30 LGBT writers you must read before you die: Paul Monette

 “When you finally come out, there's a pain that stops, and you know it will never hurt like that again, no matter how much you lose or how bad you die.” ― Paul Monette
 

Paul Monette was an openly gay American author, poet and activist born in 1945 and best known for his honest and revealing essays about gay relationships and later on in life, his battle with AIDS. Like many Monette grew up conflicted about his sexual identity, but his growth into acceptance of whom he was and his celebration of self through literature makes Paul Monette a writer worth reading. READ More

Goodbye To Forever

Life always takes the time to remind us we don’t have forever. That is why it is so important to love who we are inside because tomorrow won’t remember us if we don’t take the time to smile today.

It was a still moment on a simple day. I was a bit grumpy on that particular morning, barely saying a good morning to co-workers as I sat down at my desk to begin another eight hours of the same routine. As I looked up at my computer monitor, the first thing I saw was an email from my friend Michael. I clicked it open and what I remember most as I read were the cloudy skies outside the window as I turned to my left. I remember that moment of hesitation as my mind took the time to catch up to my heart as I read the words:

“I have something to tell you”.

My heart started beating fast as my eyes scurried to find out the news. He mentioned that an acquaintance had passed away. I was a little relieved but it was shocking news because it was someone who I saw frequently in the gay scene and someone I didn’t even know was sick. This person was one of those individuals I took for granted but at the same time someone I found amusing. It gave me sadness because I didn’t take the time to get to know him. I guess I figured I had time. I thought I had forever to get to know the true meaning behind his eyes and the true definition of his heart that usually stayed hidden behind a wide smile and multiple wise cracks. There were so many of those little things – from a nickname he called himself to the constant joking around he always did – that I grew to appreciate and miss. After finding my mind stranded inside a few minutes that seemed like hours, I deleted the email and realized what’s here today can be gone tomorrow.

It is evident in all walks of life. We spend so much time being angry at someone or so much time hating someone for who they are that we lose touch of the importance of every single person who enters our life. We know this and we remind ourselves all the time but how often do we really take the time to breathe and just enjoy what is around us. We often mark off our calendars or rush through our weeks to get to the weekend. Before we know it something has happened to someone else that makes us stop and say “damn!”

As I talked to and got to know a few older men who lived during the 80’s who have lost friends and acquaintance because of AIDS, I realized there wasn’t the same amount of prevention or education back then as we have today. I’ve been lucky so far not to have experienced as much loss as they have. But the email I found in my email that morning made me think and made me realize that consequences are real. There is no tomorrow if we don’t embrace our now.

Every day that we turn the ignition to our cars or take a walk there is a risk. We don’t have much control over most things that happen around us. This guy that I knew was probably looking forward to a next birthday or a holiday or simply the next day and never got to see it. It really made me look at myself and how I treated others online and in real life. Online we can get carried away because we don’t really know the people we interact with and the same goes for people we rarely know in our daily lives. We don’t really know what a person is going through or has been through in their lives and we take for granted how our words can affect someone.

There is no guarantee of a tomorrow; there is no guarantee of a change to apologize or understand a person’s differences. Because of that experience and experiencing daily the fight for the equality of respect, I strive to be that voice remembering those who didn’t get the chance to fulfill their lives. Whether they were taken from this world due to illness or took their own lives do to bullying or the pressure from constant judgment, some of those people never got the chance to experience the feeling of acceptance.

There are times life teaches us to open our eyes and celebrate the vision of living.

Lost Ones

I write for their eyes
as I narrate the loneliness they feel
 from inside the of hidden identities
that have become immersed
within the transparent confusion
 of society’s delusion.

Some are brave and stand alone
on judgment’s concrete stone
 afraid to shine their difference
in the dampened skies where hateful
 eyes
plagiarize their souls to be ashamed
of how they were born;

some are young, abandoned and living
in houses that don’t feel like home.
 They are trying to be clones
of who they are told they have to be
but in their hearts they just
 reach for the moment where
 they can be free

and some are reminders of me—hidden sexuality
 searching for air
 and the right to breathe their own
civil liberty.  I write for their pride, their beauty
 and their strength

I write for every emotion
they feel they need to keep locked up
Inside/afraid no one would understand;
 afraid there would be no one
on their side

and I write for their courage;
 the everyday journey
of new discoveries and the celebration
they will inherit by loving who they are
 because they will be loved.
I write for them and I write for who

 I used to be – lost ones
ready and searching to be found.

© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan
http://www.tarringovaughan.net

A Letter To Him

Dear Him,

I once saw you standing on the corner once before/hidden
in the mirrors of self-blame and masked by feelings of shame.
You thought no one knew you; you thought no one heard
the true language of your heart and you thought no one cared
 --at least that’s what you feared

And now I see you standing free for the world to see—
you have become a victory and now I see you breathing, relaxing
and no longer suffocating inside feelings
suppressed by the non-acceptance of ignorance
that had you locked away in a closet unaware
 of the many layers of your own importance.

