Late Night Sex Talk

Last night, I was hanging out with my old friend Insomnia,  and I gave a shout out to Facebook and found that I was in abundant good company. A friend of mine popped up on my chat and asked me if he could ask a question. This young man is a HIV negative but an HIV scholar and knows his stuff. But as have almost all of us, positive and negative, he made a choice recently to have unprotected sex with a twink that said he was HIV negative. My friend topped him bareback, and decided that he was going to go in and get an HIV test. But he had a question about risk if, in fact, the individual turned out to have been HIV positive.

It's not an uncommon question though it is one that folks rarely ask. In fact, I know many men that always top without a condom whether or not their sex partner is negative or positive. Their is a misconception that tops can't get HIV by topping. And, unfortunately, the model for prevention in this country would have you believe that topping without a condom will not only instantly give you AIDS but your right nut will fall off. The answer to that particular question is that yes there is a risk. Period---but you won't get the dropsies just because you stuck it in without a rubber. But the level of risk involved depends on numerous factors. The internal health of the bottom, lube usage, the health of the penis of the top, the size of the top's urethra, the viral load of the bottom, and I am sure there are other variables that a doctor would be able to add into the mix.

 I shared with my friend that in my adult relationships, I have mostly dated men that are negative and for those that were tops they rarely used a condom. This was an informed decision based on medical facts, and if, for example, one of the variables mentioned above happened to be off for a time, then we wrapped it up. The point was that based on the available scientific/medical data, personal preference and risk tolerance, the particular men I am talking about made a choice around the risk they wanted to take. And I kept them informed of any issue that would impact that risk choice. I have also, with one negative boyfriend in particular, topped without a condom with his consent, considering all the risk factors, eliminating internal ejaculation (and I am not a pre-cummer but if it happened to be one of those rare times when I was...then it was condom time), and again that was a mutual decision based on medical information.

And remember this number: 96%. A person with an undetectable viral load has less than a 4% chance of transmitting HIV. There have been NO DOCUMENTED CASES of a person with an undetectable viral load transmitting HIV. The fact is that there is a risk to a negative bottom, but again the science and medical data is way ahead of a prevention messaging that still puts the onus on poz folks and shames consensual sexual choices regarding condom usage between consenting adults.

But the part of the conversation that was most important was that my friend was taking responsibility for his own sexual health. Yes the twink said he was negative. Yes he could have lied. Yes that would have been wrong (and any poz person that has been living with HIV for any significant amount of time and says that they have a 100% disclosure rating is either a leprechaun or lying). But in the end, my friend realized that he made the ultimate choice for himself to top this kid without a condom.

The analogy that I used was that he could tell me that Jesus himself was slinging beers down at the local Irish Pub, but if I hauled my ass down to the pub and it turned out that Jesus wasn't there, my friend may have told me a story that got me to jump in my car....but I am in fact that one that climbed in, turned the key, and headed down to get some water-to-wine action. That does not absolve anyone from knowing their status and disclosing it when necessary, but HIV positive people are not responsible for anyone else's sex choices.

I commended my friend on doing what was best for him and taking care of his health. Based on actual facts and data, I was able to suggest that his risk factor in this situation was low. The more we can all engage with our sex choices, understand we are going to make mistakes, and try and remove the HIV related stigma from sex, we will move a long way forward into the fight to eliminate HIV.

Towards a Black Male Feminism

There are any number of arguments why the practice of active feminism is an obligation of men. I have opined in the past that a woman, just as she has a choice whether or not to ever consider abortion or have one, also has a choice of whether or not to be a feminist. Her liberation or how she defines her liberation needs to be defined as she wills it and it may shift, change, and morph based on locale, history, religion, race, color, and belief. The debate on the necessity of an articulated feminism for women is a debate for women to hold and define.  But let me be clear that feminism is not monolithic and white feminism and the racism its practice has sometimes entailed as practiced historically has caused some powerful harm, which is why the Combahee River Collective's statement on Black Feminism and Barbara Smith's essay Towards a Black Feminist Criticism are so critical.

But the debate on feminism and what that means from a female point of view is not for a man to decide. But the power of feminism is that contrary to how it is often presented it is not the same as sexism. Sexism is the practice of power plus privilege and its use to oppress women while holding up the institutions of male power and privilege. Feminism is the mindful deconstruction of that system for both men and women. In short, feminism is the key to the liberation of men as it is, in my opinion, the basis for the liberation of women. How feminism is practiced, though, and what it means for men and women and their path to liberation is, necessarily different.  And what it means for black men in particular is very simply about survival.

To begin, 72% of all black households in the United States are led by single mothers. The reasons for this are plentiful including rates of teen pregnancy, school to prison pipeline, drug laws, poverty, and any other number of factors that are geared towards removing a particular type of black man, which happens to be the majority of us, from our homes and into the new articulations of modern slave labor or, as has happened during the recession, the removal of us and our labor from the economy completely to make room for the recovery of the white community.  The unemployment rate of black men with college degrees is almost twice that of white men with college degrees, and while the overall unemployment rate for the black community is around 13%, 8.3% of black men over 25 with a college degree are unemployed. Though critical to understanding the ways in which power pushes black men out of the "legitimate" means earning system and into survival economies that make black men vulnerable to power and easily eliminated at the ease or pleasure of the state, particularly in a time of increased private prisons and the shifting of so much small manufacturing labor to prisons where fair wage laws and other Constitutional and legal guarantees do not apply, these are all symptoms that lead to towards a black male feminism and its necessity.

Feminism at its root means that both men and women get to express their full humanity without oppression, without prescribed ways of being that are rigidly policed and socially/politically/often physically punished when deviated from the norm, and allow both men and women the full range and expression of their vitality and spirit without taking away from the other. Indeed, feminism is, at its root, the negation of gender roles and the full expression of human experience as in a liberation framework---ie...you get to be all of you, and I get to be all of me, and together we are committed to building each other to our full potential.

For black men this becomes about survival. Black men are taught from the gate to be tough, hard, in control, "macho", independent, players, victims, and that our potential is circumscribed by history, circumstance, and ability--not to be punks, to be virile, the mandigo syndrome...and these ideals images and thoughts are reinforced through our own communities, often, media--too often--, and what we consume from mainstream dominant ideology. We resemble what we are presented by others as ourselves. We become charicatures because so many of those that would be our own role models are dead, absent, or in prison. We are socialized internally and externally, and unless somoene or something intervenes to break the cycle of history, legacy, and socialization we often become what we were never born to be. We become angry, and turn that anger inwards and towards our own community. And as a wise woman once told me, there is a place for angry black men: jail.

The truth or untruth of these socializations are related to our relativity to power, history, presentation, and ability to conform or not (willingly or not, consciously or not) to a paradigm that requires us to set our skin aside and adopt a way of being that imitates the master consciousness. This too is an ultimate expression of sexism and must be rejected through conscious practice. Further, I would argue it is sexism and a lack of feminist ideals and thoughts that are at the root of the pandemic of the single parent home, which, in and of itself, keeps the community widely struggling with poverty and in cycles of poverty.

