*My personal look into one of the major issues facing young black same gender loving and gay me in 2011.
gay/gā/
Adjective: (of a person, esp. a man) Homosexual.
Noun: A homosexual, esp. a man.
I don't know how to start this post, it has been coming for quite sometime, and I pray that everyone that reads this gets something or better yet somethings out of it.To be a young black man living in America in 2011 is still a tough task considering it seems we have many odds against us. In almost every major metropolitan area in this great United States of America we can be considered the most fashionable, the most creative, and some of the best friends in the world. I myself from a very young age knew I was different from what society deemed as normal. I had no desire to play basketball, football or run track. I loved to paint, play with tea sets, and go with my mother to the beauty shop. I was the youngest of three children, from one of the most loving mothers you will find in the world. My father was taken from me at age five in a terrible accident, and little did I know that would forever change my life in so many way where I am here 20 + year later dealing with the effects of loosing a parent. We grew up with grandparents, relatives and family friends telling us, to be tough, fight for what was right, and never to be a "punk" or "cissy". Many of my peers went into shells where they felt the only way they would belong would be to try their hardest to be normal, becasue as one of my own friends told me he felt there was no such thing as a black gay man. Young black men are not often encouraged to get counseling or physiological services to deal with just everyday life, especially in our youth. If we read or write or paint we are "soft" or as one of my uncles referred to me as "different". Many of us come from strong women, women who have lost faith after being hurt so many times by the men that are supposed to love them. We grow to be tuff, nothing less is acceptable. When we cry people rarely understand, and we are told to dry those tears and be strong, but no one has every defined what strong is or may be. Little do we know this is what is killing off our community one by one.
As I ride the trains and busses here in Dallas, TX daily, I often see many youth from ten to twenty something feeling the same and just looking different. From various different backgrounds we all share some of the same issues in our daily lives, and we deal with them very differently. In late 2010 I took a job working for the University of California San Francisco Center for AIDS Prevention Studies, I didn't know just how much that job would change my life, and force me to dig deep into the issues facing young black men. As one of my mentors told me just yesterday it not use in scaring people with statistics, because we are educated, and we barely understand them, so I won't bore you telling you just how many young black men are living with HIV-AIDS, and how many are at risk, and how many are not getting tested, I'll choose to speak on so topics that we don't really share.
As I was preparing to move to Dallas in 2010, I received a call from a lady. She was a friend of mine of facebook, we had never met, just talked on facebook about how to best deal with her young son's sexuality. I pride myself on being a expert on young black men, for I am one, I don't tell people what I heard, and what I think they want to hear, I tell them what I have lived, and what I am living. You can conduct all of the studies on us in the world, but it's much better to just sit down and talk to us, well those of us that are willing to talk. She told me to call her, it was urgent, I did. He son had tested positive for the HIV. Even with as much knowledge as I have about HIV it still takes me to a lace each and every time I get a call or have a conversation about this epidemic. She questioned whether or not there was anything she could have done better, and where to go from there. I had to explain to her first hand that HIV was no longer the death sentence it was even into the early 1990's. I explained to her the severity of it's existence still, but the hope that becasue it was caught early, the better off her baby would be. I keep in contact with her, and prepare her for everything, and I am happy to report he is doing well. As happy as I was to assist with that situation I knew she was most likely one in a hundred mothers that actually trusted someone else enough to help her with the process. I told her she is am amazing example of what and who a mother should be.
When you deal with HIV, it's so complex. I look at it as the whore in high school, if she screws the entire football team, she will never live that down, people will still be talking about it at the class reunion. In the 30 years old HIV much of Black America ignored it, and stigmatized it so much to the point now that even though people are living completely normal lives with it as with many other diseases and illnesses no one wants to deal with it.
If you are a young black man and gay, you cannot be normal. People feel guilty and ashamed of you. Many of my peers cannot and will not talk to their closest family members about what struggles they deal with daily, we often turn to each other. The only problem that I have with that is this, even as we are living this life, even though we experience similar issues, not many of us are willing to help our brothers out, nor are we equip to. We go to churches that further drum this whole masculinity complex into us, where many are forced into living lies. We don't have the support that young hetrosexuals have in the world, and that is why we do some of the things we do, and say the things we say. A lot of us don't know the true meaning of being a brother's keeper, therefore when you have a growing epidemic like HIV in America, we cannot talk about it. I found out that one of my peer mentors, someone who I admire so much recently tested positive for HIV, and I knew what I had to do, although I was hurting inside, I had to quickly get over that hurt, and step into a place to be there for him at anytime, as the first year is the most difficult for many young men. HIV scares us so much that we don't talk about it like we do fashion or even sex. When I had a discussion with my best friend about how I was feeling he said "Terrance, I feel like we are living in the 1980's and the sad thing is most of us were born in the years HIV was first discovered." White America is dealing with the epidemic so much better, they have a better understanding of the virus, treatment options, and they have developed numerous organizations to help combat the problem, but we as a black community lack those. It's more that telling people to get tested, and giving them condoms it's about building a community of brothers, that understand the importance of protecting each other, and are willing to fight this epidemic. About a month ago I found out one of my friends is gravely ill from complications caused by HIV, this person whom I have partied, traveled, and grown up with over the past 10 years, simply told me and other members of our group that he just wants to die, and to know that I have the knowledge and tools at my disposal and still have someone I consider a close friend to tell me that, nearly sent me into pieces. When a 24 year old man gives up on life, that's a terrible thing. I simply told him, and his mother I would be here for them no matter what, and the offer still stand if he wants help, I'll make sure he gets it. I get phone calls almost daily from people wondering where to go and what to do. I pride myself of being knowledgeable, trustworthy, and a support tool for those impacted by this terrible virus. I decided to take a stand, and with God guiding the way I want to be a leader in the education, treatment, and cure for the stigma, and ignorance of ten associated with something that is killing my brothers. In six months I have learned so much and I am here to share this knowledge with my community, and I am learning daily. I have been blessed to meet and work with people like Mr. Phill Wilson from the Black AIDS Insitiute, Susan Kegeles Ph. D, Mr. Robert Williams, and Greg Rebchook PhD, all from UCSF CAPS, and a vast array of other individuals that have deeply impacted my wanting to work in this field even more. To my buddies our here in the trenches with me I love you all, Guy Williams in NYC, Doran, Dallas, and Terrance A, here in Dallas, Cedric in Jackson, MS, Joe, and Broderick in Charlotte, NC, Jason Black, Jeffery Campbell, Kevin Anderson, and Tim'm West in Houston, Darrianne Martin, Harold Steward and all of my brothers and sisters doing your part in this field all of you make me keep wanting to go further an further until every young man of color is treated and properly knows how to protect and care for himself and his brothers. To my brother from another and absolute best friend in the world Brandon D. Mack thank you so much for all of the love and support you send my way, I only pray that other young same gender loving men of color can share the natural unique brother hood we share in their friendship. And to my adopted sister, auntie, Dallas-Mama figure Dr. Mel, Kirk the little lady the often forces me look at things from a black woman's point of view , I am only beginning in my journey of helping to shape and define the modern black gay man and kill the stigma involved with HIV in the world today.
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Additional Resources:
Office Of The National AIDS Policy
Black AIDS Institute
Mpowerment
Housing Works
My Brother's Keeper, INC
E-mail me for a link to other organizations! uppity.brother@gmail.com
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