This is an extremely invasive essay, as I speak on my personal experiences and how they’ve shaped me. This was incredibly hard to write. I’ve been typing and writing and scapping this for almost a year now, trying to bring my words together. I think it’s worth sharing now. I hope that something can be taken from it. This essay is a meditation on black queerness and all of it’s difficulties. I pray that if you’re reading this and these things apply to you that you know it’s okay to keep going. Please keep going.
“to the black boy in love with another black boy, be patient with yourself. be patient with him. they don’t teach this kind of love.”- ivan nuru
Also, let’s just say that this essay is colloquial. You’ll know what I mean when you get to those points. My words are my words, and they won’t be silenced for the sake of anyone.
- chance allen
start////////////////////////////////
They don’t teach this shit.
they really don’t teach this shit.
Why don’t they teach this shit? There’s an everlasting abundance of love being spread in the world, yet one nigga just can’t seem to find it.
I know that things like this aren’t supposed to be easy, but why can’t they be for once? Just this once, I want things to work. It’s a scary process, and I’ve been defeated many times…
they don’t teach this shit.
As hard as it was figuring myself out you’d think some slack would be cut on the opposite end. I’m gay, and I’m also black. Love (for people like me) is somewhat hard to find.
because they don’t teach this shit.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of experiences with men.
There was the one with the frames.
He spoke to me. Spoke to me with honesty, intention, and reverence. He encouraged me. He soon became the first. The first to acknowledge that our desires and sentiments were mutual.
There was the one with the hair.
He loved me. I didn’t really know until it hit me. It hit me like the latest Steve Lacy album; hard. He taught me everything. He let me be me. There’s a lot here. A lot.
There was the one with the eyes.
He was patient with me. He worked with me. He allowed me to heal through him. He was the vessel that rid all impurities within me.
I didn’t always make the best choices in these connections, and I hate that I have to say that. But that’s okay. I wasn’t placed on this earth to know all things right off of the bat.I’ve realized that a lot of us were programmed early on to have this belief that we’re all knowing. The truth of the matter is this: if we were all knowing, life would be incredibly boring. Within these three connections alone, I’ve been hurt. I’ve felt things i’ve never felt before, and they’ve had a direct impact on my life. I’m aware that in the same I’ve hurt them as well, but that doesn’t make us bad people. We’re learning and growing individually at our own paces, and that’s all that matters. Be patient with yourself, and be patient with him too. Sometimes things have a way of being simplistically complicated, but there’s always a way out through these things. It’s hard, I know. But like I said before,
they don’t teach this shit.
You know, I thought I knew what love felt like. But as time progressed, my defintion of love would continue to change. Knowing and understanding that you’re in love is such an outstanding feeling, and I hope that feeling is felt by everyone around me at some point. It wasn’t expected, nor intended. Looking back at it now, it was all such a dream. He was like a dream to me. Once I was in it, it felt like there was no way out. I truly loved him, but he couldn’t love me in the way that I wanted to.
He’s straight.
Listen. You’re not alone. It’s more common than you think, it’s just not heavily talked about. Sometimes we can’t help our feelings, no matter how hard we try and evade them. Love consumes you, which makes it hard at times for it to be shaken. Patience and Love are completely intertwined. It takes the utmost tenacious understanding of persistence in order to be able to continue. This isn’t the end for you, it’s just the beginning. I gained knowledge in a multitude of things that I would not have none otherwise. Without my love for him and his love for me, I would not be where I am today. It’s painful, but in the end, the sweetest of love will come down into your soul and grace you nothing but abundant love. Remember,
they don’t teach this shit.
Being queer and black is no an easy feat. Walking down the street is a task. Shit, walking through campus and going to class is a task. However, I wouldn’t want it any other way. My queerness and my blackness make me who I am. I’m comfortable in my skin from the kinks of my curls to the wrinkles of my toes. I understand if things are getting tough, but I do my best to remember to breathe. My understanding of love varies from that of a heterosexual person, and my experiences directly attribute to that. But here I am, still going.
It’s a perplex-fully taxing yet beautifully invigorating experience to love another being while be black and queer. It’s diffucult, but my experiences alone have made me a better human being, lover, boyfriend, friend, and beyond to all around me. Although they don’t teach this shit I’ve come to know that maybe it’s not meant to be taught to us. Perhaps the beauty of the unknown is what gives these lessons so much power. There’s grace in my movement, there’s purity in my words, and there’s tenderness in my heart. My idenities are what make me who I am and are what push me to dive into the depths of my being.
I’m loving where I’m at, and who I’m becoming. The light, the music, and the memories guide me there. I find sanctuary in myself, and when I go to venus love flows through me.
end////////////////////////////////