To be clear, I grew up with a single white mother that, like most mothers, worked hard to give us a better opportunity than she had, but the fact remains that a loving two parent house hold would have afforded better opportunity, education, and emotional support. The key word being loving.

So what is the solution? The solution is for men in general, and black men in particular to adopt feminist ideals. To reject prescribed notions of masculinity and dominance, to reject heterosexism and homophobia, to see women and gender non conforming individuals are partners in liberation, to ask for help and support, to love our partners and to see each other as family instead of objects to be desired and dominated, to understand that materialism and consumerism as status are socializations again that have been offered up on a dish that we have swallowed whole by white folks that could care less about the strength of our community and only want the power our dollars give them. It means to love women and to use whatever power and privilege we have to open up the space so that they can be full and powerful partners with us, since it was a woman and most likely a single woman that raised us. It means investing in the power and strength of black women that have sacrificed to give us life and have loved us both in our own realities and broadly as a male community when we didn't deserve it.

There are structural reasons why black men often fail to survive or end up in cycles of poverty but while power owes us a Hell of a lot, the mentality that one is owed will do nothing but keep us in the same cycles of destruction, despair, and subjugation. By starting at the point of undoing our own sexism and claiming identities and practice as feminist, we heal the rift that has existed between black men and women and begin with a unity that power will not be able to undo. It is for all of our survival that black men must move towards an articulated black feminism, accountable to black women, and responsible for ourselves.

Queers for Economic Justice and the Forum Project Need Your Help!

Dear Friends and Family,

My organization, Queers for Economic Justice, is currently fighting to win a $5000 grant and WE NEED YOUR VOTE!

The Forum Project (TFP) and Queers for Economic Justice (QEJ) are teaming up to develop a performance series with and by queer shelter residents of New York City using Theatre of the Oppressed. A disproportionate number of New York City's homeless identify as queer, lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and/or gender-nonconforming, and yet many face overwhelming discrimination, neglect and abuse at the hands of the systems that claim to support homeless people. Queer homeless need effective resources to combat the oppression that impacts their lives. http://goodart.maker.good.is/projects/queerhomelessonstage

Our budgets are extremely lean, and so we really need this grant to be able to launch this program and support this underresourced community. And it's so easy to help.

• VOTE! We're in the top ten but we need to be #1 to win. Please take a moment to vote. 

• SHARE! Please post the following on your Facebook page or Twitter!

Please VOTE NOW to help give $5000 to launch this program to develop theatre by homeless people in NYC! http://goodart.maker.good.is/projects/queerhomelessonstage

• FORWARD! Please send this blog to your colleagues, friends and family to spread the word.

Help us spread the word and win!

Love,
Brandon and the QEJ and Forum Project Family!

PS VOTING ENDS IN TWO DAYS! VOTE NOW!

 

An American Pandemic: The Murder of Black Trans Women

We all know that in this country, the value of a Black life as measured by the institutions that prop up and run this nation is measured only in meager labor. Slavery may have ended in 1865 (I use the date of Juneteenth to mark that ocassion), but we know that real wage slavery still exists even as the overt trappings of slavery and Jim Crow have been dismantled. We like our oppression to look neat and pretty, so Black folks that don't tow the line and keep in their place are placed in prison now. Much easier to lock them up than lynch us on a regular basis. And as my former boss and life mentor Paula Austin once told me, "You have to think and act smart. There is a place for angry black men in this world. It's called jail."

There is also a place for black bodies, over and over again, and that is six feet under at the hands of power, ignorance, and violence.  And in no community of black folks is that threat and reality more present than amongst Black transgender and gender nonconforming women.

There are a number of lists that honor the murdered dead by remember their names and sharing them with the community. There is one such list on Wikipedia. The same article suggests that according to global statistics, a transgender person is murdered every three days just on the basis of their gender identity. And the European based Trans Murder Monitoring Project has tracked 800 transgender murders globally in the last four years. As of March 2012, the United States has the fourth highest rate of transgender murders in the world (52 in the last four years), only slightly behind Mexico and Columbia, though distantly behind Brazil, which has had more than 300 murders of trans individuals in the last four year.

Just a quick Google search of transgender murders in 2012 offered up the names of these black women that were either killed in 2012 or their killers were acquitted or got off without justice: Brandy Martell (Oakland, CA), Paige Clay (Chicago, IL), Victoria Carmen White (Newark, NJ), an identified yet unnamed black transwoman was found murdered in Detroit last Monday morning (the police refuse to offer up a name), and I am sure there are more. Today we add another name to that list: Tiffany Gooden, 19 years old, Chicago, found not two blocks from where Paige Clay was killed earlier this year. Tiffany was stabbed and left in an abandoned building on the Westside.

I didn't know Tiffany. Until this afternoon when the article concerning her death was posted on my Facebook wall, I didn't know she existed. I promise you, however, that I will never forget her. Or any of the faces and names of trans folks from my community in NYC or my community globally that have been brought to my attention. Nor will I forget CeCe McDonald, who is serving prison time for killing an attacker that would have gladly added the name of that innocent black woman to the list of those taken down by hate, racism, sexism, and transphobia. 

And like every other non-white queer or trans person that is murdered, Tiffany's death will occupy precious little column space. She may get a quick mention on the evening news once or twice. But power doesn't care about black bodies. Power  most certainly does not care about black transgender bodies that are often classed, raced, and gendered out of the workforce and so therefore have no value to the power structure. Tifany will be forgotten along with so many others, unless we make an effort to remember her. To speak her name in our holy places, in our gathering places, in our places of community, at Trans Day of Action, in the offices of Queers for Economic Justice, in the Miss Major-Jay Toole Building for Justice, which is named in part for a black trans woman elder and a gender non-conforming white super butch and houses the Audre Lorde Project, the Sylvia Rivera Law Project, FIERCE, and QEJ.

We know from experience that most of our own national organizations could actually care less about these lives lost as well. Even the best of them, the Task Force, is preciously weak on issues related to trans people of color. Apathy and disinterest is as much a factor in creating an environment where these deaths are permissible as is the structural oppression and hate that results in the physical destruction of the lives of our trans brothers and sisters.

And so to is the silence of black mainstream organizations. The NAACP and other black institutions are culpable as well for ignoring, silencing and closeting these most vulnerable members of our family. Our silence has never protected us from anything.

So today, I am remembering Tiffany and holding up her name in light. I hope she has found in the next life what was denied to her in this one: justice, dignity, honor, love, and the right to grow up.

Rest in peace Tiffany, while the rest of us rage.

At Times Like These: A Love Blog for Nico

It's at times like these, these moments when I am feeling full of love...those moments when it's been a decent week....when I have done what I set out to do (for the most part), did the best I could do on a given day....had the strength to ask for help and support and love from my family and community...had conflict and resolved it....had trouble and overcame it....dreamed a little bit...cried a little bit...said some goodbyes....made some new friends...and loved myself just a bit more....that I miss him the most.

