I never liked the taste of lies,

So I should’ve known better than to trust a man who couldn’t look me in the eyes. I should’ve known better than to believe in him after my intuition told me that he wasn’t any good. We meet on a warm summer night about six years ago and hit it off right away even enough to share some beers and a couple shots of Hennessy over a few games of pool. I didn’t even like Hennessey but this guy had a smooth way of talking people into things. He had a convincing way about his actions but one thing I quickly noticed was his eyes would never meet mine. But I was new to the scene and vulnerable at that time because I was in search of friends in this new world and I wanted to take a sip of perhaps something more; I wanted to taste what intimacy was like on a deeper level. Despite the lack of eye contact we became quick close friends and even explored romance until the warning from others came. I was told not to trust that damn fool but once again he was convincing enough for me to take his words over people I barely knew. And what he convinced me of was that “fags” were envious and just a bunch of gossip queens. I had just enough experience during that time to buy into it.
Sometimes you have to take in a little of the false to get a whole lot of the truth.

Over time he became my roommate and the true colors started to show. I instantly knew I made a mistake but still wanted to believe in him. He lost his job so he said but claimed as a Car dealer he could find another job whenever he wanted. He was a quick talker and a master of bullshit if you tell me and he played the role with an Oscar winning performance. Enough that mutual friends begin believing that I was the one treating him like a pair of raggedy ole sneakers tossed over a telephone line. They started to believe I was making his world miserable. Seriously that’s how good he was. And all the while I had received bad rent checks and bills unpaid to go along with a whole bunch of stress I thought I was too young to die from but it was killing me. Living in my own apartment for that period of time with someone I bonded with over shots of cognac because a miserable time for me. And to think I never liked the taste of lies but I was taking sips of it daily until one day I came home and all of his stuff along with his deceit was gone and never heard from again. And then after all the stories and signs I should’ve seen stood clear in my mind. It definitely was a learning experience for me at a young age of independence. It was a defining period in my maturity level and a reason why a half sip of cognac goes down much smoother than a full shot of lies.

© 2010

Tarringo T. Vaughan

Diary Of A Gay Black Man

A Friday night and I was sitting alone staring off into the past wondering if I said the wrong thing or maybe it was something I didn’t say. The beginning years of my thirties led me to this new discovery of confidence. Maybe it was being in better shape or a deeper self-awareness but I believed in what I represented and that I had something great to offer to that someone out there. In my middle to late twenties I lacked that confidence and it chased a few good men away because they believed if you couldn’t love yourself how can you love someone else and I knew they were right. And the more and more I experienced the gay world, I realized how much of that self love was missing; not just inside my own soul but others out there.

Many of us are so often rejected by the world out there that we come to expect it in some cases want to do the rejecting to save ourselves the time. And as I sipped my beer watching the phone refuse to ring, I started wondering what I did to get blown off and suddenly I was back in that phrase of no confidence having a conversation with time asking questions that had no known answer.

I met him on a Saturday night in a dance club in Hartford, Connecticut. My friends were the outgoing ones as they were older, confident and experienced. I was use to them getting all the attention although they claimed I got plenty. But I didn’t see it because I was lost inside a self-image that refused to showcase my attractions.

As the music played I watched everyone around me sell themselves freely and I stood there in the corner trying not to be seen but he saw me and I looked back. His body language waved at me and my eyes shyly waved back. He was manly, handsome with a shine of intelligence to him and when he finally came over our smiles clicked and we were strangers who seemed to know each other forever. It was unexpected but that early-thirty confidence flourished out of me asking for his number and a time to hangout away from the noisy smoke of the dance floor and away from my friends cheering me on from every corner of the bar. I felt good about the situation because for the first time I took the imitative and I was the aggressor and a phone call later in that week confirmed a date on a Friday night.

He said he couldn’t wait to see me because I was everything he looked for in a man. And I smiled as I put on my polo shirt and sprayed a little bit too much cologne thinking about how I felt when he said those words just a few hours before; a call that ended with him saying he would call around 6:30 before he left. By 6:45 I figured he had lost directions and it gave me time to change into a different pair of jeans.

The fragrance of the night seemed just right but by 7:00 I called his phone and no answer. So I sat with a little bit of worry and a whole lot of wonder.

