COMING AND GOING

Putting the “No” back into Anonymous Sex 
© Breeze Vincinz

Spurred by the recent tragedies involving the deaths of young gay Black men in New York City, a friend of mine decided to pen some helpful tips that could prevent such tragedies from repeating.

Stories of sexually active gay men who did not survive precarious situations have always been the “ghost stories” for me and my friend, both of us sexually active gay men who have at one point or another have found ourselves in our own precarious situations. We tell the seedy details of our own sexual trysts and laugh uncomfortably at the thought that outside of pure utter luck, we have no idea why we survived and so many haven’t.

My friend’s list consisted of ten things you can do to ensure your safety if you decide to have a one night stand, or as it is more affectionately termed in the community, “if you decide to bring a trick home.”

When I first read his list I looked on in it with a heightened sense of humor, not really taking it seriously. I decided to pen my own comical version of the list. But after informing me of his true intentions to help people and then pondering over all of those ghost stories, my laughter wasn’t uncomfortable, it went away altogether.

With that said, these are my ten tips to help protect yourself if you are so inclined to bring a trick home. It is written in jest, but there is some hardness to this candy, and I hope it helps.

The Continuing Guide To Living A Promiscuous Homosexual Lifestyle on a Budget in an Urban Environment

1. DON’T tell those catty bitches where you are about to get some. Somebody should be aware of your location but the last thing you need is Laquiesha and them prank calling your ass while you’re getting some dick from Dave the Drug fiend.
   
2. DON’T meet someone from a chat room unless you have accurately Googled their ass first. Or in the very least have caught the last episode of “To Catch A Predator” and/or “America’s Most Wanted”.
   
   • ...and maybe “America’s Next Top Model”.
     
3. DON’T refuse if someone asks if his boy can come over too. Seriously dude… how many times are you going to have the opportunity for a ménage a trios?
   
4. DON’T let the guy(s) entering your apartment walk further than two feet in before they completely undress naked. They might have weapons but at least you can get off before the knife fight starts.
   
5. DON’T forget that this is a one night stand/booty call. C’mon people… “Pretty Woman” was bullshit, Julia Roberts knows it, Disney knows it, you should too. A trick is a trick is a trick, you’ll never be able to turn a ho into a husband. Under no circumstances whatsoever do you share your personal information.
   • However, if he decides to share his, remember it with pristine recall just in case you run short on cash one day and you need to get a credit card in his name.
     
6. DON’T miss the opportunity to take pictures of the dude in various states of undress, preferably inebriated. MySpace has been getting boring lately, we need YOU to spice it up.
   
7. DON’T go through any special hoops to hide your valuables. He should be naked by the time he reaches your $1,000,000 Fabergé Egg.
   
8. DON’T go over a stranger’s house… if he lives in the projects. In this case judge a book by the cover. Statistically speaking, poor tricks are 90% more likely to give you drama than rich tricks.
   
   • Stay away from gated communities. If you get caught up in there… giiirrlll…. I hope you can jump.
     
9. DON’T do anything with a dude before you give him a thorough look over his body. Once he strips, check for lesions, sores, gun shot wounds track marks… stretch marks. There is nothing worse than giving head to some dude in the dark and tasting scar tissue.
   
10. DON’T let your guard down when it’s over. Make him put on his clothes within two feet of the door and gently kick him out. If you made it to this point and the sex was good, make a mental note to invite him back over and to show your appreciation give him three feet.
    • If you got to this point and the sex was bad… quickly kick him out flail your arms about while screaming at the top of your lungs about how bad he was. A chorus of either “One Minute Man” or “Short Dick Man” would be appropriate here.
    
    
    • If you get to this point and the sex was good but you suffered a body injury, amputate or try to amputate the nearest body appendage to hold him until the police come. In the meantime make sure you put some clothes on girl and make some tea and when the po po comes and asks how you know the dude smile demurely and say in a pronounced southern accent “Why I don’t know officer… I was just sitting here having tay…”
      

REPRESENTATION WITH INACCURATE SIMULATION

(c) Breeze Vincinz

One of the multifaceted aspects of being part of a minority demographic is the appointment of accurate representation to the masses. I have often referred to this phenomenon as “crabs in a barrel” whereas a bunch of minorities are in a barrel like crabs trying to claw their way to the top for acknowledgment and as soon as you get there… you got a brood of all the other crabs around you clawing at you, trying to bring you down so they can get to the top also.

What I have experienced is that more than likely… the crab that actually made their way to the top, forgot all the aspects of being a crab, up to and including the lifetime of clawing they had to do to get there and all of the clawing that’s still going on; and it is these amnesiac crustaceans that supposedly represent your best interest.

In short, there are people and organizations out there who are getting paid to represent you that don’t have slightest fucking clue about who you are, what you do or what you need… and they don’t have the slightest intention of ever finding out, particularly if it means getting back in the barrel with you.