You see...I fell in love with a man. Not just any man....but a Frenchman (ouhlala)....by the name of Nico.

Let me tell you something about Nico....unexpectedness....and the quirky twists of fate of a universe gone un poquito loco. He is the best friend of someone that I still love dearly and that I once dated.

I shall not name any names but there are some blogs (some good and some...ahem...rough)....on this blog about his best friend and the firestorm of emotions that existed/still exist/have been banked....between us. That was a crazy love...a conflagration that was explosive. I am sure there is some alien species somewhere that saw us meet for the first time and was like..."Fuck...I think the Earth just blew the Hell up!"

I met Nico through the other one. When I met him I thought he was a smooooooth operator. Tall. Fancy. French. Works for the UN. Suave.....very...umm....welll....ouhlala. He was a married man. Like...legally and stuff....and he spent most of his night talking to our friend Ben in Frenchy talk. He maintains to this day that I ignored him that night. I didn't ignore him. I was perfectly engaging....I just happened to have my attention focused elsewhere.

Proof that I am right and he was smoking that stuff is that shortly after meeting, we developed our own friendship that intensified as he and his former partner split up.

For two months, we spoke often, communicated often, and as the unnamed one and I went from a twin star galaxy to supernovae, Nico and my friendship deepened.

Then for reasons that were both valid (feelings wise) and super duper extra regrettable (actions wise), first the other one and then I were sent into Siberia as my chou (cabbage aka Nico) calls it.

Fast forward some six months later. The ex and I are again close and friends. We go out for Nico's birthday. I hadn't seen him (Nico) in almost seven months. By the end of the night, we were kissing, and I asked him out on a date.

When I went to bed that night and thought back on the evening, my eyes were as big as a lemur's and all I could do was blink and say..."what the fuc....."

And one date turned into nights spent together, laughing, talking, walking, singing, ummmm playing...uhhh twister, eating, cooking, and it was all and has been so easy. Not easy as in...no hard moments or no difficult times where he or I haven't had to say....No no Mischa...not tonight. And a couple of times, I've had to go all Ghost on him...."Molly...you in danger girl!" Of course, I have been a perfect angel full of Christ's love and have never made him raise his eyebrows and get all Franco-Germanic Valkyrie on me....no...not me...no way man!

He sees me and loves me and holds me...and the things I think of as flaws and detriments...the HIV....the slight tendency towards crazy (I have more than a little Madea in my soul)....the wounds that I carry and am trying to heal....he just kisses me and lets me be....and I like to believe that for those things that he carries...I have been able to do the same.

The man loves me in that slow, steady insistent way that you hear about sometimes in stories. Not the pyrotechnical oh shit we blew up the universe way and then burned down to a cinder...but in that slow, steady, warm, glowy, constant way that just keeps burning and sparking and warming without flickering.

Yeah it's only been a couple-o-months...but it's been something vastly different than this...ummm...very experienced human being has known. And what's even better is that everyone around us sees it. In pictures. In person. Folks comment on the light that is there when we are together.

Which is why I wanted to jump up and down on his forehead when my beloved man up and moved to Togo for two months.

Yes yes, I am cursed to have a successful man that works for the UN doing disarmament that was recently promoted to a fabulous post in NYC and asked to go back to Africa to be the Interim Director of the center in West Africa that runs the disarmament program for the entire damn continent. WOOOOOOEEEEEE IS ME.

At least he bought me some jewelry before he left. He knows what a lady likes.

In the end....I am so proud to be his man. I am proud of the work he is doing. The world of modern technology lets us see and talk to each other every day....but on nights like this...after days like this....Skype is lovely...but it doesn't replace his kiss, his skin, or my arms around him.

He'll be home soon. Until then.....it's love letters and a list of some acrobatic gymnastic twister games in a spreadsheet to be played that grows longer by the day. 

Ungowa Queer Black (and Brown) Power!

So, this last weekend, thanks in large part to the generosity of a lovely friend of mine, I was able to attend, for the first, time the Fire Island Black Out Party (FIBO). For all y'all that don't know, Fire Island is off the coast of Long Island and is a miles and miles long sand bar in the bay (or it might be the sound...lord if I know and I am too lazy to Google it). The island has been famous for nearly fifty years for being THE Mecca for the queer community. P-Town is Miss Congeniality but The Pines and Cherry Grove take first and second on that particular list. The Pines is generally where the boys hang out and has magnificent mansions and you can smell the ducats in the air. The Grove est une pue demurre in comparison but is still stunning with more than one dyke with dollars prancing about in this or that.

On one weekend each year, which up until this year coincided with Black Pride in NYC, FIBO takes place in Cherry Grove and quite literally thousands and thousands of largely black and Latin@ folks from all across the country descend on this little piece of sand in the water for three days of sun, sand, dancing and shenanigans.

The things I saw on the beach liked to make be howl. (for example...technically it was a nude beach but the one person that exercised the full nude option was this not-so-lovely white man that would then walk up to groups of black men and get an erection...I was like....if you can't control it...PUT IT AWAY!). Then there was the black twink that had a bathing suit with a mesh bubble in the crotch for his dick and balls while covering the rest of him...that was even worse than Le Nude Whitey.

But other than the now and again moments of utter insanity, the weekend was one of laughter with new and old friends, so much joy, and so much pride in the beauty, diversity, power, and love of the Black and Latin@ community, especially with all of us all together celebrating our sexuality, our cultural expressions, and our love for our fellow queer folks.

And like in many queer settings the men and women (and trans folks) were together. I can't remember, and so I won't attribute exactly the paraphrase but one of the black women elder lesbians said (might of been Barbara Smith, might have been Mandy Carter, but I can't remember at the moment), "we as women of color can't afford to leave men of color behind."

This weekend, to be with an entire group of stunning and powerful women of color (shout out to Jaael, Sondra, Selena, Arti, Sam, and Nadia  (with a guest appearance by our token white girl Di), and to find so many other groups of friends, queer/trans men and women together, gave me some hope for our community---particularly as people of color doing the work and struggling together---that feminism is going to will out and the recognition of our survival is contingent on the dismantling of the barriers that sexism has created between our family. Women of color would have been justified in leaving their men behind and going on and being the bright candles that they are...but they chose to reach out and drag us along...sometimes by smacking us upside the head the entire way.

FIBO for me was not about the partying as much as it was about being in community, meeting the black neurosurgeon from Columbia Presbyterian, the chief legal advisor to the Detroit City Council--also a black man--the investment banker women, the British Indian actor (what what Arti), the school teacher, the dancer, a banker that finances public housing projects, and so on and so forth. We gonna be alright.

But not to dismiss the party; what better way to build community than butt shaking throw downs that bring folk together to share in the bright diversity of our music, language, and joy?

