January 16, 2012
Brewed Tea In The Dead Of Winter: The ‘Reality’ Of Black, Gay Men In Unscripted Television
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It’s a muddy, Thursday evening here in downtown Baltimore. The first storm of this New Year has drenched the city in a cold and heavy rain. A dark, gray haze blankets the inner harbor skyline. Streetlights illuminate the deep puddles of water that now pave the blocks between parked cars and the adjacent, high rise apartment buildings. Meter maids are patrolling the sidewalks like crows sitting side by side on a power line. I’m nestled behind a corner table in the dimly lit, Teavolve Café’. I’ve just dined with two of my close, male friends. Michael Jackson’s classic, The Lady In My Life is playing beneath the clank of spoons hitting the tips of soup bowls. As I now sit alone sipping the last drops of my second, white peach sangria, I cant help but to wish that cameras could have captured the past hour and a half conversation that was shared between my friends and I. Having not seen one another in months, our ‘table talk’ began with verbal pokes at one another’s winter weight gain. Then, we of course delved into the latest conquests and consistencies that frame our romantic lives. I asked the majority of the questions as usual. I also offered just as many personal details about my love life thus far in 2012. To keep the tea pouring as the happy hour cocktails flowed, we touched on the public’s obsession with Miss. Blue Ivy; the celebuspawn of pop and hip-hop icons, Beyonce and JayZ. By the time the appetizers were brought to our table, we were already daydreaming out loud about what our lives will be in the next five years. As we spewed fanciful tales of fulfilling careers and life partners to bask alongside us in the glory of each moment, we laughed and superficially wondered if we’d each still look the same. Laughter ensued as we each fed our faces with grilled chicken parmigiano, baked salmon and shrimp pasta with spinach and garlic sauce. After touching on the obstacles that President Obama will have to conquer in seeking re-election to office, we then returned to discussing the men in our lives.
Though none of us have ever slept with closeted rappers, dated down low, professional athletes, or have leaked sex tapes to the World Wide Web, our stories, struggles and stance as black, gay men in mainstream society are just as intriguing and entertaining as those of our heterosexual counterparts.
As gay, black men, our reputation for over-the-top dramatics isn’t the basis of our relevance in our interactions amongst one another. We do not exist as a galaxy of careless, contemporary, ‘queens’ whose most poignant contribution to the world is riding the coattails of female reality stars.
In a modern world plagued by sensationalism, the glorification of fame for the sake of being famous, as well as trafficking of on-screen stereotypes, I have quietly spent the past year of my life trying to create a televised platform that would introduce a balanced identity of gay, black men to mainstream society. In February of 2011, I pitched a reality series to the Senior Director of Development at BET. The project was later rejected for reasons that included a lack of advertising interest, as well as an assumed apathy amongst the targeted, viewing audience. Without presently being able to publicly share the entire premise of the series, the reality showcase was basically created to feature a cast of seven, non-stereotypical, openly gay, black men. I hand selected the cast based upon their interests, career goals, personality traits and ability to command the attention of a national audience. In June of 2011, I reached out to Basketball Wives star, Tami Roman to seek her interest in executive producing the series. I felt that I needed the interest and support of someone already familiar with the on-screen and behind the scene business associated with developing a reality showcase. Tami became immediately excited about the project. She contacted me in June of last year. Through several conference calls and online exchanges that took place over the past six months, we began to frame the development and pitch process for my reality series. Tami and I were confident that one of the powers that be at VH1, LOGO or BRAVO would green light the showcase.
It was my intent to portray gay men of color in situations that highlighted our day-to-day, ordinary experiences. I wanted a national audience to see that our contributions to mainstream society extend beyond careers in styling, hair, makeup and other forms of cosmetology. I wanted to put our struggles on display as it pertains to competing professionally and playing socially. Our heterosexual counterparts need to see those of us who prefer wearing sneakers, sweatshirts and fitted caps standing alongside our more effeminate brothers who prefer high heels, bangles and handbags. Both images serve an equal purpose in delivering our story and revealing our truths. It is important to me that America knows that many of us do stem from two parent households and have gone on to garner college degrees. I need for people to understand that we are capable of doing more than simply reviewing awards shows or discussing Beyonce, Rihanna and Nicki Minaj on Youtube.
As gay men of color, we too rent cabins during the winter season in Denver and engage in ski weekends. We too fly across country to Vegas for ‘all bois’ getaways alongside our gay and straight friends. Yes, we enjoy lying on the beaches of Miami during periods other than Memorial Day weekend. Yes, we do meet up with our friends to have our feet and nails done in the middle of a day, but we also engage in Saturday mornings at the gym and Sunday afternoons playing football in organized, outside settings. These on goings should be filmed and aired in a reality series platform. The media does not deliver a balance in the portrayal of our community. My reality showcase was created to tap into the inner character of gay, black men who are as educated as we are entertaining.
