The Origin of Homosexuality in the Black Male

I recently read the work of a Black college student in America, which suggested that homosexuality in black men is a legacy of the subjugation of the "African male" by White colonizers. I don't mean to simplify his arguments here, but apparently the colonizers were intimidated by the apparently more virile, robust Africans (with larger penises) and sought to emasculate them through enslavement, and through raping them. I never realized emasculation was a primary intent of slavery, as opposed to developing from it.

I don't yet have enough knowledge to substantively disagree with this persons argument, but I have a few opinions I'd like to share. I do not believe that homosexuality has anything to do with lacking "manhood". As "manly" as African males were/are perceived to be, the occurrence of homosexuality is no less, or more, marked in African societies than it is in every other today. Surely there were/are cultural mores that proscribed homosexual behavior more stringently than in Europe (where there was some documented discussion about variance in human sexuality), but to suggest that (black) African people were entirely heterosexual before colonization is rather gratuitous. 

Why would anyone want to convince themselves that they are gay because of the systematic emasculation of black men by europeans? Supposedly this subjugation continues today with global structures that perpetuate imperialistic relations between (black) Africans and their descendants, and the powerful, white West. So, I am to believe that my attraction for men is less essential than the attraction European gay men feel for other men, because the incidence of homosexuality in my lineage is nonexistent prior to the 17th century. Oookay. So then if it wasn't for colonization and slavery I would be straight like everybody else? Fuck the white man! 

After responding to his essay this budding scholar was quick to remind me that "the truth is offensive". His claims are somehow credible because "he spends his entire time reading and writing, and has thought about the origins of homosexuality in Black men for months". Consider this "fact" that he reminded me of: homosexuality was considered a mental problem, but when alot of white people within the white collective started to come out of the closet, it was removed from the list of mental disorders. Oh really? I didn't know that. This entire time I thought it was removed because in fact gay people are not mentally ill. Obviously the development of a politically active (primarily white) gay community was crucial, but homosexuality was not removed from the DSM of the APA without due consideration of empirical data available.  

There are no homosexuals in Jamaica, or at least, there weren't any a few decades ago. It's tourism, American television, and the Internet that are eroding the moral purity of my Christian country. Bunkum and Balderdash! People need to stop recycling this misinformed and ignorant bullshit. It's scary what formal education can do to people who do only selective reading. 

Blackmail: Battyman Pay Mi, or Else...

Blackmail. It's a word we don't use very often in Jamaican Creole, and I can't now think of an equivalent word or phrase. In detailing the struggles faced by gays and lesbians in Jamaica few would mention the threat of blackmail, but the Jamaican situation, marked with intolerance and repression, nourishes this kind of crime. 

A few months ago, one of my good friends from high school, we'll call him Michael, told me about how he was blackmailed. Like many Jamaican gays and lesbians he turned to the internet to try to find other queer Jamaicans. Michael happened across a popular chat-room in which one of the men took particular interest in him and hey eventually exchanged phone contact details. Through their phone conversations my friend became more trusting, and he mentioned casually what he was studying at a university and also the company he worked with. One day he was shocked when the tone and nature of the conversation changed. His online-buddy contacted an informant in the HR department of the company that he worked and uncovered his home address. This phone friend was not gay, and wanted to be compensated or else he would start telling people that Michael was gay. 

Michael was terrified. What if this guy went to the apartment and told all the neighbours? What if he went to the university and posted signs? What if people at the company were to find out, would he lose his job? Michael refused to answer any more calls from this guy, but then the texts came flowing in... characterized by stinging homophobic epithets, among death threats, and a reiteration of the price to be paid to keep the prospective informant quiet. The attacks continued for weeks, and would only come to an end after Michael contacted the telecommunications provider, explained that he was being harassed and asked that the number of the attacker be permanently blocked. 

The texts stopped coming. Michael breathed free. But he always considers that this unknown, malicious and opportunistic fiend knows where he lives, and could make another orchestrated attempt to corner him if her ever had the resources. 