In the black gay community I have seen this time and time and time again where some hollow non-profit gets an astounding grant based on ghost intentions to help the “community” and they don’t even know where the “community” is. Here in Los Angeles, there are organizations that supposedly exist for the sole purpose to help enrich the greater African American LGBT community, a community that quite frankly is in need of enrichment but whom thirsts for it and welcomes it whenever possible. However, these organizations are trying to target the African American LGBT community… in West Hollywood. Now those of you not in the know, West Hollywood, while a predominately homosexual area, is also predominately Caucasian. So trying to do an inclusive study of the African American LGBT community in West Hollywood would be similar to doing an inclusive study of Nazi Concentration Camp survivors living in the Marcy Projects.

And it is this disconnect that just pisses me off. Because more than likely these studies are being made in West Hollywood because these organizations either don’t know the social trends of the LGBT African American Community and/or they are simply too afraid to be enveloped by them. Which just begs the question, how are you going to accurately represent a people that you don’t know or even care to associate with, and how many slave ghosts have haunted your sleep because you get paid to do it?

Not too long ago I participated in a townhall meeting where several members of the African American LGBT community spoke on which current issues will most affect their choice in the upcoming presidential elections. The majority of the panelists spoke on their concerns about the current state of healthcare, tax incentives, social programs and a general need to get out of the Republican/Bush rut. But there was one brother who said that he personally felt that the greatest issue that should be addressed is the war on terrorism in an effort to not suffer another attack on American soil. And while I do have a concern about the current war, I do have to say that I was simply astounded that, out of the plethora of influences that attack us specifically as African Americans and as LGBT on a daily basis that his main concern was with the war or terrorism. The last reported Hate Crime Statics show that in 2004, there were a total of 8,804 victims of a hate crime. 1,190 were anti-LGBT and 3,322 were Anti-Black. In 2006,

In California alone there were 245 reported Anti-Sexual Orientation Hate Crime Events and 844 reported Anti-Race Hate Crime Events. It’s easier to be caught D.O.B. (Driving While Black) than it is to catch a cold, too many brothers are coming up missing or dead from some low self esteemed fueled DL sexual tryst and Hip Hop is still trying fuel it’s hyper masculinity by degrading women and homosexuals. Your main concern is the war on terrorism? In my head I imagine this scene where he goes to some rally to support the war but is pulled over by some cop who doesn’t believe a Black man could drive a BMW and then finally has it impounded it when he sees the gay pride sticker in the back window.

I think that problems overseas should be addressed and I think our foreign policy needs a complete aura enema, but the truth of the matter is… the Civil Rights movement hasn’t ended. We’re still fighting for justice and equality right here, right now. I just think it’s a somewhat lofty aspiration to negate the social atrocities in your own home in an effort to fix problems abroad. I’ve always felt that terrorism existed because there was a breakdown in communication, that the attacks on American soil were not random but because our adversaries did not agree with some fundamental tenets of American life, and I think that’s because… they just didn’t understand them. The way I see it, every human being to ever exist has wanted the same thing, provide for you and your family, give honor to your God(s), and get laid as much as humanly possible. I think our adversaries couldn’t see the forest through the trees and couldn’t realize that at the end of the day we want the same thing. And America, so (in)famously known for it’s brutally empty machismo, never presented that olive branch. Hell, we don’t even provide that same dignity and compassion to our own citizens. In other words, we don’t listen how loud our own radio is before we are so quick to try and get the neighbors to turn theirs down. And more than likely, theirs is only so loud because ours is.

I also think that is why same-sex marriage is simply not a priority in many African American homes, gay or straight. Honestly speaking, we’re still trying not to get pulled over and beat on the way to the chapel. Yet there are organizations here, also under the auspice of enlightening the African American LGBT community, whose main agenda is to promote same sex marriage amendments. But that agenda is not on the greater African American LGBT community’s schema. We’re in need of better educational programs, better vocational programs, more job opportunities, sensitivity training for our heterosexual counterparts, efficient liaisons between the Black church and the Black Gay community, better health programs, self defense training and discussion, HIV education and advocation… things that will make a difference in our lives, our families’ lives and generations after that. Legalizing our love life is great, but we still need to stop the legal system from demonizing our everyday life first. The Civil Rights movement is not over, and I think that is something that would be easily found out if these entities geared towards African American communities would actually go to… African American communities and do the work that needs to be done and not just play some contemporary Uncle Tom/whore amalgamation by collecting a paycheck for being the type of non-threatening “niggers” who smile pretty for the grant writers and have no clue as to needs of the greater African American LGBT Community.

THE BALLAD OF THE AMERICAN BLACK BEAR

(c) Breeze Vincinz

A friend of mine used to run a, entertainment business on the East Coast that catered to the needs of overweight homosexual men of color. In it’s hey day the business thrived and everyone involved enjoyed the fruits of their labor, including the notion that, even in the most minuscule of levels, they were providing a service to a demographic that was grossly underserved.

