POV; Tongues Untied

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. . . . . . . . . . . . Brother to Brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother

brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother health brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother brother silence is what i hear after the handshake and slap of five after what's happening in come boy what's up cuz how you feel girlfriend this thing when talking with a girlfriend Friend, I am more likely to muse about my latest piece or so-and-so's party at Club She-She than about the anger and hurt I felt that morning when a jeweler refused me entrance to his store because I am black and male and we are all perceived as thieves. I will swallow that hurt, and should I speak of it, we'll vocalize only the anger, saying I should have bust out his fucking windows. Some of the anger will be exercised, but the hurt, which has not been given voice, prevails and accumulates.

Silence is a way to grin and bear it, a way not to acknowledge how much my life is discounted each day. 100 % of all black men today, every day. 100 % of all black men today, every day. I strive to appear strong and silent, I learn to ingest hatred at a geometric rate, and to count silently to ten, ten thousand, ten million. But as I've learned to mute my cries of anguish, so have I learned to squelch my exclamations of joy. What remains is the rap. What remains is the rap.

What remains is the rap... Wha Omar into law? Baby, don't respect me. What is being say? A gay. What remains... What remains... call me? Are you that... add and how about consciousness. it may happen. OK. silence is my shield it crushes silence is my cloak it smothers silence is my sword it cuts both ways silence is the deadliest weapon what legacy is to be found in silence how many lives what future lies in our silence how much history lost so seductive it's grip this silence break it I'll silence loose the tongue testify let's end the silence baby together now now that I have sat up with death held its hand rocked it grieved to its giggle mocking me to stones too big to pass

alone now that I have mourned the passing of men loves never had acts unacted perversion polighted pubescently now that I have shed shades of nigga boy for pigments of faggot queer gender blender blur now that I am very freaky free initiate me paint wars on my cheeks anoint me with cocoa oil and come so I speak in tongues twist it so tight they untangle my mind hold my head in hand bless it slice it leave a cross on its tip mark of the right initiation to the fight

you've reached black chat your hot line to the best black numbers want to connect with a banjee board press one for a versatile butch queen press two for looking to commit mind and body to a b g a press three don't be a shy guy make a choice and meet that special man good choice now leave a message you have a minute after the beep b g a black gay activist 30-ish well-read sensitive pro-feminist seek same for envelope licking

flyer distribution banner assembly demonstration companion dialogical theorizing good times and hot safe sex why do we go home alone clutch pillows and journals and single beds push ourselves to the nth degree for the cause if we can't reap the benefits i do not want to wed the movement do you in the silence baby we could make a serious revolution together i was riding on the s2 headed to silver spring the bus for most of the ride had been filled with the quiet murmur of the other passengers suddenly from the back of the bus a voice rose and wailed you my bitch no uh-uh we are bitches

i turned around looked at the back of the bus there were two brothers going at it nah you listen here i ain't wearing lipstick you are i ain't no bitch i fucked you you my bitch this continued without resolution until we arrived at 16th and u street the bus is packed with passengers by now and as we approach the stop i see 10 more waiting to step aboard just as the first person steps aboard a strident hysterical voice shouts from the back i'm a 45 year old black gay man who enjoys enjoys taking dick in his rectum i'm not your bitch your bitches at home with your kids we are now entering the fifth dimension of our sexual consciousness the ride is rough

there is no jelly for this we heard about this new club so a few of us decided to check it out got there early around 10. figured if it was tired we could always hit bellas by midnight we must have waited in line at least 15 minutes all the while the doorman miss attitude and you know the type bleach blonde hair body by nautilus mind by mattel miss bitches watching us 10 black men show up and they get paranoid the place is going to tilt we finally get to the door and thing says with much condescension you know there's a cover to get in well i tried to ignore her rudeness and then she shot her arm out i need to see three pieces of i.d i thought this shit was through i just turned around and looked miss anne dead in the eye

three pieces of id she didn't know what hit her we took our money and left the next day i reported that dive to the mayor's office the human rights commission the naacp and the alice b tolquist democratic club don't mess with the snap diva this is a basic lesson in snap diva rats listen up to this grand diva rap snaps can be so long and snaps can be so long to read to punctuate to cut like a whale

well you've got a domestic snap you've got a snap then you've got grand beaver snap don't get it twisted our dueling grand snap divas will now demonstrate the subtleties of snap the diva rat initiates you should know that girls should be and be dexterous you can't stop with both hands you're out you know why we do this because we can't always get our arms free to do this

