fiction and musings from a gay black dude with delusions above his station
This month, I’m curating a series of photos of books by and about black gay men on Instagram. We have a long, rich history of telling our stories. Sadly, much of it remains hidden just beneath the surface. Even today, one learns about these jewels by word of mouth. Sometimes, folks ask me if I’ll…
[Part of a series of posts previewing the novel Sin Against the Race.] In addition to meeting his late cousin’s friends, Alfonso meets two folks closer to his age: Bill Hawk and Roy Prince. Before there was Alfonso R. Berry III, there was Bill Hawk, an 18-year-old freshman. In early drafts of Sin Against the Race,…
[Part of a series of posts previewing the novel Sin Against the Race.] Sammy Turner can be a nag. Some might call Sammy Turner a busybody, because he knows everybody’s business. All that know him, however, will eventually admit that Sammy Turner is their rock. His corner grocery story is the kitchen of Carver Street, the…
I wanted an area where black and queer intersected, overlapped. My friend and former college roommate Pete recommended that I create my own neighborhood—from this suggestion The Huck was born. In its center lies Huckleberry Park, a large urban patch of green that spans several long blocks. A largely African American neighborhood, straight folks live…
Get ready, folks! My first novel Sin Against the Race drops Sunday, October 29. Am I excited? Hell yeah, I’m excited! This day has been a Long Time Coming. Indeed, the genesis of this book dates back to my own coming out nearly 30 years ago. Upon coming into the life, I became entranced by the…
Of course, J hadn’t been gone a full week before I started to pursue the possibility of a trip to Pyongyang. The idea of going there had always intrigued me, but now I had a purpose. I still felt very skeptical, though, that J would end up as one of my tour guides. First, I…
He liked to be called J, so even his name remained a mystery. We had dinner together a few times. We saw a movie together. I asked teasingly if these things were outside the bounds of tolerance from his government. He only smiled. I actually referenced his peculiar homeland very infrequently. It sat in the…
[Dedicated to Barry. RIP.] Hollywood, some time in 1976 I left the theater alone. He never showed up. It was a shitty movie and I almost left early. I didn’t because I kept hoping that maybe he would show up. Also, too, he cowed me into waiting. The last time he was late, and I…
[Originally published in August 2012] For a 12 year old, Clayton Simmons maintained the most peculiar habits. By a calculus all his own, he computed the precise number of movements and amount of time necessary to complete his morning rituals so that he ended up looking fabulous for the day. Teeth brushing required one minute,…
[Originally published on the gar spot in January 2011.] The fantasy started that night, in the shades of black he wore and the shades of tan that made up our skin as we stood together in the wings overlooking the orchestra. I stood behind him and allowed my hand to brush against his, allowed my breath…
