Friends with Benefits

I had an interesting talk with someone who was also gay and we had an interesting conversation. He was stating, and I agreed that we both had more female friends than gay male friends. And it made may me ask myself, can gay men be friends without the benefit of having sex.
Hell can we just be friends without the shade we give each other or the value of seeing someone beyond their sexual organs?  
I don't want to whitewash and make assumptions that everyone has the same experience as it may just be me so all I can do is tell my story but I know for myself there has been several cases where I have struck a conversation with someone in the gym or the coffeeshop and after talking about interests and just general stuff in the world, the conversation will eventually shift to one of sex. Your eyes open and you realize that all the conversations were about getting the cookies! If you don't know what I mean by 'cookies' it's the thing that most people think with and it's not above the waistline.
And the crazy thing I learned is that if you don't give up the cookies, they don't want nothing to do with you and if you do give up the cookies, then they got what they wanted and don't want nothing to do with you. You're damned if you do and damned if you don't.
Recently I told myself that I was going to stop being 'so busy' and make the time and effort to meet new gay male friends. I was not going to let myself fall into the trap and think that all men think about was sex.When meeting someone I was going to make it clear from the beginning that my intent was cultivating a friendship with no expectation or desire of having sex. I went into this knowing that as you get older it is hard to make friends. Mostly because of the time. With work and other day to day things you already have in your life, establishing a new friendship takes some work. Work that won't fit on your plate if it's already full. But I was determined and I told myself I was going to make the time.
They always say be careful what you ask for.
I met a guy in Starbucks where I was working on a play and he must have seen my work over my shoulder. Being an artist he introduced himself and after awhile I figured he was gay even though we never stated it. I just knew. We exchanged numbers with the intent of making a new friend. We talked and I shared a little about myself, about my partner and my interests. He did the same.We tried several times to set a lunch/dinner meeting but with both of our schedules it was going to be hard. Eventually I asked if he wanted to go on my grocery store run with me. Being that groceries are more expensive in the city and I have a car I usually drive 20 minutes upstate and go to my grocery store where I can stock up on the essentials cheaply. I usually also if time allows, stop at the pet store or do some clothes shopping. So I let him know although it was not the normal meeting we could talk on the drive up and back and if time allowed, stop for lunch.
He was a cool person and it was cool to hear about his music and his family and even the guy he was dating. With all the talking I realized time was going by fast. To fast as I had to get back to the city as I had a final paper I had to do for class. Because of this I told him we might have to bypass the lunch as I way behind schedule.
From that moment the person I was trying to know turned into something I didn't want to know. He started with how he was expecting lunch and felt mislead. I took ownership of that and apologized and stating that I didn't realize that all the casual conversation we had would push back the clock. Since he didn't eat fast food I offered to stop at a diner where he could get take out.I was lucky to find a parking spot and a diner. I figured I would sit in the car while he went in and got his stuff. When he saw i wasn't following him he looked at me as if I was crazy and expressed since I was messing up his time the least I could do was buy his lunch, something we never agreed on. Still going on the fact that I did say we would have lunch, yet never saying I would buy him lunch, I put my tongue in my pocket and went into the diner with him to pay. He proceeded to order and a voice in my head said, "I bet you he's going to take advantage of this.' And sure enough he ordered lunch and extra items that could he probably could have as left over for his dinner. I still held my tongue as I gave the cashier my Visa. But in my head I told myself, "When people show you who they are, you better believe them." So by his actions he showed me what kind of person he was.
You'd think it'd be over but for the next several miles back he proceed to go into this tirade about past trust issues and people saying and doing one other thing. You would swear we were an old married couple who were married for twenty years. I just stared blankly looking for the NYC city limit. He must have tired himself out with his speech and finally got quiet but as I quickly accelerated the car to get into my turn lane he started up again. "You don't care about my life" "You have no respect for the way I feel" "Let me out"
Hallelujah, just the words I was looking for as I crossed traffic lanes and the first chance I had screeched the car to a stop and the moment he got out, closed the door and did my best Duke of Hazzard impression and screeched off, never looking in my rear view mirror.
Is this what it's going to take to make friends?
But i told myself i wasn't going to let that experience make me bitter, that there are good people out there. And not to say he wasn't a good person, but it just wasn't a good match and you can't be friends with everyone you meet.
I just think it's important to have friendly relationships and if you have to do it with your body, then it's not a true friendship, it's simply one with benefits. I've since met some great people and know it can happen.We all start out as strangers. We sometimes try to fool ourselves that we don't need anyone in this world but we all need someone we can call on as a friend.

Black Christmas

I remember as a young boy the snow crunching underneath my winter boots which held my small feet which themselves were covered in three different pair of socks as a challenge to the freezing biting Minnesota cold. The air that escaped from my mouth gave the impression that I was smoking as white wisp of air escaped every time I exhaled.
The sun had already made her exit and in its place was Mr. Moon being stingy with his light. It didn't matter because I was standing in front of my house, a house covered in brightly multicolored lights that blinked at me and every few seconds the lights that trimmed the house would dance for me.
Sitting inside the warm house was the tall regal tree covered in colored balls and on it more lights, the ones that won the lottery as they didn't have to entertain those outside. It was Christmas and like the words in the song it was the best time of the year.
Actually the best thing about Christmas was the gifts that were under the tree. My brother and sisters would count each package to see who had the most as each one was picked up and shook as we tried to guess what was hidden inside.
We knew that no matter what was in them Santa didn't bring them as our mother who raised us alone and lived during the civil rights era refused to give credit to a white man in a beard as she was the one who worked overtime to make sure we had gifts.
Christmas Eve seemed like it was lasting forever. But we knew the day was close. The smell of glazed Ham and the sweetness of sweet potato pie danced in the air as the dinner for tomorrow was getting a head start. We had to learn to guess the smells of what she was cooking as mama had one rule, "Don't come into my kitchen!"
We were content with  the bowl of nuts and oranges that sat on the living room table. In the background on the television Frosty the Snowman was playing, he was never my favorite. I much preferred the animated 'The Little Drummer Boy.'
Christmas was a time when my siblings and I called a truce. No name calling, punching each other or fighting over the remote control. We were all in agreement that Christmas was a day of love for each other.
We anxiously looked at the clock as if staring at it would make the hands move faster. We were waiting for midnight as it was a tradition that we could open up one gift. When the midnight hour would come our mother would tease us and make us wait an additional minute which might as well have been another hour. When permission was given we raced to the tree. For some reason we always picked the small box as we knew the big box was meant for Christmas day. We learned early how to become good actors at a young age as sometimes you opened the gift and as a child you're asking yourself "What am I supposed to do with socks, I already have some." But you don't show that emotion on your face instead you take your smile out of your pocket and thank ma.
We eventually had to go to bed but we laid in bed determined to stay awake until the morning, but each year we lost the battle to the Sandman.
Christmas morning!
We seemed to have the same clock as we raced to the bedroom and asked our ma was it okay if we opened up our gifts. In her half sleep mode she would tell us to go ahead and off we ran, running past the kitchen, briefly noticing that there was now chocolate cake and homemade apple pie next to the sweet potato pies, where did those come from?
It was a brief thought as we tore into the gifts, paper flying everywhere, the tree looking down at us make a mess. Each opened gift we stopped and marvel our gifts to the others. Sometimes showing a brief jealousy at what they got but then satisfied when we saw something we wanted.
"Hey I need some D size batteries!"
Afterwards the tree was embarrassed as it was now naked, no longer teasing us with wrapped boxes but instead surrounded by torn paper. And the unity we had before was on hold as we were off in different areas of the house playing with our gifts.
We were never the perfect family but on that day we seemed to be what we should have always been. Yes the day was about Christ and not about material items but in a child's eye Christmas is not only about the gifts but also the one day when peace on earth also existed in our house if even for just that day.
As an adult I have to draw on those memories as the excitement of Christmas becomes replaced with worries about bills, money and loves lost and gone.
We forget about the peace but if we allow ourselves for one day to reflect on peace, although we may not have the wrapped gifts, we're still left with a gift.
Happy Holidays!