I have been openly gay in the LGBT community since the summer of 2001. I fell in love with my first boyfriend in June of that year and shared the news with all of my closest, lifelong, female friends. They each rallied around me at the time and declared their unyielding, unconditional love. It was at this time that I also began to explore the social scene amongst the LGBT community. My curiosity led me to attend my first gay club in Washington, DC, as I also participated in Baltimore’s gay pride festivities. Though I found a deeper comfort in attending my classes at Towson University by day and spending time with my boyfriend every evening through 2005, I experienced a great deal of emotional, mental and social growth during those four years.
When my boyfriend and I began to face issues within the confines of our relationship in 2002, I slowly began spending more of my time with a male friend who was then married to a doctor. Together, they lived in a four-story home in the suburban, Owings Mills area of Baltimore. I would stay in their guest room on the weekends and during days when I didn’t have to attend classes. My friend had access to all of his husband’s credit cards and accounts, so we would do impromptu lunches at Nordstrom Café and shop until it was time to make dinner plans with the hubby. When it was warm outside, I’d sit by their residence pool and write, or I’d cry about everything that had gone wrong in my relationship. I became extremely close with my friend and his husband. Their home became my place of refuge. On Sunday afternoons, my friend’s husband would grill food on the patio and invite his friends and their boyfriends to come over to eat with us. Sunday nights were spent gathered around the living room television to watch the celebrated, gay series, QUEER AS FOLK. Though I didn’t identify with any of the conventional white characters or overtly sexual plot lines at the time, I did find a sense of familiarity in the teenage character, Justin. I was able to identify with the close-knit relationship shared between Justin and his mother, as well as Justin and his best female friend. They both loved Justin and encouraged him to grow into himself without any judgments or ridicule. When the show would go off, we would all discuss the episode briefly before parting ways. I think many of us felt alienated by the fact that not a single black, gay character was even peppered in the background of the scenes that were supposed to reflect real life scenarios. Through these weekend rituals, I was then introduced to other professional, black, gay men who owned homes, boats, businesses and who were settled in long term relationships. This exploration of the upper echelon of gay, black society was all a huge contrast from what I had only seen and experienced in the club and gay pride environments. I began to embrace my sexuality wholeheartedly during this period because I slowly began to see my self and my future in the lives of other gay, black men who were already living their dreams. I began fervidly consuming a mix of documentaries and online articles that discussed issues focused on sexuality. As a result, I created my senior thesis film around the struggles I faced being black and gay in America. The project was called, HANDPRINTS: Dusting For Identity. It received the 2004 Media Arts Film Festival award for best experimental project.
For a long time, I thought being gay had a certain ‘look’. In due part to the lack of imagery that existed for gay, black men on television or in film, I didn’t understand that we very much live our lives similarly to homosexual white men and heterosexual men of all other races. A very low margin of representation had been presented to me about gay men of color. I only knew us to be hairdressers, flamboyant personalities on Baltimore’s urban radio station or young, effeminate boys who vogued for trophies within the ballroom community. Though I was educated and raised in a major, American city, my thoughts and ideas were so closed because I had no other outwardly gay male figure to look to for guidance.
Coming out to my parents in January of 2003 and feeling forced to move into my first apartment with my boyfriend in August of that same year, made me face the harsh reality of being gay in America. My father refused to hug me or even stand in the same room alongside me until I graduated from college in May of 2004. I never felt alone during that period because my mother, brother and sister began to love me harder. My friends embraced me closer. My boyfriend was also very present in my daily life. More than ever, he became my rock. Though my relationship with my father began to heal, I then suffered through having to experience several of my male friends and associates contract the HIV virus. The years of 2004-2005 were an extremely scary period because not only was I stepping out into the world post graduation, but a disease that I thought was so foreign from my existence was now plastered in my face. I think a part of me envied the fact that these friends and associates who were later diagnosed with HIV, seemed to live such ‘fun and fabulous’ lives. While I was doing homework and eating dinner on the couch with my boyfriend, they were always out ‘on the gay scene’ and drunk texting my phone throughout the nights. Finding out that they had been diagnosed with HIV forced me to research the disease in great detail. I was scared and began wondering if my boyfriend’s past cheating would lead to me being infected as well. This all began to take a huge toll on how I viewed my boyfriend and my future alongside him.
There were plenty of times when I felt stuck in my relationship because my boyfriend didn’t like for me to attend clubs or other gay events. He was extremely insecure during those four years. I loved him with my entire heart, but I felt smothered and shielded away from having a social life outside of our relationship. As a result, I began experimenting with party drugs, as I also began drinking long islands, straight vodka and anything else that would temporarily numb my spirit. I suppose being in-love and guarded by some accounts kept me from making some of the life changing mistakes that my male associates and friends made circa 2004 and 2005. I stopped socially using party drugs after watching one of my closest male friends almost overdose as we left an all night, loft party. I eventually attended therapy upon graduation from college in order to deal with a lot of the issues that I had to internalize in my young, gay life.