Michael's experience is not unique. I'm sure many other Jamaican gays and lesbians have suffered this fate. Crimes like these will continue so long as people have to remain closeted. Now we have one more thing to fear, besides the wrath of our intolerant families, or communities. Fear and intimidation are bitches. In fact, what proof did this man have that Michael was gay, besides some cryptic online screen name, and maybe a few texts from telephone number he assigned the name Michael he wouldn't have much damning information. But the idea of being outed is paralyzing, and it was under the grips of this paralysis that Michael suffered for weeks. 

Online chat-rooms are not safe. You can never be assured of someone's purported identity, and should be careful about revealing personal details when using these media. 

Take care,

Coming Out On Facebook

A few years ago when I opened my facebook account I opted to leave the "Interested In" field blank. I wasn't ready to tell the world that I was gay, and I wasn't going to lie that I loved women. One day after coming out to a friend she revealed that she always guessed I must have been gay, because I left the aforementioned field blank. She opined that no 'normal' Jamaican man would give up an opportunity to tell the world that he loves 'pum pum', if it were true... and also, that the fact of leaving it blank suggests that I thought about what it might mean, knowing fully well that it would raise speculations about my sexuality. She was right. 

Most straight people include this information in their profiles, even though one would already assume they are heterosexual. It never crosses their minds that the decision to complete this field might be troubling for some (facebook does a similar thing for gender that I dislike, having only two possible fields: "male" or "female"). 

So the reality for gay or lesbian Jamaicans is grim; damned if they do and damned if they don't. It is completely understandable that many choose to lie by saying they are interested in the opposite sex. 

I envy straight people for the ease with which they can declare their sexualities. Since I like to push boundaries I do the same, but I am sure my decision will not be without consequences. However, this is something that I have to do. The more we hide our sexuality, the uglier and scarier it becomes to us and others. Every time I saw the blank field I was reminded that I lived in fear. I worried about what people I cared nothing for would say, or who they would tell. It was a constant reminder of the shame I should feel for simply being a gay Jamaican. I refuse to continue living like that. 

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind." Dr. Seuss

Gay Men Policing Heterosexuality in Jamaica

As always, the architects of the proverbial closet subjugate his mind and provide him with the tools needed to perpetuate the suppression of his fundamental instincts, and those of others, effectively elevating lowly "slaves" to the position of "slave-drivers". It provides for effective social control.

We hate ourselves, because we have been conditioned to consider who we are as evil. I can't remember if I shared this with you before, but it's relevant to this post so here goes. A few months ago I met my school's LGBT advisor for a conversation, along with one guy from Morocco, and the other from Connecticut. The American noted how interesting it was to meet gay men from other countries, for he had never thought of them before. I then said to him that we might be from very different places but our experiences trying to negotiate socio-cultural spaces that marginalize us is the same, albeit to different extents. He disagreed. He said, "my coming out was actually quite easy. I told my parents, they said okay, and that was that." 

I on the other hand struggled for years to get to the place where I am now. I never doubted that I loved men, or that I was gay when I discovered that people in the world identified as "gay" and led quite normal lives, but I fought hard to understand why society was so hostile towards the idea of someone like me. Many gay Jamaican men don't quite get to the stage where they question the validity of their cultural paradigm. Instead, they continue to hate themselves, constantly wishing the gay away, hoping to meet the woman who will sweep them off their feet. Some of the most robust rejections of my being gay have come from Jamaican men struggling with their sexualities. But, I understand extremely well the factors that give rise to this kind of self-loathing and oftentimes outright rejection of the notion of a gay identity. It makes perfect sense that we have internalized the homophobia of our society, and interesting how one is given the tools to perpetuate his own oppression and that of others. 

We must learn to love ourselves. We must erase every thought we've ever had that the attraction we feel is dirty, or evil. We will have to ignore every hurtful word people hurl at us when they question our masculinities. None of this is easy, but we must not hesitate to begin peeling away the layers of shame and guilt in which our Jamaican upbringing has encrusted us. The slave drivers were better regarded by their masters, but we gain nothing from perpetuating hatred and fear against our own. 

Live. Let-Live. Love. 

To Dad, With Love

I finally did it. The earth opened up briefly while I said, and repeated the words "I am gay." I braced myself for his response as he calmly replied, "Do you know how long I have been waiting for this day to come? I'm glad you can now relieve yourself of the burden."

