Passive

Thanksgiving was last week. That holiday where the main focus is supposed to be around people you love and sharing good times. For me, Thanksgiving was about eating as much as possible while watching the football games and pretending to go to sleep so I didn't have to participate in the conversations that were going on around me. Here a few snippets of the dialogue:

"Black men go over there to Asia and marry them Chinese women because they know they can control them."

"Asian and Japanese women always get more money from the courts when they divorce a Black man because they come over here to America with no skills and can't speak English so they need the help."

"I think a bunch of faggots made up the laws about who gets what when people get divorced. There's no way in hell a REAL man would write laws that would make men give women more money."

"I'll be damned if I let a fag tell me what to do."

I tuned out other parts and tried to forget the worst.

Fun stuff isn't it? The conversation started when a member of my family mentioned how she noticed a lot of Black men in the military were marrying non-Black women. (I have no knowledge as to the validity of the statement...)

So, I sat there trying to ignore the ignorance. Focused intently on the game I was watching with my plate of Thanksgiving food piled high, I figured it'd be best for me to keep my mouth stuffed with food for fear that I'd blow a gasket and go insane from the racism and homophobia.

The more I sat in silence, the more I grew upset at myself. Why couldn't I just say something? Why sit there silently simmering about the bile being spewed in their speech when I could stand up against them? If I sit here in my (albeit, uneasy) comfort and just let it go, what right do I have to ask anyone else to speak up for me when my identity is being dragged through the muck?

I felt like a coward. That was my chance to kill two birds with one stone. I could have finally come out to my family and shown them that I fully embrace this "different person" I've become while at Duke as they like to say. I could have shown them how I learned so much more about life in general than actual knowledge gained from a textbook.

But no. I sat there. Too scared of the consequences to speak up for what is right. Too afraid of becoming the family outcast that I practically already am. Too terrified to show them the real me that hides beneath the shell of the me they used to know. I sat there taking solace in the fact that it was easier for me to ignore it until I came back to Durham than stand up and fight. I could let it all pass until I could pretend once again that the family I'm supposed to love unconditionally and put before anyone or anything else and is supposed to do the same for me doesn't actually hate everything about the real me. I could pretend that I wouldn't know how they'd react or what they'd say behind my back.

Except, now I do know. They didn't even have to tell me directly.

I hate going home.

Election Day Sadness

It's Election Day.

That means that by the end of today (hopefully) we'll know who the next president of the United States will be. There are going to be a lot of really ecstatic people and a lot of really sad and/or angry people depending on the results.

For me, I'm going to be either somewhat sad or in a stupor for the next four years. Why, AJ? Shouldn't you only be sad if Romney wins? Why wouldn't you be one of the ecstatic people if Obama wins?

Well, it's because of my friends. Not all of them, but some of them. Particularly the ones that I consider(ed?) myself close to who voted for Romney. Even if he doesn't win, it still means that people I value as close friends, people that I've shared some of the most personal parts of my life with, people who've shared personal stories with me, people whose defense I run to without a second thought, voted for a man thinks of me as a second-class citizen not worthy of equality. It means that they supported a man who thinks that single-parent homes like the one I come from are a disgrace to our great nation and are a leading cause of gun violence. It means that they care more about them keeping a little extra money per year over equal rights for everyone. It means that might rights as a gay man come second to everything else. That hurts. Immensely.

How dare my friends say "AJ, I love you and support you and will always be there for you" with their mouth but then mark away the chance I have at living an equal life to them with their hands? "I'm just voting this way because I like Romney's economic plans." Without getting into the details of that statement (To be honest, I don't know the first thing about economics and don't really believe that any person has the *right* answer on how to fix our situation), you just said that your family keeping a few extra dollars per year is more important than someone you call one of your "closest friends" being able to marry who he wants and have the same benefits as when you marry your wife and being able to see his husband in the hospital etc. "I mean, I agree that you should have equal rights but I'm really worried about the economy." EXCUSE ME?! So you're more worried about your family only being able to spend 5 days versus a week in the Hamptons next year than my rights being restricted from me for the next 4 years? Oh, you're not that wealthy? So, how's Romney plan going to help you that much anyway? I just don't get it. I, as a person, could never vote for someone who wants to limit rights for others while also making sure that those with money remain the only people with money.

But, AJ, if you voted based on social issues, why are you getting upset at others who voted based on economic issues? I'm upset because I fear that some people just use economic issues to mask how they really feel about issues. I've heard it so many times from so many people that I care about that I can't help but wonder about it. I've spent several nights staying up all night crying about things going on in my life and theirs. We've been there for each other's darkest moments and our brightest. How can we be so close yet my rights mean so little? How can they say they support me but then vote against me?

It just doesn't make sense to me and it hurts. If voting a certain way isn't going to affect your life but has a huge impact on the life of someone you say you care about, then why not vote to support them? That's what a true friend would do.

So, I'll be sad either way tonight. I'll either be sad because the person elected will do everything in his power to make sure that I'm never treated equally in this country or because people I considered friends will be upset because that man didn't win.

Stereotypes Are Fun!

At least, I think they are. 

At Monday's meeting of Man to Man*, there was a discussion about stereotypes, how we deal with them, and where they come from.

I spoke about how I like to play into some stereotypes of a gay male. One such stereotype being that we are all incredibly knowledgeable and into fashion. We are all fantabulous, impeccable dressers with great taste and a natural flare for clothing. Some gay men might hate this stereotype because it doesn't describe them at all. Others may not mind it much because they actually do have a passion for fashion. I, on the other hand, like to think that I fall somewhere in the middle. While I do enjoy dressing nicely and think I do a pretty good job at matching colors, I know next to nothing about actual fashion (You're wearing a Gucci suit? Is that a special kind like a two- or three-button?). And, I know what I like and what I think looks good. So, every once in a while, I'll see a girl walk by with a really fierce pair of shoes on and I'll exclaim a somewhat high-pitched "YYYYYYAAAAAAASSSSS GURL! You are WERKING those shoes!" or something to that effect. 

It actually took me a while to realize that I was actually doing this. There was nothing wrong with it though. The girl always appreciated the compliment and it was just my way of being nice. But why would I say it in such a flamboyant manner? There's nothing wrong with doing things in a flamboyant manner, but it just wasn't something that I did. I never thought of myself as having that aspect to my personality. I started wondering whether it was actually a part of my personality that I was just becoming more familiar and comfortable with or if it was just me performing the stereotype that was prescribed to me. I sort of came to the conclusion that it was just me developing who I am as a person and even if this new aspect was foreign to me, I should totally embrace it.

And I do. But why did it cause me so much trouble? Well, because I like to think of myself as a stereotype breaker. From my childhood, I was told of the different stereotypes of Black men raised in poverty that I would never fall into if my mom had anything to do about it. I wasn't going to be a high school drop out, drug dealer, gang member who ends up in jail. I was going to defy what society said, statistically speaking, was going to happen to me. And so, I adopted that into every aspect of my life, including my sexuality. I wanted to defy every stereotype possible and leave people constantly guessing, never quite sure how to fit me into their narrow box of who they thought I should be or how I should act.

Which leads me to why I think stereotypes are fun. I think they're fun because you can play with them. You can confuse the heck out of people when you warp the stereotypes they already have about you. I've done it and it's so much fun. You can actually see their mental CPU saying DOES NOT COMPUTE! You can watch their facial expressions as they try to deal with the overload. And it's so much fun! For example, I can drop a really flamboyant line about how I love your outfit and then turn around and name all of the NFL teams. But wait, I'm gay right? So I'm not supposed to know football. *brain implodes*

It's all about finding power in those stereotypes, using that with which they try to limit us as a source of strength. It's in this that we can find solace and security. Instead of feeling trapped by the stereotypes that don't fit me (because, let's be honest, I know that I do fit some stereotypes but not others), I throw them back in the face of whoever is trying to give it to me. I mean, isn't that the reason we all hate stereotypes? Because people think that they apply to everyone one, but they don't. So, I think of it as my job to set the record straight (lolz) and tell them where the line is and not to cross it again. And it doesn't have to be done in a mean, angry way. I'm a huge fan of a subtle, snarky retort that let's them know they're wrong and you don't like it but it's ok. Just be more careful next time.