My story may be a bit different than the millions of gay, black men who reside in the world. However, I know for a fact that the events, experiences and emotional warfare that we endure, are quite similar. These real life story lines need to be explored in a very raw, unscripted, televised manner. What we face as gay teenagers, young adults and grown men, challenges our positions in mainstream society and bonds our lives beyond social networks. The world needs to see that being gay isn’t just about being ‘fabulous’ in heels and delivering one liner, comedic commentary alongside the female lead character.
If mainstream America was given the opportunity to tune in to a weekly television showcase that painted the real lives of real, gay, black men, we could possibly heal the increasing rates of homophobia that presently plague African American and Latino communities.
The court of public opinion is a cross that’s exhausting to bear, but with the power and influence of pop culture, black, gay men can indeed exist outside of a marginalized staple. It’s difficult for people to embrace what they don’t see or understand. It’s difficult for people to respect gay, black men when our most noted, mainstream representation over the past few years has come in the form of the puppets and caricature’s painted on The Real Housewives Of Atlanta. I find it quite disturbing that in the two or three seasons that the RHOA have featured Dwight Eubanks or ‘Miss. Lawrence’, we have never seen either of their families. We, as the viewing audience, are never given a sneak peek into their romantic lives or even privy to their existence outside of the time they spend being ‘catty comment clowns’. It’s disgusting.
Gay, black men are given the role of one-dimensional parodies on reality television and their presence does nothing to increase acceptance, self-love or balanced identity amongst our brothers.
These individuals provide an irreverent take on what it is to exist as a gay, black man and quite honestly, their roles do more harm in sustaining our acceptance amongst the masses.
My heart aches for the 15 year old, gay, black boy who presently lives in a small, rural community somewhere in this country. His father may be a pastor. His mother is a god-fearing woman who lives her life with a bible clutched under her arm. This teenage boy goes to bed every night, and like many of us in the past, prays and asks god to rid him of his same gender loving attractions and feelings. He has no idea that being gay isn’t a death sentence, nor is it a disease that can be cured. He is afraid of being ostracized in school as well as ousted from his home. More importantly, he is afraid of himself. This young man has absolutely no outlets to explore his sexuality, other than the fanciful, thug images of gay, black ‘trade’ in online porno clips. Occasionally, he watches a Youtube video where one of the more noted and respected, LGBT, online personalities is discussing his trials and triumphs being gay in this world. However, as this 15 year old boy yearns for simply a face to identify with on mainstream television, he’s stuck with the same, recycled images of the ‘two snaps and a twist’ tart characters.
When my online platform exploded onto the World Wide Web on August 8, 2008, I had no idea that my position amongst the black, LGBT community would become so important. I blogged about celebrities via my XemVanAdams.com website and recorded weekly videos related to race, class, gender and sexuality as a form of my own interest and expression. It was never my intent to influence or inspire others. However, once my inbox’s began to flood with messages and stories from thousands of young boys, grown men and women from around the world, I realized that our community is thirsty. Our community is thirsty for guidance, easily identifiable representation and an overall fusion of bold, edgy commentary on our personal lives. It’s obvious by the fact that so many of my young, black, gay brothers are attempting to create their own reality shows online. They are all modeling their concepts after the ‘Housewives’ franchise and are honestly trying to market these projects by sending the links of homemade trailers to celebrities and other industry powers via Twitter. I’ve seen all of it retweeted in my timeline, and most of it sent as mentions in my reply box. Though I cringe at the lack of professionalism in the crafting and creation of these projects, I completely understand the intent. I do believe that the majority of these young men are chasing fame with their ‘reality’ showcases, as oppose to trying to make a major, social statement. However, it’s liberating for me to know that I am not the only individual who feels like they have the power to change the perception of gay, black men in mainstream media.
Somewhere along the line of pop culture margins, the mangling half truth about there not being an audience to support gay, black programming has overpowered the executive, decision making process.
Gay, black men exist in the millions, as do our straight, black female friends and family members who would certainly tune in to watch our lives unfold on screen. We watch just as much television and attend just as many film openings as our white contemporaries. The suggestion that there isn’t advertising dollars available to support our televised programming is ridiculous as well. Considering the fact that many of us don’t have children and are not raising families, we certainly invest our hard earned dollars into purchasing the cars, food, and hygiene products that are promoted during television’s commercial breaks. I do not think it makes sense that we play a mainstream part in society but are forced to settle for independent routes of producing our own projects for online distribution. LOGO just green-lit another season of the A-List series that features a predominately white cast of gay characters. I clearly do NOT accept the fact that a black cast of gay characters would not present the exact same levels of interest and entertainment. I am tired of being told that our real lives don’t serve a purpose to national audiences and I shall continue to push for the execution of a series that accurately reflects the experiences of our everyday lives.
‘Conquering The WORLD, One WORD At A Time‘