You Don't Look Like You Have HIV

It's so funny that when I let people know that I'm HIV positive, the first thing they say is, you don't look like you have the disease. "You look muscualr and your face is so clear" "Are you sure you have it?"
Yes after 24 years i think I'm pretty sure.
What exactly is the look? It may come off as a compliment but in actuality what does HIV look like? I know that in the early days of the virus there was a look. Before today's medication you had people with sores on their face or people who were once healthy looking, now you could see bones pressed against the skin. There was a "look" but not anymore. I can understand how people can be fooled as they see ads advertising HIV medication, mine included which recently ran in national magazines, and they see how healthy the person look, with mentioned clear skin, for men a muscular build or someone giving a beautiful smile.
But underneath that the virus still exist and there is no look. I say this because I have a new friend who doesn't know my status as I have no intentions of having sex with him as we're just friends (And yes gay men can have friend's with another gay men without having sex, but that's another post dealing with ignorance)3
He is a good person but stated to me that he can tell if someone has HIV. According to him, there a certain fat that exist around the stomach which is a cause of that person taking HIV medication.
What?
Could it be because that person like junk food or hasn't made it to the gym recently or even that's the way that person genes operate?
People have sex based on this idea of what the look looks like. And if you're at the club, add chemicals like alcohol or drugs and that illusion really becomes your truthful reality and the next thing you know you're having unprotected sex. 
I want to make clear that not everyone with HIV hide their status, especially knowing they are about to have an sexual act. Most are responsible to let you know their status or if they don't tell you their status, make sure that they use every precaution to make sure their sexual partner is safe.
But we have to be real and admit that their is a small number of people who will not share that information because they're thinking with the wrong head and letting that head make the decision for them.
And it's not that they're evil but in an earlier post I talked about rejection and sometimes that person just don't want to be rejected based on their status.
So is this a safe sex message?
Yes!
The rates in the African-American community is rising and it's not that we're getting any different messages than the other races. Yes their are other barriers that make us place ourselves at risk such as self-esteem, oppression, lack of education, racism and "I got so much other things to worry about in my life that AIDS is low on my list"But it can't be low especially if you're sexually active.
What's missing is the communication. Sometimes we put more effort in what shoes or outfit we're going to buy than who we sleep with. And we live in that reality that not only can we tell who's HIV but also who's gay.
I used to get on a friend who is recently divorced and she feels she has nothing to worry about since the man she's seeing is having sex with her and since he doesn't look like he has AIDS she has nothing to worry about.
he listens to Hip-hop and he has a deep  voice and a strong hands shake-so there's no way.
I had to bust her bubble because I know from experience in my wild days that I fooled with men who during their lunch break would seek male companionship and get home from work at the same time as if nothing happened and the girlfriend and the wife was none the wiser. All you have to do around lunch time is check out Craigslist.org which is a website for those unfamiliar with it, and see how many married or straight men are looking for an afternoon Scooby snack.
It takes two to get infected and it also takes two to communicate and just one look at a person will not let you know what their sexual history is.
And if you're married or in a committed relationship you still need that communication. And if your Spider sense is going off, get tested because it's easier to deal with any disease early before it gets out of hand than waiting until damage is done.
So say it all together. There is no look! and if you have been having unprotected sex with anyone, if you want tot know what the look looks like, just look in the mirror. That's what HIV/AIDS look like!

What Happens to a Child Never Hugged

I was in the third grade and it was show and tell. Everyone else had something to show and I just had something to tell. I don't know what possessed me but I remember standing before the class and sharing my telling. With no dramatics I plainly stated what I wanted to share.
"I hate my mother"
That was all I had to say and walked backed to my desk in silence. There was no questions asked why I felt that way or what made me say it, not from the teacher or the other students.
The one person who did want to know why I said it was my mother. This was before the new technologies such as Facebook and Twitter, but by time I got home she already knew what I said and she stood in the living room waiting for me.
She glared at me.
"So you hate me huh?" I'll give you something to hate me for"
The race was on as she pulled out her freshly cut switch and like a cheetah I turned and ran out the door with her behind me getting in as many hits as she could.
I was regulated to my room for the rest of the month but when you're young it feels longer.
My mother never hugged me.
That wasn't the reason for my statement but I think my young self knew that I was missing out on an important connection between mother and child. Growing up we were scared of her. We would hear her pull in from work and no matter what we were doing, whether it was watching television, making Ramen Noodles or talking on the phone, we would stop what we were doing and run. Then we would wait in our room waiting to hear how her mood was. Did she have a good day or bad? Because if was bad we knew the day was going to be bad for us.
We never used to run from her but I remember how one day she came home from work and me and my three siblings ran out to greet her.
Her response, "Why are you motherfuckers embarrassing me?
It was the last day we ran to her.
These memories came back when I had a recent dinner with my cousin. His mother being my mother's sister had so much in common that I never realized it.All this time I thought I was alone in my experience but he shared the same story of him never hearing his mother saying she loved him.But she bought them stuff.
Stuff!
It made me realize that that's how my mother and her siblings were raised.
The way my mother showed love was through material items. By providing a roof over our heads, buying groceries, putting gifts under the tree, to her that was love.
During my time as a youth worker I worked with so many families that did the same thing. That considered buying their child a XBox 360 showed their sense of love.
I think I would have rather went on an empty stomach just to experience a hug of love.
What happens to a child never hugged?
They learn to not hug back and they reach in their wallet to show their love. They feel a emptiness, a non-completed bond. They don't know how to accept hugs because it's so unusual and makes one feel there's a hidden agenda.
Now that I'm older I do realize she gave what she got. What I had to learn was how to break that cycle.
I wished during that time of show and tell instead of telling everyone I hate my mother, that I could say "I don't care what my mother buys for me, I just want her hug."
What happens to a child never hugged?
It depends, some learn how to learn about love themselves, some forget how to fly and some use bitterness as the dirt that fills their empty garden.
No material object can replace the touch of a parent.

Man in a Dress

I've always admired transgendered people. To some when they think of transgender they think of a man dressing like a woman , but it's so much deeper than that. To them it's not about being a man and putting on makeup, and wearing a dress and slipping into a pair of high heels. It's how they identify and how they see themselves living their life.
I used to be one who didn't understand the whole transgender life. Of course I was also in a place where I didn't understand my own sexuality, a place where I was in hiding and passing off as straight.I was also in a zone where there was self-hating feelings from myself of not being able to fully be who I wanted to be based on societies terms. Yet for trans, they not only represented themselves as how they saw themselves but they willingly walked into environments where a target was on their backs.
I think my turn around was from a youth that I was working with when I was employed at an agency that serviced young gay kids. She was only 15 and and when I say she, it's how he identified as he was born a male but preferred to be referred as she. Anyway during the course of interacting with her she would give me small nuggets of perspective on her life. I was fascinated because to me it was a world I never knew that much about. I had friends who were transgender but we rarely hung out as true friends.There was also an added piece in that she was black, which came with its own societal luggage, she was gay and she was trans-gendered. She would share with me how things were for her in her school, in her community and at her church. At home she was fine, well as fine as she could be as her birth family placed her in foster care at the age of nine but when I met her she was in the process of being adopted.
She went through moods, some days happy, some days snapping heads off. When we built a relationship I would learn that it was because of situations she encountered in the outside world.And it was mostly from school as she encountered 'evil looks', passing comments and other craziness. The kicker is that it was not only from the students but also from the teachers. The adult teachers who were supposed to make it a safe environment, were placing their own values on her and making it unsafe, something that many LGBT youth encounter in school as school staff are sometimes part of the problem.      
My teaching moment came when, as part of my job I would take the youths on a field trip. This meant I would be out in the public with her her and it would give me a perspective on what she endures. We went to a Red Lobster in the suburbs and the place was filled with the early dinner crowd. Right away the looks came. The looks of questioning, 'is it a she or a he?', the looks of disgust and the looks of shame. Since she was under my charge I, I immediately turned into the mama bear and everyone who looked at her crazy, I did the same thing back to them. But she was indifferent to the looks. She was used to it and it rolled off her back like the rain. I was the sponge soaking up the emotions. Not knowing until later that she probably did the same when she was younger and learned the skill of indifference. She walked to her seat and payed the people no mind. She didn't give her power away. 
Crimes against trans-gender people are very high. Higher than incidents of someone who identify as gay. The murder rate and rape cases against transgendered are sad and the statistics are actually higher because when an attack against a transgender happen sometimes they become victimized again by the police themselves so some incidents are not reported. And the sad part is that even the gay community themselves as a whole do not fully embrace the transgender community and like others, will laugh with them in private but will not be seen with them in public.
A 15 year old person taught me to be who I wanted to be and I learned that if she can live her life the way she wanted to, why couldn't I, a man in his forties do the same. It's amazing what children can teach the adults if we let them.
Not everyone who places themselves in a dress is trying to be a Madea.Someone to be comic relief for the masses. And despite what others think they don't do it as drag waiting for you to place a dollar in their belt. What they are doing when they put on that dress is clothing themselves like we all do, nothing less, nothing more.
She reminded me that even though I was a gay man I could hide behind a persona but she couldn't. She placed herself on the front lines and refused to let others dictate how she lived her life. Not even gay or straight people can say the same. We let others pull the strings on what we should be, how we should act and how we should represent ourselves in public.
Here she was 15 and as they say, ' from the mouth of babes' and in her I learned to not only live my life for me but also to fully acknowledge and embrace transgender not as the 'other' but as part of my community.