All I'm saying is that stereotypes are harmful for everyone. People hate it when they get stereotyped and those who do the stereotyping will never know they're wrong unless us stereotyped people show them. So, let's help each other out.

*Shameless plug: If you are a GBTQ male, I cannot urge you enough to at least come to one meeting of Man to Man. It's the perfect place to talk about issues that affect men in the community. There's always a great discussion and I promise you won't regret it. 

Fraud

Oh hi! It’s me again. Didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily did you? A silly, little ceremony and piece of paper couldn’t keep me away for long.  So, just a quick update on me: I graduated back in May. Woohoo! And, now, I work at Duke! Even bigger woohoo! I’ll be around for a few more years and, hopefully, keep contributing to this amazing blog.

So, what’s this post about? Well, graduating put me face-to-face with a decision that I had been struggling with for years: whether or not to come out to the rest of my family. My mom, one of my aunts, one uncle, two cousins, and my godmother were all coming up for graduation. I’m only out to my mom. Other family members have hinted at knowing my sexuality but never outright asked and I never said anything about it. That presented a lot of problems for me: What about my rainbow tassel from Lav Grad? What about the rainbow flag I have hanging in my living room? What about my favorite poster ever that was above my bed? What was I going to do with all the symbols of who I am when they came to visit me? I could leave them all up and be like “SURPRISE!” when my family walks in. I’ve wanted to come out to them for a while now and that could be the way to do it. Just rip it off like a Band-Aid and leave it at that.

I took a long, hard look at the Love=Love sticker on my messenger bag. Did I want to keep it on there or take it off? Who knew a decision as small as a leaving sticker on a bag would keep me awake for hours every night? In a fit of delirium and anxiety, I picked up my bag and ripped the sticker off. I ripped it off just like a Band-Aid.

After I pulled off the sticker, a metaphorical wound opened and so did my tear ducts. I cried for a really long time. It felt awful. In a teary haze, I went around my apartment taking down any symbol of my pride, feeling shameful with each sign I tucked away under my bed. As I took each pin out of the wall, I felt as though I was putting a pin in my heart. Once again, I was going back into the closet. The part of myself that I hated for so long but finally grew to accept and love was once again going into the deep, dark abyss of that wretched closet (or, at least, as far as I could make it go lolz). After the de-gayification of my apartment, I sat on my couch looking at the bare walls, tears still dripping down my face. The whole process was so emotionally draining for me. I felt exhausted. I felt like a traitor not only to the community but also to myself. I felt like a fraud. Mostly, I felt like a coward.

I was taking the easy way out, brushing things under the rug to be dealt with another day. I mean, I didn’t want to ruin my graduation weekend for my family which would in turn ruin it for myself, but in the end, it still ended up being more stressful and anxiety-ridden than joyous. I felt like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. If I came out to my family then, who knows what they would have done. By not coming out to them, I could never fully relax and enjoy the momentous weekend. It was a catch 22. I felt as though I chose the lesser of two evils: 1) stressing myself out and tarnishing graduation for myself or 2) putting the ball in my family’s court and hoping they aren’t upset enough to turn around and go home thereby still tarnishing my weekend.

So, graduation came and went. The weekend was mildly successful in that my family enjoyed themselves and loved seeing Duke. It was a failure in terms of excitement for me. I didn’t really relax and enjoy my graduation until the night it was over. My family was leaving the next morning so it gave me a reason to actually be happy. I could return to my actual life and just be me. It was this realization, this sudden relief, and the wave of happiness that led me to my big decision: I’m cutting ties to my family.

I’ve always had issues with my family or more like; my family has always had issues with itself. It wasn’t really a great environment to grow up in. I learned a lot about people’s behaviors and the awful ways they can treat each other from my family. There’s always been a lot of conflict. Even at big family gatherings, the underlying tensions hung in the air like the smell of the Thanksgiving feast we were about to devour. Since coming to Duke, I’ve been very estranged from my family anyway. I’d only see a handful of them when I went home for winter break. Didn’t really talk to any of them while I was at Duke except for my mom and very occasional call to or from my grandma. There was already a lot of space (physical and emotional) between us. It seemed like the next step. Why agonize over telling my family when they’re not a part of my life anymore?

I’m here at Duke working now. I’m (almost) self-sustaining. I don’t owe them anything and they have nothing to give me. I don’t ever plan to or ever see myself moving back home. I can live my life without their judgment and they can live obliviously to my life. I don’t have to go through the emotional trauma of coming out to people who honestly don’t mean that much to me and they are free to have whatever mental image of me they want to have. Sounds like a win-win to me.

But why do I still feel like a fraud?

Thoughts Of A Graduating Senior

So, it's come to this: my final blog post as an undergraduate at Duke University. It feels like just yesterday that I was taking that first step and nervously writing my first blog post. It was my sophomore year and even though I was out to all of my friends, I had never spent much time in the Center or even fully accepted myself as a gay man. I knew I was gay and had hooked up with guys before, but I had not told myself that it was ok. It was still something I was ashamed of and something I tried to downplay as much as I could.

Thankfully, I had an awesome roommate and brother who wouldn't let me do that to myself. He told me that I had to accept myself before I could be truly happy. Accepting myself meant more than just saying I'm gay and hooking up with the occasional guy. It meant not being afraid to talk about my sexuality with other people. It meant not lying to people when they asked where I was between 4-6pm on Friday.

And so, I turned to the blog. And now, here I am. A senior. Getting ready to leave Duke and all of the amazing people I have grown to know and love behind. Leaving the people that were once strangers but are now family.

Over my years here at Duke, I've learned a lot and so I hope to relay some of my nuggets of insight to you younger whipper snappers:


1) Get uncomfortable: Do something that makes you feel a little out of place, something you've been hesitant about doing. The only way I became involved with The Center was by stepping out of my comfort zone.


2) Be the lion: Just a creative way of saying be courageous. This goes hand-in-hand with my first piece of advice. It takes courage to break down that comfort wall, but without it, I wouldn't be writing for this blog, I wouldn't have my awesome fraternity brothers, I wouldn't be in my amazing a cappella group. Be brave and know that everything will be ok.

3) Don't close yourself off: I've seen it happen way too many times. Everyone has their group of close friends and there is nothing wrong with that, but don't ignore anyone not in your friend circle. Reach out to that new person sitting in the corner. Strike up a conversation with the person alone in the computer room. You never know. They might end up joining your friend circle. If not, you never know how your conversation might have helped them.

4) Don't judge: You don't have a gavel. You don't have the cool robe. You don't wear one of those ridiculous white wigs. That means that you have no right to make decisive judgments about someone else's life. Remember that. We are all different. We come from different backgrounds and have different experiences. We have varying views on life. And that's what makes us all special. This also includes actions.

5) Express yourself: In every way possible, express yourself in any way you see fit. I mean more than being artsy or wearing a neon pink shirt with fluorescent orange shoes. I mean your beliefs, too. Engage in conversations with people that have different views than you. Don't be afraid to go against the "norm" of what other people are saying. It's through these intellectual discussions about life that you become closer to people.


