craziness, that there are some people on this planet who just don’t understand the simple joys of avoiding drama and tragic occurrences.
To make it plain, there are just too many people who should be wearing a bright red warning label that specifically says, “DOES NOT PLAY WELL WITH OTHERS!”
They seem to be coming out of the woodwork. I’ll give you a few examples of these individuals.
First, you have those individuals who will take any open opportunity to cause a rift between two content, loving souls who are just trying to make it day to day in a happy relationship. Sure, all of us have ups and downs, but these interlopers who will use the first sign of discord between a couple to attempt to break them up, well these individuals are just tragic souls.
Not only will they amp up the tragedy, but they will also blow a situation out of proportion just to cause a rift and break the two up. Why? There are a number of reasons. But one reason is because these individuals don’t have anything going on in their own lives, so they interject themselves into a couple’s relationship.
Maybe it’s just what these people like to do, cause drama and dissention in the lives of others. But I wish these people would see a glimmer of self-reflection and understand that their actions are not lost on the many members of the community and that person will no longer be trusted by anyone. And not only that, but they will begin to be shunned by a large portion of the community because their two-faced masks will forever be uncovered.
People in such a close-knit community have long memories, and if an individual gets this sort of reputation, it will be years before they can get rid of it; if they ever will. There are a few individuals who already have this reputation, and trust me, people in the community no longer trust you. And if you lose a community’s respect and trust, it’s lost for good.
Another group of people who should be wearing that warning label are those individuals who are out on the town and turn into drunken disasters. Now I know that we all can tie one on and sometimes overdo it, but that’s not the ones I’m describing. The ones I’m describing are those individuals who will tie one on, get drop-down drunk, cause so many people to worry about them, and will do the unthinkable – will insult and cause chaos with their true friends who just want to make sure they don’t crash their cars, end up in the slammer with a DUI, or worse – get themselves killed.
I’ve been the recipient of these people’s agitation and verbal abuse because I’ve been sober enough to try to help them to keep themselves safe, and I’ve gotten the short end of the stick. We’ve all had to deal with these friends, because at the end of the day they are friends. There have been a few times that fellow members in the service industry have asked me to make sure these people remain safe.
I don’t mind, because I’d want a person to do this for me, and some of my friends have done this for me. And I’ve been grateful.
And this is why I’ve given a shout out to so many in the service industry, because they have no choice but to help you out. They’ve had to put up with a lot of aggravation, so how about this – how about you give them a break and if you do lose control in a drunken stupor, you treat them with respect? How about that? It’s very simple.
Because sir or madam, once you do it one too many times, they will not watch your back because you end up kicking them in the back one too many times. You lose their respect, then you’ll lose your privileges. So calm it down and try to keep yourself in check. And if you have people who consider you a friend trying to keep your ass safe, just let them and don’t fight them. You may just end up fighting them one too many times and they just might you go ahead and let you kill yourself on the road because they are tired of your drunken shenanigans.
And I must not forget the ones who should wear these warning labels, the ones who aggravate Miss Bernadine the most. I absolutely cannot stand the gay men in the community who feel entitled in life that they act like they own other gay men. Now I’m not speaking of the gay men who for them, this is their way of life due to a particular community to which they belong.
I’m referencing those gay men who act like just because they’ve either broken up with their man or have been dumped by him, that they act way too possessive with him, and in addition, act like the fool and cause a ruckus with any other man who seems to enter their universe.
It’s absurd! Ladies, get a grip on yourselves and stop playing the possessive, overly-trite gay man. It’s not a good look for you, and you ultimately look like you are trying to hold the monopoly on every man in the community. If you fellas want to date a slew of your fellow gay men, go for it. I’m not stopping you. But if you interfere in the lives of other men who I, or the others in the community, are dating as well, and you try to act like you have the exclusive rights to all men, that’s where I and others will draw the line with you.
So don’t act like you are all flabbergasted or indignant when you are called out for your actions. Because if you are putting yourself out there and want to play the field and date four or five guys at once, don’t act the fool if one of the many men spending time in your whorehouse is also spending time in others’ whorehouses. It’s just the way things go. Unless you are with the man exclusively, you have no say.
It’s as simple as that.