Thanks for the love and good times my FIBO crew and here's to next year!

POEM: A Very Sappy Love Poem aka The Chou

The Chou

He is to me the stuff that dreams are made of

brilliant bursts of color that

throw shade at the rainbow

give side eye to a prisms glow

French diplomat freak in the sheets realness

the category is

Love
New Style

soft and gentle

smooth and subtle

it isn't the explosive passion that has moved my foundations

in the past

it was the Fourth of July and Krakatoa

but this......

this is a broad river

with a powerful undertow

slowly making its mark

through the stoic earth

inexorable it feels like truth

his distance feels like the reach

from river source to its delta

But I can feel him though he is not cerca

verdad the source and the delta are the same river

I meant to give him a lingering goodbye

but life got in the way (I had a grant due that day)

so it was a swift kiss and into a taxi

left me

wanting

that long goodbye

instead

it will be a Hell of a Hello

And anyone that says two months ain't a long time

hasn't been in love before

Two days is a long time when you crave waking up in his arms

despite the snores

that sound like a Silverback banging on its chest

somewhere deep in his neck

he growls in his sleep

keeps his arms around me

except when my arms are around him

sometimes he doesn't let me go

in that way he is just like his best friend

(Yes, I also dated him).

But if this is the beginning

there can only be a happy ending

because once upon a time I fell in love with a Frenchman

who was first my friend

and those are the types of bedtime stories

that never ever end.

-Brandon Lacy Campos

-New York, NY

-August 7, 2012

What Do Justice for People with HIV, the Working Poor, People of Color and Women Have to Do With Christine Quinn? Absolutely Nothing.

Queers For Economic Justice Asks Quinn To Support Paid Sick Days Now!

By Amber Hollibaugh and Brandon Lacy Campos

While many in the LGBTQ community take paid sick days for granted, half of all workers in New York City — and two-thirds of low-wage workers — get no paid sick time. Many of these workers are LGBTQ. These workers don't have the luxury of putting their health first.  When they get sick, instead of focusing on getting better, they are forced to choose between going to work sick to make rent at the end of the month or sacrificing their days’ wages and/or getting fired.  No one should be forced to make this choice.

Last week, Queers for Economic Justice returned from the International AIDS Conference to New York City, where a debate over whether employers should be required to give their workers paid sick days has become a leading issue in City Hall and in the media. Lack of paid sick days is a significant problem for New Yorkers living and working with HIV/AIDS, who don’t have the privilege of taking sickness lightly, and must prioritize their health above all else when sick.  This could mean staying home in bed to get needed rest or scheduling an emergency visit to the doctor’s office. Without the ability to take paid sick time, the health and economic security of people living with HIV/AIDS are jeopardized.

There is legislation pending in the NYC Council that would alleviate this problem by requiring most businesses to give a modest number of paid sick days to their workers to use for themselves or to care for a sick family member. 

The legislation enjoys broad public support as well as a veto-proof majority of support in the City Council.  If passed, the legislation would lift a serious burden off the nearly 1.5 million workers in NYC who currently don’t get a single paid sick day.  This is especially true for immigrant workers, people of color, and people with low-wage jobs, who are among the least likely to get paid sick days.

Paid sick days also play an important public health role.  When sick workers go to work, they increase the spread of illness.  Nobody wants to be served by a sick waiter at a restaurant.  For people living with HIV/AIDS, the risk of complications from influenza and other communicable illnesses make the public health importance of paid sick days particularly vital.

Considering how important this issue is to LGBTQ workers and our brothers and sisters living with HIV/AIDS, it’s disturbing that some of the most prominent and powerful opponents of the legislation come from within the LGBTQ community.

The openly gay Speaker of the City Council, Christine Quinn, is the single person standing in the way of the legislation’s passage.  If she allowed the bill to the floor for a vote, it would fly through the City Council.

Backing Speaker Quinn is Tony Juliano, the general manager of the gay bar XES Lounge in Chelsea, who recently claimed that despite considering his workers to be family, he opposes giving them five paid sick days per year.  Almost ninety percent of restaurant and bar workers don’t get paid sick days – most go to work sick for fear of losing their jobs, and many actually do lose their jobs when they call in sick.

At Queers for Economic Justice, we have an initiative called Poverty and HIV/AIDS Stop Together. Through this project, we are highlighting how issues like paid sick days connect anti-poverty work and HIV/AIDS Activism. We are also launching a Queer Survival Economics initiative, which seeks to make visible the impact of the recession on LGBTQ communities. In today’s economy, workers are struggling to stay employed and provide for those closest to them, and they need paid sick days more than ever.

It’s time for the LGBTQ community to come together to support this safe, sane, and sensible policy.

Amber Hollibaugh and Brandon Lacy Campos are Co-Directors of Queers for Economic Justice.

Forgotten Lesson: A Young Person’s Experience at the AIDS Memorial Quilt

This is a guest blog written by my friend Daniel Pino, a sweetheart and a staff member of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force. This blog originally appeared on the Task Force's blog at http://thetaskforceblog.org/2012/07/25/forgotten-lesson-a-young-persons-experience-at-the-aids-memorial-quilt/

Typically when escaping the dim-light of the Smithsonian metro station in Washington, D.C., in the middle of the sweltering summer humidity that D.C. is known so well for, you’re hit with sensory overload: groups of school children gleefully crowd museum entrances, tourist families stop every 10 feet to take group photos in their patriotic T-shirts, and locals play games of Ultimate Frisbee or soccer in between water breaks. All activities fearlessly displayed with little regard for on-looking stares and high enthusiasm for living in the moment. It’s a prime spot for people-watching and one of the special things about the District. But this past Monday morning, as I exited the cavernous station, I was taken aback to see a different site: almost nothing.

Rather than seeing a gaggle of laughing kids on a field trip or athletic bodies warding off the efforts of their opponents, the Mall was empty except for small pods of fabric strategically placed in four rows in the center of the greenery and suited crowds jostling to their office buildings. Realizing I was in the right place, I made my way toward the Capitol building where other volunteers for the display of the AIDS Memorial Quilt were preparing for the day’s events.

Up until this point, I had never seen the AIDS Memorial Quilt in its entirety. Sure, I had seen individual panels at various conferences and events and seen dozens of photographs in history books and queer-themed scholarly articles — but never in person. When the Quilt was first displayed on the National Mall in 1987, I was three months away from entering the world, whereas the second time it came to D.C. in 1996 I was learning long division. For me, the Quilt was never so much a real-time phenomenon as it was something that just had always been — like the Washington Monument or Niagara Falls. It possessed an almost “tourist-esque newness” but not a personal connection.