Two Sides to Every Story

I recently reconnected with a female friend of mine. During high school she was someone I was close with, laughed with, ditched class with and created a strong bond with. We even went to the high school prom together. Back then although I thought I was gay I never claimed that title. So even for my female friend, she didn't know. We saw so much of each other I suppose you could call it dating without the sex.
In my senior year Prom was coming and I was so scared when I asked her to go to the prom. Not that she would say no but because back then I felt that there was an expectation that when you went to the prom that afterward you were supposed to have sex. I don't know where I got this belief from but it laid in my conscious. So asking her was a step I pushed myself toward because you can't be a senior in school and not go to the prom. Isn't that a rule of society? So she accepted and that's when my heart started to beat, not from love but from fear.
What was I getting myself into?
After renting a tux which gave me that James Bond look, and springing a few dollars for a corset for my female friend, it was time to dance to the beat.
On the actual day I was surprised to know that her mother had rented a limo for the night. Now I really felt the pressure that sex was expected. It was like a comedy routine Richard Pryor said when he talked about going on a date. "There's a side of the ordering menu where we can hold hands afterward and there's a expensive side of the menu that if you order from means I'm getting some. That limo meant that she was showing me the second menu.
Gulp!
The prom itself was fun. The hall was filled with the 80's r&b jams and back then we did dances that you wouldn't be embarrassed to do in front of your mother. For me I was still stuck on what happened afterward and what was she expecting. The time finally arrived when the prom was over and the music died and you were told you don't have to go home but you got to get the hell out of here.
What was I supposed to do? I had never kissed a girl. I didn't know what to expect.We decided to go to dinner afterward and my defense was to make jokes. I became Richard Pryor, Eddie Murphy and Steve Martin all rolled into one. I can tell I was getting on her nerves, but for me that was the point, to make myself such an ass she didn't want to do nothing but get away from me. And it worked. We ended the night with her being dropped off first and me last, my virginity intact and no girl tongue action.
Skip ahead to this week where we sat and talked and laughed about prom. I admitted to her how scared I was and claimed ownership of my actions. She surprised me with her response. She told me that for the following few years that night made her feel ugly as she didn't understand why I acted as if I wasn't interested in her. She admitted that the night made her self-esteem hang out on the low side.
At that moment I realized that there were two sides to every story. I learned a lesson that when searching for identity it's not just you but the people around you, the ones who are truly in your lives and by keeping them in the dark you leave them with different interpretations of what's going on. I have to admit there are some similar traits of the whole downlow aspect-not being honest with your partner about your sexuality. But I was different as I felt that there was no intention of me being deceitful, that I just didn't know who I was and how to tell the other person for fear of telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
Hearing her version of the prom date I felt bad especially not knowing I hurt her. She's a great person and it was never my intention. But it was good that many years later we can reflect on the night and still maintain a friendship.
Whether it's our parents, or our friends or people we associate with we want them sometimes to guess what's going on. But they don't have a magic ball. They can only go with what you show them.
But that's result of societies perspective on admitting you're gay. You just don't know how they will react act and it's risky.
Not using it as an excuse but as an explanation of why people don't disclose but like I said you have to remember that search in identity it's not just you.There's always someone else involved whether they know it or not
There's two sides to every story.

Being Thankful

With this years Thanksgiving i have to take this opportunity to give thanks to so much in the world. I first have to give thanks to God because I never knew that after being diagnosed 24 years ago that I would be here to tell my story and to enjoy this thing we call life. You had a plan for me and although I sometimes can be a control freak by placing you first I can finally see the fruit you planted so many years ago.
The second set of thank you goes out to those who have embraced me not only for me telling my story but also not jumping off the train when the journey was rough. You not only stayed with me but also gave the best kind of love in the world, the unconditional love that everyone should bask in.
I thank my medical providers, people who are often forgotten. I know that when I come into the office I can sometimes be hell as I advocate what pills I will take and those I won't. Questioning your advice but then being receptive to it as my hardheadedness see the reasoning. But the greatest thanks is knowing when I come in being treated as Aundaray and not as another patient.
I give thanks to my family. My dysfunctional, not always perfect, sometimes drive me bonkers family. But show me a perfect family. There's no such thing. I'm stuck with you and you're stuck with me but although we follow different paths and thoughts we have a glue of love that keeps us together.
I want to thank all the negative people who I have encountered. By passing your path I see what I don't want to be and have learned how to be the opposite of hate.Although the lesson was sometimes painful and left me in tears sometimes, I came from it stronger and more loving.
Finally I have to give thanks to myself, as narcissistic it may sound. But I thank myself for not giving up. For getting myself off the ground when it felt like I would never be able to get back up. I thank myself for facing my fears and not letting them drive my life any longer. You were in control of the steering wheel for awhile but now you're in the trunk. And I mostly thank myself to open my heart to love. If anyone had a reason to be bitter and hateful, I qualified, but my heart only allowed in the good and embraced it.
I have so much to be thankful and if you're reading this this includes you!
Have a great holiday!!

Tis the Season to Not Always be Jolly

I remember Thanksgiving as a kid. The smells of the macaroni and cheese baking in the oven, the turkey and the glazed ham with pineapple rings attached to it by toothpicks, both waiting it's turn to be placed in the oven. The mixing of the sweet potatoes for the pie and the chocolate frosting that will soon make its home on the homemade cake. And it has to be said everything was made from scratch, no box crap in our house. Of course this is all witnessed at the edge of the kitchen door as mama's rule was, "Get out of my kitchen". The only time we was allowed in was to wash the dishes after dinner was finished.
 When it was time to eat and relatives have arrived, the table would be filled with empty plates and filled dishes of food that was soon to be devoured. It was laughter and memories of days past shared. It was a time for family.
Soon the laughter fades, along with the food and the smells of the food as you're left with memories of what used to have been. You no longer have access to such experiences. You've been outcast, no longer allowed for many different reasons, because they now know you're gay, they feel you don't follow the family values or the knowing you have HIV and your refusal to be served with plastic forks and spoons and paper plates while everyone else get real dinnerware.
The holidays may mean good feelings for people but in reality there are just as many who have lost that space at the table and holidays reminds one of what you don't have.
Family can be a curse and a bane. They can treat you in a way that you would never let a stranger, yet becausse they're family they get a free liscene.
After I was turned away from the table it was sad and lonely. I remember spending one Thanksgiving eating Cheeseburger flavored Hamburger Helper while watching the television show, Survivor" just waiting for the day to be over so I didn't have to be reminded of what I no longer had. I was denied a place at the table for me being what I was born to be. And although I would tell myself I wasn't going to have the usual dessert, there would be some trigger and the dessert of tears would be served.
I soon learned that family doesn't mean the people you were raised with. That family can be a potpourri of people who you have developed relationships with and who accept you for who you are. I was fortunate enough to find an adopted family, but although my mind would sometimes drift back to what holidays used to be, I had to learned to appreciate what I did have.  
Despite the commercialization of the holidays, I just feel no one should experience it alone. If knowing someone no longer has a connection to their real family an effort should be made to invite those to your gathering as it gives them a sense of connection. I think in the end we all want to feel connected to something.
That lost of connection is so valuable that without it, people resort to aids to help them through it, whether it's alcohol, drugs, risky sex with a stranger, suicide, whatever as long as they don't have to be reminded of what they don't have.
Embrace those who don't have no connection with family. Fight against their pride and let them know that we want you to be part of our family. I was saved by people who did the same to me. Although I told them I was okay and refuse their invitation they knew it was a ruse and pushed that ruse away and dragged me to the table. I was at a table with people I wasn't raised with but they became my family. I'm so glad they accepted me at the table because I found my connection.
Tis the season to think of those who don't have and to do whatever you can to make them feel that yes you do have family. And for those affected, accept the invites and don't allow yourself to wallow in your dish of pity.
Enjoy the upcoming holidays the best you can and be blessed!

A Letter to a Father I Never Met

Dear Dad or Father or the person who donated his sperm,
I'm writing to say that I wished I had a chance to meet you as I've always wondered about the other half of me. I'm sorry i missed out on the memories we would have had I'm being positive when I say that they would have been good ones. As a child when I saw men shoes I wondered how you would look walking in them. Maybe me with you walking hand in hand.
I want you to know that I turned out okay despite your absence. Ma had to take up the space you left behind and it wasn't always perfect but she did the best that she could with what she had. I've done a lot of good myself since I've been on my own. I think you would have been proud of me.
I wished i knew your name. I've asked ma but she gives me a different name each time I ask. maybe something happened between you both. But it's not my place to ask.
I do look in the mirror and wonder if we look the same. As you can tell I have a shaved head as my hair started to recede when I was young. Did the same thing happened to you? But people say it looks good on me so I guess it's cool.
I hope you know I'm not mad at you or at least I'm not mad at you anymore. I was when I was young. I would hear jokes about black fathers having babies and leaving and I knew it was true because it happened to me. I guess raising a child is scary or there were other reasons you left. The saddest I felt is whether you knew it or not my other siblings had a different father. Fathers that they could call or go visit. I was the only one who couldn't do that. I remember as a child they gathered around me and started to tell me how i didn't have a father. It hurt but I didn't let them see. I cried when they went away. So I guess that was one of the times i was mad you wasn't there.
But I'll have you to now that I've grown stronger since then and the tears have stopped falling. Why do black men leave? It's a question I've asked myself as I'm not the only one who has grown up without a father.
Whatever your reason just know that if i have a child I'll always be there and I'll always show him love. I didn't say that to make you feel guilty but to let you know I learned something from your absence.
Sorry for the typo's but i just wanted to write something from my heart and like life realize not everything is perfect. But thank you for bringing me into this world and the gift of life you gave me I'm going to give it to others whether through my words actions or my essence.
So think of me and when you do feel proud on who you made.
Well ending my letter but not my love
Your son
Aundaray

