Turn It Up...That Is My Song

Often times a song will embrace our eardrums and we immediately will say…Turn it up…that is my song. In doing so we get wrapped up in the song able to recite all of the lyrics that we seem to in some way, shape, form or manner relate to. Hearing the music appears to be a cultural thing with those of us that are of African heritage for our ancestors communicate distant and important messages through the beat of a drum, the chants in the cotton fields or the hum coming from big mama’s kitchen. In some manner we all seem to have the music thread sewn in our DNA. However, at times we turn down the volume of the voice of God telling us in no uncertain terms that we should go left instead of right. However, we go left anyway and defiantly turn down the volume to the song that God is playing in our ears. We tell ourselves this is not a song we want to hear for it is not meeting the needs we feel at the time. However, turning down the volume to God’s prophetic words of advice are also going against the grain of our cultural upbringing. Just think of our ancestors and how often, I am sure, they were told that they could never make it but the voice of God was singing the song of survival in their ears. Where would we all be if they turned down the volume? If they chose to “know better” than what that voice was telling them…the music that was being sung in the background. So when you hear that song/voice, say within to yourself…”Turn it up…that is my song” and I guarantee you that you will dance forever.

A Father's Love

Robert Wadley was born June 20, 1926 and passed away February 26, 1996. There is not a day that goes by that I do not think about my father and his influence on my life and helping me become the man I am. My love for my father is something of which I am very proud. My father IS my HERO. No he did not wear a cape and leap tall buildings in a single bound nor did he stop crime on the streets of Chicago. However, he taught me integrity, pride, the importance of education, etc. My earliest memory of my Dad and me is seeing him standing in the mirror with his face all lathered. Ocassionally he would take some lather and put it on my face giving me a razor (you know the old one that you put double edge blades in) without a razor blade. I would memic his motions and we would shave together. I could not have been more than 6 years old. My mother passed away at the age of 29 after 12 years of marriage to my Dad. My mother and father had five children together. I can’t even imagine how difficult it must have been for my father to lose the love of his life and try to keep his family together for now he had to raise 5 children ranging in age from 12 – 2 (three girls and two boys). I must admit that I was the favorite child and think that was in part to me being only 2 years old when my mother passed away. The family nucleus was different back then for my maternal grandmother and paternal aunts rallied around my father to assist when they could to make it easier for my Dad. However, the day-to-day responsibility was totally on my father (combing hair, ironing and laying out clothes for school, cooking dinner, giving everyone a bath as well as working an 8-10 hour day). I cannot even imagine the difficulty and sacrifice that my father made for the five of us. I also owe a debt of gratitude to my grandparents for they raised him to be the man he became. I am told that he never once thought about spliting us up. After my mother’s passing I live with my maternal grandmother Sunday – Friday evening because I was not old enough to attend school for four more years, thereby only seeing my father and siblings on weekends. My father ruled with a stern and strong but loving hand. Everything he did (whooping, family meetings, etc) were done because he loved us and wanted to ensure we did not go in the wrong directon.

I can remember my father taking time in the evening to teach me and my brother how to drive once we received out driver’s permit. Thinking back, I remember how nervous I was when he asked me after one of my lessons if I wanted to drive home. My dad was an Impala man and at the time of my lessons, he owned a brown 1974 Impala, which seemed like the hood stretched for miles. I agreed and pulled out on to 47th street near Lake Park making my way back home about 2 miles away. I was nervous but my Dad reassured me that I could do it. I made it home as he instructed me calmly every step of the way.

My father was not perfect but I never doubted his love for my siblings and me. You see he never remarried for I do not think he ever got over my mother’s death. Let me not make it seem that he became a hermit because he did date his share of women but none made it to the marrying stage. My father let it be known to all that his children were his first priority.