The business has since devolved and my friend has since moved here to the West Coast, the hope being that the success of said business would easily transfer to California’s (in)famously oversexed gay shorelines. But alas, ever since his pudgy little toes touched down on Los Angeles’ sun-kissed terrain, he has found it increasingly hard to recapture the verve once established and even treasured back East.

We sat and discussed the current state of Bear affairs over our weekly Malibu Chicken special at Sizzler. “Bear” is a gay slang term used to identify homosexual men that are usually heavy-set with facial hair and hairy bodies. The Bear Diasporas actually are pretty wide including men who are thin, muscular, smooth, into leather or uniforms or have other physical attributes. But nonetheless, as it stands, for all intense purposes, the both of us would most definitely be considered Bears.

For awhile now I have considered myself to be on this Dian Fossey-esque exploration into the great beasts whereas instead of gorillas, I have studied the great American Bear for all it’s glory. I’ve been to Bear bars, Bear clubs, Bear orgies and was even invited to a Bear dinner but declined because it would have interfered with my weekly Malibu Chicken at Sizzler. All in all I have found most Bear outings filled to the brim with some of the most cordial, hospitable and affable men I have ever run into in my life (which is saying a lot considering the fact that I live in Los Angeles). But there is also another blaring consistency that is quite obvious in every Bear event I have participated in, little to no Black men. 

There have been several upstart little grassroot efforts made to have gatherings here that cater to zaftig men of color and none have had any lasting resonance. Then my friend comes into town with a heart filled with big dreams, creative ideas and elevated cholesterol levels with hopes of carving a little niche for himself here in the untapped “Big Boi” market of Los Angeles and I have watched as those hopes and dreams trip, stumble and fall in the shadow of juggernaut party promoters catering to the new generation of barely legal, fashion obsessed, technologically advanced, ADD, anorexic gay black men who desperately want to sit with the cool kids. And that’s how they get them; they set up this table filled with immensely beautiful and over muscled models with the promise that they can always eat lunch with them. Then there’s the Bear table. You know who’s there… me, my friend, and the marks left on our hips from binding jeans after too much Malibu Chicken from Sizzler.

We are in a very peculiar demographic, we are a subculture, inside of a subculture, inside of a subculture. Less than 25% of the country is African American. Theoretically 10% of those people are homosexual. And even less percentage of those people are Bears. So at the end of the day, our pride parade would consist of about like twelve people (five of whom I’ve probably already slept with and two I would never admit to).

One of the problems I have noticed is that there is a large percentage of African Americans in general that really don’t want the extra baggage that comes along with being with another African American. I think its akin to not wanting to spend the rest of your days with your partner talking about how neither one of you can get a credit card or find a barber who can cut a descent fade. I guess the mentality is, “I just don’t want to think about being Black all the time and at least one of us should have a credit score over 500.” Which is all good I guess… unless you don’t mind being black, your credit score is over 650 and some cute Black dude tells you that he doesn’t date Black dudes because he doesn’t want to put up with the “drama”.

Then there’s your typical run of the mill African American gay man who isn’t trying to be “out”. In general we are a very religious people and very family oriented and in general, African American gay men usually feel it’s either homosexuality or God and you’d be pretty hard pressed to find someone who would give up God for… anything really. And as a people, we haven’t really gotten to that point where sex (gay or straight) is good or righteous or acceptable. It’s still taboo, we still don’t talk about it or at least not enough.

Then there’s the mainstream gay community whose main agenda is public displays of homosexual pride at any and every given opportunity… at all costs.

Then there’s the Bear community who is usually masculine, heavy-set blue collar guys who don’t mind being masculine, heavy-set or blue collar.

Then there’s Los Angeles whose delusions of grandeur has been oxygenated into our atmosphere since its inception. It’s about image here, not necessarily what you look like, but what you represent. So an overweight guy here can still fit in as long as it is clear that he clearly abides by the strictest rules of contemporary fashion which translates into, “You can be fat, but you better be fierce!”

And that’s where the conundrum lies; finding masculine, openly homosexual, heavy-set, African American men who don’t have delusions of grandeur of being America’s Next Top Model who actually like other African American men… which brings us back to it being a subculture, inside of a subculture, inside of a subculture; that’s the table dude, me, my friend, and the marks left on our hips from binding jeans after too much Malibu Chicken from Sizzler. 

It’s no wonder his business failed.

I, on the other hand, have been delving into the wonderful world of the Bear in all its Caucasian seasoned glory. Who knows if I’ll ever actually date a White boy but I got to tell you… I’m starting to feel more of a kinship with the people who understand why I would rather sit at a table at a restaurant than my so-called Soul Brothas who scoff at the fact that I can’t fit in a booth, which is a very scary thought because I have always felt more of an connection with Black people than Gay people. Who knew that all that chicken grease would make my vision clearer?

But alas, I don’t see me trading in the profound love I have for my people, my Black men… unrequited as it may be. I still go to Bear bars, Bear clubs, Bear orgies... and I do very much enjoy the friendly fur of these, my ivory toned counterparts. But I’m always holding out for those Black Bears, aware, proud and not too bruised by this pin prick of a world.