“He’s so sexy,” he said, “that you want to stand near him, because you’re hoping a little of what makes him so attractive will splash onto you, and then it will work for you.” Black, white, gay, straight, male, female – it seemed everyone I knew either wanted to sleep with Prince or wanted to be him, or both…
Prince was so ahead of me in my own understanding of what it means to be black in this country, to have a sexuality and gender expression at odds with the white men who try to tell everyone else how to behave – and to embrace what is amorphous, not easily categorized, beautiful, and yet unknown.
In the past few weeks and months, it seems as though the campaign for marriage equality in America has hit its stride.
Week after week, news has broken that court system after court system has declared same-sex marriage bans in Colorado, Virginia, Utah, and many more states unconstitutional. Day in and day out, I have seen images of states in the LGBT equality colors with the word “Congratulations” splattered on my Facebook newsfeed. Friends of mine have tweeted and retweeted the news non-stop, with my Instagram newsfeed being the same way.
People are excited. People are encouraged. Especially members of the LGBT community.
How about we stop naming all these sexualities, genders, stereotypes, and people in general and just realize humans are humans and we are all different? Why complicate the world with names and terms when we could just give all humans their rights and let them be them.
When I first came out to my family, most of them stopped talking to me. My father, who I was very close to, stopped speaking to me for two years before picking up the phone late one night to let me know that my being gay was not only an amoral form of psychic and sexual corruption but also an act of perverse, Western mimicry. I was not only going against my Islamic upbringing but my African heritage as well.