Above all else, love everyone. It is only through this mutual compassion that we can move forward and achieve progress. It's the only way we can grow as a community and as a people. Love = Love. I love you all and am going to miss each of you dearly. I can't thank you enough for the love and support I have received from everyone who reads and comments on this blog. You've helped me through quite a few rough times. I only hope that in the midst of all my rambling and identity crises, that I was somehow able to help you.


-
AJ Biggers
Trinity 2012

Stronger

I used to struggle a lot with my identity. Not just as a gay man but also as a black man, as a man, and as Greek. It seemed that so many of my identities overlapped but didn't coincide with each other. One identity was always in conflict with one or more other identities.

I felt as though I was always in this tug-of-war with myself to find which identity I really belong with. I had always felt that I should choose a side. That it wasn't fair for me to move between identities and groups, choosing which one was more convenient for me given the time and situation. I wanted to resolve myself to one main identity and let the others fall where they may.

Needless to say, that didn't work too well for me. I just couldn't deny part of who I am at the drop of a hat. I can't toggle back and forth between my identity like I do with TV channels. So, I was always frustrated. Never feeling totally out of place anywhere but also never feeling totally *in* place either.

But then, I realized something that so many people have been trying to get me to understand for the longest time. I DON'T HAVE TO CHOOSE. I can be me as me. I don't have to be me as a black man or as a gay man or as a Greek man. Who I am is a convergence of all those identities. Even if some of them don't usually mix with each other, it doesn't mean that I should feel uncomfortable in those situations. I look at myself as some weird mix of all of those that somehow works. I'm your living, breathing Chimera. Different parts put together that create a whole. One part is no more important than the other. All must work together in order to create balance.

That is what I must do. I have to accept that I am different because of my identities and that it's ok. There will rarely ever be a time where my identity completely matches up with everyone else in the room. And that's what makes me stronger than before. I can use my different identities and experiences to paint a picture of the life that others may not understand. My different identities are not a source of weakness, are not a mosaic of my life, are not the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. My identities come together to form this great work of art that is not separated into background, middle ground, and foreground. I am one big picture.

I don't have to fit into one category. I should consider myself lucky for being able to "pass" as different identities. I can go back and forth between different worlds, learning from all of them, teaching all of them about my experiences. Instead of viewing my identities as a barrier from one world, I can draw strength from all of them.

The Other Side Of Me

"AJ, you really shouldn't do that. That's not really you. You're just playing that role."- Me to myself several times a day.

I struggle with the more feminine aspects of my personality. It's been a struggle for me for as long as I can remember. I identify as a man and embrace my masculinity. It's one of the aspects about me, that is me. I am masculine (What that actually means is a subject for an in-depth discussion so I can't really answer that right now, so just bear with me).

But I've been learning more about myself. I'm also feminine. I have feminine qualities that kind of play a balancing act with my masculine qualities, both parts always trying to reach equilibrium. This didn't bother me for a while because the masculine side always managed to keep the scale tipped in its favor. However, lately, I've found that the feminine side seems to be a little bit more in control. And it kind of scares me.
It scares me that it scares me. My fear or apprehension over this slightly more feminine personality only highlights that I'm not as comfortable with my sexuality as I like to believe. It means that I'm still dealing with my own internal homophobia. I can't shake the fact that while I am openly gay, my more masculine image makes me different than other gay males. It makes me "not THAT kind of gay." And you know what? I've always enjoyed that.

I've always found comfort in being able to identify as gay but somehow keep some distance between the image I have of myself and those who are more flamboyant. It's a fine line to walk. I see absolutely nothing wrong with those men who are more flamboyantly gay. They're more courageous than I could ever be. It's enough of a task just for me to be able to openly admit that I'm gay despite being able to "pass" as straight. It somehow made me feel better that I could walk in a mass of people and not be immediately singled out as the gay one.

I keep hearing my mom's voice in my head anytime we passed someone that was flamboyantly gay: "God bless them. They're sick, twisted people bound for hell if they don't repent." I always knew that gay was bad but somehow, flamboyantly gay became worse. I've always thought that being flamboyant was just not a part of me and tried to squash any signs of it. That's not who I am. That's not what I do.

I was wrong. Maybe it is part of me and there's nothing wrong with that. I should express myself however I feel fit. I'm trying to come to terms with both sides of myself, trying to reconcile the reality of who I am with the image of who I think I am. It's not easy, but I'm trying.

These Are My Confessions

Well, it's only actually one confession but I didn't think that making it singular had the same ring to it.

Anyway, here we go. *deep breath*

I LOVE SHOOTERS!

Phew. That was a big weight off my shoulders. Why? Why is it such a big deal for me to love Shooters II?

It's quite simple. The negative stigma around the place is just all wrong. (Well, not ALL wrong. It's not the classiest or cleanest establishment, but when the place is packed with hundreds of inebriated college students every weekend, it's kind of hard to keep it in tip-top condition.)

And I feel that many queer folks look at Shooters as though it's "Straightland" or for heterosexuals only. Many fear being ridiculed or physically assaulted for dancing with someone of the same sex. A D-floor makeout with two guys?! Someone get them out of here! Right?

Well, my friends, I'm here today to let you know that it is not true at all. Take it from someone that has done everything from dancing with a guy in the middle of the dance floor, on the bar, AND in the cage or had a very aggressive dance floor makeout with another guy. I originally was expecting one of those awkward moments in the movies where the music comes to a screeching halt and all eyes are fixated on somebody in the middle of the room. I was expecting looks of death so strong that Death himself would die again. I was just waiting for one of the bouncers to come up to us and tell us we had to leave. I was listening to the music but for the sound of someone yelling the F-bomb. But here's what really happened:

ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

Everyone else around us continued dancing and enjoying their nights. The music continued playing. No security guy dragged us out. There were no obscenities yelled. This may be strange but that was one of the happiest moments of my life. I had just made out with the guy in the dead middle of a "straight", western-themed club and not a single thing happened.

I felt normal. I felt like this thing that I had been making such a big deal about didn't amount to a hill of beans. My sexuality didn't matter. No one cared what my sexuality was. All that mattered was that I was having a good time.

However, I understand the argument that some queer people may not like Shooters because they have no chance of going home with someone. Well, that's not always true. Are the chances of going home with somebody slimmer than at a gay bar? Yeah, sure but those chances are not non-existent. When you get hundreds of people in one area together, there's always a chance. Also, I know that I've learned to stop going out with the intent of finding someone to go home with that night. I've noticed that on those nights when I'm searching for a hookup, I don't have fun. My focus is on getting laid and not enjoying the night. And when searching for a hookup inevitably fails, I end up being pissed at the world and society for creating these impossible qualities that people look for in men. I usually end up having some big emotional breakdown and criticizing every little feature of my body.

So, I learned to just go out and have fun. If a hookup happens, then it happens. If not, oh well, I still had a blast with awesome people. That's how I learned to love Shooters. I don't look for hookups. I look for friends to hang out with. I look for people that I haven't seen in a long time so I can reconnect with them. I go and say hi to my favorite bartender. I celebrate my last year of college and all of the amazing friends I have. That's why I love Shooters.

Also, it's easier to get to and cheaper than other gay bars. #brokecollegestudentproblems

So, I beg of you. If you have any negative stereotypes about Shooters and haven't given it a chance, please do. Get a group of your best friends together and go. Form your own little dance group and dance the night away. Run into that random person from that class you hate and bond over it. Bump into the guy from your first-year hallway and see how he's doing. Climb up on that bar and fist pump like The Situation. And, above all else, RIDE THE BULL!

Oh, Mother...

It's a few days before Valentine's Day (yay/boo depending on how you view it. I have mixed feelings...)! But it's gotten me thinking about love and relationships and the whole hookup culture. As I was pondering over this subject, the conversation with my mother about my then boyfriend replayed in my head. So, I guess this is sort of a companion post to that post.