As I talked with friends about my eventual volunteering for the Quilt display over drinks the days beforehand, I encountered polite comments of “That’s gotta be so hard” and “Get a picture of _______ celebrity’s panel.” For my generation, that sense of the Quilt being less of a revolutionary memorial to a commodified attraction wasn’t just personalized to my own experience. Which had me reflecting during the walk on the gravel path of the National Mall: Why is that?
Thinking on this question I realized that I (and my generation) occupy a very privileged historical position. Privileged in that I was born into a world where AIDS was no longer known as GRID, where condoms were not just the expectation but the norm, and where fears of infection did not debilitate my conviction to come out of the closet. I could freely adopt lovers in self-protective and self-ecstatic means, I could march on the very same National Mall for marriage equality and military service while reading about ACT UP as a long-gone “historical development,” and I could maintain friendships with positive-bodied friends for months and years on end due to breakthroughs in medical technology.

AIDS never felt like an eventual monster so much as it did an invisible boogeyman that my elders used to keep me in line, and, in turn, the Quilt was just that: a quilt.

Something changed this week.

As fellow volunteers and I carefully unfolded the seemingly dull patches of fabric into a beautiful cacophony of colors, memories and emotions standing out vividly against the muddy green of the Mall’s landscape, each panel of a long past person made me feel something. I laughed at reminiscent quotes on panels of drag queens, I welled up at a panel with nothing more than a baby rattle and the text “her favorite thing” and I was overwhelmed by the ages, faces and names of thousands of people lost to something I’ve only really grown up dismissively acknowledging.

All morning long, we unfurled the panels. All morning long we were met with more panels that needed to be exposed. All morning long.

The tourist-ness of this old cloth attraction began fading and the true meaning of the Quilt began breathing life. It became something more than a patch of fabric. I saw each panel as a person, as a family, a lover and a friend celebrating and mourning a memory — each one beautiful and cherished in its own right. And that boogeyman that I only tipped my hat to scared the hell out of me.

Daniel Pino reading names at the AIDS Memorial Quilt.

After moving from nearly one end of the Mall to the next with a wake of swatches behind us and ahead of us, the team and I chose to participate in the reading of the names of those lost to AIDS. After a long, thoughtful walk I was standing on the main stage shoulder to shoulder with strong queer women, many of whom not only lost their loved ones to the disease but had constructed their own panels. They forged the families of necessity I’ve only read about and literally moved the movement. Hearing them read the names of friends with conviction and tears, I wondered how I could, in any way, contribute or stand on the same platform, honoring the same dead they had known and loved.
I tried, timidly and as reverently as I could, to speak each name aloud with clarity and respect. By doing so, I hoped that by pronouncing each name correctly and over enunciating each syllable precisely I could achieve some semblance of understanding. I made it through the first of two pages I was given to read. Until I finally reaching the third to last name: “Died Alone…But Not Forgotten.”
I paused, awash with the phrasing until unexpectedly tears started welling up larger and larger until I had to stop midway through the next name. I tried choking back the tears, hoping to regain my rhythm but I kept crying. I read the last three names through those tears, until I finished and turned to be hugged by those amazing women who were standing behind me. And it made sense. It all made sense.

I had started crying not just from being overwhelmed or because the experience was “so heavy,” but because I had forgotten…in fact, I had never known the reality of what AIDS had done to my community. Reading about it in scholarly articles and history books wasn’t enough. My friendships with HIV-positive people weren’t enough to inform my own privilege. All the book-smart and street-smart experiences in the world could not have prepared me for that realization that I had forgotten. It wasn’t just enough to know of my history, I needed to engage with it.

I needed to touch the memories, read the names and feel a fraction of the emotion of those who forged the panels and then placed them so willingly in my generations care.

So as I left the National Mall, now fuller with tourists on the carousel outside the Smithsonian Castle and the sun piercing through the city smog, I left with an appreciation and an unforgettable lesson, which I think the poet Robert Penn Warren sums up the best, “History cannot give us a program for the future, but it can give us a fuller understanding of ourselves, and of our common humanity, so that we can better face the future.” Here’s hoping more of my generation learns that lesson and there won’t be another forgotten person.

An Open Love Letter to My Community

Dear Friends, Family, and Loved Ones:

I received a hateful and spiteful letter in the U.S. mail the other day from an anonymous writer that reads my FB and blog and lives in St. Louis. I sat with the letter for several days. At first it made me angry, and then it made me feel ashamed, and now I hold it for what it is: a sad, hurt, angry, self-loathing attempt by someone to offload their own feelings of inadequacy on others. The only thing I truly have to say to you is that I hope you find the love, healing, grace, and peace that you seem to not have in your life in this moment. You deserve it.

The one point in the letter, though, that truly made my eyebrows raise was when I was accused of, and I am paraphrasing, loving my friends, boyfriend, community too much (or as anonymous said...when I am in love the whole word has to hear about)....acting as if you are all superstars, phenomenal, the best people ever. Please note I was not accused of putting down the friends, family, and loves of others only that I loved you all too much and too publicly and without the appropriate amount of humility and self-effacement.

Guilty.

Let's start off with something simple. Nico, I love you. But you already knew that. And you know why. You are French and stoic, so I won't embarrass you by listing why exactly you have captured my heart. I love you. Now get back to saving the world from itself.

But that's not all, I love so many other people: David, Kenyon, Rodrigo, Jennifer, Nubia, Chad, Jenna, JT, Umberto, Pookie, Tasha, RJ, Bebe, Amber, Jay, Collette, Susan, Rocki, and so on and so forth and on and on and on and on. Guess what? There is no lack of love to be given or accepted. I love you all, my community, my friends, many of my former boyfriends, some folks that are no longer on this earth. I love you. Thank you for all that you have given me and for the times you have allowed me to be of service to you in friendship.

To my family, my brothers and sisters, my Dad, my Mom, my step-Mom, my nieces and nephews, my godson, cousins, family of choice, family of origin, I love you. Thank you for holding me, raising me, growing with me, and giving me the gift of your love.

To my political family, especially Paula Austin, thank you for building with me, checking my ass when it needed to be checked and DOING IT WITH love and compassion (shout out to Irma and Lolan), and to those that have helped me understand what it means to be a feminist, a radical, a man, privileged as well as oppressed, and the responsibilities that come with access. Thank you. I will continue to fuck up and I know that you will hold me down and hold me correct when need be. Thank you.  I love you.

To the poets and writers of the world, I love you, keep sharing your stories and your truths....we all need them. To my ancestors: Black, White, Anishinaabe (LCO Band of Ojibwe where my Mother is an enrolled member as are all of my relatives of the last generation), and Puerto Rican...thank you....your work and breath made my life possible. I love you.

And to those that have offered up their less than loving critique, thank you for giving me a gift to see myself, my work, and my place in the world as distinct from how you live yours. I will continue to celebrate my life with love, my community with love, my work with love, my family with love, and even those that believe I am nothing more than the basest of their perceptions, I love you too.

Thank you to you all. One love.

Love,
Brandon

Home Again Home Again Jiggity Jig

So, I am sitting in the lovely home of Betty Tisel and Sarah Farley, in the Kingfield neighborhood of South Minneapolis. I love this home. It is so warm and welcoming. It's a beautiful structure, inhabited by a caring family, and the energy is bright and clear. Betty and Sarah, along with their children Owen and Nora, have welcomed me into their home a half dozen times in the last couple of years, and I am always cognizant of the gift.