You felt lost in a maze of confusion with no way out;
locked inside a place where dark illustrated illusions distracted
 your pride and self-love; a place where your thoughts and feelings
failed  to come together in fusion—

but finally your  confidence has collided with strength
and tall you stand as you are a champion of life:
One who have defeated

those who have judged and continue to judge;
those who still try to trip your presence and make you
                                  fall back in that hole of fear
but you rise and refuse to go back there;

you have shown the world that  this too is life
through self-discovery and  the makings of you. 
I see you standing now as a sculpture beautifully constructed
 by the artists known as courage, strength, dedication
 (a new found appreciation)

and the pride that now defines happiness
and a self-worth that has become priceless.

 You are the many who walk brave.

Sincerely,

  inspiration.

© 2012
Tarringo T. Vaughan

It Was All About The Sex

 he said “I’ll Call you”.

As I turned over in my queen size bed partially covered with the scent of him, I knew that call would not come. I can still hear the echo of his footsteps followed by the creak in the door swing shut all these years later. 

 

And why?

 Because I felt like a god damn fool, an idiot, a used piece of chewing gum spit out for a new flavor. I thought his smooth words and attractive eyes were sincere; I thought the way he touched me was for me and not just to get me. He said the right things, made all the right moves, even pretended to listen to my heart. But you see, he was a playa in a game that I never read the instructions to. All these years later I now realize how easy it should’ve all been to figure out. 

 

            Shit.

I was a piece of ass and it didn’t feel good when you didn’t sign up for a one night stand. I’m not even going to say it’s a gay thing or man thing because I’m sure we’ve all experienced it. It was all about that sex that night. He called me and politely asked me to dinner. We met, caught a movie and I cringed as his hand touched mine because I wasn’t use to the affection in public. But at the same time I melted because it was a moment I wanted.

The movie ended and there we were back at my place. I was shy and he made me feel comfortable with just his smile. A kiss led to more and although in my head I knew it wasn’t smart to go further, my body did the talking that night. And you know what? I thought the night would lead to many even though deep inside I felt I was probably one of many that he romanced and seduced and left laying in a half made bed of sweat.

And I turned out to be right. He was the first that I experienced that within the gay world and he sure wasn’t the last. You really can’t see it coming no matter how much you shield yourself. But I’ve learned that if it’s going to be just about sex, then I will get mine too. The gay world is lonely enough without being left behind.

            “Tee, Is that you”, he said years later in a dark club.

  I looked and said “Yes”. He looked at the muscles on my body and the new confidence I had and said “You look great”. I nodded and walked past. He tried the rest of the night to get my attention. But I pretended not to notice and ignored him like he ignored my heart. A friend asked me who he was and as he walked behind me, I said in a loud voice.

            “Oh just some guy who was lousy in bed, it was just about the sex”.

Some Say Love...

"Written Before I Found Love Again"

I still remember…love.


I remember all the possible feelings of being cuddled in another’s arms; the soft caress of eyes interlocked for moments of eternity. I remember the aroma that lingers when love fills the air like the breath of a warm rain ready to shower the earth with radiance. There was once a time I thought love was a myth. I was a young teenager waltzing in a maze of my own imagination just feeling like I would never find that feeling of magic. I learned love was like a dream but no one ever taught me the many personalities of love. As I’ve grown and continue to grow I’ve learned that love is not just that magical feeling two lovers orchestrate on mountains of passion, love is also inhaling the tears and moments of sickness. Love is standing by someone when they are at their weakness and love is about letting go. Some say love creates those moments of healing and self-renewal and I say love is the lead vocal in this song called life.
One night I stood in a crowded club watching like I tend to do. I saw two younger men who found each other in that same club. They were introduced by circumstance and took a chance by allowing their hearts to dance. I thought to myself how happy they looked and I was happy for them. Every time their smile gazed into each other’s eyes, there was electricity that filled the air. They were creating a music that symphonized throughout the night. I remembered that moment as my own, right there, in that very club and it made me once again yearn for the warmth of just having another soul think about you that way. I missed the comfort of another’s heartbeat vibrating throughout my own body and that night as I watched these two lovers I wondered about their journey and if they would be able to survive the obstacles and if they would still look at each other with that mesmerism once flaws were exposed. Some say love is limitless when it is unconditional. I watched love grow that night.

On the same night I continued to voyeur this new connection. I watched them hold each other and interact with friends. They were like magnets always finding their way back to one another. This was something refreshing in the gay community; it was a magnetism I once had but had given up on because a lot of men just want that one night stand or that one time claim to your heart. As the night went on I took my eyes off the couple and focused on my own enjoyment which just led me to get drunk off of memories of what I had and I leaned against the bar just wondering why so quickly did love yank its claws out of me without warning. Some say love strikes you when you least expect so I guess it can go both ways. Some say love can only exist between a man and a woman but everyday someone is proving that wrong. Somewhere two women are laying on a couch dozing off in to each other’s minds and somewhere two men are sitting on a porch watching the stars align in the shape of their hearts. Somewhere the love I once had is thinking about me as I think about him and before me that night two young lovers were exercising their love into a new strength. Some say this love is a sin but how can it be wrong when it is so beautiful when it just feels right.