In 1981, my father found out that I was SGL (gay). Believe me that did not go well at all. We went through some tough times because of this newfound discovery. However, my father never abandoned me because of it. Once we made it over the rough patch, we moved forward. I can remember the first day I told my father that I loved him and giving him a big ole hug as an adult man. I could tell that he was touched by it. I respected my father and never brought up my relationship. If he wanted to discuss this, it would be on his terms for I respected and understand where he was coming from. I did not expect him to embrace it for I am sure the acknowledgment of my emotional orientation shattered the dreams he may have had for me ever since the day I was born. We eventually got past the elephant in the room when he was ready. While he did not agree with me being in love with a man he did accept my partner and me at the time. I could not have asked for more than that, our relationship became much stronger, and we were able to openly discuss things about him and my mom of which I was not aware.

Today, I talk to male friends of mine and hear that they have lilmited or no relationships with their fathers and it is sad. I know that father’s have so much to give to our lives to help shape and mold us as adult men. I am who I am because my father molded me and while he has been gone from my life for 14 years he still infuences who I am today. The lessons he taught me many years ago and still applicable in my life. I still want him to look down from heaven and be proud of the man I have become. Each day I thank God for my father for he did not have to accept the difficult responsibility of raising five knuckle-headed kids virtually alone. Over the next few days I will talk to my siblings and we will laugh and reminiss about our father. We will celebrate his life and what he brought into our lives. We could not have asked God to give us a better father.

Everything my Dad did exuded “A Father’s Love”!!!!

Cherished Love

There is barely a day that goes by that I do not think of my mother. My mother and father met and married when she was just 17 years old. They immediately began a family while living in Mound Bayou, MS. My three sisters and my brother were each born two years apart. With the great migration north, my parents decided to move to Chicago, which is where both of their families decided to settle as well. My brother was born here in Chicago. Four years after my brother was born, I arrived to bring much joy and pleasure to all of their lives (big smile). My father and siblings endured the ultimate tragedy two years after my birth. My mother passed away at the tender age of 29 (1962). My father loved his wife dearly and never remarried. He passed away in 1996. I often wonder whether my life would have been very different if I would have gotten a chance to know my mother. When I was in grade school, I use to think that she was not dead and would show up at my school and all would be right with the world. As I got older, I had to accept that she was indeed deceased. The longing for a memory and a touch has never gone away even 48 years later. I had some serious issues with God, which have since been resolved.  How could a loving God take a mother away from her children at such tender ages (12, 10, 8, 6, and 2) is a question that stayed in my heart and mind as I was growing up.  I could not wrap my brain around that one for the longest time growing up.  There was such conflict in what I felt and what I was being taught in relationship to God.  Since I never got the opportunity to know my mother I have had to rely on my siblings to share with me what they remember about her.  While it is informative it has never filled the void.

After my mother passed away, I began living with my maternal grandmother (Big Mama) five days a week because I was not of school age. I would spend Sunday through Friday evening with Big Mama for four years until I was six years old and eligible to attend school. The memories I have of my grandmother are so wonderful for she was a strong and determined woman. She was so nurturing and loving but very stern. I truly loved living and spending time her. One of my earliest memories is of me sleeping in church on my grandmother’s lap. I truly felt every bit of love she had to give me.  It is a memory I hold dear to my heart. I can still see that room that she had for making quilts…WOW. When I was in the fourth grade, she crocheted me a scarf and hat. I have still have the scarf more than 40 years later a possession that makes me smile and brings back fond memories. My grandmother stepped in and made an imprint on my life that I cherish and treasure. I will never stop missing my mother’s love and touch and even the sound of her voice. However, I do have the next best thing, the memories and love of my grandmother, my mother’s mother, Big Mama.

Today, two of the most important women that have left me with things I can pinpoint and measure.   My mother also gave me life and while I do not remember her I know that there are parts of her that I carry in who I have become.  For example, I am told that my mother really liked shoes.  I take pride in the fact that I also like shoes and have approximately 60 pair.   I also honor my grandmother for providing a strong foundation and stepping in and giving me the nurture and love that I truly needed to become the man I am today.