Let's All Sit in a Circle

Once you know about your HIV status and come to accept it, there's comes the part of looking for support outside of friends and family. In my early days I was directed to several groups. Groups I learned are interesting because you have people who have the same disease but come from different backgrounds. And depending on your personality groups can either work for you or work against you.
The first group I went to which was recommended by my primary clinic was a once a week group of adults living with HIV. I had just turned twenty. I don't want to knock the group but I'll put it this way I was the only raisin in the rice bowl. For those who don't get that comment, I was the lone black young adult filled with white men in their thirties on up. Right away I knew that the only thing we had in common was the disease. They talked about what are they going to do with their 401's, (which I thought they meant jeans) the property they owned and who was going to take over their cabin homes. As a black man I'm wondering how the hell am I going to pay for the meds I'm on, the racism that I go through despite having HIV (you mean I have to deal with racism and HIV!!) and the emotional struggle of not being completely out. The group didn't work for me and if you talk to other African-Americans who are in support groups, whether it's rehab or whatever, they have the same difficulties in groups that don't address the issue of racism. Racism may not be the cause but it's an additional barrier black men face when dealing with their issue. Some diverse groups don't understand that if it's never talked about or allowed in the dialogue you feel as if no one understands what you're going through as racism alone leads or contribute to continued risky behavior and/or isolation.
To test my theory I remember talking about how stressful it was to me to be living with HIV and having the cops pull me over while black. They looked at me like I lost my mind. What the hell did getting stopped by the cops have with to do with what they were talking about. Inside I wanted to scream that the underlying stress of the constant stops worsens my condition by creating stress and if you know anything about stress and HIV, they don't get along very well.as your immune system is usually the victim of the battle.
They just didn't get it, so I left.
It took me awhile before I got the nerve to join another group and this time I chose an African-American one. For the most part it was good as there was a relation in the dialogue, but I say this not to steer anyone from a support group but you have to know that people go to the groups for different reasons. The underlining aspect is the support, but some also see it as a social event where they can be around people and not necessarily talk about their HIV, some because of their financial situation see a free meal and some use it as a dating opportunity to meet others. And even that can be a turn off as here you are checking in with what you're going through and someone who planted themselves directly across from you on purpose has a hard-on. But now older and wiser and looking at it differently, for that person it was probably the only time and chance he could be in a safe company of men where he could possibly find a date or partner,  knowing that when the group is over he goes back to his downlow life.
So in the end you can't demonize him.
But groups are what you make it and they do have benefits because you don't want isolation to be your friend. And it's healthy to have a frank space where you can talk about your life without judgment or censorship.
And I have meet some cool people through the group. But it all depends on you and what you're looking for. For me I sat in on a group for five years and it hit me that I no longer had the need for it as my outside support system was in place.
But the connection is the most important piece. Everyone needs a connect to someone on the physical world. Having a connection with God is good but you need that one person to make it seem that you're not going it alone.
If you're looking for a group but can't connect with the people because of age differences, race, gender, whatever, keep looking, especially if you don't have outside support because there are a circle of people out there waiting to welcome you into the fold as you are. Don't give up!
Stay Positive!!

What happens to a Dream Deferred

I recently came upon a mid-life crisis. Like a thief in the night, something or somebody came along and stole my spirit and I found myself turning my back on what made me. To understand what I'm talking about I have to bring you back as well as myself back to a time when I lived my dream..
Before coming to New York City I was heavily into the arts. Not just as a audience member but also as a writer, performer and actor whether it was on film or stage. It was a passion that I held and it not only brought me happiness but also I would like to think others as well. I was recognized and appreciated the accolades people gave me for what I was doing. I can be honest in that sometimes when you find the type of success where people know you and start inviting you out to parties and such, you can get a big head. As a performer I say this to not only myself but also other performers, underneath what we do we all have a sense of egos that like to be fed. I was one myself. There's many extremes of ego seeking. Mine was on the mild side but I'm sure some reading this will disagree.
Did I come to New York to be a big star?
Actually the answer is no. I left Minnesota because I felt myself becoming complacent. My life wasn't challenging me anymore. I had a good job, good relationship with the arts, which included running Flayva Cabaret and happy in the relationships I had. But I realize that at a young age I was starting to settle. It was like my life was on cruise control. I compare it to driving the streets of Minneapolis. I rode them so much that I had all the traffic lights memorized. Everything was expected. In a way I felt myself dying because I knew there was a bigger world out there and I wanted to experience it in person and not through watching endless movies. Don't get me wrong I liked Minneapolis but there's only many times you can walk around a lake.
The move to New York was exciting, scary, intriguing and puzzling but it woke me up. I was in a new river and I had to learn to swim in a different stream. I came here with my partner with ideas but no clear plan because I feel that to make a big move you have to jump into the water and trying to create a carefully drafted plan will postpone and even cancel your ideas of moving. I just believed in the faith that no matter what we all have a survival instinct and you'd be amazed how it will pop up and keep you afloat.
So in NY things were great and I enjoyed the environment but at the same time I was humbled because I was a nobody when it came to the arts. All the works I did before didn't mean nothing to those in NY. And when they say NY is a fast city,believe it. It took me awhile but I eventually found my own rhythm and most importantly a community. What I lost was the faith that I could be as successful in the arts as I was in Minnesota. 
I gave up on my dreams, afraid of what was on the other side.
What happens to a dream deferred?
You start to slowly die. You start to lose purpose. You start to lose identity and then the reflection of yourself in the mirror no longer resembles you.
When you give up on your dreams and try to find it in others or find yourself giving life to someone else dreams your feet become wet with the pools of bitterness.
I reached a place where I told myself, okay Aundaray you didn't move here to become complacent. I had to find the yellow brick road.
Long story short I put myself first, became selfish and started to work on my dreams. I pushed myself to get back out there and to take chances, even if the risks involved an answer of no.
By doing that I found my way back. I started to get roles in plays, movies, doing a national print ad and now filming a show for a tv series. I stepped out of my bubble and started to connect with new people who shared my dream and now find myself about to put on a one-man show in a few months and the rebirth of my cabaret.
The point of this is to say is that we all have a dream. We all have something we want to do but we let fear overcome us and we end up becoming our own worst enemy as we put up barriers and start creating excuses instead of a plan. And we let others tell us that we can't do it and believe them.
I'm not saying you have to move to New York but if you want a fulfilled life we have to feed our dreams. If we let them die, we die.
Whether it's starting your own business, writing a book, traveling to a far away country or even moving to another part of the country, believe in yourself. Know that we are not only born once, we go through many rebirths and know that whatever you attempt, even if it doesn't work out, you can say "At least I tried" instead of, "I wish I did". Make your dreams a reality.
Leap, Find, Enjoy, Be Reborn!

My Soul Says Yes

I know that the reason I have been so fortunate to be a long term survivor of HIV is the beliefs I carry, beliefs of positive thinking. With all the crap I've been through, whether it was from a person, situation or event, it was all for a good reason. Even the bad relationships I have had, they have happened so when a good relationship comes along I not only know what a good relationship looks like but also learn to appreciate it.
Rather than compare my trials and tribulations to others to see who has had it worse, as we all have had different experiences, I do know that for me positive thinking is something you can't think about but it takes work to get in that frame of mind. It's first realizing that when we're born we all were born with wings to fly but situations come along and each thing you go through, a feather is dropped from your wings until you no longer feel you can fly. You're grounded.
I was like that for a long time when I was young. After the physical and verbal abuse I went through in my young years I always felt my feet was cemented to a ground of despair.
But inside where no one could blow out that small ember of hope I carried, a small flame that told me not not give up or give in,  I just knew that I was more than what I thought I was worth. The greatest person who got me through my trials was God. Although I never went to any church and feel that although churches are beautiful buildings, your relationship with God can be anywhere you want it to be. He gave me the strength to keep on fighting and to treat my failures not as negatives but acknowledgment that I at least attempted.
I give myself daily affirmations. This is important to me because in this crazy, sometimes cold world, you have to have a daily affirmation of encouragement to get you through. One of the best books I can recommend is written by Iyanla VanZant called, "Acts of Faith". It's a book that gives you daily affirmations of positive thinking and letting go of oppression and depression as well as the luggage we tend to pile up and carry with us.
And luggage is something we all have.Gay or straight.
Some have a knapsack and some have so much luggage that they have to rent out extra storage space. When you have that much luggage and you're trying to make a new relationship and it doesn't work, try looking at the luggage you brought in with you and also realize that the person you may be trying to meet also has their own luggage and simply have no room for anymore. In other words if it doesn't work out it's not always about you.
We have to learn to let our luggage go. To live a positive life you have to start unpacking and throwing away stuff. Throw away the hurtful things that were said to you.Sometimes we're so angry at what someone said to us years ago and you're still waiting for that apology. Let it go.Throw away the people who you called a friend and now treat you like a stranger. Throw away the anger because someone isn't the way you want them to be or act the way you want them to act. Unclutter your heart so you don't miss the good people who are out there waiting to get to know you. We have to tell ourselves that no longer will I live in the basement but live in the penthouse where I belong.
But again I stress this a daily practice and not something you can do for a minute and when things are good you stop. Even if you have a relationship with God, you don't just speak to him when things are bad but also he wants to hear from you when things are good.
I have been hurt and I can guarantee you before I leave this earth I will be hurt again and again and again. But I won't let that hurt stop me from flying. You have to put things in perspective. I have been positive for twenty something years but I know that somewhere out there someone has it worse than me. And I accept the fact that everything happens for a reason, nothing in your life is unscripted.
You hate your job, someone else can't find a job.
You hate the snow, someone else wish they can see what snow looks like
You hate taking your HIV meds, someone else wish they had and not be stuck in a hospital bed or casket.
My soul says yes and I know that I'm nowhere close to a wonderful fulfilled life as there are other adventures out there waiting for me and I'm not the only one. But you'll miss them if you're not taking the risk to open your heart to receive them.
So stay positive and fly!!