© 2010
Tarringo T. Vaughan
Diary Of A Gay Black Man

Phobia

There are many fears in the world and everyone is afraid of something. Sometimes we don’t realize our own fears until we are faced with them. A co-worker screams suddenly and intensely every time she spots a spider; this is her arachnophobia: a phobia that many people besides her have, but a phobia that can be overcome through more exposure to spiders and that can be the case for many of our fears. As a child and into my early adulthood I was afraid of my own image in the mirror which is something they call Eisoptrophobia; something I never heard of but after realizing what exactly it was I understood my own fear. Time has healed me, seeing myself and loving myself more has healed me although there are still times I don’t like seeing images of myself. And I’ve heard of fear of heights, animals, the outdoors but I never thought or realized there were people with a fear of me.
Homophobia: The fear of homosexuality or fear of being homosexual.

Where do I begin here but to say I use to have the fear of being gay myself. When I started to realize the possibility, I decided I wanted to hide it or hoped it was just a phrase. Overtime I realized I was hiding who I was out of fear of society’s view on me. Not sure what they would call that kind of phobia. But I and so many others suffered from it. In fact I know many who still do. Homophobia is indeed a fear but it more is defined as hatred or is it cowardice? To an extent I can understand how hard it can be to accept difference, especially when there is a lack of knowledge or exposure to that difference. Isn’t that where we get many of these phobias? Times are getting better though as people are becoming more open minded and accepting but of course the more things change the more things stay the same. Homophobia isn’t cool these days so I find that it’s hidden as is racism or any other prejudice out there. But there is still small mindedness rampant out there.

Some people have a fear of thinking…(for themselves) called phronemophobia and a fear of knowledge called gnogiophobia. Yes, there’s a name for all kinds of fear. And I actually think homophobia contains both of those fears. An openness to think and openness to knowledge when it comes to those we see as difference. And when there are differences even within that subgroup we really have to open ourselves up to understanding or attempting to. Homophobia is something that more pisses me off than hurts me as an individual because if your content with yourself then there is no need to try to make someone else feel small or “Queer” for not being like you. And I’m going to say this as I know some are homophobic when it comes to my blogs (this one in particular). There is no worst phobia out there than the fear of yourself. Think about that.

H.O.M.O

Hidden no longer, I now know the path constructed for my being. I’ve grown to define myself for who I am and not what I am. I use to wake up every day with one challenge awaiting me and that was my blackness. I was a little boy often wondering if my skin color would put me at a disadvantage until the day I said to the world “deal with it.” Then I use to wake up with two challenges ahead of me, one being not to be seen for my skin color and the other one being my homosexuality. I couldn’t escape my blackness because it was there for the world to see, but I could hide my homosexuality because I simply didn’t look, act or even talk like what most believed was gay. I hid it well and in fact would’ve easily settled on staying hidden if indeed I wanted to live myself for everyone else. So I walk many streets with my head held high showing closed minded eyes that what they think and believe is not written in the concrete I walk upon. I walk showing them that it is I who create footprints of pride and self-confidence. So go ahead, call me a HOMO.
Oppressed no longer, I have found my voice. No longer am I afraid to tell the story of me. I use to sit on park benches and hear racial slurs yelled my way, and as a child I was afraid to speak back. I sat quiet in crowds of homophobic attitudes, afraid to feel their wrath. But I realized it was my actions that did all the talking. Not allowing others to break me with words made me invincible. I am still showing the world that I am not a nigger or faggot but an influence that will lead by example and flourish with intelligence. So go ahead, call me a HOMO.

Mocked no longer, I am proud to be me. I’ve sat on curbs of defeat afraid to life my head to the world. I didn’t want everyone around me to see me as different or a disappointment. I can still hear laughter echoing in shallow halls of uneducated minds and for so long I allowed those echoes to vibrate through my soul. But one day I decided that laughter was music to my ears and my motivation to be all I was meant to be including my homosexuality. I was told I lived the life of sin, but I often wondered what was so sinful about loving another. If people shall judge me without knowing the many qualities of me, then I don’t need those individuals centered in my world. I will articulate and express with self content. So go right ahead, call me a HOMO.
Ostracized no longer, I stand among many men and women who were told who they are were shameful. I’ve marched through oceans of hatred, never drowning and never sinking. Everyone is different in their own way and everyone is disliked by someone for a reason outside of their control. Never allow who you are be influenced by another’s opinion of who you should be. I was dealt the cards of being black and gay in the game of life and I don’t plan on leaving the poker table as have many in other situations. Stand tall and believe in you, because that’s how high I’m standing. If I offend you by being me, then the problem lies within you. Shout it loud, call me a HOMO.


© 2008
Tarringo T. Vaughan

Sometimes, I

Sometimes I look for balance.