The struggle is real to be living in this world as a Black gay man

Sometimes standing up for what’s right when an injustice has been done is the most difficult thing a person can be called on to do.
But it’s just so odd that for me, during Black History Month, that I am being led to do something that will make things easier for the younger African-American generation.
It’s not something that I really want to do, but I definitely need to do. I can’t go into details just yet because some issues are in the midst of going to be a tough hurdle to leap. And I can’t speak about it until I’m a bit further in the motions and understand fully what I will need to sacrifice. But it will be one of the hardest struggles for me personally and professionally.
But in any case, it just reminds me of the older LGBTQ community members who, despite knowing the struggle might not end well, still went forward bravely. Those individuals, I’m relying on for some inner strength. Just knowing that they didn’t give up makes me believe I can go to the finish line as well.
The older generation put their all into making things equal for all of us. From the Stonewall Riots … to the formation of PFLAG in 1972 … to the march on Washington for gay rights in 1979 … to trying to fix the uncomfortable compromises of Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell … to AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power (ACT UP) … to Queer Nation … to the successful results of marriage equality in the last few years.
Did they falter or lose their nerve? No. We can learn so much from those who came before us.
But the focus of this blog isn’t a history lesson or my own upcoming struggle. The focus, primarily, deals with perception.
One’s perception of another person in the community can be shortsighted at times. I was speaking with a friend recently, and it occurred to me that we all have a perception of a person, and no matter how hard that person tries to change how others perceive them, it’s so difficult to get people to see the “new you”.
It’s a bit sad, really. Once members of the community, and in the world, see you in a certain way, it’s so damn hard to change their minds. The reason it’s sad is because I’ve known a number of individuals who aren’t like I’ve heard they are from other people. Did I catch those individuals after they’ve made the transformation? It is possible, you know.
A lot of people’s perception of me is not how I always am. Yes, I’m strong-willed, confidant and believe in my convictions. But I can use support and a shoulder every now and again. And since I rarely ask for any help, some think I never need it. That’s my fault, because that’s the perception I give off. It’s difficult to change that.
Those who always attempt a smile can be sad inside at times; they just don’t like to show it. Conversely, those who seem to always have a frown on their faces are sometimes happy. It’s just perception.
When a person gains a certain reputation in the community, it’s even harder to change. Someone could have been a troubled soul in 2008, but has since become much more stable and is just a shadow of their former self. But the community is hard on them. That’s always struck me as odd, because if a person has the strength and ability to change, why don’t we as a community give them as much help as possible?
We’re not that jaded, now are we?
I believe a person should always get the opportunity to reinvent themselves. And a person isn’t just skin deep; there can be so much more beneath the surface. I guess in a nutshell that is what my blog post is about. Now that it is Black History Month, people can look within themselves and gauge if they are doing everything they can to make change. To be brutally honest, it gives me pause that Black History Month is the time that a large portion of the population celebrates the lives of African Americans.
And it hurts my feelings that even though we are all equal, that even in the community, it’s sort of a statement when in mixed relations. Now I’m very up front about the interracial relationship issue. I date the opposite race, never made that a secret. But I have to tell you, it’s very difficult to formulate a relationship with a non-minority. In many instances, either a non-minority sees a Black man as a conquest … or a challenge … or not worthy of entering into a relationship. It’s the lucky souls who are able to make it work.
Why is that? Why does it seem like the Black man has to work that much harder to attain a lasting relationship with someone of the opposite race? And professionally, it’s just as hard. I think that some in the corporate world (and other job markets) see a Black man in terms of how much they are actually needed. It’s hard to get promotions, difficult to get the respect we’ve earned, and downright stressful to have those not in the minority give us a break. I’m not speaking for the entire population, just some of them.
The struggle is real to be in this world as a gay, Black man. I mean don’t get me wrong, I know we all have struggles of sorts, and I don’t take away from anyone the amount of difficulty it might be for them. I feel your pain.
When my father learned I was gay, he was totally cool with it. But he did caution me, “At work, don’t tell anyone about it, because they will make things difficult for you.” I told him, “I wish I didn’t have to tell people in my company that I’m Black; things would be a lot easier for me to climb the ladder.” He’s a self-made man and businessman, so he’s made a name for himself on his own terms, and I love that about him.
But looking at myself in the mirror as I reflect on Black History Month, I truly wonder how much more of a struggle I will need to endure to get my due as an intelligent, competent, self-starting, hardworking Black man in my industry. I’ve got the gay struggle down and under my belt. It’s the struggles of the Black man where I need to understand just where I stand.
As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “The time is always right to do what’s right.”
I suppose I have no choice but to make sure others do what’s right, no matter my personal cost. So as I stated earlier, in the months to come I am being led to do something that will make things easier for the younger African-American generation. I think of my nephew, who’s not only one of the football stars at Rowan University, but also at the top of his Business class. He’s busting his butt to be the most successful he can be, and I would hate, absolutely hate, for him to do all that’s he’s doing now to be successful in his industry and people would hold him back because of his race.
I have to act now so he can make it further than I ever could. It’s time for change; I know I probably won’t get further than Dr. King, Rosa Parks, Oprah Winfrey or even Booker T. Washington, but I can at least try my best. I can try for those coming up behind me, before it’s too late for them, too.