Things do happen I told myself but things don’t just happen when someone is two hours late and at 8:30 I figured I experienced being stood up for the first time. It was after my second beer that I stopped wondering what I did wrong and recognized that it was him. It was his fear, his insecurity and his loss but I still looked up at a slowly clicking clock asking time what could’ve happened. But the clock just kept ticking, fading into new hours of disappointment but a new moment of discovery called a learning experience.

© 2010
Tarringo T. Vaughan

 
I’ve have many discussions about this lately but I’ve defined homosexually or any sexually as the emotional attraction you have for someone. Because quite frankly, I can still physically have sex with a woman but there would be  no emotional attachment. Definitely not the same feeling as being with a man. And ladies please don’t take offense to that because I assure you it’s nothing you did wrong because I do believe the female body is one the greatest creations.

 
Curiosity is a human trait, something we all naturally have inside of us. Some of us have a stronger desire to act on it or even want to act on it. My view of the world has always been that life is short and there’s no other way to really find out about who you are than to explore and experience the unknown. And eventually I took that step at the age of twenty-five. The curiosity became so strong that I just had to know if I was a gay man or just a man who would screw anything with feet. Now my first time with a guy wasn’t good at all, but I knew that was just the guy I was with. He had no clue what he was doing so from that experience and knowing that I wanted more, I realized my sexuality.

 
But I still had denial. I felt I was too masculine to be gay from what I saw out there. I still was very reluctant to step in the gay bars downtown. Gay men simply freaked me the hell out because of what I was exposed to growing up and what I saw through the media. Gay meant AIDS, Gay meant dressing as a woman, Gay meant getting your ass kicked and Gay was not something I wanted to be. But finding others like me and discovering that there were tons of people who felt Gay was cool and supported it made me more comfortable exploring this curiosity.

 
Yet I did continue to live life on the down low. I wasn’t afraid of what people thought of me because I’m a very self depended person and if someone can’t accept my package then they are not worth having. I just believed that it wasn’t worth the stress of bringing attention to me. For example, as a black man why would I choose to go in a KKK neighborhood in the Deep South preaching “Black power”? There are just situations you stay away from. Where I live is definitely not as severe, but if I know walking down the street holding hands with another man Is going to bring attention and stares, it’s just not the attention I’m looking for. I know there are other gay men who would strongly disagree with that, but we are all have our different comforts in life and we should be respected for any way we want to approach them. All in all I’m happy with where my curiosity has brought me.   I’m established, building a muscular body, growing with my writing and have tons of readers who follow the emotions of my heart and mind. And I wouldn’t be who I am if I was still hidden deep in the closet.  Just remember, there’s nothing wrong with curiosity, it helps build who your meant to be.

I felt trapped inside the walls of societal expectations, inside my family’s vision and inside my own hope to be normal. I didn’t want to be the one slurred at and pointed at as different. I didn’t want to be called a sissy or queer for being me but as reality set in; my inner feelings had to learn to accept this life. And as I watch them almost every weekend in a local bar I understand them because I see through them what I life could’ve been if I remained hidden. Like them I could’ve been married with kids on the outside but on the inside living on the down low, lying to manufactured life hurting those who think they know me all the while betraying the honesty of myself. I sometimes wonder where their wives think they are when they are out exploring their temptation and when they are out having drinks with their only companion known as the truth. As I notice them, they seem to be enjoying this only time where they can be themselves. I pay attention because I could’ve been them if I didn’t embrace myself just in time.

One is an older gentleman who hides his eyes just enough to reveal his stare. He stands in corners, gives false names and knows how to play the game. Sometimes he is just a whisper but other times his voice is heard when he finds his comfort; married with four kids, a city worker, taking a chance just by being there. Taking a chance by exposing himself in a world he knows he belongs by risking the years he built to be who he felt he had to be to become his identity. Every time I see him I think about the life his wife thinks she has lived and how her own health is a risk every time he allows a stranger in his car. But this is the road where closed mindedness and the fear of non-acceptance have led him. A destination where he can only be who he is on a weekend night, on a bar stool rubbing the thigh of a man he can only meet once.
And the other is slightly younger, more vocal and doesn’t mind exposing his life. He says he has a great sexual relationship with his wife but he desires that closeness with other men for those moments during his few hours out. He doesn’t openly hide because he’s a people’s person and enjoys the company of those he feels he connects with. But he also lives a lie that disconnects him from the great relationship he claims he has. And perhaps he does but that fear of revealing himself to her demonstrates knowledge within himself that he is not fully happy with the path he has chosen. He is an undercover man lover stuck in a world he believed in. He followed a road that told him the only definition of a man was being with a woman. A destination that has him running to his car at 11:59 pm to get home five minutes before his wife so she thinks he’s been home all night.