I look for balance in a world that doesn’t want to hear my heart…completely. There are times where I feel like I’m falling with no support and no one to reach out their hands to catch me. I hear the hatred, I feel the stares, I smell the fear and although it’s not all intended for me as an individual, I still experience the pain. Each man and woman who lives this experience and celebration called Homosexuality share that renewal of feeling alone in a crowded room. Yes, I did call it a celebration because those of us who embrace who we are pave a path full of new views in the minds of those who don’t understand or not willing to sacrifice a piece of their hearts to accept. But, you know, sometimes I wonder if I didn’t embrace the wholeness of me; I wonder where I would be in this world if I stayed hidden behind layers of shame and hidden deep in a closet of emotional suffocation. Would I find that balance?


Overall, I’ve been lucky. I’ve had co-workers, friends and family accept who I am. Even those who chose not to acknowledge it show me a respect by not turning their backs and hearts on me. I’ve always told myself that it would be their loss if they did and it would be, but it would hurt inside and I can honestly tell you that I don’t know how I would be able to handle it. There is no amount of strength that can cure the disappointment of having the ties of natural love unknotted. There is no amount of pride that can withhold being looked at through familiar eyes with disgust. Yet, there are many out there who have to live with this emptiness and unfortunately many who have taken their own lives because of this same emptiness. Why can’t life give them that same balance to stand strong and tall on a tightrope constantly in the vibration of non-acceptance. Sometimes I wish this world was different but most of the time I know it needs to stay this way we can all grew stronger in some way. I guess what I’m trying to say is that if the world was perfect we wouldn’t need a reason for healing and growing.


Sometimes I think, when the world is not breathing, why life plays tic-tac-toe with many of us. The X’s and O’s don’t always balance out because those X’s are the challenges thrown our way consecutively and those who are not strong enough lose instantly or feel like giving up. There was an eleven year old from my town who couldn’t take it anymore because he was teased for being gay and feminine and there was a college student from Rutgers University who couldn’t take it anymore because he couldn’t live with the embarrassment present and orchestrated by others. They were already born with an X and so was I. Sometimes I just wonder if we’d ever be equal participants in this game called life.


© 2010
Tarringo T. Vaughan

Stages Of Attraction

“You are Hot! Are you kidding me” said an older gentleman not so long ago at a club.


 It was from a man who followed me around and complimented me all night long. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the compliments; it was that I didn’t know how to react to them other than to point out what I believed were my physical flaws. The sixteen year old boy in me wouldn’t let this thirty-two year old man he became recognize his own attraction. Bald head, goatee, loop gold earrings on each ear, tight tee shirt exposing the results of working out four to five days a week was what this older man was seeing, but my own eyes only saw that lanky, curly haired boy in the reflection of my own memory. I wasn’t a poster boy of confidence, hell didn’t even come close. Girls didn’t show me any attention; I was too shy and hidden in my own ugliness to even recognize if they tried. But I realized as I hit my twenties that my own view of attraction played a large part in finding myself unattractive. Society plays a big role in our stages of attraction.

The funny part about my experience in that club was that it was the very club I used to go to a few years ago when I wasn’t so muscular or gave any sign of confidence. I was often left standing there while my friends go all the attention. The tall muscular Italian stud in Bob was attraction, the light skinned Jason who had the distinct Latin features was attraction. Attraction wasn’t me. Sure I had many of the “your cutes” but I had no one drooling over me. I found myself standing in a familiar position when I first started going out to gay clubs, the position of being in the background rarely recognized. I don’t believe that’s simply a gay thing, it’s pretty much all of society. But it was so much more evident as I begin to see the type of men guys would flock to and trip over their feet for. I couldn’t even imagine how it felt to stand in my friends shoes.

I refused to change for anyone except myself. One day I sat in my apartment after a night out with echoes of a guy telling me that I needed to lose my belly as if I didn’t know that myself. It wasn’t as much hurtful as it was a reminder to myself that I wasn’t taking care of myself and fulfilling my own happiness. That guy became my motivation of dedication in becoming that person I kept hidden. I exhorted a shyness when I went out or around certain people that made me seem like a bore or uninterested. I wore baggy clothes and layers and stood with my arms closed which made me seem unapproachable. And I didn’t exhibit any confidence making me an easy target for ridicule. I knew there had to be a change in myself and those changes begin to happen the more I felt good about myself.

Now I can enter a club or any environment and be the focus of attention from both men and women. It feels good but it’s not really an attention I welcome. Just like I wasn’t seen for who I was on the inside as a teen and in my twenties, I wasn’t being seen for who I was as a thirty something year old guy considered to be hot. It was all the about looks and attraction that determined who talked to you but it was all really the same, there was still a loneliness. I became too cautious in wondering why people talked to me that I still wasn’t social until someone pointed out to me one day that I seemed to exert more confidence and seemed way more approachable. Now I go out and I actually talk to people and the confidence shows which make me more attractive. People get to see that I’m not a bore, but a funny person; they see my heart and enjoy conversation although I’m very soft spoken. I made quite the transformation in just a few years but it feels good because I did it for myself. Attraction is going to vary from person to person but no one is going to love you until and unless you love yourself.

A Half Sip Of Cognac

I never liked the taste of lies,


like a half sip of cognac they are tough to swallow.