Valentine's Day

Valentine's Day will be here in a few days. You know, that day when florist run out of flowers, Hallmark depletes their card stock and there is a major shortage of chocolate. Many of us get so wrapped up in this day and for those that do not have a significant partner in our lives we tend become depressed or sad. Love is something that does not come easy or without much hard work. This is truly a soft and pink day. I have gotten to the point in life where the day itself is not what I hang my hat on when it comes to me and my boyfriend. It is how we respect and treat each other 365 days a year. There was a time in my life when this day as well as Sweetest Day was very meaningful and if there were no gifts of acknowledgment there was hell to pay. However, life has taught me quite a bit and there importance is not what it once was.


An expression of love is great any day of the year. Life is too short not to feel the warm touch and feeling that love brings on a continual basis. There is no better feeling than waking up each morning knowing that through all the tribulations that life places at your feet the person lying next to you loves you without conditions. Please begin to love yourself and all the rest will flow effortlessly for people will see the glow. With that glow you will attract many to you.

Where Will You Be, When They Come

Where Will You Be, When They Come


Boots are being polished
Trumperters clean their horns
Chains and locks forged
The crusade has begun.

Once again flags of Christ are unfurled in the dawn
and cries of soul saviors sing apocalyptic on air waves.

Citizens, good citizens all parade into voting booths
and in self-righteous sanctity X away our right to life.

I do not believe as some that the vote is an end,
I fear even more
It is just a beginning.

So I must make assessment
Look to you and ask:
Where will you be when they come?

They will not come a mob rolling through the streets,
but quickly and quietly move into our homes and remove the evil,
the queerness,the faggotry,the perverseness from their midst.
They will not come clothed in brown, and swastikas, or
bearing chest heavy with gleaming crosses.
The time and need for ruses are over.
They will come in business suits to buy your homes
and bring bodies to fill your jobs.
They will come in robes to rehabilitate
and white coats to subjugate and where will you be
when they come?

Where will we *all be* when they come?
And they will come --

they will come because we are defined as opposite --
perverse and we are perverse.

Every time we watched a queer hassled in the streets and said nothing --
It was an act of perversion.

Everytime we lied about the boyfriend or girlfriend at coffee break --
It was an act of perversion.

Everytime we heard, "I don't mind gays
but why must they be blatent?" and said nothing --
It was an act of perversion.

Everytime we let a lesbian mother lose her child and did not fill the courtroom --
It was an act of perversion.

Everytime we let straights make out in our bars while
we couldn't touch because of laws --
It was an act of perversion.

Everytime we put on the proper clothes to go to a family
wedding and left our lovers at home --
It was an act of perversion.

Everytime we heard
"Who I go to bed with is my personal choice --
It's personal not political" and said nothing --
It was an act of perversion.

Everytime we let straight relatives bury our dead and push our lovers away --
It was an act of perversion.

And they will come.
They will come for the perverts

& it won't matter if you're
homosexual, not a faggot
lesbian, not a dyke
gay, not queer
It won't matter
if you
own your business
have a good job
or are on S.S.I.
It won't matter
if you're
Black
Chicano
Native American
Asian
or White
It won't matter
if you're from
New York
or Los Angeles
Galveston
or Sioux Falls
It won't matter
if you're
Butch, or Fem
Not into roles
Monogamous
Non Monogamous
It won't matter
if you're
Catholic
Baptist
Atheist
Jewish
or M.C.C.

They will come
They will come
to the cities and to the land
to your front rooms and in *your* closets.

They will come for the perverts and where will you be
When they come?
-- Pat Parker
Copyright 1978

Living Authentically

Authentic…Webster defines it as: worthy of acceptance or belief as conforming to or based on fact; not false or imitation: Real, Actual

October 4th – 12th is National Coming Out week. It is a very significant week in the life of those individuals that have had to live a in a less than authentic manner. The discomfort of talking to co-workers or family members and attempting to appear “normal” as society has defined can be crippling at best. Some are so good at it until we convince ourselves that it is perfectly fine with juggling pronouns and showing up at family functions alone or with your “best friend”. Society has pushed many of us into the closet to the extent that we even take on the language and characteristics of those that have chosen to oppress us. Many have even chosen to move to other states away from family in an effort to live an authentic life.