"Wait, so you actually wanted to be in a relationship?"- my mother

"Yeah. I prefer it over just hooking up with someone randomly. It makes me happier"- me

"Oh! I'm so happy to hear that! I thought you were just like all the rest of them and had sex with everybody and anybody! You don't know how relieved that makes me!"- my mother

"-____-"- me

Basically, my mother thought that I, along with the rest of the LGBTQ population, was just a sex hungry dog. She took my being in a relationship as a sign that I was not out walking the streets every night looking for new prey to lure to my "bed of lust and sin" (actual quote from a different conversation). I had no idea how to handle that.

Either:

"Yeah mom! I'm not that promiscuous!"

Or:

"Thanks mom for thinking that your son gets around more than the fabled milk man..."

I mostly ended up feeling hurt. It's one thing to know that your parents don't agree with your "choice of life" (another great quote) but it's another thing entirely to realize that your mother thinks you're going home with a different guy every night of the week. I take my sexual activities very seriously and do not want that label forced upon me. I've never wanted to be known as "THAT guy that sleeps around." I've always wanted to be a more relationship-oriented man. Have I had hookups before? You bet I have! And most of them were great and harmless. But they're not what I want for my life. They're not something that I personally value as being such a great thing. I'd much rather have one steady person in my life rather than bringing back Tom on Thursday, Frank on Friday, and Sam, Steve, and Shawn on Saturday.

I told my mom about how awful I felt when I had hookups with guys that I thought were going to go somewhere beyond a one-night stand. I told her about how I thought we had made some kind of connection that would last longer than the next 2 hours, but I was proved wrong. The hookup would happen and I'd never hear from them again. My mother said that it was because I was being used as an experiment. These guys weren't actually gay. They just didn't know what they wanted. They would probably end up being straight, which is why I never heard back from them.

First, I was a gentleman of the night. Now, I'm some kind of experiment. I was really beginning to feel like a million bucks with this conversation. Despite me telling my mother that I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that these guys were in fact gay and I was not the first, or last, man they hooked up with, she stuck to her guns and said I was just a test and that I'd see later on. She was right and I was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. In fact, I, too, am only investigating and will one day finally "come to [my] senses" and be with a woman.

So, yeah. Labels are never fun. Especially, when they're ones forced on you from the people you love most.

Oh, mother. Whatever will I do with you?

Reality Check

So, first things first. We have dates for this semester's Man to Man meetings! Check them out below and mark your calendars. All meetings will be at 7pm in the LGBT Center.

January 31st

February 28th

March 27th

April 17th

I hope to see you a lot of you guys at the meetings. I'm so incredibly excited about this! If you have any questions, feel free to email me at ajb56@duke.edu.

Now, on to the real post...

I've been out to my mom for about 4 years now, however, it's not something we talk about. At least, not in casual terms. Whenever the topic of my sexuality comes up, it's in hushed tones that weigh heavy in the air making it incapable for me to catch my breath from the immense weight that I feel on my shoulders from those hushed tones. The conversation always references God, hell, sin, and, worst of all, choice. So, when I decided to tell my mom about my boyfriend, I knew that I'd be in for the same thing but was hoping that it would be a little better.

I wanted to wait until probably the day before I left to come back to Duke to tell my mom about my boyfriend. I was hoping for a decent reaction but preparing for the worst. However, fate did not let it happen that way. We were having a conversation about Facebook and privacy when she just asked me: "Do you have a boyfriend?".

I was so shocked that she asked that I didn't know what to say. I never expected my mom to ask me. I was supposed to tell her. The role reversal had my mind spinning. What did this mean? Was she asking because she was genuinely interested or does she believe that me having a boyfriend is a reason for all of the changes she's seen in me (My mom believes that Duke and being gay has changed me from the son she once knew to this new person. Blog post on that coming soon. Stay tuned folks!)? It could mean that she wants to know more about my life and wants to be involved or she could use this knowledge as a weapon against me.

"...Yes, I do have a boyfriend..."- Me

"Ok, tell me about him."- Mom

We began to talk about him and she could sense my hesitancy and how uncomfortable I was talking about him. She didn't understand why I didn't feel comfortable talking to her about my sexuality. I began to cry as I explained to her how hearing I'm a sinner, a pervert, suffering from some sickness or disease every Sunday makes it difficult for me to talk to her about my life. When her life centers so much around church and religion, I just can't casually stroll into the house and talk about my boyfriend.

"Well, yes. I think that you choosing to like men is wrong but it's your life. You know what the Bible says about that. You can choose to do whatever you want. I don't have to agree with it or like it, but it's your life."

Hearing her say that hurt me so much and caused me so much pain that I felt my heart turn to stone. At that instant, I knew that we would never have a great relationship again. I didn't want to have the argument with her about how my sexuality is NOT a choice. I didn't want to ask her about the teachings of love and acceptance in the Bible. I didn't want to discuss it with her ever again. She wasn't going to change her mind or even try to hear my side of things. When my mom makes up her mind, it's done and no one can tell her any differently. I knew that I lost the argument before it even started.

"But, you know, at the root of it all, I just want you to be happy. I've learned that people should be happy in life. As long as you are happy, that's all that matters. Are you happy?"

"Yes, very."

"Good. That's all that matters."

UUUMMMMMMMMMM ok? To say I was thrown for a loop is an understatement. So she doesn't accept or agree with who I am but it's ok because I'm happy? Eventually, I understood what she meant. She wants me to make the choices that make me happy and if one of those "choices" is being gay, then so be it. My heart turned from stone to wood. I knew that she didn't hate me and wanted me to be happy but wishes that I found happiness in a different way.

And therein lies the rub. If I could change what makes me happy, everything would be fine but I can't do that. She keeps saying I haven't found the right girl and that it's just a phase but it's not. It's just not. There is no right girl for me. But I can't make her see that. And I've realized that now. We have fundamentally different views and we're not going to agree on them. It's sad but it's the reality of the matter.

Another Shameless Plug and A Few of My Most Stressful Things

Following Kyle's trend from yesterday, I'm going to do a little shameless plug before getting into the real point of this post.

So, there's a discussion group for LGBTQ-identified men called Man to Man. Did you know that? Most first-years probably don't because we haven't had any meetings this semester. We had some logistical difficulties but we'll be back in full action next semester. Man to Man is a monthly discussion group for LGBTQ-identified men for us to discuss the issues we face and how they affect us. Topics that have come up are coming out, stereotypes, gender expression, and lots of others. The group is meant to help us foster a community that goes beyond the superficial conversations and give us a support network of other queer men that we know we can talk to. If you're interested, shoot me an email (ajb56@duke.edu) and keep your eyes open for specific details on meeting times.

Ok, plug done. Now, on to the real thing.

Thing 1:

It's the end of the first semester. I'm a senior. I'm applying for jobs. I'm gay. What does this have to do with anything? Well, when applying to jobs (or when I actually start *grunt of agony*), I need to be cognizant of the company's treatment of LGBTQ individuals. See, I've decided that I'm going to be gay in my applications. I'm going to list my involvement with the LGBTQ community here. I'm going to talk about it in interviews when asked. I hid who I was for close to 16 years of my life. I'm not hiding anymore. But my refusal to hide myself brings up another fear: an employer's refusal to hire me for not hiding who I am.

I've tormented myself about this for a few months. I could keep my sexuality quiet and not worry about it. But what about when I find a partner? What benefits would he be able to get? What if my secret is discovered and the company doesn't take it well? Then, I'm still out of a job. Whereas, if I'm upfront about my sexuality from the beginning, then once I do find a job that is accepting of me, I'm totally set and don't have to lie about what I did last weekend or something like that.