In Memory of Joseph Jefferson

"I could not bear the burden of living as a gay man of color in a world grown cold and hateful towards those of us who live and love differently than the so-called ’social mainstream"
                                                      Joseph's Jefferson's last entry on his Facebook page
On October 23rd Joseph took his life. When I heard the news it was like being hit with a tidal wave. How could it be as I just spoke to him two days ago on the phone and never once during the conversation did I even pick up the feeling that he was that unhappy. In fact it was the opposite, he sounded like he was in a good mood. But knowing about suicide, it makes sense as once someone makes that final decision they have a sense of euphoria as they know that soon their pain will be over.
Meeting Joseph for the first time, he was a new hire here at our agency. I have to admit I welcomed him at  the agency but being that I was much older as he was in his twenties and I was in my forties, it was strictly a co-worker basis that involved little interaction. Looking back it brought up a issue that happens so often in the community, whether gay or straight. Instead of playing the role of elders we dismiss anyone younger than us. I wonder if things would have been different if myself or someone else took him under their wings.
But in time we did interact and always played jokes on each other. What I admired most about him was that he was an advocate for LGBT issues. He was outspoken which sometimes didn't sit well with some people but that shows he was making a difference as I believe when you make change you will meet resistance as people are used to that comfort. As they say if you're not making enemies you're not making change.
Suicide among young LGBT is rising and there's so many factors but I think Joseph said it best in his last entry of not being able to just be himself. Here in NYC I can not imagine what young people go through as there is so much machismo that exists on the streets. The thing here is to look hard or try to fit into that thug looking mode. If you're look anything outside of that cutout then you must be gay. Even for myself, if I dress nice or express myself differently through my dress than others on the subway give me that 'the look". But again being older I  brush off the looks as I've been through to much to be let a stranger place their value on me. especially a person that once I exit that train I'll probably never see you again in my life. For a young person people may think they should have a thicker skin but it's really not that simple when it feels the world is after you.
You would also think with the many images and movies of gay people in the movies or on television as well as just the overall discussion of LGBT issues that it would be easier. Unfortunately there's a double edge sword to the exposure. Some youth may see themselves in a media program and feel affirmed and come out and then are hit with the rejection of family. I can't tell you how many young people I used to work with who were kicked out of the home because they were gay, and we're talking about being as young as 13. The other message young LGBT may get from media with LGBT characters in it is a question of why can't my life be like that? Why can't my father accept me for who I am like the character on the television show Glee who's father accepts his gay son.Why not me?
It's unfortunate but being gay and young sometimes the only way you're accepted is if you're the comedy act in the class. But after the laughter is gone you're left feeling like nothing. I speak from experience as I once tried to take my life when I was 19. I just felt that no one was there for me. What everyone saw was the laughing joking Aundaray. People thought I was the life of the party, but they didn't see or ask about the pain I was hiding under the laughter. Because of my sexuality I couldn't share how i really felt. I felt like I was living in a world that only accepted me on one level.As far as my suicide attempt God was really working that day because I got a phone call from a friend who had never called me before to say hello. Usually I was the one always doing the calling. But she did call and I told her what I did, which was swallow a bottle of pills and my life was saved. Was it a cry for attention? Yes. It was a cry that I'm tired of being what others want me to be. It was a cry that I wanted to be accepted for who I am. It was simply a cry. But I feel I went through it for a reason as I can share with others that the storm won't last for long and although the fight seems never ending you'll make it. 
We have to start listening and accepting our children. Even if you have no child, the kids you pass on the street cussing and making noise, the kids who you pass by and don't acknowledge, they're your children. What they need is to be made visible. As adults rather than using your energy to shake your head in disgust to someone who expresses themselves as themselves remember use it to open your heart to acceptance.
Joseph you left us to soon but you'll be remembered and i hope that someone who's reading this reach to and ask for help or someone reading this check in with someone who you know is gay and really ask how they feel right now in life. Don't let them push you away with jokes. Really break down that wall and let them know that you're there for them.
       "I could not bear the burden of living as a gay man of color in a world grown cold and hateful towards those of us who live and love differently than the so-called ’social mainstream’" as told by Joseph Jefferson as it bears repeating.
Stop the hate.

Coming Out

The one question people always ask me is when did I come out and what was my family reaction?
Coming out is a hard process because you're now adding another title to your identity. Especially if you're black and a man or even a woman, when you walk out in the world, you're labeled. Adding another level such as gay makes it harder if you don't feel you have the support and love of those around you.
When I came out it was actually my mother who outed me. It was after a Thanksgiving dinner and I was in my mid twenties. All my siblings had brought someone they were dating but as usual I was there alone. After the dinner she pulled me aside and asked me if there was something I wanted to tell her. From the way she asked the question I just knew she knew and I figured since she opened the door and also since I now lived on my own and the worse she could do was to tell me to leave, I was going to walk through that door and tell her the truth.
At that moment I told her I was gay. She let me know that she knew but was waiting for me to tell her. Now this is coming from a woman who told me at a young age that if any of her children turned out to be gay she would kill them. Now here she is telling me that it's okay with her. She did give me a piece of advice. She let me know that I can be gay as long as I didn't hit on her boyfriends. I saw her choice of boyfriends and she didn't have nothing to worry about in that area.
I always felt that she knew. It may just be me but I think your mother knows when their child is gay. Mothers just know their children. Looking back it may be why when I was younger she would tell me to stop resting my weight on my hips, or to not let my wrist be so loose. So I think she suspected. Mothers may not say nothing at the moment as they may think you're going through a phase and you'll grow out of it. Or they may feel you'll tell them when  you're ready you'll tell them. They may wait until you have sex with a girl as having sex with a girl will kick it out your system or some even pray that God takes it out of you.
Letting her know I was gay was a relief because I didn't have to hide anymore. Yet it was a half empty acknowledgment because now that she knew I was gay I still couldn't really talk about it or it was subtly not encourage. It was my family own version of "Don"t ask, Don't tell." We know you're gay but we just don't want the details.
Coming out I learned is not just a one time experience. It's a gradual lifelong process as you're constantly coming out especially when you meet new people and form new relationships and depending on who they are you may choose to stay into the closet until you feel it's safe or just flat out let it be known. But there's also the feeling that straight people don't introduce themselves with their sexuality, so why should I have to introduce you with mine. Even right now with my comfort level of who I am I may occasionally not show my sexuality based on the environment I'm in as there may be a safety issue involved. Other than that I really don't care who knows.
I also feel that the coming out process is much different for a black person than one who is white. For a black person they can lose their family, their church and even their community. The difference for a white gay and a black gay is that a white gay can be embraced by the gay community as a black person doesn't get the full support from the gay white community which can be as racist as the straight community. As a gay black man I can go into a gay white bar or a gay white store and experience a level of racism based not on my sexuality but my race. For instance there's many stories of gay blacks being denied entry in gay white clubs in cities like the Castro section of San Fransisco or other areas such as Dallas and even here in New York City. In fact there's any suspicion that here in New York City a black person or person of color will be charge a different rate to get into a gay club. There are several organization looking to see if this is the case. They asked me to participate but I let them know that my dollar is the same color and I'm not going to fight to spend my money in a place that don't want me. I'm using the power of that dollar help someone who accepts me make a profit.
I have to say that coming out gives you freedom and regain control over your life. You no longer have to wear the masks of acceptance. You discover who your true friends are and embrace the people who really care about and accepts you. You don't realize how much energy it takes to audition for someones acceptance. Stop auditioning and know that acceptance starts with yourself.
I probably would have came out earlier if I felt I had the support but also it was hard because I didn't know anyone else who was gay that I could identify. The media is the harshest when it comes to the gay lifestyle. And if you're straight and you see a black gay person on the television, I guarantee you'll see the following examples. You'll see they flamboyant man who twist his head and snaps his fingers while wearing nail polish. Or you'll see the sexual man who never wears a shirt and is looked at not for his personality but the form of his body and the wonderment of how big his penis is. And we can't forget the men who are in a dress wearing high heels giving each other high fives as they "Hey Girl" each other. As a masculine black gay man I had a hard time finding someone who reflected me and who was out. But knowing I couldn't be a victim for long I had to ask myself why isn't there any people who reflect me? But in asking myself that question I also had to provide my own answer which was, because I was not putting myself out there.
It's a risk but life is a risk and adding the value of living a lie makes your life seem less than. I know that labels exist, but that's the way society is. Whether you're gay or straight or whatever, we always place people in a box or label them to decide whether we feel comfortable with them. It's what we do with those labels. For me I let people see me any way they want and they can try to put me in any box that they think I'll fit into but what I don't do is give them the power of me living my life the way I want to.
I am gay
I am black
I am a man
but most of all I identify as Aundaray.