Over the past few years, it has become very “fashionable” in some circles of the same gender loving (SGL) community to consider onesself down-low. A down-low individual is one that has same gender sex but live his/her public life as a heterosexual individual. Society has fashioned this term to only men of color. However, many Caucasian men also live their lives in the same manner. Some of them have appeared more recently on the public stage (i.e Former NY Governor, Eliot Spitzer, evangelical preacher Ted Haggard, etc). While these men have lived the same types of lives as their African-American and Latin counterparts, they have never been referred to as down-low men simply based on their skin color. Some as those individuals look at the down-low persona with machismo dispelling their internalized issues of being consider less than a “MAN”; thereby making them very attractive by some individuals. This method of thinking can lead to all types of psychosis and adversely affect everyone that he meets.

Now for people of color the ability to live an authentic life has a different set of challenges than those of our Caucasian counterparts. Men and women of color already have a difficult time just living as people of color in a very racist society and to add another reason to be hated or disliked is a lot to ask of many individuals. Therefore the closet seems to be the only obvious choice. While I know that living authentically is a difficult process I do not think that it is a reason to allow the closet to consume you. For many people of color, living authentically, involves many cultural factors that make to process more challenging and really scary. It will make you weigh the options of being alienated by a strong family nucleus, condemned by a homophobic church and community as well as dealing with heterosexism. You also face the challenge of dating. Some people will not date you because they say you are “too out”. Therefore dating you would make their lives a little for obvious.

Speaking from personal experience, I have been living authentically for approximately 14 years now. While my sibling and father knew of my life in its authentic nature since 1980 others in my extended family gradually found out in years to come. It was not something I hid; however, I did not feel the need to make a major announcement. I chose not to be authentic to non-family members for some time. I got comfortable with never disclosing my personal life, however, it got very old for me one day. I had the script memorized without a problem and could spit it out without blinking. However, for some odd reason I got comfortable with who I was at the time and basically started using my partners name at the time in conversations with co-workers. Doing so probably just confirmed what some of them had already thought but never had the nerve to ask me directly. I will say to you that it has been the most liberating experience in my life. Now I work for a very large company and this information became common place throughout the company. I would say that 90% of the people I work with in the Chicago and DC offices are aware that I am a same-gender loving (SGL) man. Initially I may have had second thoughts about doing the “full disclosure” thing. Making this step allowed me to make additional steps outside of the work environment along the way. However, there has NEVER been any regret. I have taken some serious hits and lost some people in my life that were very comfortable with me being in that closet. While their decisions hurt at the time I can say I do not miss them at all. My "coming out" process years ago is still on going for I decide when to take a stand not hide behind what society has decided as the norm. The process is not a one time thing. For example when the Nordstrom’s salesperson states to you how good that suit looks and how your wife/girlfriend would love it this is your moment to say no my husband/partner.

The entire Living Authentically process takes much courage but the reward is indescribable. I know that many live a less than authentic life to shield themselves from hurt and disappointment that others throw at us. However, the closet is a dark and lonely place and once you step into the light and allow yourself to be loved for who you are totally you will begin to see the true beauty of life and people and humanity. The biggest benefit of living authentically is not being apologetic for which you are on this earth to anyone.

If you have not taken that step to live your life fully as an authentic person I ask you to give it serious consideration. You will be surprised at the support you will garner.

At the hands of a loved one!!

There is this dirty little secret that many of us keep to ourselves because of the shame that we feel surrounding a very personal issue; the issue of domestic violence. Domestic violence is the willful intimidation, physical assault, battery, sexual assault, and/or other abusive behavior by an intimate partner against another. It is an epidemic affecting individuals in every community, regardless of age, economic status, race, religion, nationality or educational background. Please note that domestic violence does not have to be physical in many cases it is verbal and just as damaging.