And yes, I am terribly worried that I will get turned away from jobs that I am highly interested in because of my sexuality. I am worried that I'm going to have a harder time securing a job than my straight counterparts (that could also be due to my psychology major compared to others' economics major *defeated sigh*). But you know what I've told myself? That's life. Life sucks sometimes. I wish it didn't and it's not fair that it sucks because I'm gay, but I'm not going to sit and cry about it. I'm going to boldly march on in search of the right job no matter what rejections I receive.

Thing 2:

Following Jenn's inspiration (Gosh, I'm such a follower. Maybe because I have such awesome people to inspire me :D), I'm going to have a conversation with my mom about my sexuality and life in general when I go home for break. We've never had an outright discussion about me being gay, only awkward, subtle suggestions of acceptance. But I think I'm at a point where I need to hear the words from her mouth. Me applying to jobs as an out gay man is basically putting business out there for all to know, and I'd like to have my mom's blessing, I guess. Her opinion still matters to me a lot. It doesn't mean I'm going to completely change at her suggestion but she's my mom. I love her so I want to know what she thinks.

Also, and here's the big reason this is stressing me out, I'm going to tell her about my boyfriend. I'm incredibly terrified thinking of how she's going to handle it. It could range from an uncomfortable, slow acceptance to rage and shouting. Both will most likely involve crying from both of us. I've always kept my personal life somewhat of a secret from my mom, even the names of my friends. She's always asked questions about my friends that I was never comfortable with, but that's a personal conversation to have, not a blog post. Suffice it to say that I had good reasons to be so private. Telling her about my boyfriend is going to be the first time I've opened up to her about the details of my personal life. That is stressful enough. The fact that it's about her gay son's boyfriend just takes it to another level.

I haven't decided when we're going to talk about it, probably the day before I come back to Duke. I don't want to do it too early because if things go sour, I'll have to deal with that for two weeks. But I also want to give her time to think it over and ask me all her questions before I'm like "Peace out, mom. See you in 5 months!".

So yeah, that's what's stressing me out right now. This final I have isn't helping *pained moan*. The only thing getting me through this week is the thought of being done and my awesome boyfriend :-)

Weighing In

“I’m happy being single. I don’t mind it at all. Besides, I’m a senior. I’m not going to get into a serious relationship only to have it end a few months down the road.”

^That may be biggest load of crap I’ve ever let fall from my mouth. Is single life terrible? Nowhere near as bad as some people make it out to be. I’m not dying to be in relationship and I’m clearly functioning normally without a significant other. But am I truly happy? Not at all. I’ve rationalized to myself that I shouldn’t even entertain the thought of being in a relationship this year because I am a senior.

Here’s the truth behind it: I feel inadequate.

What do I mean by inadequate? Basically, think of any kind of insecurity someone can have. Chances are, I have it or some form of it. I’m very insecure about many aspects of myself. Biggest one: weight. This has been more of an issue for me in the past year or so and gets especially difficult around Halloween (which is why all of this has been on my mind).

For Halloween my freshman year, I was… a Chippendale stripper. Yes, feel free to fire any judgment at me you want. I had the bow tie, cuff links, short shorts, and everything else (nothing else). The only reason I was able to pull it off was because I was in the best shape of my life back then. I ran track for 3 years in high school and stayed active during the summers by volunteering at the local YMCA. My job was to play with the kids in the gym or outside. Staying in shape while eating whatever I wanted was never a problem for me. I could down 4 pieces of fried chicken, 2 whole corns on the cob, a hefty serving of green beans, large portion of fried okra, finish it off with a big slice of cake with ice cream and never gain a pound (I’m from Georgia. This was my regular dinner). Needless to say, that doesn’t work if you become less active like I did once getting to Duke. That, combined with the addition of alcohol into my diet, began to cause a steady weight gain and I haven’t been the same size since. Each year brings a few more pounds until Chippendale stripper becomes Theodore from Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Now, it’s not a far stretch to say that having a little more meat on your bones makes it difficult to find lasting relationships in the gay male community. When every other conversation is about how many calories you just ate or how you’re dying because you haven’t been to the gym in two days, it’s difficult to believe that people actually care about something other than physical appearances. I stand by and smile as though nothing’s wrong, but on the inside, I’m crying. I’m crying because I feel like I’m not good enough simply because of my weight. I feel as though no one will actually pay attention to me until I drop about 30 pounds. I cry because I feel like I’m in the minority of gay males who don’t place such heavy emphasis on the exact specifications necessary in a significant other (Oh yay! Another minority group! That’s just what I needed to feel like a regular member of society (-___-)). To make things even better, I get placed in a body type category which has its own stereotypes. Seems like everything in a gay man’s world is weight-centric and it pisses me off to no end. Don't we already have enough categories within our community already? Why do we feel the need to create more labels and more categories to further separate us? I don't understand why I can't just be a guy, and not a bear cub. That extra label tells you absolutely nothing about who I am as a person besides giving you insight into my weight.

I know this all a load of crap though. I know that I’m actually not overweight, like I’m actually a very average weight. It just really sucks when I look at other people and feel like I shouldn’t eat anything for the next month. It’s so hard to stay true to myself when society keeps telling me that I need to change. It’s even worse when people I’m around become physical manifestations of that force. It’s easy enough to give the big middle finger to an abstract concept, but when that abstract concept is personified in an actual person I’m interacting with, that big middle finger finds itself limp by my side. Part of me thinks that if I want to survive in this gay world, then maybe I need to adapt partially to it while retaining who I am at the core. But that’s not me. I don’t even know if that’s possible. I change for no one… at least, I hope not.

Gay Time

The past few months have been incredibly stressful for me. I was in a relationship, then out of a relationship, dealing with housing problems, adjusting to life off campus, trying to figure out what I want to do with my life, trying to figure out *if* I can do something with my life, the usual identity crisis that I never seem to figure out, and more things that perpetually swim around in my head. I've had my good times, my bad times, my amazing times, and times where I wanted to crawl into a cave and fade from existence. On top of it all, it's my senior year. I've got one more chance to do things right here, to get involved, to reconnect with old friends. So, I sat down with myself and asked myself, "Self, what do you want to do with yourself this year? It's your last year. You only get one more shot. What are you going to do?"

After first answering myself by saying that I'm going to Disney World, I thought for a minute and my big revelation: "Self, I'm going to be gay."

"Good choice, my friend."

I didn't start coming to the Center or LGBT events until my sophomore year. It was a very different time back then and decided that I didn't want to get involved with the community. I had my fraternity. I had my a cappella group. I had the FAC program. Gay was never a major identity for me anyway. I didn't need the community. I thought I'd be fine without it. As time went on, I would randomly show up at a Fab Friday or pop in to use a computer for 5 minutes but it didn't become a regular thing until junior year. Even then, I'd come to Fab Friday and that was about it.

And so, I just went through the first 3 years of my college career being openly gay but not being gay. I'd go to a gay club here and there but that was about the extent of it. And for a while, I was fine. I was happy having a short emergence into the gay world and then going back to my normal life. But, recently, things have been different.

I've had this gnawing feeling in me that something just wasn't right. Something was missing in my life and I needed to find out what it is. I got tired of my same old routine. In the midst of just going through the emotions of life, I lost myself. I didn't really know who AJ was anymore. I can tell you what he's majoring in, what music he likes, and what he's involved with on campus. But I couldn't tell you anything about AJ.

So the soul searching began. What in the world is wrong with me? What aren't I having fun with my brothers like I always used to? What am I doing wrong? I'm not doing something right. Then, it hit me.