So I should’ve known better than to trust a man who couldn’t look me in the eyes. I should’ve known better than to believe in him after my intuition told me that he wasn’t any good. We meet on a warm summer night about six years ago and hit it off right away even enough to share some beers and a couple shots of Hennessy over a few games of pool. I didn’t even like Hennessey but this guy had a smooth way of talking people into things. He had a convincing way about his actions but one thing I quickly noticed was his eyes would never meet mine. But I was new to the scene and vulnerable at that time because I was in search of friends in this new world and I wanted to take a sip of perhaps something more; I wanted to taste what intimacy was like on a deeper level. Despite the lack of eye contact we became quick close friends and even explored romance until the warning from others came. I was told not to trust that damn fool but once again he was convincing enough for me to take his words over people I barely knew. And what he convinced me of was that “fags” were envious and just a bunch of gossip queens. I had just enough experience during that time to buy into it.
Sometimes you have to take in a little of the false to get a whole lot of the truth.

Over time he became my roommate and the true colors started to show. I instantly knew I made a mistake but still wanted to believe in him. He lost his job so he said but claimed as a Car dealer he could find another job whenever he wanted. He was a quick talker and a master of bullshit if you tell me and he played the role with an Oscar winning performance. Enough that mutual friends begin believing that I was the one treating him like a pair of raggedy ole sneakers tossed over a telephone line. They started to believe I was making his world miserable. Seriously that’s how good he was. And all the while I had received bad rent checks and bills unpaid to go along with a whole bunch of stress I thought I was too young to die from but it was killing me. Living in my own apartment for that period of time with someone I bonded with over shots of cognac because a miserable time for me. And to think I never liked the taste of lies but I was taking sips of it daily until one day I came home and all of his stuff along with his deceit was gone and never heard from again. And then after all the stories and signs I should’ve seen stood clear in my mind. It definitely was a learning experience for me at a young age of independence. It was a defining period in my maturity level and a reason why a half sip of cognac goes down much smoother than a full shot of lies.





© 2010

Tarringo T. Vaughan

Diary Of A Gay Black Man

Faggot

Do you see me?
      Do you hear me?


Do you understand
this feeling suffocating my mind, my heart and my emotional
stability every time you spit the hatred of your
misunderstanding
                    in the face
of my name by calling me…a faggot.

I was born this way so how dare you say
I’ve chosen to live this way; why would I chose
               to be abused
by the fists of the confused
who can’t grasp the fact that my genetics
formed the molecules of my heart

                and how dare you call me queer
just because I stand here
                  on the corner where
tears have marched for equality and where
the rights to love has stood in protest
for the freedom to wed/so why don’t you care?

There is no amount of force that can keep me
hidden and smothered inside a closet
with no air; there are not enough chains that can strangle
me inside a chamber afraid to be who I am
so go ahead and stare or is that your fear
                           calling me a faggot.

You called him a faggot; an eleven year old
with a happy smile who played on the playgrounds
of judgment with no protection from the laugher; no one to protect
him from difference giggling at his reflection.
He was so young but you told him he couldn’t
be because he was not what society wanted to see
                   so he hung his life so he could be free


and you called him a faggot; a college student
with a future giving in to his attraction.
He could’ve been/should’ve been a leader
an inventor or the first gay president
but all his dreams drowned when your ridicule
           and embarrassment took precedent
evicting himself from being a resident
in your shelter of hostility.

I was born this way and so were they;
so how dare you say we choose to live this way
and be murdered every day by the bullets
of closed mindedness flying array. But I will stand strong
for them; I will be strong for them;
I will define strength for them

and I will never surrender to your ignorance
so I dare you to call me a faggot.

© 2010
Tarringo T. Vaughan

Moments Of Connection "Vol. 8"

Sometimes you just meet that one right person at that one right time in life. It’s that voice you feed in the many crowded spaces of silent that reminds you that you are not alone. And as I sat in my sunlit apartment on an early Saturday afternoon I wondered about myself. I wondered if there was any chance of connection for me as I was newly discovered in a new world that had yet to know my name. I was too quiet and hesitant and the kind of person who waited around for things to happen to me. I found myself unhappy and lost all ambition to believe in the gay world. I felt alone in an empty crowd. Apart of it but yet very disconnected until I found a gay chat site on the internet. It was there in this cyber space that I found many like me; many just opening their eyes to new visions of discovery so I began to communicate. After about an hour or so I found myself in this continuous conversation with a guy who had much in common. He was just a screen name but the individuality in him quickly shined through and after a couple more hours that online conversation transferred to a phone conversation where two the common voices of strangers connected in familiarity.

A bond is a connection between two souls discovered.