Approximately 10 years ago I found myself in a domestic violence relationship. The abuse reared its head several months after we began dating. It did not become physical until the last few months of the relationship. It took me a few months to get the courage to leave. Prior to entering into this relationship which approximately 2 years I would ask how anyone could stay with a person that was abusive. Today I no longer ask that question for I know from my own experience that loving someone can be an intoxicating feeling and coupled with the fear and shame of having to admit to friends and loved ones that you were a victim keeps many people in the relationship and/or very silent about the abuse. While this is not the only reason some stay it is one of the reasons. After walking away I decided not to date for the next 4 years because I walked away feeling I was the inadequate one. This person who said he loved me was able on one very memorable occasion pick me up and throw me against the wall in the blink of an eye. That moment to this day is so surreal. I will forever be scarred by the emotional damage that the abusive situations left on my spirit. I am not the same Ronald that entered that relationship and that saddens me because through it all I loved him with all my heart. However, our definitions of love were polar opposites. I have since had to counsel friends and family that find themselves in similar situations and yes for many it is very hard to leave but for personal health and wealth you must leave. I have never worn the badge of victim because that is not who I am. I did wear the badge of shame however I have removed that badge and have had the courage of telling my story for my story is like many others that find themselves in unhealthy relationships. I initially spent the years trying to reclaim the me that was lost due to that relationship but I have realized that the innocence that I carried at the time is now gone forever.

We the public have make it very hard for the abused to leave for we saddle them with so much shame by saying “I would never allow anyone to abuse me” or “Why didn’t you just leave?” or “Anyone who allows a man or woman to physically or verbally abuse them is deficient in some manner”. These statements invoke within the victim a sense of shame and degradation that is incorrectly placed at their feet and actually works in the favor of the abuser. It either keeps the abused person silent and/or feel as if there is no place to turn for help. I remember not telling my family of my abuse until maybe 2 years after the relationship ended for I was so ashamed and feared how they would view me.

The next time you hear of an abusive situation please do not pass judgment but give a word of encouragement and assistance to be there. You may be their only way out.

Here are some unsettling statistics:

• One in every four women will experience domestic violence in her lifetime.
  
• An estimated 1.3 million women and 835,000 men are victims of physical assault by an intimate partner each year.
  
• Of females killed with a firearm, almost two-thirds were killed by their intimate partners.


• In recent years, an intimate partner killed approximately 33% of female murder victims and 4% of male murder victims.
  
• Black females experienced intimate partner violence at a rate 35% higher than that of white females, and about 22 times the rate of women of other races. Black males experienced intimate partner violence at a rate about 62% higher than that of white males and about 22 times the rate of men of other races.
  
• Females who are 20-24 years of age are at the greatest risk of nonfatal intimate partner violence. African-American women experience significantly more domestic violence than White women in the age group of 20-24. Generally, Black women experience similar levels of intimate partner victimization in all other age categories as compared to White women, but experience slightly more domestic violence. The number one killer of African-American women ages 15 to 34 is homicide at the hands of a current or former intimate partner.
  

Same-gender statistics:

• 11% of lesbians reported violence by their female partner and 15% of gay men who had lived with a male partner reported being victimized by a male partner. Each year, between 50,000 and 100,000 Lesbian women and as many as 500,000 Gay men are battered.
  
• 15.4% of same-sex cohabiting men reported being raped, physically assaulted and/or stalked by a male partner, but 10.8% reported such violence by a female partner.
  The prevalence of domestic violence among Gay and Lesbian couples is approximately 25 - 33%. It is as common as it is in heterosexual relationships.
  
• Seven states define domestic violence in a way that excludes same-sex victims; 21 states have sodomy laws that may require same-sex victims to confess to a crime in order to prove they are in a domestic relationship. Therefore, the violence may never be reported.
  Same-sex batterers use forms of abuse similar to those of heterosexual batterers. They have an additional weapon in the threat of "outing" their partner to family, friends, employers or community.
  
• By 1994, there were over 1,500 shelters and safe houses for battered women. Many of these shelters routinely deny their services to victims of same-sex battering.