i'd heard my calling by age six we had a word for boys like me punk punk not because i played sex with other boys everybody on the block did that punk but because i didn't mind giving it away now other boys traded you can have my booty if you give me yours but wait a minute now if i go first uh-uh you went first last time but but i want to be the daddy you you the daddy all the time but i want to be daddy i'm daddy mm-mm not me i gave it up free punk at age 11 we moved to georgia i graduated to new knowledge homo you don't know how to kiss homo my best friend asked shocked i didn't know what to do with a girl when i lost that spin the bottle homo i'll show you he said his brown eyes inviting we practiced kissing for weeks dry wet french till his older brother called us a name homo what's

a homo i asked punk faggot freak i understood we stopped kissing best friend became worst enemy mother-fucking-cum age 12 they bused me to hepseba junior high on the outskirts of augusta mother-fucking-cum a spray-painted sign on the wall greeted me niggas go home the rednecks hated me mother-fucking-cum because i was one of only two blacks placed in 8a the class for hepseba's best and brightest niggas go home the blacks hated me uncle tom because they assumed my class status made me uppity uncle tom assume my silence as superiority uncle tom i was shy mother-fucking-cum uncle tom i was confused mother-fucking-cum uncle tom niggas go home i was afraid and alone mother-fucking-cum uncle tom punk faggot niggas go home punk mother-fucking-cum punk faggot

homo niggas go home cornered by identities i never wanted to claim homo niggas go home i ran fast hard deep inside myself where it was still silent safe homo niggas go home around here city rocks fell around his quickened footsteps a water spit flew to his bare shoulder

empty coke bottle cracked against trash can rim sparkling jagged edges motion for his throat a blackjack knocked him unconscious his money and id removed his face slash disfigured left in a bloody pool he waited for the police ambulance the kindness of brethren or jesus to pick up his messages a white boy came to my rescue beckoned with gray green eyes a soft tennessee draw seduced me out of my adolescent silence

he called me friend i fell in love we never touched never kissed but he left his imprint what a blessing his immaculate seduction to fill the beat of life to trust passion again what a joy that it should come from a white boy with a gray green eyes what a curse do you want

in california i learned the touch and taste of snow cruising white boys i played out let me touch it let me touch it let me take it let me suck it let me let me maybe from time to time a brother glanced my way i never noticed i was immersed in vanilla i savored this single flavor one deliberately not my own i avoided the question why pretended not to notice the absence of black images in this new gay life

in bookstores poster shops film festivals even my own fantasies tried not to notice the few images of blacks that were most popular something in oz and me was amiss but i tried not to notice i was intent on the search for my reflection love affirmation in eyes of blue gray green searching i discovered something i didn't expect something decades of determined assimilation cannot blind me to in this great gay mecca i was an invisible man

i had no shadow no substance no place no history no reflection i was an alien unseen and seen unwanted here as in hepzibah i was a nigger still i quit the castro no longer my home my mecca and went in search of some place better i don't know why but i'm feeling so sad i longed to try something i've never had never had no kissing oh what i've been missing love a man oh where can you be

love a man the night is cold and i'm so all alone i'd give my soul just to call you my own love a man love a man black is the color of my true love's hair of my true love's hair

his face so soft and love a man grief is not apparel not like a dress a wig or my sister's high-heeled shoes it is darker than the man i love who in my fantasies comes for me in a silver six-cylinder chariot i walk the waterfront curbsides in my sister's high-heeled shoes dreaming of him his name still unknown to my tongue while i wait for my prince to come from every other man i demand pay for my kisses i buy paint for my lips stockings for my legs

my own high-heeled slippers and dresses that become me when he comes i will know how to love his body standing out here on the waterfront curbsides i have learned to please a man he will bring me flowers he will bring me silk and jewels i know while i wait i'm the only man who loves me they call me star because i listen to their dreams and wishes and i will be as warm it is a wig that does not rest gently on my head so black black is the color

of my true love's hair of my true love's hair Abomination, it's an abomination. Mankind shall not lie with mankind, for it is an abomination in his sight. They say, we're all in the same fluke boat. We should be brothers. But before I accept his kinship, political or otherwise, this is what I want to know. Where does his loyalty lie? Yo, what kind of role model is a punk anyway? There is no crevice, there is no corner in God's church for perversion. Priorities.

That's what I want to know. Come the final throwdown, what is he first? Black or gay? You know the answer. The absurdity of that question. How can you sit in silence? How do you choose one eye over the other, this half of the brain over that, or in words this brother might understand, which does he value most, his left nut or his right? Tell him. Silence is my shield. It crushes. God gave man a holy purpose. Yes, he did. To begat future generations. But the homosexual defiles his seed. His life, I say his life perverts God. We need strong black men to fortify the black family. Now, how does homosexual help this agenda? In fact, a punk is a punk, is a punk, is a punk. I don't want them around me or my kids, period. Silence is my cloak.