Me. I'm not doing me the right way. I've always associated the Center with being a very flamboyant, overly radical, just super-gay gay. That's not exactly my style (I do have my moments, honey). I ended up just staying away from it. Finding friends outside of the Center. It took me all of this time to realize what I should have known all along: The Center is what you make it. Going there doesn't mean that I'm being extra gay. It doesn't mean anything. There were people that I once resented because I thought that they labeled me as not being gay enough or thought they looked down on me for not making the Center my second home. And I was wrong. I was drop dead wrong. I was basing my view of myself off of what I thought others would view me as. Just revealing my insecurities about myself.

And so, I chose not to really acknowledge who I am because of that. I knew and accepted my gayness but thought that my gayness was not the gayness that was at the Center. This stupid ideology led me to not really have many gay friends, thinking I didn't need friends like them. I wasn't one of those gays. I don't need to be surrounded by gays all the time. I have a life outside of being gay.

All of that came back to bite me in the butt when I realized that I was neglecting myself of a world of all these awesome queers and allies. I was rejecting my community and that simply just cannot be.

It's with that in mind that I've deiced to be gay this year. You'll often see me planted at a computer doing work (Facebooking) at the Center. You'll see me be one of the first people to show up at Fab Friday and one of the last to leave. I've decided to have regular parties at my apartment for the gays and allies. It's time for me accept the community that's been here for me all along. It's time for me to be gay.

Thug Boy

"Tha #1 place fa thug lovin'."

That's what the tagline to an ad for a porn site by the same name of this blog post said. I came across this ad while reading a terrible article about a black man who was killed by some drunk white teenagers. Turns out the black man was gay and had a partner of 17 years and a daughter. A wrongful death lawsuit is being filed, however, the partner of the deceased man cannot join in it because of Mississippi laws. Gotta love the Deep South right?

The article alone was enough to set me ablaze with rage, sadness, and disdain. While fuming over this horrendous injustice, I noticed an ad to the right of the article. It pictured two naked black men in a sexual position with the word "ThugBoy" written across the bottom. It was an ad for black gay porn site.

Wait. What?! Is that...? Does that say...? Really?! An ad of that nature next to an article about the brutal murder of a gay black man? Is that just not the most vile, disgusting, revolting, insensitive, offensive thing in the world to do?! Now, I'm well aware that some of these ads are just randomly placed in locations based on the subject matter but still. Did none of the editors of the website catch that and try to replace it? Why would they even allow ads like that on a website that is not a porn site?

Of course, this sent me just flying over the edge on my unicorn, my rainbow flag cape blowing in the wind. I began to smolder with disgust. Was this the normal portrayal of black men in the porn industry? As a black gay man, am I automatically labeled as a thug? Am I unknowingly a player in some guy's sick fantasy of being roughed around by some big black guy that spews profanity and racial slurs with less than correct English grammar and dropping or not fully enunciating the ends of his words? I had to dig deeper. This can't be how it really is. Can it?

I began to do searches for black gay porn. I'm not going to lie and say that I haven't looked at porn before, but it's never been black porn in particular. The results of my searches found several websites playing into this whole "thug" role. Normal descriptions included "hung black thugs," "black thugs on twinks," "black thug boys," "gangsta gays," and so on. Each one perpetuating the stereotype of black men being hyper aggressive, hyper masculine, spouting more profanity than a sailor could ever think of, speaking in a language that I could barely decipher.

It was disgusting. I was appalled, shocked, and offended. As a black gay man, I am incredibly offended by the common portrayal of black gay men in porn. Granted, it is the porn industry so I'm not expecting much class or taste from it, but this was just too much. How can we ever do away with these stereotypes if this is what millions of people see and, even worse, want?

That was the next part that scared me. Do people expect and want this type of behavior from me when considering me sexually? Am I just a part of their exotic fantasy? Considering the way some men have responded to me at gay clubs and bars, it would make sense. I felt sexualized. I felt like my entire being was reduced to the representation that was playing on my computer screen. For the first time, the interactions I had with other gay guys made sense: "You wanna (something to explicit to ever be repeated) to me?" "You're so sexy. Why don't you (ditto) me?" "I like it rough. I'm sure you can give it to me like that." My responses to each were either "Ew!", "No!", walking away or a combo of all three.

This over-sexualized persona represents everything I try to fight against in my life. I'm more than your sexual fantasy about getting laid by some big black thug in baggy clothes with a grill in his mouth. I'm more than some deep voice yelling insults at you while we're hooking up. Yet, this is what the porn industry perpetuates.

At the end of it all, I can't really be upset for people wanting what they want. I mean, I'm gay, I'm in the same boat (hopefully, with lots of sailors :P ). I love who I love and want who I want. I would just be really appreciative if there were more depictions of black gay male sexuality than thug, even beyond the porn industry. And this is not to say that being someone who would fit the thug or gangster persona is an awful person. This is just me crying out against the projection of this persona on me. Try talking to me first before you let what you see on the internet dictate how to interact with me.

Mama's Boy

"I like Lady GaGa! Born This Way is my song!"- my mother as of 7/5/2011 at around 10:30 pm. She then proceeds to sing the chorus.

Something in me broke at that moment. A single tear rolled down my cheek as I chuckled into the phone.

"Why are you laughing at me?!"- she asks.

"Because that's something I never thought I'd hear you say...." I respond.

We went on to chat for another hour or so but her singing Born This Way just kept playing in my head. My mother, who still listens to old Motown and Christmas music (year-round), had not only heard of Lady GaGa but also loves one of her songs. And not just any song. I think it's a fair statement to say that it's the most LGBTQ- affirming song of our time and my mother, who goes to church every Sunday (and Wednesday) and once called me the son of Satan for being gay, was singing Born This Way to me over the phone. She didn't say much else about it except that she likes Lady GaGa more than Beyonce (Yeah, I made that same face you're probably making right now).

Back to the conversation. Now, we're talking about crime dramas and how she can't watch them because she always cries. She described one episode of a tv show where the criminal was a pedophile and creating child porn. After telling me how long she cried over that episode and has never watched the show again, she says "Now, as long as two consenting adults are having sex, it's fine by me. But not with children!".

She said "two consenting adults." She did NOT say "a man and a woman" like she has told me in the past. Another tear began to slowly stream down my face. I've become very observant of the things my mother says now and as I've mentioned in a similar post (here), she's been subtly using phrases or saying things that make me think she's slowly becoming more accepting of who I am.

On to part two of the conversation. At this point, I'm beginning to tell her that I don't want to go to graduate school in psychology. Instead, I want to go directly into working for an advertising company or something related. I explained to her that the thought of doing 2 years of research to get a graduate degree did not sound appealing to me and that I would probably hate my life. I told her how certain classes I took last semester opened my eyes to the world of advertising. For the first time in a very long time, I actually had a thirst to learn again. I wanted to learn more about the tricks of advertising and everything that goes with it. She initially met me with strong opposition. "But you could become a teacher. You'd make a great teacher! Or you could do therapy. You have this ability to see people for who they are and you can help people in need. Doesn't that sound exciting to you?", she rattled off as soon as I stopped talking. Long story short, we went back and forth for a while before this...

"I just want you to be happy. I want you to build that house you've always dreamed of. I want you to have the nice car you've always wanted. I want my son to be happy. No matter how that happens."

At this point, I began to fully breakdown. Thankfully, she decided to go to bed so I hung up the phone and let the flood gates open. I usually dread to see that my mom is calling me. I've been avoiding talking to her for the past few weeks actually. But by the end of the conversation, I felt like the worst son ever and also the luckiest. She hasn't directly said that she supports me as her gay son, but, part of me feels like she doesn't have to. I know what she means. Every time that I talk to her, I can her it in the "I love you baby" at the end of every conversation. I can sense the pain and longing for her only child in each "How are you doing?". It stabs me in the heart with every "I miss you."