"How could you ever have expected that something so insignificant could come between us," he asked. "I love you, and nothing will ever change that," he continued. I had to ask him if he was listening to himself, because he seemed to have been reading from a manuscript which detailed all the right things to say to a son after he comes-out. He asked how my siblings had reacted, and demanded that I tell him if any of them has been teasing me so that he may give them a little talk. Unbelievable, right? Thankfully, all my siblings have been extremely supportive, listening to my stories, asking intelligent questions, and reassuring me of their love for me.

Now everyone who needs to know knows. My relationship with my family has never been stronger. I can feel it. After I spoke to daddy, I called one of my brothers and shared with him what had transpired. He was glad.

"FP, I hope you find a nice partner and settle down. And remember, always have safe sex." Wait, who abducted my father!!!

A Mother Always Knows Best...

Almost a month since my last post, and so much has changed! Last Friday was one of those days when all the hatred against gays in the world became apparent to me. I was weak, and vulnerable, and I wanted to find someone to talk with, someone who could understand. But for that one moment in my life, nobody was around. So, I called mommy. She immediately asked me what was wrong, and then the tears started to flow. I started to weep, and my mother tried to console me.

You would never believe the things she said to me:

Honey I love you, and your siblings love you. It shouldn't matter how other people perceive you, because you must understand that people will not always affirm your sense of self. If I, your mother, can accept you for who you are, then I don't see why others cannot. Just be yourself, and do what makes you happy.

I was her baby again, and not some gay thing that happened into her life. I expected her to come around sometime, but never so soon. Now, my heart is at peace.

Here at school I am making headway into the LGBT community. Last year, I didn't have the courage to go to Coming Out Stories, and present myself as a gay man, but this time around I was. I listened as students, males and females, black and white, shared aspects of ther coming out stories with about 40 people. I had to tell my story. I raised my hand and started to talk, just after hearing a freshman female reiterate that "chicks are so hot!" People listened. And they smiled at times, and stared intently when they were supposed to. The snapped rhythmically when I ended with my mother's dramatic turnaround. How sweet it is to be able to speak so openly about my sexuality. Not having to consider who is in the room listening. Not having to look over my shoulders. Not having to feel self-conscious. Bliss.

I am so lucky. I read the news reports of new considerations in parliament to put a clause institutionalizing homophobia and discrimination into the Charter of Rights Bill. The possibility of same sex marriages in Jamaica is so far fetched at this point, that debates about prohibiting it are senseless. We should be discussing that question at a time when it is more pertinent, but, this is Jamaica for you, where every effort to distract people's attention from the inefficiencies of the government is maximized. A year ago I would have been outraged at this development. Today I am just concerned. I don't have the strength to persuade all the ignorant people in my country that I am deserving of basic rights of freedom and equality. I am but a vagabond, scrimmaging on the fringes of Jamaican society waiting for a break.

If only they knew.

Failed Exorcism

It's been far too long. Classes have long started, and I am drowning in the sea of academia. I took a look at my blog today, and the desire to share my recent experiences was too compelling for me to resist.

Very little has happened since I left purgatory almost one month ago. My mother is working tirelessly to find a cure for my diseased mind and body. I am indifferent. She is confident that I never left Jamaican "this" way, when I set sail on a journey of self discovery three years ago. I was corrupted by blasphemous liberal ideology, and now she wants her son back. She has enlisted the help of pastors, doctors and close friends, to help her find a solution to this pernicious evil devouring her heart. I must be purged of the demons that lie within me, lest she loses me forever. She prays constantly, beseeching God to do what she herself cannot manage to accomplish from thousands of miles way.

This is so frustrating. She is putting up every barrier imaginable to thwart my efforts to help her come to terms with what I am sure is a very difficult reality. She doesn't want to understand. She wants nothing more but for me to apologize for my sexual identity. She innocently asks me how classes are going, while she schemes wickedly against me.

Life goes on. I was convinced of this fact when I decided to drop the bomb. Now it's time for the slow and painful period of reconciliation and healing.

I have made great efforts to integrate myself into the school's LGBTQ support system. My efforts haven't been enormously successful, but I am learning to revel in the marginal advances made each day. I am more self-aware and self-confident than ever before.

