Black, Gay, and American

There’s so much that I want to say every day, but so many times, I remain silent.


It’s a strange and sad affair being black, gay, and American, when those groups—in a larger, generalized context—want nothing to do with each other; or worse, willfully or systematically harms the others.

I am not silent because I don’t care; I am silent because I feel it all very deeply–both the losses and the betrayals.


I am not silent because I have nothing to say; I am silent because I don’t know where to start.


I am not silent because I don’t have the words; I am silent because when you’re black, gay, and American, it takes all you have just to make it through the day, because in so many ways, you’re on your own.


But it’s hard to be silent.


Liberty is being denied. Acceptance and equality are being withheld to others by those demanding it for themselves. And lives are being lost.


And I feel it all.


So every day, when I don’t have the time for words, I simply try to be a good person who acts from a place of love and understanding. Because beneath it all, beneath all the qualifiers and descriptors and the name-calling and the judging, and the hurt and the pain, we’re all just people. And if I feel like my life matters and if I feel like I deserve to be loved and to feel safe, I can’t deny that to another person, regardless of his or her race, gender, sexual orientation, or creed, etc.


So on those days when I am silent, I try to be the most exemplary black, gay American I can be, and I hope and pray that actions really do speak louder than words.

April 28, 2015