I am in welcoming home, in a city I love, on a beautiful day that began with a love filled morning when I met my beloved Susan Raffo for coffee. Susan asked me a question this morning about home, and if I thought of New York as home now. I had a complicated emotional response, but the answer, for me, is clearly no.

I love New York. I do. I feel comfortable there. I have managed to learn her rhythms and seasons. I can navigate her with ease, and I understand the dangers and the gifts that she can offer. She is less of a Big Apple and more of a Big Onion. I am constantly peeling back her layers and discovering new, wonderful, and terrible things about her. I am beginning to understand her governance structure, and I am integrated into community there in a way that I have not been in any other place except for Minneapolis.

Except New York isn't home. Minneapolis is. Yesterday, I was driving around with my childhood friend, Dr. Dawn Anderson, and I was struck again and fell in love again with the beauty of Minneapolis. Tree lined boulevards framing beautiful and architecturally distinct homes. The Minneahaha Creek bisecting the southside of the city, graceful bridges spanning its breadth. The streets covered in emerald canopies, wildflowers and sculptured gardens in front yards and along the curbs.  In a city of 22 lakes, the creek, the Mississippi River, and designed so that no resident lives more than a half a mile from a park, and you can imagine that in the summer, it is a gracious and gorgeous place to be.

We won't talk about the winter right now. But, I actually love Minneapolis in winter too....but I like to love it from inside a heated building.

From the people, to the way community is built here, the access to arts and performance, the education of the people, the diversity of the populace, the amazing food, and the more amazing friends, all combine to make this star of the north my home. It's in my blood and heart, and although it has been four years since I moved away from this place, coming back is like stepping into a favorite pair of pants, worn enough to be soft and to conform to my shape and shades, and it feels like love to be here.

Who knows if I will ever return to Minnesota as a full time resident. With the trajectory of my life as it is right now, that is seeming less likely. But Minnesota, and Minneapolis in particular, will always be a part of my heart, it will always be home, and it will always be a place where you will find me, from time to time, wandering its streets, dancing in its bars, and loving its people.

This is what home feels like. xoxoxo.

Shit Dumb Ass Straight Dudes Say: Which One Of You Is the Woman?

Anyone that has grown up gay or been around gay men or have a gay friend or seen some bad 80s gay flick has heard the line, "So, which one of you is the women?" Usually spoken by some jackass of a straight man to a gay couple, and often times followed by a bashing of some sort.

Honestly, while I know that I have heard that question before, I believe the last time I heard someone ask that question, seriously, was sometime around 1996. In this post-Ellen, post-Will and Grace, Every-Show-Has-A-Gay-Sidekick era, I thought, maybe, perhaps, we'd at LEAST gotten far enough along that at LEAST any URBAN dwelling dumb-straight-man would know better.

Apparently not. Yesterday, there was a thread on my Facebook page that was started about an over the top hot Latino FedEx dude I passed on the street. As my Facebook page is wont to do, the topic quickly filled up with sexual innuendo (this time started by my boyfriend, ahem, Nicolas!). This kid with whom I attended high school, Jack, decides to chime in not really knowing what's going on. So I said, Jack, we are using gay sex innuendo.

Jack replies, "What happened to women?" And then he says, "So, which one of you is the woman, Brandon or Nicolas."

Did you hear that sound? Did you? It was the sound of the lock turning in the library door.

OPEN! READING IS FREE!

There were a couple of comments interspersed with his before I could get to chapter one, so I decided to make this a short story.

I said, "Jack, you should be lucky that I don't want women, because, frankly, I would take yours." And to his response asking which of us, Nico or I, happened to be the woman, I responded.

"Nico is all man. I am a man. If you are asking who is the bottom and who is top, why don't you come over and I'll show you. Make sure to be well lubed as I am not known for being gentle."

It was sometime after that when Jack de-friended me.

Child please.

Lets be clear for a minute, revisit some fundamentals, since we are reading, while I know some gay men that are in relationships with women....when two men that identify as men enter into a relationship with one another...neither of them is "the women." The connotation being which of you is submissive, passive, gives up power, submits, serves, etc....and not in the fierce S/M  and B/D Leather Community empowered submission way but in that misogynist fucked up barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen sort of way. 

Plus, I've said it once. I've said it twice. Bottoms have all the power. Lord knows I will do just about anything to get into some good booty. And an excellent bottom can get me to walk on water to get to that ass.

Though once I get a hold of said bottom.....it's ON!

There you have it, Jack. I am a man. I am fairly certain I outweigh and could drop you if necessary....and the next time you decide to show up in all your misogynistic, heterosexist, and homophobic glory in someone's life...please be sure 1) that they can't choke you out with little effort, 2) aren't fiercer than you are, and 3) don't have access to a blog with 60,000 readers a year and won't put you on blast.

The end.

PS An addendum I think power is shared, but I'm just saying a good bottom....will be worshiped...FILTER BRANDON FILTER!

Theater Review: Bebe Zahara Benet's Creature

So, I have seen Bebe Zahara Benet's Creature, I believe, four times now. There has only been once that I haven't seen the show during a run. Now, full disclosure, Bebe is one of my best friends. I have known her for five years, and I have been a fan since she was working a working class dyke bar on University Avenue (The Townhouse) in St. Paul, MN. I was in the bar the night she announced she was going to be on a new reality show called RuPaul's Drag Race.

Well, as y'all know she went on to win the first season of that show. That's my girl.

What has always impressed me about Kudi (that's Bebe's given name) is that Kudi is an artist. From the clothing he designs to his performances as Bebe....he constructs his work with the utmost integrity, commits himself to constant improvement, and lets us have it every time.

Last night Miss Bebe gave us a victoire!

Each time Creature is mounted it has been deepened and expanded. It's now a full on 360 degree experience. I thought the last version of the show, which I saw in the beginning of June was amazing (and after which I had an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction....I popped a squat on the dance floor and blew out the back of my shorts....no such mishaps last night though my mind was blown)!

Last night's Creature was OVAH! Not only were the dancers on point, the vocalists letting us have it, and Bebe in proper form....she added a new Egyptian element to the show including a cadre of fierce belly dancers that let us have it let us have it let us have IT!

Oops she did it again but even better than before.

Do yourself a favor....Creature will be playing every Friday for the next month at XL Nightclub in New York, which is located on 42nd Street between 10th and 11th avenues. GO AND SEE THIS SHOW!

I will be seeing it for the fifth time.

PS And do not fail to oooh and ahhh at Eddie Carrington and Roger Turner, Bebe's principle dancers. Those boys do some things in a loin cloth to make me want to get down right Serengeti up in there.