I never expected this kind of interaction. And I never believed it possible from that sort of venue but there he was talking and sounding so real. As that afternoon turned to early evening a phone conversation turned into a possible meeting. The hesitance resurfaced inside me and all the doubt bullied my thoughts for just a moment. But something told me to meet this man for dinner so I did and at that time was never treated with so much respect and gentleness than I was when our eyes met and a new connection began. It was beginning to feel like one of those lifetime movies where two people meet out of fate. He was a couple years older, taller, well built and very real. We continued to talk over Chinese dumplings and a glass of wine. He was changing the way I viewed this new world; this gay world and for once in long time I felt a constant smile on my face. And a once lonely Saturday afternoon turned into a warm night of walking and having ice cream. We traded our experiences and continued to connect until the night had to finally end. It turned into a few months of dating and an eternity of an experience. I was in my mid twenties back then, lost, alone and pessimistic about this life until that moment of connection set me on a new path of possibility.


The people we meet help write the chapters of our definition.

© 2010
Tarringo T. Vaughan

Exposed ~ Diary Of A Gay Black Man Vol. 7

Sometimes I sit and stare out my window wondering about how different life would’ve been for the reflection staring back at through life’s mirror. What if fate didn’t shine it’s flashlight on my hidden reality? Where would I be, who would I be, how would I be living? As a child I observed everything around me and quickly knew the life I was meant to grow up to live. But somewhere the recognition turned into confusion as my feelings weren’t cooperating with society’s definition of a boy like me. But then, society really didn’t know a boy like me; a boy who decided to remain hidden and shield himself from feelings and thoughts that were exposed to be sinful. I decided I would be who society wanted me to be even if that meant exposing me as a fraud to myself.


I was comfortable in a secured closet with no one knowing my secret. But I was quickly drowning in paranoia and stress of people around me finding out. Family, friends, co-workers and people I barely knew. I was afraid of the judgments, the resentments, the neglect…so frightened that I lost my sense of self and at one period even turned my back on me. People wondered and I turned away, people asked and I denied. I was covered by my own fear not ready to be stripped and left naked to those I felt wouldn’t approve. I never wanted to be pointed at and called a faggot or pointed at with insane assumptions. I didn’t want to be defined as a lesser man because of who my heart decided to love. I was not opening my closet door and exposing myself to the non-accepting world.

It happened on a sunny morning close to my twenty-forth birthday. It was a day I opened my eyes and realized I had to live for myself, challenging those around me to accept and understand who I was. To challenge them to see the value in me as an individual and show them that I was not a different man, just one who wouldn’t live a life of lies. Many found out as I no longer held back who I was and luckily for me there was acceptance. The closet door swung open and I walked out with feet of pride. I created my own exposure realizing that it was important for me to do so for others in my same situation. To see strength is to be encouraged and to be encouraged is to live life the way that makes you happy and whole. Yesterday I was unrevealed, hidden in a world of confusion and shame. Today, I’m a man content with who he is because now it is happiness that is exposed.



Tarringo T Vaughan
Photo courtesty of bubbaclicks.net

Vol. 5 Tales Of The Downlow

I guess I was afraid….

….of being seen as anything less than a man.

          I felt trapped inside the walls of societal expectations, inside my family’s vision and inside my own hope to be normal. I didn’t want to be the one slurred at and pointed at as different. I didn’t want to be called a sissy or queer for being me but as reality set in; my inner feelings had to learn to accept this life. And as I watch them almost every weekend in a local bar I understand them because I see through them what I life could’ve been if I remained hidden. Like them I could’ve been married with kids on the outside but on the inside living on the down low, lying to manufactured life hurting those who think they know me all the while betraying the honesty of myself. I sometimes wonder where their wives think they are when they are out exploring their temptation and when they are out having drinks with their only companion known as the truth. As I notice them, they seem to be enjoying this only time where they can be themselves. I pay attention because I could’ve been them if I didn’t embrace myself just in time.

          One is an older gentleman who hides his eyes just enough to reveal his stare. He stands in corners, gives false names and knows how to play the game. Sometimes he is just a whisper but other times his voice is heard when he finds his comfort; married with four kids, a city worker, taking a chance just by being there. Taking a chance by exposing himself in a world he knows he belongs by risking the years he built to be who he felt he had to be to become his identity. Every time I see him I think about the life his wife thinks she has lived and how her own health is a risk every time he allows a stranger in his car. But this is the road where closed mindedness and the fear of non-acceptance have led him. A destination where he can only be who he is on a weekend night, on a bar stool rubbing the thigh of a man he can only meet once.
          And the other is slightly younger, more vocal and doesn’t mind exposing his life. He says he has a great sexual relationship with his wife but he desires that closeness with other men for those moments during his few hours out. He doesn’t openly hide because he’s a people’s person and enjoys the company of those he feels he connects with. But he also lives a lie that disconnects him from the great relationship he claims he has. And perhaps he does but that fear of revealing himself to her demonstrates knowledge within himself that he is not fully happy with the path he has chosen. He is an undercover man lover stuck in a world he believed in. He followed a road that told him the only definition of a man was being with a woman. A destination that has him running to his car at 11:59 pm to get home five minutes before his wife so she thinks he’s been home all night.

          They are two of many living a separate life because of that fear of non-acceptance and they are two of many living this reality. These are not just tales, this is real life. These are husbands, boyfriends, priests, politicians, celebrities on the down low because they are afraid for people to know. And any one of them could’ve easily been me if I didn’t recognize the path my life was taking by hiding.

