Dark and Lovely an autobiographicla excerpt

Dark and Lovely

by Orville Lloyd Douglas

Have you ever looked in the mirror and noticed that you don't exist?
Even though
you see your face and skin. Even though you stare at your reflection
you'll notice when you leave your home and enter society your thoughts,
feelings, and emotions
are ignored? How about picking up a magazine or turning on the
television and you noticed all you the images you'll always see are
processed, pasteurized, plastic images, of white folks?

By contrast, I have been told by society since I am young black male
that I must be
a criminal, rap artist, singer, or athlete. I have been categorized and
stigmatized into
these four boxes not by choice but through society. White people and
others have verbally
told me these lies to my face. I am disgusted and enraged that
Canada
claims to be a tolerant multicultural society when clearly there is so
much racism and
discrimination under the surface.

Imagine though that you are a young black man but in your teens you
discover you
are a homosexual. Not only do you have to deal with the white racism in
society you
also will encounter homophobia from your own race and community.

You can't turn to the dominant African Canadian heterosexual community
because there are social and religious reasons not to come out. You
can't count on the gays to be of much help either. The gay white
community is responsible for pushing this gay myth that
unfortunately exists for them and not for non white homosexuals.

The question remains where do you go? what can you possibly do?
My
book will prove there is a displacement a void where thousands of us
are left.
Sometimes I have also questioned my existence and how I fit in this
racist world.
I have written articles about the racism in Xtra newspaper about this
issue. In the April 5th 2001 issue of Xtra I had an article published
called "the unwelcome wagon." I
conducted a tour of several non profit agencies only to amazed at the
racism that the white people projected. One thing I noticed is that
while there is an acknowledgement that the racism is persistent there
is no action taking place. Why would a young gay black male or female
go to a predominately white gay support agency when the whites refuse
to acknowledge and deal with the social, racial, and cultural realities
that gays of colour face. My article proved that white gays are just
like their heterosexual counterparts.

White people are white people it doesn't matter if they are gay or
straight.
When I was coming out I had no support a few years back and I almost
committed suicide. The truth of the matter is that while the media and
society claim to be more tolerant of homosexuals you'll notice as I
have that the people that are fighting for same sex benefits and gay
marriage are white homosexuals.

These men and women are often middle aged, middle class and have the
time and
financial resources to fight for homosexual marriage. My question is
who are these
white people really battling for? I can guarantee honestly they are
fighting for themselves.

Did you ever become angry and irritated at the racism but felt
powerless?
I first thought about writing my experiences in Dec.2000. I was just
turned twenty four at
the time and I've learned a bit about life. I guess I began questioning
my life as a gay black male subsequent to reading James Earl Hardy
first novel B-Boy Blues. A former friend of mine suggested at the time
that I read the book. I was only eighteen and still extremely
unhappy and depressed. B-Boy Blues was so important to me since it was
the first book I
read about contemporary black male life. I related to the characters
and I loved the plot.

I learned so much due to Hardy explained New York City's homosexual
community. I am
the first to admit that at eighteen I never asked myself questions
about my identity as a black male in relation to other homosexuals. I
was naive at the time and I thought gay people were incapable of racism
since they endured discrimination just
like black people. I was wrong and I had an epiphany that I started to
realize that white
people are white people it doesn't matter if they are gay or straight.
I found it interesting
that the white homosexuals were condemning society for intolerance when
they
consistently discriminate against people of colour. You don't have to
call me
a man to be a racist. The popular gay soap Queer as Folk is an
extreme example
of the racism. The only characters of colour are often portrayed as
docile, stupid,
subservient, sexual objects for white homosexual male desire. I will
touch more on
this issue in the chapter about the media.

I found solace and peace in B-Boy Blues it was a revelation for me
since it was
the first time I read and identified with characters that were gay
black men. I read about a world that I never thought was imaginable. I
recall going to the local library in Brampton and looking up books
about black gay men only to find books that concerned gay white males.
I became annoyed and irritated. At the time in 1995 the only book I
found was Giovanni's room by the African American writer James Baldwin.
Surprise, surprise despite the fact that James Baldwin is a gay black
man he wrote a book about two
white gay men that had a traumatic dysfunctional gay relationship in
France.

