fiction and musings from a gay black dude with delusions above his station
It’s depressing that queer storytelling is still regarded as something rare, unique, or extraordinary. Even in an age where queer characters populate more films and TV shows, the voices from these characters are usually just a footnote rather then the main subject. The film 54, from 1998, pops to mind. Named after and set in…
On Salon I found a wonderful coming out essay written by Jean Melasaine in which she recounts the multiple communities she has grown into during her life. She was born to Samoan parents who immigrated to the US. Her parents speak little English. Her family was poor. And they attended the Mormon church, where she quickly…
{Editors Note: The dialog between Jameel and Alfonso was taken from my unpublished novel Sin Against the Race.} He knew Hegel. He knew Marx. He knew Lenin. He knew Trotsky. He knew Mao. He knew Ché. He knew Cleaver. He knew a whole bunch of others that none of the rest of the group knew. …
This story could be called a love letter to the Duke Ellington Orchestra. I wrote it around the time I fell head over heels for all things Ellington and started listening to his music 23 out of 24 hours in the day — a practice I continue to the present time. I immersed myself in…
I love photographic exhibits. One of my favorites was a retrospective of California based 20th century photographers at the Oakland Museum of California some years ago. It featured the works of Ansel Adams, Imogen Cunningham, and other masters of that generation. A good photograph tells a story reflecting some aspect of the age in which…
1985. UCLA. Sophomore year. I fell into the swell of anti-apartheid protests that engulfed the campus that year and began to live the life of the “activist student.” My mother made a suggestion.
“You should start writing a journal.”
