I was having dinner recently with Cleo Manago in DC. It turned out to be just the shot in the arm that I needed to start writing again. Somewhere, somehow I’d grown tired and lost my passion. Life had become so stressful and so difficult
When I was asked by my Regional Vice-President to fly from Dallas, Texas to assist the staff at a sister hotel in Baton Rouge with the relief effort after hurricane Katrina, I had no idea what I would see or what I was getting into.
While listening to music recently, my mp3 player on “shuffle” and me in a state of relaxation, the 1956 version of Billie Holiday’s “Strange Fruit” began to play. As the sounds of piano and trumpet filled the air, I was transported by my imagination to
Sissy. Punk. Faggot. Queer. Gay. All of these are names used to describe black same gender loving men. They are names by which we are defined. Now come on, tell the truth – if you REALLY want to hurt someone’s feelings, or insult them, degrade
I was talking to a brotha the other day (we’ll call him James), and the conversation we had was very interesting. See, this brotha is young, intelligent, beautiful, and goal oriented. He has a plan for his future and is on his way to success