I was mortified and crushed. James Baldwin my hero had totally ignored
the black
gay community just to seek profit from the white market. James Baldwin
also
fought racial injustice during the civil rights movement but even he
had a long off and on
homosexual relationship with a white man from Switzerland that lasted
until his death in
1987.

I did manage to read some of fiction by white homosexual writers only
to be left
feeling empty as though I was wasting my time reading their work. I
simply did not
connect to their work.

B-Boy Blues illustrated to me I was wasn't alone and it was okay to be
a gay black male that loves other men. I began to understand I don't
have to feel ashamed anymore of my feelings and desires.

The characters in Hardy's book are Americans yet I connected to their
emotions,
dreams, and fears about life. My mind was at ease as I read and my
feelings of the angst
and melancholy concerning my sexual orientation . I commenced to
understand there are millions of gay black men across North America and
the world who are
sexually attracted to other men. I am one of these males and I am no
longer alone.

I am not suggesting that prior to B-Boy Blues there were not excellent
books about black
homosexual males. I loved the narrative style and his writing was so
pure and true.
The characters were ordinary black men not wealthy people that lived in
huge mansions
with servants and maids. I wasn't interested in reading about rich life
since I found it
irrelevant. B-Boy Blues discussed the current problems gay black men
faced in America.

One of the main characters Raheim had a child with a woman yet he
refuses to tell his
family about being a homosexual. I have met many black gay men have
lived this game of
deception. Hardy 's novel explored this theme and others in his
breakthrough novel.

After I read B-Boy Blues I decided to investigate Toronto's homosexual
ghetto
by myself again. Two years had passed since I made a brief visit to the
519 community
centres where I was part of a gay youth group when I was sixteen in
1993. I was
terrified and upset that there was only one other black person
attending the group. He
asked me questions that I found too personal and invasive. I vowed
never ever to return.

The school year was extremely difficult for me the year before in
1992. I had just
enrolled in a new high school called Martingrove Collegiate Institute.
I skipped school since it was hell for me. Every morning I woke up for
school I basically died inside. There was emptiness and sadness that
was engulfing me. I wanted to slit my wrists and throat every morning.
I was an awkward looking teenager since I was short at 5'4 and I wore
coke bottle glasses. My sister told me I was the new geek of the
school. I hated my life and wished I was dead. I wore ugly clothes I
had no fashion sense or style. I've been teased my entire life and I
knew I was different. In my subconscious I comprehended I was a
homosexual. I was alone feeling so guilty and depressed as though
nothing mattered anymore since I didn't care.

B-Boy Blues saved me from doing something stupid to myself. There was
so
much misery and doom that engulfed my life at the time. I skipped
school in 1992 since I
rejected what school stood for. My sorrow was eroding my self esteem
and I had no
choice but to escape. I got myself into situations I wasn't sure I
could handle.

For example, I had homosexual sex with another male for the first time
in 1992 I was
only fifteen. He was an older man that lived on Bloor and Spadina. He
claimed he was
nineteen years old. At the time I thought was that age now I know
better. He wasn't cruel
to me yet I felt pressured to engage in activities at the time I wished
I hadn't. I felt the usual feelings of grief after I had sex for the
first time. The man I met kept on calling me and I continued to have
relations with him. I always promised myself that I would cease to meet
him and this constant emotional nightmare I endured for three months.
Finally, I think the man realized I was too young and we stopped having
sex. I was saddened that our sexual relationship had ended. I don't
believe I was taken advantage of since I knew exactly what I wanted. I
was longing to experience what it was like to be with another man. I
loved the smell, touch, chest, and the body of a male wrapped around
me. When we were having sex there were no feelings of guilt or anger.
Our mouths touched as he kissed me gently sometimes or other times
passionately. I had decided I could no longer ignore my true feelings
any longer. I was skipping school to have sex with this man. At first
he seemed pleased to see me but then I think his listened to his
conscience.