So no, she hasn't said "AJ, I support you for being gay", but, I know in her heart that she does. And that was evident to me tonight. Would I like for her to say it? Hellz yeah! It would lift a great burden off my shoulder. But I know that her saying that could be just as hard as it was for me to first say "I'm gay" to her. So, I won't push. I know that she'll say it when she's ready. Her saying that would be going against everything she was raised on and believes in. It would be cracking her entire faith system, the thing she believes in, loves by, and lives by. So when she's ready, so am I.

I guess that last thing that really hit me after that conversation was this: I'll always be a mama's boy.

I love you Mommy!

The Ghost of Summer Past

I'm back at square one again. If you're a long-time follower of the Blog, then you'll remember me struggling with coming out at my job. (You can catch up here.) Well, I ended up not doing anything and kinda letting the situation disappear. I never really came out but I always avoided any kind of conversation about sex and/or girls. I tried to leave subtle hints like leaving my internet browser on my computer with the Blog open or shopping for a "Legalize Gay" shirt while at my desk but nothing that directly said "Oh hey, btw, I'm gay."

I left my job at the end of the summer not worrying about it, thinking that I would never see those people again except for maybe passing each other on the quad. Obviously, I was wrong.

I was invited to come back and work again this summer. I didn't have any other summer plans so I figured it would be a good way to make some money for the school year. Little did I know that two of my fellow coworkers from last summer also decided to come back and work again.

Ok. Cool. That's awesome. They already know the ropes so things will go a lot smoother this summer. The whole I-never-actually-came-out thing didn't cross my mind... until a few days ago.

As we were starting our day at work, we found one of the yearbooks from last year and began to flip through it. My other coworkers had not seen it yet. We browsed through, commenting on how we thought it was funny/awkward to have pictures of tailgate in the yearbook. Then, we got to this beautiful photo of a certain three rooms in Kilgo that were flying rainbow flags outside their windows. One of my coworkers stopped on that page. I stood there bracing myself for what he was about to say.

"I didn't know what those flags meant until last year. I just knew that a lot of people liked flying rainbow flags", he said. Ok, not bad. I can deal with that. If people aren't exposed to certain cultures, they wouldn't understand the different symbols of that culture. He just needed to be educated. So, now he knows. Good. Next page!

"I have a friend that loves to tear them down hahaha!"

I don't know how to explain how I felt after he said that. It was a mixture of rage/ disgust/ anger/ fury/ thirst for blood and sadness/ pity/ hurt/ pain/ disappointment. I wanted to tear him limb from limb like in Mortal Kombat and at the same time, just hang my head and walk away. This was the same coworker from the other post that invited me to his fraternity party by telling me there would be plenty of girls.

He confirmed my worst fears about him. As much as I tried to not impose the "douchey frat boy" stereotype on him, he just kept insisting that I treat him like one of those frat guys that make all of us look bad (Yes, even as a fraternity member, I recognize that some members of the Greek community are complete and total... bad, awful, not nice people).

I was able to compose myself to squeeze out a nonchalant "Why would your friend do that? Does he have something against gay people?" I was on the verge of saying more but I knew that if I did, I would end up probably with my hands around his neck. He said that he didn't think his friend was homophobic, he just thought it would be fun. "I think it's kinda funny actually." Now, that actually pissed me off even more. At least if he was homophobic, there would be some hope of educating him. But you can't cure stupidity and ignorance. Luckily, before I could unleash my fury upon him, my boss walked in and put us to work.

I fumed about that for days and I'm still fuming actually. That event showed me two things: 1) He didn't get the sexuality hints I was trying to drop and 2) As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes, stereotypes are spot on. He's the perfect example of the negative connotation of "frat star." (Sidenote: I think "frat star" can also have a positive meaning. I'll explain that later though. Stay tuned!).

I just don't know how to handle this situation. I know that I should say something to him about how I didn't appreciate what he said and that I find it really offensive for someone to do something like that. However, I now find him so repugnant that I don't want to talk to him anymore than absolutely necessary. And I know that's not a good way to feel about anyone, especially a coworker, but I just don't want to put up with people that I despise. I've got better things to do with my life. I know, I know. That's a horrible attitude but I just get so frustrated with intolerance of any kind that my temper would be more of a detriment than an asset to the cause.

So, my question is once again, what in the world do I do?

True To Your Heart*

First, listen to this. It’s important to the rest of the post. Did you like it? Good! (If not, boo you. :P) I’m a very musical person. I express myself through music which is why my last post had a lot of music links dispersed throughout. I can more readily find a song that describes how I’m feeling better than I can describe it to you. It usually comes out something like “I feel like *grunt* *moan* *random hand gesture*. Know what I mean?”. There are times where I’m not sure how I’m feeling (Yeah, weird. I know. But my emotions are a very complex thing). So, I turn to music to give me a little insight into what’s really going on in my head. And that’s how this post came about.

I noticed that I had been listening to that song repeatedly for the past few days. I just generally hadn't been as happy as I normally am. I really wasn’t just enjoying life. I didn't notice it at the time but I was listening to the same emotional songs all the time. So, I sat myself down and had a long conversation with my inner me (You should try it. Not literally talking to yourself but some deep reflection). I went through all the usual problems: trying to fit in in this world, academics, single life, family issues, and finances. But none of those were particularly bothering me at that time. It seemed like everything was ok. So, I didn't know what the matter was. But then, I started talking to a friend of mine and he started telling me about all the numbers he got from guys at this bar. Then he started telling me about this hot guy he hooked up with and how he met a different guy the night before. I listened and laughed and whatnot, but on the inside, I was fuming. I ended up cutting the conversation short because I just couldn't take it anymore. When I realized how upset I was, I took a step back to think about why I was so angry. I realized that it wasn't anger, it was jealousy. Now, I've had my *ahem* fun nights but not to the extent that he was having and I was so insanely jealous. Why was he getting all the attention? Why can he drop a napkin and have 50 different guys fighting to be the one to pick it up for him? Why does he get to have his pick of any guy he wants to go with while I’m standing right there considering myself lucky if a guy looks at me? What can I change about myself? Am I doing something wrong?

That was it. I had a similar conversation with another friend of mine about a week before that. Since then, I had been listening to all of my emotional/ heartbreak/ depressing songs. I gave myself a metaphoric slap to the face. I couldn't believe I let myself get so upset because I’m not living the life it seems like so many other people live. I was jealous because I wasn't going home with a different guy every week. It bothered me that I didn't have a smorgasbord of men to choose from. But, I forgot something really important: that’s not me!

That’s not the life I want to live. That’s not the “me” I want to be. I don’t want to have this endless list of random names and numbers of guys that I met at a club but nothing more happens. If that’s how you are happy living your life, then great for you! Enjoy your life! But that’s not me and I had to remember that. I take pride in the fact that I don’t have many random hookups with guys. It helps me retain some sense of sex being a special thing. Don’t get me wrong, I have my moments of weakness, but sex is never the first thing on my mind when I’m going out. I want to go out with my friends and enjoy their company first. If there’s someone there that catches my eye, then we’ll see where things go.

There's nothing wrong with me. I'm perfect just the way I am. And you are, too! It's easy to get impatient when it seems like other people have a revolving door of partners coming in and out of their life, but don't lose hope. I lost that hope and myself in the process. I know that there have been a few times when I gave in to temptation and ended up spending the night with someone just to say that I did. I woke up hating myself for what I done. Not that it was bad or the guy wasn't a nice guy but it just wasn't what I'm ultimately looking for in my life. Call me a helpless romantic but I'd actually like to find someone to actually start a stable relationship with where sex isn't the focus of our interactions. Random hookups are physically satisfying but emotionally draining for me.