It's mother's. Don't you think that God don't see the wickedness of this world? Amen. He knows. He watches. He punishes. Yeah, man. Like this aid shit. All the innocent victims, man. Mamas and babies dying because of dope fiends and faggots. Faggots aren't allowed to look at my ass while I'm upstairs. That's why I keep moving while I'm up here. If you don't know where the faggot section is, you got to keep moving. So if they do see it, it's quick and you're switching. They don't get no long stare at your shit. Silence is my sword. It cuts both waves. For the girls in the yard. Yes. For the sissies. Good job, yes. When I say gamma, you say faggama. This is the view of our most talented tenth.

The movers and shakers, the image makers. Consider the millions who follow their lead. Fagg, fagg, fagg, fagg. It's nothing like having a nation of fags looking for you. Their jokes, their laughter, form a chorus of contempt. Cars will come rushing across town. Woo, woo, woo, woo, woo, woo. And there won't be no siren. It'll be a real fag sitting on the roof going, Woo, woo, woo, woo, woo. Each joke levels us a little more and we sit silently. Sometimes join in the laughter as if deep down we too believe we are the lowest among the low. No one will redeem your name, your love, your life, your manhood, but you. No one will save you, but you. Your silence is costing. Your silence is suicide. From Sodom and Gomorrah to San Francisco. You need strong law models, man.

You can't have cats looking up to guys at a game. How come you know what it means to be a man? Sodomy is sin! And you know what? The wages of sin is a devil. The wages of sin is a bear fight. I know the anger that lies inside me. Like I know the beat of my heart and the taste of my spit. It is easier to be angry than to hurt. Anger is what I do best. It is easier to be furious than to be yearning. It is easier to crucify myself and you than to take on the threatening universe of whiteness by admitting we are worth wanting each other. I too know anger.

My body contains as much anger as water. It is the material from which I have built my house. Blood red bricks that cry in the rain. It is the face and posture I show the world. It is the way, sometimes the only way, I am granted audience. It is sometimes the way I show affection. I am angry because of the treatment I am afforded as a black man. That fiery anger is stoked additionally with the fuse of contempt and despisal shown me by my community because I am gay. I cannot go home as who I am. When I speak of home, I mean not only the familial constellation from which I grew, but the entire black community. The black press, the black church, black academicians, the black literati, and the black left. Where is my reflection? I am most often rendered invisible, perceived as a threat to the family, or I am tolerated if I am silent and inconspicuous. I cannot go home as who I am, and that hurts me deeply. On another day, I am walking down Spruce, Castro, Christopher Street on my way to work.

A half block away walking towards me is another black gay man. We have seen each other in the clubs. Side by side, at the precise moment our eyes should meet, he studies the intricate detail of a building. I check my white sneakers for scuff marks. What is it that we see in each other that makes us avert our eyes so quickly? Do we turn away from each other in order not to see our collective anger and sadness? It is my pain I see reflected in your eyes. Our angers ricochet between us like the bullets we fire in battles which are not our own nor with each other. The same angry face, dawned for safety in the white world, is the same expression I bring to you. I am cool and unemotive, distant from what I need most. It is easier to be furious than to be yearning, easier to crucify myself in you, and perhaps easiest to ingest that anger until it threatens to consume me or apply a salve of substitutes to the wound.

But real anger accepts few substitutes. And sneers at sublimation. The anger hurt, I feel, can't be washed down with a Coke or a Colt.45. It cannot be danced away, mollified by a white lover, nor lost in the mirror reflections of a black lover. I cannot hope it will be gobbled up by the alligators on my clothing. Nor can I lose it in therapy. I cannot offer it to Jesus. Allah. Ja. So I must mold and direct that fiery, cool mass of angry energy. Use it before it uses me. Anger unvented becomes pain. Unspoken becomes rage, release becomes violence, cha-cha-cha. Anger unvented becomes pain. Unspoken becomes rage, release becomes violence, cha-cha-cha. In search of self, I listened to the beat of my heart, to rhythms muffled beneath layers of delusion, pain, alienation, silence.