I guess I wasn’t afraid…

…to be seen as More than a man.

© 2010
Tarringo T. Vaughan
Diary Of A Gay Black Man:
The Volumes Of A Life Exposed

Civil Union

This is a ceremony of celebration
to never again neglect my own heart
because it has been held hostage by the ignorance
of closed minded views; it has been torched
as a sinner by the same bible that says God
loves all its children and it continues to be called a faggot
through the yells of belligerent eyes
who are afraid of difference; afraid to watch two men
kiss on the lips of their own natural emotion.

I stand on the altar of freedom with a lifelong devotion
and as a symbol of love and strength
against those who wear homophobia as their chosen fashion.
But for them I still have compassion
because I see their hatred as a disease
of distorted views which causes them
to fear same sex companionship.

So here I am sliding a ring upon this finger
and saying “I do”.
And thus, I am not allowing anyone to dictate
who I love or who I value.
Because in this hand I will strongly take his love
to have, to hold and to stand connected with pride
as we fight for civil liberties side by side
until death indeed shall we part.
I will be his shelter through our greatest weakness
and his shield of healing through our toughest sickness.
Together we will become the monument of love
proudly mounted on the plateau of human rights.

I make these vowels that I will no longer be attacked and shoved back
into a closet where the air of expression is a closed vent
of shame; I will no longer be guided to hide
the definitions of my soul behind facades
of emotional insecurities and I will no longer be afraid
to love because this is my civil union to the man
I stand here before; a man who will never again
wear the veil of loneliness as together we are pronounced

Free.

And with these words, I thee wed internal happiness.

© 2010
Tarringo T. Vaughan

Vol. 4 A Wrong Turn In Northampton

They all seemed so strange.







Northampton, Massachusetts wasn’t a place I’ve ever heard of before until I went to college in a nearby small town of Amherst. It was close to where I lived but yet so far away as far as atmosphere goes. My first travels to this town had me looking around at all the difference and feel a fear; a fear that I was a part of that difference and at that time in my life I wasn’t ready to embrace it or even acknowledge it. There were tree huggers and Goths, friendly musicians on sidewalk curbs translating the music of life and there were men holding hands with other men and woman embracing the open arms of other women and all I could tell myself was that I wasn’t ready for that kind of exposure. But college life did change me as far as opening a mind that was stuck in its own ways. I was around people of many views and backgrounds and people on the voyage of exploration. The overall experience helped me realize there was something inside of me needing to get out.


And I went through five years of college developing friendships and emotional bonds that began to confuse me. I started to wonder why I had the type of closeness to male figures that seemed a little too close. I developed jealousies that I couldn’t control because I was experiencing crushes on these other male figures that held me in a shame and ultimately shaped me into pretending to be someone I thought I was. And what really triggered this inner conflict I started to have was the way I had to force those same feelings to the opposite gender. There were girls I had much in common with until it came to any hint of physical contact which resulted in an instant injection of discomfort. The confusion turned into a curiosity which started to turn into real feelings and I couldn’t fight any longer. It was time to pay attention to what my heart was telling me.


One weekend afternoon I decided to go home for the day. I took a bus to Northampton and waited for a connecting bus that would take me to the next town before getting back home. I always felt awkward there and with this strong feelings swirling around within me, I felt like I was in a place that was going to expose me to the world. There were more people parading around town than usual. Rainbow flags hung in the front of storefronts and people lined the street. I wasn’t quite sure as to what was going on but I remember telling myself not to make eye contact. There was an extra laugher in the air as smiles shined and a sense of love seemed to orbit around everyone within the organized crowds. And then as I sat at the bus stop I started to hear the music and the crowd cheer. Hands were waving and more rainbow flags were gently massaging the air. People were hanging out of high rise apartment windows and a symphony of voices collided with echoes of “happy pride”. Back then I didn’t know what it was all about but I knew it was a filled with homosexuality and I watched without trying to be interested. But I was and they didn’t all seem so strange anymore as it became obvious to me that I took a wrong turn into something right. It was all about pride and at that moment I knew I could no longer hide.



© 2010


Tarringo T. Vaughan

Diary Of A Gay Black Man Vol. 3 "The Myth"

I cringe just writing about this but here I go. The most annoying and frustrating question I’m asked is guess?



“Is it true what they say about black men?”



Now how do I answer this question? My usual answer is we’re just like other men, there are different shapes and sizes and we’re not all twelve inches! I guess all myths stem from some reality but you must remember that all myths are myths because they have some exaggerated truth about them. Now I’m not going to discuss my dick size because that’s simply not important. Well put it this way, I haven’t had any complaints. But as far as the gay world goes, it’s a pressure put on us black men. There are some men who are size queens who seek the biggest “cock” they can find and to them that’s going to come from a black man.

It happens in the straight world also because all through college, my roommate, who was very straight constantly asked to see my supposedly monster “cock”. He always said cock, but I’d rather it be called dick. But I’m sure you all have your own name you call it. Whatever is fine with me. I entered the gay world very naïve and I felt any guy who liked me would like me for who I was and not what was between my legs. Unfortunately I found out that some guys do measure there man by the number of inches they have. I understand part of that because they just want to be “satisfied”. But far does that really take someone in a relationship? I don’t like feeling and wondering if the guy I’m with is only with me because I must be “hung”.