Some people call it cock blocking; I refer to it as 'poking Miss Bernadine'

I can tolerate a lot of people. And I can tolerate a lot of actions from people who I encounter.
But by far, the worst type of people who wander into my universe are those individuals who many may refer to as “cock blockers”.
In case you’ve been asleep under a rock for the past century, I’ll explain the concept to you. A cock blocker can be described in a few ways, but for this blog post, this is the description. He or she is a person who, basically, interrupts another person when that person is in the middle of holding a conversation, getting to know someone, or is in the midst of connecting romantically with another. A cock blocker’s main goal is to connect with the person already being pursued by a competitor, in the hopes that they will get in there and make some leeway first.
I really dislike a person who does this. They are not only rude and disrespectful, but they are just plain fake. And the worst ones are the cock blockers who actually try to play it off like I’ve been friends with them for years, but they hardly even know my last name.
Now I don’t care for these individuals. But Miss Bernadine, now she just tries her best to not slap them across the face, all the while with a smile. There are just too many out there, and they need to stop – IMMEDIATELY!
I think cock blockers are just desperate. They don’t really have a lot of self esteem if they need to redeem their insecurities by proving they have the capability of snatching another’s intended catch. What gets into these individuals? Why do they have this innate need to one-up another person?
And hell, don’t let them see you talking closely with a newbie, someone who is pretty new to the scene … they will descend on you and that prey like freaking vultures! They don’t even pull you aside for two seconds and make sure you aren’t interested; the cock blocker is interested, and that’s all they care about. Screw any sort of friendship they might have with you; with cock blockers, it’s every man and woman for themselves.
And you can see them coming from a mile away. When a person who rarely speaks to you makes a beeline over to you, and you are already conversing with a good looking person, chances are their intentions are clear as a Saran wrap – they want what you are trying to have.
So now, I’m putting this out there so Miss Bernadine’s intentions are clear. If you are a cock blocker, or plan to be a cock blocker in my presence, you will be called out and embarrassed. I’m not even going to pull you aside and do it; you will get the treatment out in the open, in front of everyone. You will be called out as a cock blocker (in addition to other terms that I’m not going to use in print), and there will be no apology!
My parents brought me up so that I have some sort of class, charm and respect. And I try my damndest to show that to everyone I meet and know. But trust, Mr. or Ms. Cock blocker, if your parents didn’t bring you up that way and you insist on showing me and others disrespect, those lessons I learned growing up will be tossed right out the window when dealing with you.
This has always been a problem with a number of individuals in the LGBTQ community, and I have no idea why. Can someone explain this to me? Is there that much competition out there that you must hoard in like a vulture picking off prey in the night? Have you no home training? Were you raised by wolves?
Speaking to a few people, I’m glad that these individuals don’t just irritate me; it irritates, bewilders and angers many others.
Now cock blockers, I’m not saying you have to like me or respect me. Hell, you don’t have to like or respect any of my brothers and sisters in the community. But I just ask one thing of you – show at least a sliver of respect for yourself, because you are looking desperate, overly-horny, and to top it off, you are getting a bad reputation and friends won’t want to bring others around you, thus losing friends in the process.
Take my advice or ignore it. The choice is totally up to you. But steer clear of Miss Bernadine; she’s had enough.
Sorry if it seems like this angers me more than other things, but I just can't tolerate some things, no matter how hard I try. I'm working on it, but just like the rest of the population, I'm a work in progress.