I love myself. I love and appreciate the people around me. I love being happy.

Keep well, and love yourself always.

Me.

Coming Out to My Mother

Coming out is never easy. I think we can all agree with this statement, no matter our personal experiences. I knew I had to tell my mother before I left Jamaica, but I was growing scared that this might never happen. We watched gay-themed movies; we had discussions about gender, and sexuality; I told her of my gay friends, but I couldn't say three simple words: I am gay.

Yesterday, I did it. She went silent, perfectly on cue. It didn't help that I said the words most bluntly, in a matter of fact tone (as I've said before, people deal with the news a lot better when you sound sorry for yourself, concede that what you are doing is wrong/immoral, and that you want to change). For the rest of the evening her brows remained knitted, concern etched into her face. "I want to talk about this," I said to her, but she wasn't ready. Today, I pushed her to tell me how she felt. Though I am familiar with all the concerns she raised, it was still hard to hear them from her. I keep forgetting I do not have the luxury of living in a country where gay issues are pertinent, and where parents are sensitive to the issues that their gay children face. I was caught off-guard.

God. Sin. Anal Sex. Blood. Gender Incompatibility. Childhood. Effeminacy. Nature v Nurture. Love. Fear. Disbelief. Shock. Tears.

She couldn't sleep last night, and probably wont tonight either.

Sometimes in life it is much easier to leave things unsaid. Today, I chose the difficult alternative, and said things my mother would rather not hear, despite her suspicions. I'm not sure how things will progress from here, but I believe her when she tells me that she doesn't love me any less. Perhaps now she is just torn between her loyalty to me, her son, and her pastor who tells her to rid her life of sin. I am sin walking, I suppose.

~*~*~

*Knowing how deeply immoral homosexuality is, I should never have chosen that lifestyle for myself.

This is the same woman whose sons have had multiple children out of wedlock, with multiple women. They have collectively screwed half the women in my Parish. I doubt she ever chided them for choosing an immoral lifestyle. But oh, fornication is not sinful.

*I made her feel bad about the event with her Bishop, where I was fondled. Luckily the ordeal was lessened by the prayers and bible scriptures he chanted simultaneously. She would be so embarrassed now, if she had ever confronted her Bishop.

Okay. So heterosexual people who are raped shouldn't get redress, because they are supposed to enjoy heterosexual sex? The man put his filthy hands on me!!! Whether I am gay or fucking straight, my mother should be furious!

* She is not condemning me, I am reassured. That is very comforting to me, having just gone through all the reasons why homosexuality is bad.

Forget that I have to live with the fact that "my choice" is the bane of the entire developing/ religious world's existence. Being a gay Jamaican is nice and dandy. I am so thankful that my mother is stopping just short of kicking me out.

I agree she is ignorant, but I would rather she try to understand, rather than recycle all the misinformed, homophobic garb that I have heard time and time again.

*Sodom and Gomorra? Really?!

I don't give a fuck at this point. I told the truth. Perhaps she would rather live in Utopia, where all her children are heterosexual, and are busy populating the earth with their many babies.

She wants to put her hands to her head and holler out, crying. Okay.

I'm being very insensitive here, but didn't she say she always surmised? It seems to me that her reaction should be, "what took you so long," as opposed to one of outrage. The Gleaner article on the characteristics of a gay teenager were very explicit, she says, and everyone in the house read and confirmed that I fit the bill perfectly. I sent her blood pressure skyrocketing. My apologies. There isn't really a good way to tell you I'm gay.

She used an interesting analogy to explain her reaction.

You know when you know you are sick, but you try to convince yourself you are fine... and then after a while the doctor makes a damning prognosis that you don't want to hear: You have cancer, and but a few months left to live.

I'm not sure if the cancer is a pun for my malignant homosexuality.

I am angry. People are stupid. Instead of pulling people closer, they push them away. I don't fancy being regarded as a casualty of North American attitudes, and an imperfect son, because I know there is nothing wrong with me.

I am convinced that people can project negativity on you. I come to Jamaica and I morph in to this self-concious, fearful, self-hating version of myself. In the house now, I am battling a melange of feelings ranging from, resentment, to regret, to guilt and sorrow. I can't be surrounded by this.