Get Your Laugh On with D'Lo in D'FunQT

Listen to mama here for a moment...around about eight or nine years ago, back in my homeland of Minneapolis, MN, I decided that in my next life I wanted to be a Sri Lankan lesbian. I filled out all the forms, and though the waiting process is long (I am hoping a good 60 more years), I am fairly certain I will be approved.

Every Sri Lankan woman and/or trans man that I have met is fucking fierce. I am so ok with making that generalization. And since I am permanently, cross many lives queer, I figured...well Hell...I might as well go on ahead and switch it up a little...but not too much. Here pussy pussy pussy!

So back in Minneapolis, through my fantastic friends Chamun Wanduragala (also check out and BUY Chamun's art and clothing) and Deepa Jeeva, I met another fierce Sri Lankan by the name of D'Lo. Now, I knew D'Lo, originally, through his poetry---and I believe we both performed at the 2004 PeaceOut East Queer Hip Hop Festival in NYC, it was through Deepa and Chamun and their performance production group Diaspora Flow that I got to know D'Lo. In fact, in 2005, I had a staged reading of my play, Dividing Lines, and D'Lo was the director.

I haven't seen his beautiful fierce self since probably 2006, but let me tell you that my love for him, his work, and the way he lives his life and creates community are appreciated and valued by me.

Now I have a chance to give a little bit back from what I received those many years ago.

D'Lo has a show going on RIGHT NOW in New York at Dixon Place, and this comedian, poet, actor, fool (in the old school meaning of the word....as in funny as shit entertainer)...is gonna give you something to feel about, talk about, maybe touch yourself about for a very very long time.

Help me show D'Lo some real love by checking out his show this weekend or next weekend. I am including a bit below about the show, a couple of links to trailers and info on how you can get tickets. This is what's up y'all. Check this show out!

About D'FunQT

D’FunQT is a one-person show featuring the inimitable comedian D'Lo sharing hilarious and poignant snapshots of the worlds that shaped who he is now. D'Lo grew up in a strict immigrant family, caught between two overzealous parents who provided a wealth of material for his self-reflective musings, rants, and side-splitting coming out stories. Written and performed Leguizamo-style, this one-person show celebrates the joy of survival in a world often intolerant of difference.  As a queer boy/stud/transgender person, D'Lo unapologetically takes center stage and uses his fluidly morphing form and spot-on timing to bring the fierce with the funny.

 

Facebook event: http://www.facebook.com/events/319047878173083/

Youtube Teaser: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Us-zFjXUqZ4

 

We've had two packed shows so far, and the crowds have been incredible. In the house on opening night, we had SALGA (South Asian Lesbian and Gay Association) and Q-Wave (a queer Asian organization), and they're responses were overwhelmingly positive especially in reaction to the parts about growing up in an immigrant family. The next night, when Bklyn Boihood (a collective of Masculine of Center people of color) came to the show, the formulating of a new queer masculine/trans identity really spoke to them. After the show, we've been gathering everyone into the lounge for an informal after party where many people, straight and queer, have come up to me to tell me how important they think D'FunQT is, not only for queer people who can relate, but for non-queers who have never really had to consider what it means to live the lives we live every day. 

 

D'FunQT shows four more times: this weekend and next weekend (Fridays and Saturdays).

D'Loco Kid Productions

PRESS RELEASE FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Contact: Tim Ranney    tim@dixonplace.org    Office: (212) 219-0736

 

New York City, June 6, 2012 – As part of the annual HOT FESTIVAL, Dixon Place Theater presents D'FunQT (pronounced "defunct"), a one-person stand-up storytelling show by L.A. based theater artist/writer D'Lo. D’FunQT opens Friday, July 6^th at 9:30pm at Dixon Place Theater at161A Chrystie Street, NY, NY 10002. Run time is approximately 1 hour and twenty minutes; there is no intermission. D’FunQT runs from July 6^th to 21^st, Fridays and Saturdays at 9:30pm. Tickets are $15 pre-sale, and $20 at door. Students and Seniors can pay $15 dollars at door. Box office opens ½ hour before showtime. Any inquiries for group discounts and industry tickets please email contact@dixonplace.org. Media comps, photos, videos and interviews are available upon request fromtim@dixonplace.org.  For tickets and information call (212) 219-0736 or visit www.dixonplace.org

 

D’FunQT is a one-person show featuring the inimitable comedian D'Lo sharing hilarious and poignant snapshots of the worlds that shaped who he is now. D'Lo grew up in a strict immigrant family, caught between two overzealous parents who provided a wealth of material for his self-reflective musings, rants, and side-splitting coming out stories.  Written and performed Leguizamo-style, this one-person show celebrates the joy of survival in a world often intolerant of difference.  As a queer boy/stud/transgender person, D'Lo unapologetically takes center stage and uses his fluidly morphing form and spot-on timing to bring the fierce with the funny.

 

Director Steven Sapp has strengthened the workshop production of D’FunQT that was originally presented at Dixon Place’s 2010 Hot Festival. Co-Founding member of Universes, Steven Sapp’s credits include: Playwright/Actor-AMERIVILLE (dir. Chay Yew); One Shot in Lotus Position (The War Anthology-Curious Theater-dir. Bonnie Metzger); RHYTHMICITY (Humana Festival); SLANGUAGE (NY Theater Workshop-dir. Jo Bonney). On working with D’Lo, Sapp says, “D’FunQT comments on transgender secularity and spirituality through a stand up lens. D’Lo is a fresh new voice; the politics and the personal combine, he’s in the middle of black & white politics, in the middle of the conversations of man and woman, and happens to be a gender non-conforming actor whose writing and poetry talents show even in stand-up.”

 

D'Lo is a queer Tamil Sri L.A.nkan-American, political theatre artist/writer, director, comedian, and music producer. His writing has been published in many anthologies and academic journals. D’Lo is a recipient of multiple grants from the National Performance Network and has been touring the  NPN circuit as well as the college/university circuit for over a decade with performances and speaking engagements, as well as presenting his one-person shows in theaters internationally. www.dlocokid.com

 

D'Lo has gone from performing for his friends at grade school to performing in front of fans all over the world.   D'FunQT the show is D'Lo's gift to all the communities with which he identifies.  The challenges confronting fierce queers and people of color reform under his sharp observations. “This show is a chance to be seen and reflected, to exhale in peace, to celebrate in laughter, and to feel accepted in all our glory in the presence of other good people.” D'Lo is a source of power all by himself, championing a voice that speaks to the heart of what matters most.  

 

Catch this show.  You may just catch yourself cracking up and when it's all said and done, being put back together again.  One thing's for sure: D'Lo knows how to fight against being defunct.

 

For tickets and information: (212) 219-0736

www.dlocokid.com 

The Brandon Work Out Plan

So, many of you have asked me about my diet and work out plan that helped me get to the point I have reached physically. So here it is.

First, I need you to open Spotify and turn on Kanye West's New Work Out Plan. This is essential. Everyone needs a soundtrack; begin.