They are two of many living a separate life because of that fear of non-acceptance and they are two of many living this reality. These are not just tales, this is real life. These are husbands, boyfriends, priests, politicians, celebrities on the down low because they are afraid for people to know. And any one of them could’ve easily been me if I didn’t recognize the path my life was taking by hiding.

© 2010
Tarringo T. Vaughan
Diary Of A Gay Black Man: Hiding to be seen

Sometimes I look for balance.

I look for balance in a world that doesn’t want to hear my heart…completely. There are times where I feel like I’m falling with no support and no one to reach out their hands to catch me. I hear the hatred, I feel the stares, I smell the fear and although it’s not all intended for me as an individual, I still experience the pain. Each man and woman who lives this experience and celebration called Homosexuality share that renewal of feeling alone in a crowded room. Yes, I did call it a celebration because those of us who embrace who we are pave a path full of new views in the minds of those who don’t understand or not willing to sacrifice a piece of their hearts to accept. But, you know, sometimes I wonder if I didn’t embrace the wholeness of me; I wonder where I would be in this world if I stayed hidden behind layers of shame and hidden deep in a closet of emotional suffocation. Would I find that balance?

Overall, I’ve been lucky. I’ve had co-workers, friends and family accept who I am. Even those who chose not to acknowledge it show me a respect by not turning their backs and hearts on me. I’ve always told myself that it would be their loss if they did and it would be, but it would hurt inside and I can honestly tell you that I don’t know how I would be able to handle it. There is no amount of strength that can cure the disappointment of having the ties of natural love unknotted. There is no amount of pride that can withhold being looked at through familiar eyes with disgust. Yet, there are many out there who have to live with this emptiness and unfortunately many who have taken their own lives because of this same emptiness. Why can’t life give them that same balance to stand strong and tall on a tightrope constantly in the vibration of non-acceptance. Sometimes I wish this world was different but most of the time I know it needs to stay this way we can all grew stronger in some way. I guess what I’m trying to say is that if the world was perfect we wouldn’t need a reason for healing and growing.

Sometimes I think, when the world is not breathing, why life plays tic-tac-toe with many of us. The X’s and O’s don’t always balance out because those X’s are the challenges thrown our way consecutively and those who are not strong enough lose instantly or feel like giving up. There was an eleven year old from my town who couldn’t take it anymore because he was teased for being gay and feminine and there was a college student from Rutgers University who couldn’t take it anymore because he couldn’t live with the embarrassment present and orchestrated by others. They were already born with an X and so was I. Sometimes I just wonder if we’d ever be equal participants in this game called life.

© 2010
Tarringo T. Vaughan

It’s that voice you feed in the many crowded spaces of silent that reminds you that you are not alone. And as I sat in my sunlit apartment on an early Saturday afternoon I wondered about myself. I wondered if there was any chance of connection for me as I was newly discovered in a new world that had yet to know my name.

I was too quiet and hesitant and the kind of person who waited around for things to happen to me. I found myself unhappy and lost all ambition to believe in the gay world. I felt alone in an empty crowd. Apart of it but yet very disconnected until I found a gay chat site on the internet. It was there in this cyber space that I found many like me; many just opening their eyes to new visions of discovery so I began to communicate. After about an hour or so I found myself in this continuous conversation with a guy who had much in common. He was just a screen name but the individuality in him quickly shined through and after a couple more hours that online conversation transferred to a phone conversation where two the common voices of strangers connected in familiarity.

A bond is a connection between two souls discovered.

I never expected this kind of interaction. And I never believed it possible from that sort of venue but there he was talking and sounding so real.

As that afternoon turned to early evening a phone conversation turned into a possible meeting. The hesitance resurfaced inside me and all the doubt bullied my thoughts for just a moment. But something told me to meet this man for dinner so I did and at that time was never treated with so much respect and gentleness than I was when our eyes met and a new connection began. It was beginning to feel like one of those lifetime movies where two people meet out of fate. He was a couple years older, taller, well built and very real.

We continued to talk over Chinese dumplings and a glass of wine. He was changing the way I viewed this new world; this gay world and for once in long time I felt a constant smile on my face. And a once lonely Saturday afternoon turned into a warm night of walking and having ice cream. We traded our experiences and continued to connect until the night had to finally end. It turned into a few months of dating and an eternity of an experience. I was in my mid twenties back then, lost, alone and pessimistic about this life until that moment of connection set me on a new path of possibility.