Whether you like it or not, we fall into certain categories in our communities

We in the community always have a certain flair for describing each other. Be it in love or dislike, most of us always speak our minds.
I was having a rather lighthearted conversation with someone a couple of weeks ago, and all of the sudden, in the middle of our talk, he referred to me as a dream lover. No, he wasn’t interested in me – that’s not why he said it. He said it because I was telling him about the first man who ever said he was interested in me.
In short, the first man who was openly interested in me was this older gentleman, a wealthy antique dealer who was at least two decades my senior. This was about 13 years ago when I first came out, and although I was flattered that he wanted to be in a relationship with me, it was just not the right time for me.
To be honest, I wasn’t really attracted to him – I had sex with him the first day I met him because he liked me and I wanted someone that particular night. Hey, don’t judge – sometimes the lady really is a tramp.
Anyway, my friend said I was a dream lover, as he put it, because he joked that I always have to know that down the road I will eventually find myself in love with the person I get involved with and I rarely can look past the passion – or lack thereof – and just grab an old, rich man and settle for security because love is overrated.
See, he used to be a dream lover – waiting for the perfect man. He did that for years … until he took a long, hard look at himself in the mirror and said to himself, “Screw finding love; I’m finding a rich man who wants to be with me and support me.”
So he took his good looks and went to a club in Manhattan where older men frequent, and boom – he found his older gentleman. The two have been together for almost 10 years now. He admits he’s still not in love with his man, but it affords him the ability to work at a non-profit without being paid much.
But I digress. The focus of this blog post isn’t discussing his life’s choices. The main point is that we were discussing the concept of the many classifications upon us in life. It turned into a hilarious conversation because of the classifications. These are not set in stone or terms everyone uses – meaning it was just a funny discussion between two friends that I thought I’d share.
Here’s just a few of them:
The dream lovers, as described, usually end up waiting for the white knights to ride up with the perfect love, but we need to stop dreaming because that rarely happens. So that’s the dream lovers.
Then there are the maestros. Those individuals are very skilled at their game and usually have their pick of who they want to enter into sexual relations with, and who also rarely care about how it affects the person they take home with them. Maestros rarely ever get their hearts broken, because they are breaking the hearts of those they bring home.
Then there are the HGNs. This term, already out there and used frequently, is the shortened term for hot gay nerds. These are the sexy men who are into the world of science, technology, video games, fantasy worlds of some sort, animations, gadgets, internet start-ups … you get the point. These individuals are cute brainiacs who can stimulate your mind as well as your body and soul.
We were discussing the dogged. Now these individuals literally look like they’ve been around the block a few thousand times. They’ve been with everyone and anyone, and don’t care that their reputation is shot to hell. The only thing about the dogged ones is that they’ve already been through about 70 percent of the population on the East Coast, and not many people are interested in seriously being with them at all. A don’t see them too often, but when I do, all I really feel for them is a sort of pity.
Then there are the smooth operators. Now these people might be the maestros, but there only thing distinguishing them from maestros is that for the most part, everyone already knows their moves. Sometimes these people are just too smooth for their own good. Their targets see them coming a mile away and already have made up their minds if they want to deal with them or not.
We discussed those individuals who fall into the “adorable” category. He said that I often fall into that category, but of course Miss Bernadine (my alter – for those who’ve just met me) knocks me out of that category when she’s around. To be truthful, I find adorable guys, well, adorable. Everything about them is adorable. Their thoughts, the way they carry themselves, their genuine qualities, how they make you feel very comfortable in their presence. Adorable guys just get my juices revving, if I must say so myself.
Then we were discussing the ruggedly handsome. I’ve spoken about those men from time to time; those gentle men who could, literally, toss me around like a rag doll (I think you get my point with that description). They are sexy, strong, confidant, very friendly and they just have that innate ability to make a person feel safe when in their presence.
We bantered about the confused. These individuals really don't know what the hell they are doing. They enter into romantic entanglements, most times with their eyes sealed shut, and they make a mess of it. Then they will ultimately complain about their harrowing experience, and then in their next romance, they repeat the same mistakes over again. They are cute but clueless.
The victims. Now discussing these individuals almost made me want to cry - or vomit. Victims are those put-upon people who always seem to be the victim, play the victim, act like a victim, or fake it as a victim. "Woe is me" is their song of choice, and they will never change until they get stronger or more confident in themselves. Another group that's cute but clueless, but unlike the confused, these individuals will get on your nerves.
Oh, then we spoke about the pretty boyz. They are all around, and my friend is lumped into that category (although he vehemently protests that distinction because he says he’s much more than that). Pretty boyz can be fun, loving, lively and a great joy to be around. There’s only one problem – with some pretty boyz, a lot of admirers are a bit fearful of approaching them because they are so pretty. It’s a Catch-22, because they could be the best match for someone but their pretty looks and actions sometimes make them seem unattainable.
It’s easy to find that you fall into more than one category. Sometimes that's a good thing; sometimes not so much. But wherever you fall, enjoy it while you can.
So, my friends, this was part of that conversation. I thought it’d be a funny thing to write up. Can you see yourself in any of those categories? There are undoubtedly more categories, and these descriptions go for both men and women.
My final statement to him during our conversation on this subject:
“Dream lover?!? You couldn’t lump me into the pretty boyz category? … Bitch!”