I let this primal pulse lead me past broken dreams, solitude, fragments of identity, to a new place, a home, not of peace, harmony, and sunshine, no. But truth, simple, shameless, brazen truth. Listen. When you find yourself coming up short, do what I do. Borrow things from the universe. Take a little from the shelf. Grab some extra for yourself. It's all yours. Go ahead. What's the matter? Are you scared? Lean slightly forward on your toes. Point your chin toward the sun. Reach for distant galaxies. Peep over horizons. Can't you see? Win or lose, you pay your dues for latent fantasies. So first, reach, pull, grab, and snatch what's yours from the universe.

That's true. He said you want to wear women's clothes. Oh, no, I don't want to wear women's clothes. And when I realized that you want to sleep with men, and you could wear women's, that's not the alternative, but that's what you're really talking about, then it was like, well, let's be a woman in this situation. And then it's, you see what I'm saying? So you're finding this is ignorance, and that's why I can embrace these terms and go, well, what we're really talking about on the gut level is men sleeping with men. Yeah. And I do that. Yeah. Or hopefully, which is a lot different. You know, then I say, well, they don't know what they're talking about. And I'd rather call them on it and not be specific, rather than say sissy, and then they come with all these issues, and they don't have to explain what they mean. And I say, yes, I'm a sissy now.

What does that mean to you? Exactly what I say. That's a good one. What are you trying to say? Say, yeah. Like, you know, you can spell it out. Be pejorative if you're being pejorative, but do it in a specific way. It's supposed to, I'm supposed to, what we do is we aid them. We all said we drag up all our own issues, and they're able to torture you. And they don't have to say a word. You bring them. You decide what you think a sissy is, and that torture you yourself. And they haven't done anything. They've said a six-letter word. It works your life. That's right. I'd rather make them do the word. Basically, Vogue started back in the 70s from what you told me. Okay, now the younger ones, the younger queens, what they do is, like, they have a house. What they do is they go to the ball, and they challenge each other. When you're down with a certain house, you dress that certain way. Like, if you're down with the house of Chanel, you dress with Chanel, you know, Chanel clothes. I've never heard of that. Yeah, but that's what they do here in New York. Yeah, in New York, in D.C., yeah. Yeah, we'll see each, each state, each, each state, each gay community does different things. Like, in your community, they speak agwa or whatever you call it.

Aga. Aga. Aga. I'm all that cute, though. Mother, do you know I roam alone at night, wearing colognes, tight pants, chains of gold, searching for men willing to come back to candlelight. I'm not scared of these men, though some are killers of sons like me. I learned there is no tender mercy for men of color, for sons who love men like me. Do not feel shame for how I live. I chose this tribe of warriors and outlaws.

Do not feel you failed some test of motherhood. My life has borne fruit no woman could have given me anyway. If one of these thick-lipped, wet, black nights, while I'm out walking, I find freedom in this village. If I can take it with my tribe, I'll bring you here, and you will never notice the absence of rice and bridesmaids. I'm not scared of this tribe, but I'm not scared of this tribe, but I'm not scared of this tribe.

I'm not scared of this tribe, but I can take it with my tribe. Be safe about it. Amen. Amen. Amen. Amen. Ironic that dance, my ticket to assimilation, my way of amusing, then winning acceptance by wives, that the same steps were now my passage back home. Anthropology, unending search for what is utterly precious.

I'm chocolate candy, a handful of cookies, the goodies you are forbidden to eat. I'm a piece of cake, a slice of pie, an ice cream bar that chills your teeth. Think of me as your favorite treat, a pan of popcorn kernels waiting for the heat. Exiting the john, I checked the mirror for the face of naked lust.

His eyes howl at me, coyote separated from the roving pack. Love potions solve no mysteries, provide no comment on the unspoken. Our lives tremble between pathos and seduction. Our inhibitions force us to be equal. We swallow hard, black love potions from a golden glass. New language beckons us. Its dialect, present, intimate.

Through my eyes, focused as pure, naked light, fixed on you like magic, clarity. I see risks, regrets, there will be none. Let some wonder, some worry, some accuse. Let you and I know the tenderness only we can bear. Too be do-do-do-do-do, ta-be-do-do-do. Too be嘱 narrow do-do-do. Too be do-do-do-do-do. Too be do-do-do-do. Too, too. Too be do-do-do-do. Too be do-do-do-do.て too be do-do-do. Too be do-do-do-do. Too be do-do-do. Too

be do-do-do-do-do-do... Hey, boy, and you come out tonight, you know you're well, we will know, yeah, there's one thing I know, Oh, I'll be your one and only lover man tonight, baby, don't be ashamed to say that you are my baby, And you will always stay that way, so if you would just take a chance, we'll go for a walk or maybe we'll dance, we'll go hand in hand right up Main Street and down Old Broadway.