Thankfully, I am just days from freedom.

~*~*~

When she returns she comes to the room with tears in her eyes. My sibling asks her what is wrong- if she is still troubled by what I told her.

Yes. She hasn't been able to sleep for the last few days. Every minute she thinks on it, and she breaks down crying. The way she is feeling now, she wished I never said anything. Then she said the words I never wanted to hear. It's the kind of stuff you hear in movies- the kind of thing that you know no gay child should ever hear: I do not now, and will never accept that you are gay.

*"What of every man, like you, decided to be this way (she can't quite say the word gay/ battyman), what would happen to humanity?"

Ammm, ok. People tend to ask this a lot. That statement is based on the premise that people can "turn" gay. This is simply not so. Homosexuals have always existed, and if they never undermined population growth before, they surely wont now. Everyone wont "turn" gay. The majority of people are predisposed (for whatever host of reasons) to be heterosexual.

My sibling tried to respond to her ridiculous question (I'm being harsh, yes, but I really do hold my mom to higher intellectual standards), and by this time I was so frustrated that I flew past her and ran out of the house. According to her, nothing I say or do will justify my "behaviour", so I saved my breath.

~*~*~

I watched the film Boys Don't Cry with my mom a few months ago, so we could have some serious conversation about gender, and sexuality. That obviously didn't work too well, because now she swears that I want to be a girl. "He doesn't walk like a boy", she says to my sister. "And look at the way he dances!" Okay. I have a penis, but that doesn't necessarily mean that I am ultra-masculine, and it doesn't mean that I like girls. There are variations of human gender identity and sexuality. I thought watching and discussing the key issues in the film would make that clear, and I thought she understood, but I guess everything changes when the subject of such discussions is your own child- well, apparently.

Anyway, I still tried to reach out to her before I left the island. The day before I left, I begged her to watch the film For The Bible Tells Me So. We started watching, and then she fell asleep. I woke her up, but in another minute, her eyes were closed. I grew so frustrated. I'm trying to make this woman understand me, even if from a perspective, which affirms some of her own biases (some of the families still think homosexuality is morally reprehensible), but she wouldn't even try. When she woke up after I walked away, she ended up staying up for the entire night. I guess she wasn't that tired.

The next morning, as I packed to leave, she asked if I could leave her a did of the documentary. I couldn't.

So I left the island, with a huge unresolved issue behind, but I am very glad the big secret is out. A huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

I'm sure she will come around eventually. I'm sure she doesn't mean it when she says, "If I wasn't a Christian, I would beat you with a broom-stick and kick you out of my house." After all, I am still her baby.

I'm Coming Out... But Not Yet.

Two days ago my brother asked me if I was gay. For a split second, I almost said yes. He said it most casually, even jokingly, after looking at my clothing and suggesting that my style is like that of Jamaican gay men. I was caught off-guard, and I considered my promise to myself to never lie if confronted. But I hesitated long enough for my sister to say, "are you joking, of course he is not!" Now, the uncomfortable discussion about my homosexuality has been postponed, but it wont be long before it returns. He also said, "you could never be gay. Don't you want to make beautiful babies like mine?" I wasn't amused, but I held back. Is there any easy way to just say it?

I AM GAY!

If only...

The Lingerie Show

Living in North America affords me the opportunity to interact openly with gay men and lesbians. It's a privilege I cherish, having grown up in a society where I was made to feel ashamed of my attraction for men. Last night I went to a lingerie party, at the queer house on campus, and was pleasantly surprised by the performances on stage. Transsexuals, parading along the runway with androgynous bodies; Gay men and lesbians letting loose as raucous crowds cheered them on; and even Heterosexuals traversing gender lines as they wear underwear traditionally worn by the opposite sex, proud of their bodies, and assured of their sexualities. This is a scene I would never have been able to savour in Jamaica.

I miss my family, and I miss my Jamaican food, but I'm not sure if I can go back to living a life shrouded in secrecy and shame. I decided long ago that I would live my life for myself, not Jamaican society. I want to be on stage. I want to be proud of myself too, and I want everyone to know it.