Dating Pink Elephants

I was at a point when I was young that I decided I was going to throw myself in the shark and parasite pool that we all know as, "The Dating Pool". I had reached a place where I had all my demons at bay and all the luggage I was carrying was in a large storage closet.
Now I'm showing my age when I say this but for you young uns' reading this there actually was a time when there was no such a thing called the 'internet'. Today whether you're looking to date or looking for a simple booty call, you just go to a particular website, create a profile and either order in or have it delivered.
Back during my time you had to get an alternative paper such as the Village Voice but in my city at the time it was a paper called City Times. In the back were the personal ads and each ad were grouped in section. So looking in the men for men section and because the ads didn't have pictures you're going by words and no pictures so you respond to whatever was written and resonates with you.
I saw an ad and responded to it. He seemed to describe himself as a fun person, likes to laugh and physical based on what he wrote it sounded all good. There's a lesson here, don't believe everything you read. Not knowing this I responded by letter and received a call from him the following week. He sounded nice and maybe he was the person he described himself. We decided to meet at a local restaurant. I didn't have any high hopes but who knows when it comes to the heart.
Day of the date and I get there early and I wait outside since it was a nice day. I see the city bus stop and off comes a man and he's walking toward the restaurant. Now at this point I'm staring and praying it's not him because I couldn't believe what I was seeing. He was a tall and lanky white man and wore this kinda beard that didn't know if it really wanted to grow out as a full beard. He had long hair. Not Jesus Christ long hair, but hair where each strand looked as if they were trying to escape his scalp, entangling themselves in the process.
Now although I'm a fashionista now I wasn't back then but I'll start with his shirt. It was pink. A bright pink that I never knew existed. But of course he would wear a pink shirt to go with his pants that were covered with pink elephants all over. From belt buckle to the bottom of his pants. He was a walking Walt Disney Fantasia cartoon.
"Hey are you Aundaray. You look great"
I learned if you can't say nothing nice don't say nothing at all. Of course another Walt Disney reference from the movie Bambi, told to the rabbit Thumper.
It was hard to go in to the restaurant because I was not out and honestly how can I explain to strangers the pink elephants. Putting that aside I got over it and we sat down but thank good the restaurant had these huge long menus because I hid my face in it reading and rereading the dinner specials.
There's a difference between black folks and white. I don't care what anyone says. White people if they see something strange they look at you out of the corner of their eyes. Black people, we give you that full look with everything we want to say registered on our face. The ones who were staring at me had the, "What the Hell" look.
Now I don't want to sound shallow but the guy who was also HIV positive started to give me his whole health history. And we're not talking about using the inside voice. So if you were sitting around us you were hearing what i was hearing. Part of that history involved him recently getting an anal wart removed from his behind and this was the first time he could sit with out pain. He joyfully shared he was going to have the second one removed the following week and if i like I could come visit.
That was it for me, just like the diners immediately around us I was no longer hunger and I used my acting skills to feign sickness which I said was coming from my stomach and could we leave. For him it was no problem as he related his recent bout with diarrhea. Was this really happening or was I on Candid Camera?
Needless to say it was the last time I saw him but I will never see the movie Fantasia in the same way.
Since then I learned there's other people with pink elephants as dating is a hard thing and it takes awhile to find that person you can relate to and see yourself spending time with.
The heart knows what the heart want.
For me it was not pink elephants!! 

Anger

Up until now I've been sharing the rosy side of my life but it hasn't always been that way. There was a time in my life when I accepted that I was HIV positive I got ugly with anger. I was pissed. I was mad at everyone and most especially the world and I wanted to make sure you knew it.
Looking back I'm not proud of how I expressed my anger but you didn't want to be around me. Not back then. The list of my anger was long.
I was angry that I let someone infect me and that I didn't care enough about myself to protect myself.
I was angry that here I was in my twenties and the world was supposed to be open for me but instead I'm already thinking about death. I'm not supposed to be thinking of death so young.
I was angry because now in order to stay alive I had to swallow these damn pills, some as big as my thumb, some with food, some certain hours after eating food and some that when swallowed stayed stuck in my throat, refusing to go down as my body reacts by putting me through a spell of dry vomiting. And it was something I had to do everyday, morning and night. No break. It was hell and still sometimes it is hell to swallow up to 13 pills a day.
I was angry that I had to sit in the waiting room of an HIV clinic with strangers who had the bug, the only thing we had in common yet in my head I told myself, 'I don't have anything in common with you people'.
I was angry that no one could truly understand what I was going through. What my thought process was. And it seemed like when people did ask about me, it was always about my HIV and the typical question, "how do you feel?" Stop asking me that! Can't I cough like a regular person without you planning my funeral.
I was angry because I couldn't answer the question. "Why me?" What did I do that I got something that was now and forever going to be a part of my life.
I was angry at God. I was always a spiritual person but I felt he let me down and in response I gave him the silent treatment. I didn't want to call on him for anything.
When you carry that much hate it comes out sideways, no matter how much you walk around pretending that things are okay. Unlike the person I am today I was a nasty person. I gossiped. I lied on people. I abused my body by having numerous random sexual encounters with people who I didn't even bother to ask their names. I pushed people away from me. They were in the way of me building a wall around myself and I didn't want them to stop me.
Building walls around yourself.
It will help you from being hurt but it also keeps you isolated, trapped behind walls alone with nothing but your anger to keep you company.
I eventually learned that my anger was hurting no one but me. Here i was thinking that I'm doing something to others but they're not thinking about me, they're living their lives while I stew away in my pool of misery. It's like when a child throws a tantrum in the corner and you simply block out the noise, letting them cry their way through it. That's how it was for me.

It took awhile but I called a truce on the anger I was carrying. For years my anger was walking ahead of me and I eventually got it to follow me instead. It became a lesson I shared with others who have been through traumatic experiences. Let your anger follow you and don't let it lead you. But know you have a right to have your anger and it's yours, so don't let anyone take it from you.
The wonderful thing about God is that you can be spiteful, call out his name in disgust, turn your back on him, but he will always love you. I had so much anger but never thought to ask him to help take it away. You can't get something if you don't ask for it We all have to go through something to get somewhere and I'm proud to say that no more do I carry the burden of anger but have found my way back to love!!

Turned backs

If you ask someone who's HIV positive and what their greatest fear is. I'm taking a gamble and I would say that someone learning about their status would be first and the second greatest fear is rejection. The fact that someone you know or trying to get to know turn their back on you because of who you are and what you carry inside of you is a hurtful experience.
Even in my forties rejection it is still a painful monster. You would think that I would have developed thick enough skin, but in most case I let it roll back down, but there's always those small gaps of glimmer when you let down your guard and share your true self and when you do you end up with a turned back.
Looking back I remember one of my early form of rejection. I was dating this guy and we were really into each other. I hadn't told him I was positive because I didn't know the right time. That's the tricky part about being positive is finding the right time to let someone know. Do you let them know on the first date when they may refuse to see you anymore and start putting your business on the street or do you wait until the second date when they may feel like you should have told you in the beginning which makes them see as someone deceitful and non-trustworthy. Back to the guy I was dating. At the time I chose not to tell him as we were not having sex but we did spend some fun times on dates like going to the movies, walking the town, talking about things in common. When I felt he wanted to go to the second level I took out my Boy Scout badge and thought I would do the right thing and let him know my status. Literally and I'm not exaggerating, he broke off the date for that night. which was cool as I just gave him some heavy news. I even gave him a couple of days to digest the news. When I didn't hear back I called him and the phone always went to voice mail. Even giving him the benefit of the doubt I stopped by his house when I knew he was home and the knocking of the door would go unanswered. He even went to the trouble of disconnecting his number.
It was hurtful and it made me not want to share my status with anyone. I thought I was doing the right thing. I say that so that people can understand why those who are positive don't readily share their staus. It's not because of a devious plot but it's the fear of being hurt. And when you're looking for a partner or want to develop a relationship it gets real tricky.
Everyone no matter who you are wants to be loved and find love. even animals find comfort in love. When you're positive it makes it more difficult because it's the finding that one person who will accept you for who you are. It's a hard balance. Even since I started this blog and have been honest with my status I have been de-friended on Facebook by some people and for those I have no hate or negative feelings toward. That's who they are and the place their in. But when it comes to falling in love and truly opening your heart to someone to build a future, you want to carry that same disregard but underneath it is a level of hurt you only share with yourself. In the public you're strong but behind closed doors, the true you emerges.
I think that's why I have some sympathy for those who get into relationships and don't share their status right away. I suppose for me the only thing I'm against is if you're getting into a relationship, especially an intimate one and not only sharing but also not being safe. But also when it comes to sex it takes two. If you're having sex with someone it's not just their responsibility of them telling you their status but you also have to ask yourself.
At my job I help design ads that speak against HIV stigma and the silence and this is the final product:

I hope those who are positive don't let the stigma stop them from finding love and that instead of turned backs they'll find open arms!