I’m here to tell you that it’s hard to keep focus on what you want from your life when there are so many people around you that are doing the exact opposite. At times, it will seem like everyone else is doing it so you should, too. But that’s not true at all. Stay true to your morals and your beliefs because, at the end of the day, you have to live with decisions you make. Others may tell you that you should be more like them and loosen up a bit. But don’t do anything you aren't ready for or that’s not you. You’d think this is a lesson I would've learned in elementary school, but I guess I’m a slow learner.

“Sometimes it’s hard to follow your heart… just be true to who you are” because “you’re [freakin’] perfect.”**

*Bonus points to anyone that can name the song, artist, and what movie this song was in.

**I didn't post the Pink video “F**kin’ Perfect” because I felt it’s a bit too inappropriate for the blog. But I did post the video of my favorite YouTube personality discussing the song so you can hear the lyrics and hopefully get a laugh or two in.

Butterfly In A Hurricane

So, my last posts have been more along the let’s-talk-about-uncomfortable-issues line of topics. But, for this one, I wanted to bring it back to a more personal level. The only problem with that is that I don’t know where to begin. I’ve got so many thoughts and emotions swirling around, zipping back and forth between my head and my heart, dancing in my chest and on my sleeves that I can’t really describe any of it. I guess I’ll just start...

I feel alone. I feel like I’m lost in the world again, similar to the way I felt throughout high school and early college. I believe Katy Perry was talking to me when she asked if I ever felt like a plastic bag drifting in the wind. Back in high school, I wasn't like everybody else (even beyond being gay). Somehow, everyone just became absolute best friends and we’re hanging out with each other all the time. They always made plans for the summer and birthdays. I, who was right there at the table while they were making these plans, was never invited. For fear of not having anyone else to sit with, I stuck with that group of “friends” for the rest of school. But, as soon as graduation came, it was goodbye and good luck. I wasn't really living those 4 years. I was floating through life just waiting for life to settle me in some place I could grow.

Well, it landed me here at Duke. As much as I could, I rooted myself to the ground and began the photosynthesis process of taking in all Duke has to offer and turning it into energy to grow into the mighty oak my mother says I am inside. It worked for a while. I began to find my way around life and began to develop into my full potential, but somewhere along the way, a storm came through and uprooted my not-too-deep roots. Once again, I was caught up in the whirlwind of life being tossed to and fro, torn inside out, thrown into the haze of confusion and despair, and flung into the darkness of depression. I lost sense of who I was and who I wanted to be. I didn’t know me. I didn’t know anything except that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. The friends I once felt so close to moved on and we followed different paths, never destined to cross again. Others that I once walked side-by-side with now had paths that took them just out of arm’s reach, leaving me ever grasping for that closeness once again.

Every once in a while, the storm will die down just long enough for me to catch my breath and gather what little identity, security, peace, joy, happiness I could find. But as soon as I had a shred of each in my hand, the storm would pick up once again, ripping me from my little bastion of safety. I’m in that hurricane once again. I don’t know where I belong. Do I belong with the gays, the greeks, or the blacks? I don’t know where I’m going. Do I go to Fab Friday, Shooters, or a probate? I’m just trying to survive this thing called life. I’m trying to navigate these highways that everybody else seems to be speeding by on while I’m driving in the right lane going 5 mph under the speed limit.

I don’t feel like I belong anywhere. And I think people know that. They can sense how uncomfortable I am in these spaces where I don’t feel completely comfortable/ accepted/ welcome. That’s what this whole thing boils down to. I’m not totally comfortable anywhere anymore. It’s like I missed the memo about what to wear or when there was an open invitation and I showed up wearing the wrong color or on the wrong day.

I feel like it’s too late now. I mean, I’m a junior. At this point, I feel like everybody’s got everything figured out or, at least, some sense of something. They either know where they belong/ who they belong with/ or are totally happy being alone. I’m not either one of those and, with groups already stabilized, I don’t feel like I can/ want to use the energy trying to break into one. I’m stuck in this limbo where I just don’t know what to do. Nothing seems constant in my life. Everything and everyone is always changing and I don’t know how to manage it all. People come and go. The only thing constant is change.

Let's Get Real

Tonight is the second meeting of the LGBTQ men’s discussion group and the focus of tonight’s conversation will be on navigating the social scene within the community. So, I’m going to use this blog post as a jumping off point for discussion. Of course, these are only my opinions based on my personal experiences. I welcome any conversation you’d like to have about anything I say here (or you can just come to the discussion group meeting tonight at 6:30pm in the LGBT Center).

Anonymous post #2 from this week really struck a chord with me. I read that one and immediately became infuriated because this is a problem I’ve seen come up time and time again in the gay community, especially among the men. As soon as there is a rumor that there’s some new guy that is out or in the process of coming out, everyone just has to find out who he is and what it looks like. This sickens me to my stomach because this seems to be the only time when the men come together. Now, some guys do have honorable intentions like trying to reach out and make you feel welcome, whereas others, let’s just say, have less honorable motives. Why can’t we just let people live there lives and come out when they want instead of exposing them to everyone else? I know we love to welcome new members into the community but they should do that in their own time. Please correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t we as community here to be there for those that want to join us? It’s one thing to go up to someone in the Center and strike up a conversation with them (but NOT going directly to discussing their sexuality) and it’s a completely different thing to approach them anywhere else and ask them on a date. The former of these is a friendly welcome while the latter is a stalker move.

Maybe I’m a bit overly critical, but I have reason to be. In high school, when I first began coming out to my friends, I asked them to not tell anyone because *I* wanted to do it and I had hoped to contain my little secret to my close group of friends. Well, it only took one person to say something to the wrong person and soon enough, the entire school knew. I began to get weird looks from people that I had only interacted with maybe once or twice. The three other openly gay guys in the school started approaching me and trying to get me to talk about my sexuality when they previously would not give me the time of day. So many people began talking to me only to see if the rumors about my sexuality were true. I figured that I might as well tell the truth since the unicorn was out of the bag. Thankfully, I mostly had positive reactions, but I was still upset that the people I trusted were so fast to turn their backs on me. I felt disrespected.

And that’s what this comes down to: respect. As a community, we need to learn to respect people’s privacy. Telling everyone about the people you’ve hooked up with thanks to the wonders of websites is not ok! How can we ever expect people to get off the internet and feel secure enough to reveal themselves openly, if we keep doing it for them? I think that’s one of the main reasons why we struggle to get new faces in the Center. They know that rumors spread like wildfires and if they’re not ready to be out to everyone, it’s easier for them to just stay in the closet. I, personally, don’t like everyone knowing all the intimate details of my life because I’ve been a victim of the rumor wheels and the little birdies. So, I keep a lot of things to myself or to people that I 1000% know I can trust, which is not many at all. If I want something publicly known, I’ll put it on Facebook or Twitter. Otherwise, it’s my business to tell or not tell as I so please.

If you choose to think of this situation as people just wanting to expand the community (which it honestly is for some people), that’s fine. But also realize that some people only care about expanding their hookup options. Part of navigating this gay social scene is being able to tell the difference between people that only want to get to know you and people that want to “know” you in the biblical sense.

I know that this isn’t the most optimistic, rose-colored view that many people debating on coming out want to hear, but it’s the reality of the situation. And while I love being optimistic, I have to keep it real with you. This community has its issues just like every other community does. Do what you feel is best for you, but if these problems bother you as much as they bother me, please join me in rectifying them. Don’t accept this as the standard. Come in and help change it. Let’s make sure that no one else has any problems like this again.