LAST WORDS

heartbreakHere I am, writing down my emotions, because I’d rather do that than speak a word about what I’m feeling. Recently I don’t even know what I feel.

I dated a man. He was strong, handsome, unique, interesting. He also had a baby mama, who he says is alright with his bisexuality. I guess she was, until I came into the picture.

He introduced me to her when he and I first started dating. She smiled at me and said hi. She shook my hand, and then we danced together. It was a party, and her friends were there too. They kept staring at me and talking amongst themselves. I wasn’t comfortable with that, being the new boyfriend suffering the distant dissection of my beau’s ex female love interest. But it was a party. So I kept on drinking and dancing.

And then, as I got comfortable in my relationship, she got less comfortable with me being around. There was drama. There was hate. And there were children involved. It broke my heart that she was using their children as a weapon to drive a wedge in between me and my beau. The entire brewing mess affected me in ways I thought wasn’t possible. I wanted the best for my man as much as I wanted him with me, but then I loved the way his eyes shone when he talked about his kids. Before the drama. Before the mess. Continue reading

HIS COMING OUT STORY (It’s A Family Affair Too)

Happy black family togetherAs I lay on my bed early that April, my heart raced as I pondered over what may have transpired the previous night. I was left all alone in the sitting room as my mum and siblings held a discussion in the bedroom. This was quite unusual as we normally had our discussions together. The hushed tone of their conversation was far from comforting. Somehow, I knew I was the topic of their discussion.

Months prior to that time, I made the tough decision of telling my mother of my sexuality. She didn’t yell or wail, as I had imagined. Instead, she calmly told me that it was good I told her and even blamed me for not telling her earlier. She said everything was going to be fine. I blinked in disbelief as I heard her words. It sounded too good to be true –indeed, it was. Continue reading

Carl’s Existentialism I

Blog_Carl’s ExistentialismAre Secrets and Dreams compatible?

There is a new TV show called Secrets and Lies. It is basically about how a man finds a dead boy in the woods, and later becomes the prime suspect in the murder case. It’s a good show, and I’m recommending it. Why did I bring it up? Well, as the protagonist, Ben’s life is turned upside down by the detective in charge of the case – whose character I absolutely love – his secrets and everyone’s secrets around start to unravel. This begins the end of his marriage, good friendships, and for some time, his sanity, as sometimes, he can’t determine if he killed the boy or not.

Everyone has secrets. If you don’t, then I don’t suppose you have lived one second on planet earth. I have secrets too. A handful of them. The biggest one being that I’m gay, which I suppose you all know, since I am contributing to this blog and talking about hot boys. Continue reading

What’s On Your Mind… IV

Blog_What's On Your MindBased on the background information supplied in some KDians’ comments here, I’ve often wondered: Born This Way or Converted This Way?

A number of times on this blog, the issue of whether men are born gay or whether they are turned away from their ‘normal’ heterosexual yearnings and onto the gay path has come up. This is one issue that often twists and turns in my head like a loose bolt.

Some commenters have given instances of straight guys being turned gay after money, jobs or other favours were placed on the table to sweeten the deal. There have been insistences that these guys were totally straight previously and only agreed to be with a man on account of the material inducements.

Hmmm. Continue reading

KIZITO SPEAKS IV

Blog_Kizito SpeaksIt was the usual boring day, a bright day though. The sun was high up in the sky; I was going to wash my clothes.

He had been spying on me. He’d noticed my secrecy with that book – my diary. He’d been watching somehow. I noticed. But I always hid the book. Surely he would not go through the stress of ravaging my belongings just to see what was written beneath the hard cover, I thought.

Hmmm.

My elder brother. Alex.

On this fateful day, Alex decided he couldn’t contain his curiosity any longer. I was downstairs washing. The perfect opportunity. We shared the same room, but he locked the door and began Operation Find Kizito’s Diary. Hian. Nosy much? Continue reading

HIS COMING OUT STORY (Edition 4)

g-stay7Truth be told, I never once believed I would ever tell this story because every bit of it hurts me daily. But here goes.

My name is Mitch and I am gay. I was born the only son and the second and last child in my family, and was raised in a Christian home where life and everything else we did revolved around God, the Bible and perfection. Having perfectionist parents didn’t help matters much as all of our daily activities as kids were modeled and maintained religiously by our parents. We had strict schedules which very rarely included TV. On the rare occasions when we watched TV, it usually was to watch Christian kid movies such as the Do-nut Man series, Psalty the singing songbook, or Mother Goose. It was on one of these rare occasions that I had a glimpse of the existence of a major part of myself.

I was four at the time and my entire family was watching one of the Do-nut Man movies, when I felt this intense attraction for a black boy in the movie. Not knowing what to do or make of the weirdness I felt, I began to cry (yeah, I can be sissy like that), thus drawing the attention of my parents. When they questioned me, I told them that seeing that kid made me feel lonely because I had no brother. That was truthfully, the only way I could explain what I felt at that moment. My dad accepted my explanation but I vividly remember my Mother giving me this odd look. Continue reading

APOLLO, A Story By Chimamanda Adichie

150413_r26361-877This piece of fiction, penned by acclaimed writer, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, was originally published on The New Yorker. A friend of mine read it and passed me the link with a scoffing “The main character, that Okenwa person, as a kid – he was so gay.” So, I read it. But I quite disagreed with my friend. In my opinion, the choices Okenwa made as a child may or may not have been driven by an unrecognized homosexuality.

But hey, if you haven’t already read it, here it is. Read and let us know your thoughts.

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Twice a month, like a dutiful son, I visited my parents in Enugu, in their small over-furnished flat that grew dark in the afternoon. Retirement had changed them, shrunk them. They were in their late eighties, both small and mahogany-skinned, with a tendency to stoop. They seemed to look more and more alike, as though all the years together had made their features blend and bleed into one another. They even smelled alike—a menthol scent, from the green vial of Vicks VapoRub they passed to each other, carefully rubbing a little in their nostrils and on aching joints. When I arrived, I would find them either sitting out on the veranda overlooking the road or sunk into the living-room sofa, watching Animal Planet. They had a new, simple sense of wonder. They marveled at the wiliness of wolves, laughed at the cleverness of apes, and asked each other, “Ifukwa? Did you see that?” Continue reading

JAMES’ JOURNAL (Entry 33)

Blog_James' JournalApril 3

*searches deep down into soul for something inspirational to write*

*finds out all the soul is thinking about is the big box of chocolates in the freezer*

Hello creatures of KD. I hail all of una… The Queen mother of dragons, the ever controversial Gad, the slightly venomous Max, Pinky the demon who thrives on controversy, my new friend Mitch, everyone else I can’t mention, and the ghosts who show up to read and not say squat for fear of being destroyed by our sharp-tongued brethren. Why don’t y’all take a chance and comment today? Hope y’all had a lovely month-end weekend. Scratch that – can’t bear the thought that your weekends were better than mine, because nobody else deserves to be happy unless I’m happy.

This past weekend has been one heck of a ride, and I was taken back approximately four years ago when on Friday, my mum asked me the question again: “Are you still gay?”

I knew she knew the answer, so I didn’t bother lying. She then said she wanted me to go see a pastor. She said he’s a man of God gifted with prayers and etc. I agreed. Last time something like this was brought up, I disagreed. This time however, I agreed because I’m supposed to honour my parents. Continue reading