I was born and raised in the lovely state of Georgia, but I have lived in Chicago for 9 years now. Almost every time I talk to my mom on the phone, she tells me to be safe. Chicago has a bad reputation right now so I understand her worry. I usually tell my mom that I will be fine to ease her mind, but I haven't been able to do that as much lately.
With the injustices that power the Black Lives Matter Movement and acts of hatred and ignorance like the Orlando shooting, being a black, gay man carries a lot of weight. I feel like I potentially have a huge target on my back.
Over the years, I have had to develop a thick skin. I have been called a jigaboo and a faggot. I have been racially discrimated against as well as mocked for my less than "masculine" ways. I always have had to remind myself that these words can not and will not define me. If anything, I should choose to let these experiences make me stronger and rise above. However, what about when it is more than a few bigoted words being thrown around.
The Chicago Gay Pride parade took place about a week after many innocent lives were taken at Pulse Nightclub. I chose not to attend my city's festivities out of fear. I was afraid that, like those 50 individuals in Orlando, my life could be cut short only because I was dancing the night away with friends. How would my mom take that news? All of her warnings for me to be careful would have been for nothing.
I mourned the departed as if I had known them. Every picture and story that came out about the victims devastated me. I could not help but imagine what would I have done in the situation that they were in. Would I have made the fatal mistake of hiding in a bathroom? Would I have jumped in front of a bullet to save a loved one? Maybe I could have escaped unharmed, but how would that event have changed me?
More than I classify myself as a gay man, I am a black man. When you first see me, that is how you would identify me.
Being black has always been a very big part of me. I grew up in the south where Confederate flags were as ubiquitous as the holy cross. On television, I saw polarizing events such as the OJ verdict and the Watts Riots as well as positive images like the show A Different World, which made me want to go to a Historically Black University. I rejoiced with a face stained with tears when Barack Obama was elected into office. A change had finally come... or has it.
One night, I had been out with friends. In the car was my female friend who was driving, my good guy friend in the passenger seat, and I was seated right behind him; three well dressed black people calling it an early night. As we sat at a red light, a state trooper pulled beside us. Soon as the light turned green, the officer turned on his siren to pull us over. One of my friends up front then told me to do the most appropriate thing; record this stop.
The officer, for unknown reason, walked over to the passenger side window. He flashed his light back and forth between the two gentlemen in the car. His excuse for the stop was expired car tags. Obviously, addressing the driver about the tags on the car is not necessary. It must be protocol to harass everyone else. Also tags must expire after two months now because that's how old they were.
We were all asked for our ID's. This must be new as well. I volunteered my passport and the officer scoffed at me. He acted as if I had just called his mother a whore. I explained to him that my driver's license had expired, but he asked for it instead anyway. It was around this time that he realized that I was recording him. I am glad he knew. Before leaving to check our very clean records, he searched around the car for drugs and alcohol. He, of course, found none. He eventually let us go with a warning. I still wonder would things be different if he had not been on candid camera.
This incident could have played out so differently. I am not saying that cops are bad. I appreciate those in law enforcement and I trust in them to keep me safe. However, the agendas of some have shaken America, especially minorities.
I do not want to be afraid anymore. I don't want my mom to have to cash in that new life insurance policy that she has out on me. I don't want to think about what pictures will be pulled of me from my social media accounts to create some kind of narrative for the press. No new social unrest should come from my passing.
I am a black, gay man. That is only a part of who I am, but I am proud to be me. I stand with all of my community in saying that OUR LIVES MATTER!
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