I don't regret the times, but I don't want to be Penelope Pitstop either

A mysterious funky mood falls over me every once in a while. I have no idea why it happens, but it just occurs and stays for short time. This happens to all of us, but for me, I know it’s just residual feelings about a vicious cycle in my life.
Whenever this occurs, there are two songs that I listen to incessantly. The first song, “Alone Again, Naturally” by Gilbert O’Sullivan, speaks to me on so many levels. You see, in my relations over the years, I’ve found myself getting involved with individuals who aren’t really in a position to get involved with me for any long-term situation.
My last blog post, “Sometimes an affair to remember should not be forgotten,” addressed the fact that any sort of sexual indiscretion should be treasured and not regretted because it makes you the person you are today. And that I, myself, never feel guilty over any of mine.
Well, perhaps I don’t feel guilty, but I do look inside myself to figure out something that continues to elude me. I try to figure out why, even though I don’t regret it, why I sometimes (upon reflection) feel a little slighted.
Well I know why, and I must admit, it’s a little shameful to admit out loud. In a number of those situations, I always feel like I’m just the pit stop for the guy to reach his ultimate goal. They tend to find their loving partners after they spend time in my universe.
Sad to say, but there are two types of lovers – the ones you want in your future, and the ones you can only see in your past. This situation always reminds me of “The Way We Were.”
A brief synopsis of the film if you’ve not seen it: Barbra Streisand’s character, Katie, falls in love with Hubbell Gardiner, played by Robert Redford. Hubbell is a WASP who aspires to be a screenwriter; Katie is a politically active Jew, and after the two marry, her activism threatens Hubbell’s reputation in the industry. The two divorce some years later and both move on to other spouses. He marries a simple, Jackie Kennedy-type woman, but it is so evident that, even though Katie was so strong-willed, that is exactly the type of woman he needs.
This marks my point: Most men know they need to be with a partner who is safe, the Jackie Kennedy-type when you are making your moves upward in your gay life. But those men are well aware that you do need those activists who don’t sit back quietly and take the safe route in life, the guys who will challenge you to make the uneasy choices, and who’ll stand right by your side, not two steps behind you.
Some of us are Katie; some of us aren’t. I know that in certain relations, I’m too much of a Katie; it’s inbred in me, and I can’t change that about me. That may cause me to find that I’m the type that guys can only see in their past, because I don’t walk two steps behind the man I get involved with … I walk beside that man, or, *gulp*, in front of him. I’ve never been a shrinking violet. And who truly wants to be involved with the Jackie Kennedy-type of guy? Well, it appears a lot of guys do.
So this is one of the reasons I find myself in that funky mood at different times, when I feel like people just don’t understand me or get me. So it’s these times that I listen to Gilbert O’Sullivan’s song.
Now I said that I listen to two songs during these moods. The other song is sort of my redemption song, what I play in my head – and on my radio – over and over. This song, Gladys Knight and the Pips’ “I’ve Got to Use My Imagination,” is sort of an anthem for me.
This song reminds me that, although I may not be everyone’s dream husband material, I have a hell of a lot of things to offer, and if guys can’t see that and only look at being involved with me as a pit stop to their future ex-husband when boredom sets in, it’s their loss not mine.
There is a verse in the song that trumpets for me:
“Staring down reality
Don't do me no good
'Cause our misunderstanding
Is too well understood
Such a sad, sad season
When a good love dies
Not a day goes by
When I don't realize
I've really got to use my imagination
To think of good reasons
To keep on keepin' on”
Yes, sometimes we all must use our imagination, just to keep on keepin’ on. So, I guess this is something I need to work on changing about myself, allowing men to use me as a pit stop. I’m determined to break this cycle – even if it kills me.
The song, it just puts a pep in my step and I just grab a scarf and get to dancing – by myself, with others; heck, anything I see.
Now I don’t regret any of the “pit stops,” because it has made me the man I am today. I love myself first and foremost, so I know that as long as I have a strong and abiding love for myself, that’s the best I can have … next to God’s love.
So for those many men – the “Hubbells” in my life over the years – who have considered me their pit stop, I thank you. That probably sounds weird, but if not for all of you, the man I ultimately settle down with will know that he was chosen, not settled upon. And he will accept the “Katie” in me for all her glory.