You Got A Friend

I slowly knocked on her door which was unusual for me as usually when I showed up at her door I would give the door a rapid fire loud knock with a "Yo what's up it me" shout-out. But this time my knock was quiet. My best friend Tracy opened the door and although I tried to put on a happy face she could always read me and knew I was putting on a act.Since she had company she brought me in her room for privacy. We sat on the edge of her bed and then she put her arms around my shoulder. Up until that time I felt I like was all alone in the world and that simple contact she gave me opened up the floodgates of everything I was hiding. It was so so powerful because I didn't allow no one to touch me or hug me as i felt dirty. Even if it was the shaking of hands I didn't want human contact. It had been two years since I was told I was HIV positive and I never told anyone, not even myself. I was scared. I was scared no one would love me. I was scared of the rejection and I was scared of the secret I carried. And although me and Tracy had been good friends for many years, I was scared of what she would think because she was a rock to me in this crazy world.
With no melodrama I just told her I had HIV and the tears fell like a monsoon, and the hug she gave me didn't get weaker but stronger. She held me like I was a baby which is no surprise since I was crying like one. I was no longer in this battle alone.
Tracy and I had a unique relationship. I met her in high school. I was a sophomore and she was a junior and she didn't know why I was always buzzing around her like a mosquito. If she had a can of Raid she would have sprayed it on me as I was working her last nerves. She couldn't stand me, but for some reason I kept stepping in her shadow. Maybe it was intervention or she was simply tired of telling me to go away but we started to hang out. Most of the hanging out was while playing hooky from a class. We had a common interest in music and would just bop our heads to songs like Midnight Star , "No Parking on the Dance Floor, Isley Brother's, "Between the Sheets" and The Dazz Band "Joystick". Even when she graduated I was there. I showed my friendship in crazy ways, like making sure she got home safety which meant following the city bus she was on while riding my bike behind it.
Outside school we were a 80's version of Bonnie and Clyde. We were always in shenanigans. Nothing harmful, just things like grabbing everyone's circular from the apartment building as they had inside a coupon for free soda and we took turns going in the store until we had cases, or going to a restaurant and even though it wasn't either one's birthday I would let it slip to the waitress that we were celebrating her birthday just to get a free desert. One time I did this at Chi-Chi's,a Mexican restaurant and again knowing it was a lie. The minute we finished dinner the whole staff came out with instruments and balloons, clapping and singing "Happy Birthday". One of them had a Poloroid camera and we had to pose for a picture and they put a huge sombrero on her head. Talk about embarrassed, and the look Tracy gave me I just knew it was the last time we were getting free ice cream on her benefit.
We even almost had the opportunity to go to heaven together. For people who has ever ridden in a car with me they know that I drive like I have no sense. I had my own speed limits. Each Spring we would always make a point to spend one day just driving around glad we survived another Minnesota winter. One Spring we were enjoying our ride and I was driving crazy, as usually, switching lanes, cutting off cars and of course speeding. We were coming to a bridge and I decided to change lanes and hit a piece of black ice that didn't get the memo that it was Spring. We were in the far left lane of a four lane highway and the minute we hit that ice the car went into a spin. It was like everything was in slow motion as I saw Tracy, then cars, then Tracy, then cars, and so on until we finally crossed the entire highway and plowed into a bank of snow that almost covered the car. We sat still and didn't say nothing and although I was scared, inside for some reason I just wanted to bust out laughing. Now that would have sent me to heaven so I bit my tongue. I guess the snow didn't get the memo it was Spring and I thank God for that. We got the car out and surprisingly we were able to drive it. The funniest part of it all is that we had all this packed snow under the car so as we drove it was coming loose and it just looked like there was a blizzard but only around our car. I'll never forget looking over at people faces as they looked bewildered, and the priceless one was of this small girl her face pressed to the backseat window wondering, "What the fuck".
I always said if anyone truly wanted to know the complete me-ask Tracy cause we shared it all.
Disclosing my status made me feel less alone and if I can give any advice to anyone who is keeping their status a secret. You'd be surprised at who will not reject you and most of all you'd be surprised and embraced the unloading of the burden God has so many angels out there and for me my angel name was Tracy.
So thank you Tracy for the laughter, the memories, the tears and your acceptance of me flaws and all. You've shown me what a true friend really is!! And most of all you showed me that I am not in this world alone.

The suicide of Raymond Chase

I'm writing this as a memorial to Raymond Chase, a young man who took his life this past week. It's unfortunate and by going to this link you can read his story.
http://talkaboutequality.wordpress.com/2010/10/01/another-suicide-not-just-a-number/
I'm saying goodbye even though I never knew Raymond Chase. Never met him and if we passed on the street wouldn't be able to make his face. But I know Raymond Chase in that I understand unfortunately why a young  man would take his life. He didn't take it because he lost money in stocks or was behind in bills. He didn't take it because while in college he didn't get a good grade on an exam, he took his life because in today's society people still deny each other to live an individual life and place perimeters on them simply because of their sexuality. People still condemn and throw out bible quotes the same quotes used by pastor and Bishops who are having sex with young men themselves. Yes that line was directed to you Bishop Eddie Long. He died because we sit in glass homes and especially for people of color who call for equality, we don't want to give the same equality to someone who's gay. I guess it's true when they say 'Hurt people, hurt people.'
The sad thing is that he's going to become another number in a long list of young gay youth who take their lives as society has deemed them unworthy. I didn't know Raymond Chase but I know Raymond Chase as his story echoes my own. I didn't take my life but growing up trying to figure out my identity and putting all the pieces of the puzzle together to see what I look like and knowing that one of the puzzle pieces had the word gay on it which equaled rejection and condemnation from not only my family but my community and my peers. It's hard. The greatest fear I had besides my mother knowing about me was my high school  peers knowing.  They didn'tknow how much power they had or rather how much power that I gave them.
Yet Raymond was different in that he was openly gay, which made him a bigger target. I can see the shaking of the heads while he was in public spaces and the dismissal of his words. I can see men feeling insecure with their own manhood and to prove that their a man find comfort in making someone gay feel less than. Young gays are sometimes accepted in the classroom because their entertainment for others, but outside of making someone else laugh, they are nothing.
For young men and women who are right now living the story of Raymond Chase know that you are not alone and that ending your life is not the solution. Know that there are others who are going through the same thing you're going through but you don't feel it or see it as they are remaining quiet as well. Know that you don't have to prove your existence to anyone but yourself and if no one accepts you for who you are then let them go until they grow up.Maybe they never will. Know that you have rights and laws that protect you even when adults such as your parents, school teaching staff and other older adults try to make it seem like you deserve to be treated the way you are because you're gay.
And if you're reading this and you're not gay please share the story of Raymond and follow it up with support and the knowing that no matter what, you got their back. Push away the assumption that if I show concern about someone gay then people will think that I'm gay.Or the idea that gays are predators and by showing concern they want to have sex with me. It's a myth. A lie. An overgrown ego.  Let people think what they want to think as we can't control others, only ourselves.
Raymond didn't have to die and the feelings of sadness is overwhelming because there will be more Raymond's before the end of this year and many more next year.
Pass along Raymond's story so that we can end this destructive cycle and give hope. We don't need more candles light in honor, but we need the light and life of our youth on this earth with us instead.
Thank you Raymond for living your life openly. It took courage.
You will not be forgotten and you will not just be another number.