When I get emails on online sites some of the first responses I get are “how hung”, “you must be hung”, “love hung black men”. It makes me shake my head when I read these emails because first of all I don’t get a “hello” or a “how are you”, just straight to what counts the most, my size! It really puts a pressure on me because if I was to meet any of these guys I have to well….represent. I know for a fact there are white men definitely bigger than me, a couple of you may even be reading and I also know for a fact that there are some smaller. But I’ll tell you that doesn’t even enter my mind when first seeing a hot guy on the street or even chatting to someone online. Eventually the topic may come up but I really do try to get to know the guy a little bit before asking what’s in their pants.

And I don’t want this to add to the stereotype that all gay men are just sexual, just 95% are just don’t assume you’re going to get something the size of a snake when I drop my pants. Who started this myth, what started it? I really don’t have a clue. Like many myths I’m sure a black man ran around naked somewhere and someone figured “they must all be like that”.

You know I used to be proud of the myth but somewhere in growing up it became annoying because I really don’t want to be defined by what I’m packin’, I want to be defined by how I can use it. I’m kidding but you know that’s important and ladies can even agree to that one. So if you’re a size queen please don’t take offense, if you’re well endowed don’t brag too much, and if you’re not blessed below just learn how to use it. But just let the myth die please.





© 2007

Tarringo T. Vaughan

Diary Of A Gay Black Man Vol. 2 ~ Curiosity~

Diary of a Gay Black Man
Vol. 2

“Curiosity”

Although I believe homosexuality is something you’re born with, in my childhood years I really never thought of men sexually. It wasn’t until my puberty years that I began to wonder about the adult man body. I always used the excuse to myself that I was just curious about how “big” I was going to get. In time It turned into a fascination that eventually turned into a forbidden lust to be with another man. I hear tons of stories from guys of how they explored with buddies as children so it makes me wonder how normal that actually was. When does the physical lust turn into the emotional feeling for one of the same sex?
I’ve have many discussions about this lately but I’ve defined homosexually or any sexually as the emotional attraction you have for someone. Because quite frankly, I can still physically bang a chick and I have in the past, but it ended with no emotional attachment. Definitely not the same feeling that I had being with a man I really liked. And ladies please don’t take offense to that because I assure you it’s nothing you did wrong because I do believe the female body is one the greatest creations.
Curiosity is a human trait, something we all naturally have inside of us. Some of us have a stronger desire to act on it or even want to act on it. My view of the world has always been that life is short and there’s no other way to really find out about you than to explore and experience the unknown. And eventually I took that step at the age of twenty-five. The curiosity became so strong that I just had to know if I was a gay man or just a man who would screw anything with feet. Now my first time with a guy wasn’t good at all, but I knew that was just the guy I was with. He had no clue what he was doing so from that experience and knowing that I wanted more, I realized my sexuality.
But I still had denial. I felt I was too masculine to be gay from what I saw out there. I still was very reluctant to step in the gay bars downtown. Gay men simply freaked me the hell out because of what I was exposed to growing up and what I saw through the media. Gay meant AIDS, Gay meant dressing as a woman, Gay meant getting your ass kicked and Gay was not something I wanted to be. But finding others like me and discovering that there were tons of people who felt Gay was cool and supported it made me more comfortable exploring this curiosity.
Yet I did continue to live life on the down low. I wasn’t afraid of what people thought of me because I’m a very self depended person and if someone can’t accept my package then they are not worth having. I just believed that it wasn’t worth the stress of bringing attention to me. For example, as a black man why would I choose to go in a KKK neighborhood in the Deep South preaching “Black power”? There are just situations you stay away from. Where I live is definitely not as severe, but if I know walking down the street holding hands with another man Is going to bring attention and stares, it’s just not the attention I’m looking for. I know there are other gay men who would strongly disagree with that, but we are all have our different comforts in life and we should be respected which way we want to approach them. All in all I’m happy with where my curiosity has brought me, I’m established, building a muscular body, growing with my writing and have tons of you guys who are impressed with me. And I wouldn’t be who I am if I was still hidden deep in the closet. So if anyone out there is going through any curiosity or struggling with who you are, I’m here to talk to. Just remember, there’s nothing wrong with curiosity, it helps build who your meant to be.

STILL A MAN

I, too, reflect the image of a man
My love may be seen as a sin,
but my heart still bleeds a proud beat
when I walk down judgment’s street.

I will face every stare
That thinks I’m weak
Because of the passion
From another man I seek.

And every word voiced against me
will be inhaled with integrity
as I wander through populations of disapproval.
For opinions can’t tear me down
cause me pain or make me frown.

Years from now
I’ll still walk that street;
Contentment pounding from the bossom
of this battle tested chest
challenged but never conquered.
I will not be looked upon
with disgrace,
for I am still a man.

Tarringo T Vaughan
©2008