Sometimes an affair to remember is one that should not be forgotten

(*I wrote this blog post last week, but for some reason it was difficult to post. I'm still not quite sure why, but perhaps it will come to me later*)

I’m sure we’ve all been there. You know, doing something and then immediately regretting it. Sometimes you feel guilty or remorseful about an action, and then you inevitably beat yourself up for it over and over.
This is going to sound pretty odd for those people who know me pretty well, but I can’t lump myself into that category. Things I’ve done in the past since coming out, I rarely ever feel guilty, or remorseful, or regret. I’ve felt in a lot of ways that perhaps once I came out, my system was not programmed to have those feelings, you know those, the “I regret that moment” gene.
When it comes to any sort of affection, if I’ve participated, I never feel guilty or regret it. The only emotions of this sort that creep into my being is if the other participant harbors those feelings. I’m not saying that I’ve never felt those pangs of guilt over something, but growing up and spending about two-thirds of my life under the thumb of religion, perhaps I’ve been in a position to compartmentalize those feelings.
I don’t take those feelings away from anyone. People feel what they feel. That’s the human experience, and in a way, I feel some jealousy for those who are able to have those emotions. I rarely envy others, but when people intake those emotions, I wonder if I’m just not equipped for that.
I try never to let someone think I don’t understand when they express the emotions, because in my mind, it makes me think that I’m belittling them or their feelings. Trust me, I am an empathetic soul and would never let anyone think their feelings aren’t genuine. It’s just hard to understand why they beat themselves up over it.
I guess in the back of my mind, I’ve not let people know that I don’t regret or feel guilt over any sort of sexual indiscretion or displays of affection, perhaps stolen kisses … I thought others might think I’m a sociopath or something.
Don’t worry, I’m not a sociopath. I just spent almost three decades forced to keep any displays of affection – in the Biblical sense – out of sight, and it gets very overly-cautious. I had to spend all those years celibate for the religion, and I tell you, once you get the chance to break out and set yourself free, you learn pretty quickly that the emotion of guilt and regret over those indiscretions are overrated.
It’s so funny how I’ve learned as a gay man to separate guilt. Trust me – I do feel guilt, but not in relation to any sort of indiscretions where emotions are involved. You learn after living years not in a position to express joy in many acts, having to save yourself exclusively for one person, you definitely would take full advantage of being able to express yourself sexually.
Once I claimed my sexual preference and busted out of that closet, there was no stopping me. And it was a difficult process, leaving my religion behind (but remaining religious) and it took some time to put things in check for myself.
My therapist (yes, I do consult one from time to time) said something pretty funny to me – not funny hah hah, funny peculiar. He said that I do have feelings of guilt and regret, and I have those feelings because I don’t have feelings of guilt and regret. In a nutshell, I feel guilty because I don’t feel guilty over any sort of indiscretion; and coming from a world of religion, that’s just not possible. And yes, he could very well be correct.
When I do run into someone who I’ve had any sort of intimate experience with in the past, I never feel bad or guilty; I’m actually pleased to see them. I never feel awkwardness because we have shared something, in my book, ultimately special. So when I run into the person(s) and see that they may feel awkward or uncomfortable, I truly wish they wouldn’t feel that way because I, myself, don’t feel that way.
Growing up in the church, and having to hide away all those feelings and emotions, it gives a person a sort of rejuvenation when you no longer have to do so.
I guess the moral of this particular blog, to put it in its simplest form, is that no matter what happens with a person, it is okay to feel a sense of contentment and look on an indiscretion fondly. It was a learning experience about oneself, and there is no regret about taking heart in the knowledge that, for a moment in time, you took a chance on bringing satisfaction to your life in some way, shape or form.
Take advantage of these moments, people. Life, as we all know, is way too short and as long as we always try our best to enter the experience with both eyes wide open, we have no reason to feel guilt or pressure to regret.
So smile when you run into that person with whom you’ve shared a moment in time. Because as long as you’ve taken a little positive away with you from the experience, it’ll be alright.