Everyone at my high school seemed shocked the former dork had become a
bad
boy. In middle school I was often on the honor roll and I was a decent
student. I
embarrassed myself and my family. Of course, my parents were especially
disappointed with my disturbingly bad behaviour. I became more solemn
and I felt I had the Scarlet letter branded to my back whenever I
walked into my classes. All of the other kids eyes gazed on me like I
was a freak that deserved their judgmental stares.

One of the most pathetic moments in my life was when I skipped school
and I
ended up in the police station. The officer drove me back to the high
school North Park in a police cruiser. My principal was cold ,stern,
and disappointed in my actions. I could sense his through his anger
that he felt I was immature, irresponsible, and frivolous. I sat in the
red cushioned chair silent my eyes gazing out the window staring at the
sun and I pretended to care about his concerns. The police officer left
shortly after and my parents
were called. The principal ordered me back to my class or I would
suffer the
consequences. I was petrified thinking about the situation and what I
should do. The
principal then dismissed me from his office as though I was trash that
should of been
thrown out the day before. I walked slowly from his office and turned
my head and
noticed he returned to his paper work. I sauntered cautiously into the
hallway where all of the other kids hanged out. I was an outsider and I
knew it. I wasn't rich like the kids that lived around here. My parents
weren't going to buy me a sports car for my sixteenth birthday. I
didn't shop at all the chic shops and tried to make myself look
handsome. I was so lost living in my own convoluted world of
unhappiness and hopelessness. At the time was trying to make sense of
all my problems and could find no easy solutions. Of course,the easy
answer was I should of returned to my class. I couldn't go back since
there was nothing there for me. It was almost October at the time and I
didn't have a clue what was going on. I ran out of the school as fast
as I could. I darted across the manicured green lawn down a pathway
full of houses. I was lost. I stared at the maze of houses on that hot
sunny day rrified. I looked to the road and I walked through a small
park and I found my way home. No one was there so I was lucky. The
principal made a surprise phone call at 8:00pm and there was no way out
for me. The next few days I contemplated suicide. I mean really what
was there left ? I had no friends no one to listen to me. My only
friend the man I was having sex with pushed me away like I was used
goods. Even though some may say I was taken advantage
of at the time he listened to me about my pain and grief. I couldn't
tell my parents that I
thought I might be a homosexual. It would of killed their spirit if
they learned the horrible
news.

I went home and I became a living zombie. I started to dress in all
black and
became even more introverted and isolated. My most favourite time of
the day was when I
was sleeping since I could dream of a better life since there was no
way out for me.

I recall staring in the mirror after I had a shower and just cried. All
I could do was to
release the tension. I come from the Jamaican culture where
homosexuality is frowned upon. My folks never really discussed to me
about gay people. All I recall was that homosexuals were not to be
trusted especially around children. I had images of the gays as beasts
that hunted like predators after unsuspecting victims and devour them.
The homosexuals were deviants that every community in society feared
and hated. I became more distressed about my actions with the man I had
sex with. I wasn't concerned about religion or God I
only. cared that no one found out. I conditioned myself to feel
unimportant and invisible.

I asked myself so many times how could I be a homosexual since I was a
black male?
When I was young I was told homosexuals were only white men I didn't
even know that
lesbians existed at the time.

In my culture there are few references to gay black men except they
were faggots
that spread diseases and die of Aids or other related illnesses. The
view of many was that
gay black men that have sex with other men deserve to die since God was
punishing them
for their sins. All of the images of gay black men were negative. I
thought I was doomed
and there is no exit to flee. Where could I run to at fifteen? I would
returned to my
parents and then I would never hear the end of their argument that
something was terribly
wrong with me. When I look back I sympathize with my parents since they
worked hard and here I was making a fool of myself.

The alternative high school Indec North saved me from myself. At the
school the teachers were caring people that genuinely wanted the
students to achieve. I liked the relaxed atmosphere and the school's
schedule. I only had to attend my classes a few times a week instead of
everyday like high school. It was my responsibility to finish my
assignments or else I paid the price. The teachers guided me and
nurtured me to reach my potential. I remember my French, geography,
English, and law teachers pushed me to try my best. My attitude changed
about all of the gloom that surrounded my life. I started to become a
little bit more optimistic about my future.