The people we meet help write the chapters of our definition.

© 2010
Tarringo T. Vaughan

Nothing about me as a teenage boy was all that different in appearance besides the clothes my mother got off lay away that I wore. I had crushes on girls so I thought; I played sports, loved junk food and watched wrestling on Saturdays. But in school I still refused to allow myself to open up. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, it’s because by doing so I would be exposing that inner secret. A secret that even I didn’t know existed. The way I looked at Eric, the way I got along with Miguel was weird feelings. And the fact I couldn’t keep my eyes off of naked boys in the shower told me something I was afraid was true. It told me I was gay. My secret became my loneliness.

An unbelievable transformation took place as I entered college. That lanky, skinny, black boy, now nineteen years of age became popular. It was like being away from home just opened up my humor, my intelligence, my being. That empty lunch table now surrounded me by many different kinds of people who sought out to know who I was. And they say college is a place we find ourselves, and I’ll say that’s true. Not forgetting who I was, I extended my hand to any kid I saw as a loner. I became the life of parties, the social organizer, and the kid no one could stay mad at. But still, there was ridicule and certain people I went back into my shell around. It became a different kind of loneliness because I had to be the person everyone expected me to be, there was no way I was gay in their eyes. How do I tell my best friends that after dancing with girls at parties, that behind closed doors I was looking at gay porn? How do I tell people I hear using the term “faggot”, that indeed they were hanging with one? Popularity brings loneliness when no one sees behind lonely eyes.

As an adult and someone you all have read as a very open person it all started with levels of loneliness. That feeling that no one will understand, no one can understand helped me realized that in all reality there’s always someone who will be there to offer a hug. As a man who has defined himself, I still have that loneliness because once again people see me and assume I got it going on. I must have tons of men knocking down my door. But the problem is they all assume the same so no one is knocking. As some of you know, there is someone lightly tapping and he has been for over a year. When I look at him I see an older version of me, we’ve probably traveled different roads but along the way we’ve experienced similar experiences. We are two lonely guys who choose to be lonely instead of hurt. The gay world, the world in general can really injure a heart to the point where it may take a transplant to fix. And the way families abandon children who they find out are gay ends up being grown men and women eating Thanksgiving alone and no gifts under Christmas trees; lonely because of non-acceptance.

My words as a writer become my friends in those moments I feel that loneliness. To have someone just to lie next to and wake up with is fulfilling sure. There are some weekends I do have that, but to just know there is someone out there who puts you number one is the ultimate feeling of importance. So I end this volume in saying that we can’t be loved until we are ready to show the world who we are. And we can’t love until we face our levels of loneliness.

(c) 2008

Tarringo T. Vaughan

Sometimes we don’t realize our own fears until we are faced with them. A co-worker screams suddenly and intensely every time she spots a spider; this is her arachnophobia: a phobia that many people besides her have, but a phobia that can be overcome through more exposure to spiders and that can be the case for many of our fears.

As a child and into my early adulthood I was afraid of my own image in the mirror which is something they call Eisoptrophobia; something I never heard of but after realizing what exactly it was I understood my own fear. Time has healed me, seeing myself and loving myself more has healed me although there are still times I don’t like seeing images of myself. And I’ve heard of fear of heights, animals, the outdoors but I never thought or realized there were people with a fear of me.
Homophobia: The fear of homosexuality or fear of being homosexual.

Where do I begin here but to say I use to have the fear of being gay myself.

When I started to realize the possibility, I decided I wanted to hide it or hoped it was just a phrase. Overtime I realized I was hiding who I was out of fear of society’s view on me. Not sure what they would call that kind of phobia. But I and so many others suffered from it.

In fact I know many who still do.

Homophobia is indeed a fear but it is more defined as hatred… or is it cowardice?

To an extent I can understand how hard it can be to accept difference, especially when there is a lack of knowledge or exposure to that difference. Isn’t that where we get many of these phobias? Times are getting better though as people are becoming more open minded and accepting but of course the more things change the more things stay the same. Homophobia isn’t cool these days so I find that it’s hidden as is racism or any other prejudice out there. But there is still small mindedness rampant out there.