Little Red Corvette

"I guess I shoulda known
By the way you parked your car sideways
That it wouldn't last
See you're the kinda person
That believes in makin' out once
Love 'em and leave 'em fast"
                            Little Red Corvette-Prince
Something people never ask me but may not have the words to ask is how did I get HIV, especially at a young age. I think when you get a disease there's a perception that you must be "fast", "a player" or a "hoe". In my case I didn't fit none of those categories. In fact when I first got it I was a quiet shy person who kept to myself. Most of that was because I had low self-esteem. I would walk with my head down to the ground and had a hard time looking people in the eyes when talking to them. It was a mix I believe of being a child victim of sexual abuse, being confused about my identitiy and the way I was raised by my mother.
My mother's part was that at the time I had two other siblings and they knew their father's name and where they lived. I didn't. I never knew my father and each year she would give me a different name when I asked what his name was. One year he was in prison, the next he was dead and the following year he was living in Oklahoma. He must have treated her wrong and I had the misfortune of reminding her of him as she verbally abused me whenever she could. I truly at one point I thought my name was YoustupidmotherfuckerIwishInever had you Guess. But most people knew me as Aundaray.
In high school I was the class clown, as I learned it was easier to hide your pain by hiding behind jokes. People who knew me in high school saw the class clown but when the bell rang and I walked home from school I was this walking introverted beacon.
I walked the same way to and from school and always saw this red corvette. The only reason it stood out because it was such a bright red color. I lived a block from Selby?Dale which wasn't like it is today with organic fruit stores and white people. back then it was a place where you went for your drug fix or to pick up a prostitute.So the clean color red stood out as everything around it was gritty. I figured it was coincidence but then I started to see it more and more when I was walking home from school. Although I don't have proof I think one day he timed it so that he approached the corner as I was crossing. He said hello and complimented me on my clothes and from there it was a session of 20 questions. I don't know what made me open myself to him but I think looking back when you don't feel value and you have someone giving value to you, no matter how they look and their intentions, you grab on it like it's a twenty dollar bill blowing down the street. We got to a point where he wanted to show me his record store. He had to had been in his mid twenties and like a lost puppy I agreed. His store was really a empty place where records probably once were. I knew in the back of mind what he wanted but again as a former person of sex abuse you sometimes have this perception that saying hello involved the giving of your body.
Sure enough it was what I thought and he made his move when we were alone. It was the first time for me. He was the first. Like my father I didn't know his name. Afterward I never saw the car again as I guess he got what he wanted and I was relieved as I was scared about what happened. I felt guilty.
A few months passed and I got sick like a dog. It was weird as I had never been a person who ever got sick. Even when I didn't want to go to school and would sleep with my head in the wintry window hoping to catch a cold but only ended up clearing my sinuses. So this sickness was weird as for a week I was in bed. Not long afterward I saw a story in the newspaper of the person who I had my first account with. He was in the St. Paul Pioneer Press and he was trying to rob a bank and in the process of being arrested he told the cops he would bite them as he had AIDS. In my naive thinking I was shocked more that he tried to rob a bank and didn't focus on the AIDS comment as at that time I didn't know how you could get it. I learned several years later how you can get it as I was diagnosed with it.
I knew who gave it to me as I had only one encounter and when they say it only takes one time it's true.
I think when people ask why so many young people are getting infected today I can guarantee you that most of the times the person who infected them is at least ten years older than you. When you're looking for that acceptance you give off a light that others can see and prey upon.That's why i think it's so important to nurture young people and give them that value because someone else with their own goals will.
I never knew his name but I did know two things.
He gave me AIDS and he drove a red corvette.
Prince was never so right.

Can I Get an Amen and Sex on the Side

I just have to say something about the recent revelation of Bishop Eddie Long who has been accused of coercing young men to have sex with him. Copy and paste the link for the full story. http://ac360.blogs.cnn.com/2010/09/23/evening-buzz-bishop-sex-scandal/?iref=allsearch
I'm not going to play judge, jury and executioner but often when it comes to the gay lifestyle, they do the same to us. If you're gay often the preachings of the churches demonize and stigmatize those who are gay. Looking at black churches, which I'm more familiar with I have to say that I have experienced this first hand.
I was raised in a religious environment. In fact my grandfather was a pastor who owned his own church that he built himself and as kids we had no choice of not attending. So God has always been a big part of the tapestry of who I am. My mother made it known to us as kids that if we ever turn out gay "she'll kill us". This was said to all of us, my siblings included, but it felt like it was meant for me. As I got older and struggling with my identity I wished I had the same black churches I frequented to give me hope, instead I was literally each time I was told I was going to hell if I didn't flick the switch on my back and go straight.
Bishop Eddie Long represents what's wrong with the black churches and gay identity. For gays, we're hated during the day but lusted for at night. Black churches have so much power and responsibility to welcome all God's children, yet like the old "No Coloreds Allowed", we have "No Gays Allowed". Living in Harlem you can't throw a quarter without hitting a church as there are plenty and yet also these same churches sit in the epicenter of a community that has the highest rates of AIDS/HIV. The silence of the black churches is deafening. And in a way it's sad that the only time a black church will listen to the message of a gay men is that he first must dress in drag and call himself Madea. Almost like the modern day of blackface, an entertainer to make us laugh.
As a young man living on my own I wanted to stay connected to the church, yet it never failed that when I would go eventually the preacher would sermon about the gay sexuality and how we're going to hell. And for me it was almost like the message was directed to me, similar to the message my mother directed to me.
And it's ironic that in the churches I briefly frequented you would listen to the choir and I'm not trying to be stereotypical here but it seemed that for me my gaydar would be blasting. It was sometimes obvious the choir was made up of gay singers and the choir director made you tilt your head as well. And they would sing their song after a sermon of them going to hell. Basically to me they were singing at their own funeral. Yet on the other hand some gays continue that relationship knowing the price and knowing that they needed a house of worship.
Do I go to church now? No but I learned I didn't need a building to talk to God. God and I talk everyday and everywhere. And unlike some who go to church on a Sunday and don't practice the teachings of God until the next Sunday, a true person of faith knows that church is everyday. I learned that just because you highlight passages in your bible doesn't make you a religious person. Just as sitting in a garage all day doesn't make you a car. You just have a marked book and a elephant in your building that is not being talked about.
Finishing with Bishop Eddie Long he represents the hypocrisy of black churches as he has constantly attacked homosexuality. Instead of saving he was helping someone dig a grave. Now look at him. I guess it's true when they say what you do in the dark will eventually come to light. Instead of hiding behind his spin control machine he will see the light and see that no matter what or who you are we all are a child of God. And for those churches out there that recognizes this and accept us as we are I thank you but seriously for my black churches we need to get our head out the sand as your flock is slowly dying and it's because of two four letter words, HATE and AIDS. Scriptures should elevate not denigrate! 

When I Learned I Was Black

Up until the age of my early teens I never knew that I was black. It wasn't that I was turning my back on my color but society had yet to get a hand on me and tell me I was black. I was born in Oklahoma City, actually in the country on a farm. My earliest memories was riding our neighbor horses, feeding the pigs and running in the fields with no shoes. At night we would catch firebugs in a jar or build on our collection of tadpoles. I was just being a kid.
I think my first incident of race was when I was a young boy and I was about to cross the street. A white man in a car stopped for me and waved for me to go on. I proceeded to do so and he jerked the car as if to hit me. I jumped and he had the biggest smile. He did it again and this time had a full laugh going. But even then I didn't associate it to my color. I just thought he was a jerk.
I didn't learn I was black until we moved to Minnesota. This was in the mid 70's. If you don't know although demographics have changed today, when we moved there as a child, the percentage of white was 98% and I was the other. I went to elementary school in Phalen Lake which was in St. Paul, the far end, which was very white. I say that because I never saw another person of color except for myself. Even then race didn't enter my equation. But I had an incident that made me know I was different.
I had a huge afro as a child and at the time was waiting in line for lunch with other classmates. I had a pencil and placed it in my afro. The next thing I knew there was this scream from this girl and the other kids gathered around me. They all had a puzzled look as they believed the pencil was pushed in my skull. This was there first time they dealt with someone with an afro. Of course I took the attention to the extreme and when I pulled it out I made sure to make it look like it hurt like hell. I still remember this girl running down the hall.
I was different.
It was also the time when Roots, the miniseries was shown on TV. I just remember watching it and at a young elementary age I was angry at anyone white. I never knew how little value you had. I think I may have even scared some teachers as I dared them to mess with me especially after watching an episode of Roots.
As i got older it became more obvious I was black Especially as a teen I would be stopped by cops asking for my id saying I looked like a suspect just called in, or experience a car full of people driving by calling me "nigger" as they drove by. then the stores I used to go to, all of a sudden I was being stared at at the end of the aisle or sometimes just outright followed.
I really feel that in schools today they should have a curriculum on Racism 101 for young black males to go through to prepare them from when they transition from the 'cute phase' into the 'threat phase'. What I mean by that is when we're young holding our mother's hand we're cute, but when we reach that age were we travel on our own and sometimes gather with our friends, then we become a possible threat.
We are boxed and labeled and given boundaries, both mental and physical. We learned while growing up in Minnesota where as black youth we should avoid areas such as Highland Park where it as a 'rich' area and any black person over there would be arrested. And if we ventured into NE Minneapolis we were playing with our lives as they didn't allows blacks there. Again this was in the late 70's/early 80's so there has been changes but one thing that hasn't changed is that as a black youth you are labeled, targeted and only made visible when you stand still with others of your race in a group.
But my message to any young black man is to not let anyone make you feel inferior based on the color of your skin. And know that this whole world belongs to you as well and you should never have to ask for respect because why would you ask for something that belongs to you anyway. And if anything don't live your life in a box. Don't think you can't go to certain neighborhoods or businesses or events just because of the color of your skin. I see so many teenagers who deny themselves a full life because of the color of their skin.
Don't let others form your identity, beat them to the punch!!
Even as adults we sometimes stay in those boxes.
Remember "laundry is the only thing that should be separated by color"