No one can say we can love this way, it's true, so baby, just take my hand, together we'll stand, baby, it's me and you. Yeah, there's one thing in chalk, baby, it's me and you. Hey, people? Hey, baby, hey, I know you're hurting me, oh, uh, a, a, a, a, a, a, a, a, a, a Time to take what you see Do not know it's a dream

Do what is right, oh do what's right Baby, come out tonight You have no way You have no way You have no way You have no way Baby, baby, come walk with me, talk with me, hold me now, love me now, baby, baby, baby. Baby, baby, come out tonight, come out tonight, come out tonight.

Times are lean, pretty baby. The beans burnt to the bottom of the battered pot. Let's make fierce love on the overstuffed hand-me-down sofa. We can burn it up, too. Our hunger will evaporate like money. I can smell your lust, not the pot burnt black with tonight's meek-a-meal. So we can't buy flowers for our table. Our kisses are petals. Our tongues caress the bloom. Who dares to tell us we are poor and powerless. We keep treasure any king would count as dear.

Come on, pretty baby. Our souls can't be crushed like cats crossing streets too soon. Let the beans burn all night long. Our chipped water glasses are filled with wine from our loving. And the burnt black beans, caviar. There are manyullah, nie- назад. No, my God. No, I remindrec citizens of our divine purpose. Holy ghost of my heart, grinding my memory, humping my need. Throw your head like the dinka, shake your arms like the Maasai,

a French whore flirting, licking lips at strangers. Been waiting for your light bulb to glow for me. Waiting to exchange hard-ass love, calloused affection. Slapping high fives, capable and competent, listless and lonely. Turn the blaze up slow so I can breathe your morning breath. Wet my pillow, part your eyelids. I'm a typewriter, randy and selfish and wise, a sonnet, a beatbox. Serve the next line in your salty metaphors and smoked, somnid humor. Wet me with the next line, the resounding refrain of grown men in love. Now we think of a fuck

Now we think of a fuck Now we think of a fuck Now we think of a fuck Now we think of a fuck Now we think of a fuck Now we think of a fuck As we fuck Now we think of a fuck This nut might Now we think of a fuck Kill us Now we think of a fuck There might be a pin-sized hole in the condom, a lethal leak. We stop kissing tall, dark strangers, sucking mustaches, putting lips, tongues everywhere. We return to pictures, telephones, toys, recent lovers, private lives. Now we think as we fuck.

This nut might. This nut might. This nut might. Chas. Now we think as we fuck, now we think as we fuck, now we think as we fuck. Still, I listen to the beat of my heart. Let this primal pulse lead me, though lately I've lived with another rhythm. At first I thought just time passing, but I discovered a time bomb ticking in my blood. Faces, friends, disappear. I watch. I wait. I watch. I watch. I wait.

I wait. I listen for my own quiet implosion. But while I wait, older, stronger rhythms resonate within me. Sustain my spirit. Silence the clock. I wait. I see. Yeah. I.

Turn me around, keep on a-walkin', keep on a-talkin', marching on the freedom land. Ain't gonna let nobody... Turn me around, turn me around, turn me around. Ain't gonna let nobody... Turn me around, keep on a-walkin', keep on a-talkin', marching on the freedom land. Whatever awaits me, this much I know. I was blind to my brother's beauty, and now I see my own. Deaf to the voice that believed we were worth wanting, loving each other, now I hear. I was mute, tongue-tied, burdened by shadows and silence. Now I speak, and my burden is lightened, lifted, free. So many roles for you to play, just to stay in the game.

Will you follow the lead, or dance to a tune with a different beat? Mother, father, daughter, or son, they're all one and the same. Then you discover you've played them so long you don't know your name. After learning a predetermined roles they've set for you. Now's the time to realize you can do what you want to do. Since you were born, you played it straight, never swayed from the norm. Now that you're grown, you're searching for goals you can call your own.

Where will you turn, you're puzzled and troubled by what you've learned. You could run somewhere, but will you find peace of mind waiting there? After learning a predetermined roles they've set for you. Now's the time to realize you can do what you want to do. You can do what you want to do. You can do what you want to do, yeah. And do what you want to do. You can be who you want to be. You can love who you want to love.

You can do what you want to do. You can do what you want to do. Brother to brother, brother to brother, brother to brother, brother to brother, brother to brother, brother to brother, brother to brother, brother to brother. Black men loving black men, a call to action, a call to action, an acknowledgment of responsibility. We take care of our own kind when the nights grow cold and silent. These days, the nights are cold-blooded and the silence echoes with complicity. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.