Some people have a fear of thinking…(for themselves) called phronemophobia and a fear of knowledge called gnogiophobia. Yes, there’s a name for all kinds of fear. And I actually think homophobia contains both of those fears. An openness to think and openness to knowledge when it comes to those we see as different. And when there are differences even within that subgroup we really have to open ourselves up to understanding or attempting to.

Homophobia is something that pisses me off more than hurts me as an individual because if your content with yourself then there is no need to try to make someone else feel small or “Queer” for not being like you. And I’m going to say this as I know some are homophobic when it comes to these journal entries (this one in particular).

There is no worst phobia out there than the fear of yourself.

Think about that.

Their two hands connected perfectly creating a picture of commitment and beauty.  Two black women walking proudly down the street not afraid of showcasing their love and I smiled again.  I smiled because for that moment no one stopped to stare at them in disgust; no one even gave a second look except for me.  But I was watching their openness, their happiness their pride.  I wiped away over twenty years of tears with the handkerchief of their bond.  But new tears watered in my eyes not because of them but because of those not so lucky to be able to live openly being themselves.  I cry no longer for me but for them.

These are not my tears.

These are his tears, your son, who is afraid to tell you because of fear of you not loving him.  He hides who he is, he is secretive, and he stops looking you in the eye and the only why is because of what his heart feels.  He sleeps in shame while suffocating his own air in self blame.  He wants to tell you, but will you accept him or turn his world cold avoiding his needs to have your love to hold.

These are not my tears.

These are her tears, the girl you work with, who is afraid of the judgments if she ever told you she kissed another girl.  Although it’s considered “cool”, that is not all, she is afraid how you may change opinion of her for wanting to marry another woman and make a family.  You may think she’s strange, but she is just waiting for open mindedness and change to share her world.  Will you accept her?

These are not my tears.

These are their tears, your friends, family members, spouse, who are suffocating in closed closets because they fear losing the love of those they feel close just to obtain the love they have in their hearts.  These tears do not flow by choice or preference.  They are the condensation of their hearts and spirit.

These are not my tears.

They were my tears as I was someone’s son, brother, friend, co-worker who was afraid.  And that was the loneliest fucking feeling in the world.  To feel like an outcast just for living life the way you were meant to.  These are no longer my tears as I recognize what others are going through.  These are the tears of the boy who committed suicide at the age of eleven because he was called a faggot on school playgrounds, and he was a happy child until he was pointed out as different.  So as I write this diary, I have all of them watering in my eyes because we are human beings dammit. We are human beings with hearts that can be easily shattered with the stones of your stares and the brick wall of you turning your back.

These are not my tears.

They are yours

Tarringo T Vaughan

When we experience growth we sometimes become unrecognizable to ourselves.

            The music thumped as hesitant shadows scraped the dance floor with stiffened movements and wild attire.  Black lights spotlighted the lint of many minds loose and intoxicated.  I stood with a drink half filled with ice leaning against a crowded bar where frustrated patrons waved aimlessly for the attention of a bartender who thought he was the hottest attraction in the bar.  He had much competition because many were already dancing with their own reflections in a steamed filled distorted mirror.  And I remember having my own confidence as I saw an image of who I use to be just years before.  Back then I would’ve been standing there with a different purpose.  I would’ve had my arms folded and judged everyone around me not because I thought I was better but because I was catapulted into a new world; a world I hid for so long not to be a part of.

There were many aspects of the gay world I didn’t understand because I simply didn’t want to understand them.  I saw a lifestyle that was different than what I was exposed to and a lifestyle that didn’t fit the aspirations stenciled into my ambition.  I was living as a photograph airbrushed and distorted to fit the vision of what those around me wanted me to be.  But looking back at those self portraits I was not smiling because something within me felt incomplete and with that incompleteness came a lot of insecurity.  And if I wasn’t secure with who I was how could I stand proudly behind a definition I had yet to explore?

It was during that time that I met many guys who misjudged me or didn’t have the patience for me to find that confidence I needed to stand with pride in the gay community.  So I shut myself off, kept quiet and judged those I saw around me.  I was a portrait of a man not willing to open up and accept his own sexuality.  And there was no acceptance until I allowed my heart to lead the way.  So as I stood there with the music thumping and blowing the dust of this memory of who I was, I begin to bob my head and appreciate my surroundings.  I stood there with a confidence and a new openness that made those same guys who shied away from me walk up and want to get to know me for it was my growth within myself that made me more than just a part of the gay community.  It made me one of the definitions of a community that just years ago I didn’t understand.

Life is the exploration of our hearts.