So here's the scoop. There is no magical mystical way for you to build the body you want. There are various programs that can teach you how to adjust your portion size and manage the calories you intake, but here is the basic, bottom line: I eat what I want to eat but I eat it in small portions. In general, I have a smoothie for breakfast, I eat a decent lunch (even with take out, which I eat almost every day during the work week, I opt for non-fried options on the Chinese menu but then make sure that I am only eating enough to satiate my hunger and not overeat). For dinner, I try and cook for myself, and, again, eat decent food, not deep fried, but it is the food I want to eat. Rice-a-roni and steak is one of my favorite meals, the key is don't eat everything in the pot or pan.

The basis for my workout is very simple.  It is the 5x5 Strong Lifts philosophy, which you can find laid out on their website. But the basics are these:

1) Until you can squat one and a half times your body weight, you should do full body work outs and not exercises that focus only on one muscle area (for example, you wouldn't do bicep curls but would focus on exercises that work total muscle groups and areas). This is critical as it builds up your complete body strength, develops your muscles naturally and in tandem to one another, and does not lead to overdevelopment.

2) Your lower body is ESSENTIAL. All of your largest muscles are in your lower body. Your glutes being the biggest muscle group. The core of the 5x5 are squats, which if done correctly and with a bar and free weights works ALL OF YOUR MUSCLE GROUPS! This is truly key. You should, as much as possible, avoid using machines to do your exercises....using free weights requires you to keep your body in balance and strengthens muscle groups that are not engaged if you use a machine to balance for you.

3) Five by five is just what it means. You do five sets of five reps each at the highest weight that you can handle. This allows for maximum growth AND also keeps you from plateauing.  There are ten basic exercises that you do split between alternating work outs. Again you can find these on the Strong Lifts website.

4) Once you have built your basic strength, then it becomes essential to mix up your exercises and do a combination of machines, free weights, and cables in order to keep things popping and mixing.  I do the same basic exercises but I do them using different types of weight equipment and this keeps your body guessing and growing.

5) There is only really one ab exercise that you need to do to get decent abs...REVERSE CRUNCHES! Here is a video link to what they look like.

6) Consistency is key. If you really want to transform your body, then commit to the gym five days a week for at least an hour to and hour and half. Thirty minutes should be cardio (of your choice) and the other hour weights. YOU MUST DO CARDIO AND LIFT WEIGHTS! Your body shape won't change just by doing one or the other, in tandem they cut, slim and build. Your heart health is critical and cardio is how you strengthen that muscle.

7) There are natural supplements you can take...and if you are in New York, I would highly suggest taking a trip down to Eva's Natural Foods on 8th street and have a chat with the folks in the supplement section about your weight training goals and they will provide you with the supplies that will help keep your liver and body healthy as well as maximize your work outs.

8) For people living long term with HIV. Go to your doctor and have your testosterone levels checked. HIV inhibits testosterone production and often we have less than necessary. Your doctor can prescribe for you the best way to increase your levels, which could be a gel, patch or, in some cases, injections. It is critical for people living with HIV to increase your lean muscle mass. It helps with white blood cell production and in keeping you healthy.  And exercise also helps control depression and anxiety.

9) Be gentle with yourself and patient. Ignore the mirror and STAY OFF OF THE SCALE! Especially if you are trying to lose weight, your enemy, especially in the first month to six weeks is the scale. It takes at least 30 days of regular exercise to see a change. You will feel a change well before that, but the number on the scale often puts people off...remember muscle weighs more than fat and burns more calories...your body will shift but give it time and know that you are doing right and best by yourself by building muscle. The more you build the more accelerated the weight loss.

10) Do all of this for yourself and for reasons that apply to your life and not what the world and the media will tell you. Love yourself and do this for the right reasons and it will become a lifestyle change that you will enjoy.


That's all I got.

Butch Bodied Femme and the Man Nod

A few months ago, I was sitting around the back tables at QEJ with Amber, Jay, some interns and some other folks and we were talking about our identities. Other than Jay and our awesome intern V, QEJ has now and always has been staffed and run by an overwhelming number of femmes---male and female.

On this particular day, we were all chatting about our plethora of identities, and when it got to me, I outed myself as a femme. Amber looked up and looked at me and said, "Your femme identified?"
And I responded, "Have you met me?"

For years, I have identified myself as femme. In Minneapolis, I was an early member of the Femme Mafia (sigh how I miss my hometown femme posse), and I have written about and spoken about what it means, for me, to identify as femme. Not since my twink days (see my recent blog post with pictures from that era), though, have I had a body type that is often associated with femme boys. To be clear, femme boys are often either thought of us very skinny types, the twinky femme, or the big girl femmes with large and in charge fierce bodies. But as my body has become more and more stereotypically "masculine," I have had to out myself as a butch bodied femme more and more and then explain what that means.

Here I go again.

I was raised, largely, by a single Mom, with an amazing step-Mom, and all of the most significant influential people in my life have been women. When I moved from Duluth, MN to Kansas City, MO and the kids in the neighborhood would form step lines, the guys never wanted me, so I learned how to step girl style. When I came out, it was into a fierce community of queer women at Warren Wilson College, and I was often proud to be the only boy ever invited to Girls Night Out with the hot Atlanta lesbians at Wilson. While, I do not carry myself in what many folks consider a stereotypically "femme" manner (which is problematic in and of itself)...the fact of the matter is that I am femme through and through with femme sensibilities, femme tastes, and femme expression in so many ways.

It just so happens that the men in my family are all broad shouldered with thick legs and bubble butts. It's a burden, but I will gladly bear it.

What is even more interesting, is that in my mind, I am clearly a femme and I am floored every time a straight woman flirts with me. I think I scream....HEY GIRL HEY....with every step.  But recently...I have crossed into new territory. Because of my body transformation and my size, now the straightest of the straight guys give me the "nod." That secret and mystical "what's up" head nod that says...."you are one of us." When the big ripped manly men trainers at the gym started doing it, I knew I had crossed into some new and strange and alien territory. Somehow, my body has transgressed and crossed over into an area of masculinity to which I have never before had access, and it makes me giggle my ass off. That somehow, the fact that I can lift a certain amount of weight or have a certain body type gives me stature in some primal, probably biological, way with other men is something that is absolutely fascinating to me. The trainers at my gym KNOW that I am gay, especially considering two of my exes also work out there and I have never been shy when it comes to PDA. But something in these men's heads has clicked on and they now give me a level of respect and recognition that I have never had from straight men ever.

Butch bodied femme is something else.

 I do have to say a shining moment came recently, at QEJ's major donor party, when the subject of femmes came up and my darling V came to my defense and proudly declared that I am a butch bodied femme. I just love it when the butches come to my aid. *swoon*

Gender, sexual orientation and gender presentation are a beautiful complicated mash up.....one day I will tell you of my insane love of butch bottoms....but that's a another blog. Until then....kiss a femme and appreciate all the work that goes into being just this fabulous!