Blending in has only seems to have caused turmoil within my soul.

From opinions to downright rudeness I stand and listen to a sea of misdirected hate and unanswered questions.

Minding my own business my hearing was assaulted with grumblings of homophobic paranoia and stereotype.

“Why bring children into it?” He pondered. I stood there knowing that he would not fail in the delivery of his next line. In a slow southern drawl he practically sang the next line with conviction. “They shouldn’t force their ways on children by …” By what? I craved the completion of his sentence knowing it could be to my emotional demise. This small group of hens consisting of an older black man and two heavy set black women sat by the pool as I walked toward them to pick up my sandals I began to dry myself. As I wiped the water from my ears I could hear an older mans voice growling smoothly like a dog warning of an eminent attack he whispered loudly “perversion that’s all it is…” Silence came and for a moment it seemed as if I could not hear the waves in the pool. An awkward moment of silence, all speaking just stopped.
As I slowly wiped the water off my brow I noticed a friendly stare as they all looked my way. Without a second look they turned back to their circle and continued their conversation without further hesitation. “Those sodomites,” the gentleman quipped adding “and they do all those nasty things…” The ladies nodded in agreement to his depiction of the perverted. They had not given it a second thought that I was still in hearing range or that I might be one of those to whom they referred to perverse to raise children. One more glance I captured as wiped the towel across my wet body from one of the women who had been eyeing me ever since I penetrated the water of pool. She looked as if she understood but then the moment passed as she turned her attention back to her nest of judges. I thought to myself if I appeared gay would they have continued talking in front of me in this tone? Then I thought OMG they think I’m gay and that’s how the topic came up in the first place.
I began questioning myself – who am I? What am I? Why am I taking this so personal?
	Probing my mind for answers I only came up with a question; would I have sex with my wife in front of the children?
Why the assumption then? Just blending in. P.S. Dont blend in - Vote.

I had taken the persona of a zombie as I walked down the aisle that constantly reminded me of my depression. Flashes of happier times appeared before me only to slowly fade away. Then I saw him sitting there...naked. Wearing nothing but a smile, his image wasn't as clear as it should have been. None of this really mattered...Even the heaviest of hazes would not be able to overpower the loving and gentle nature that he radiated.

San Francisco, CA - July 4, 2008 – The Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual Transgender (GLBT) Historical Society and the Lambda Literary Foundation have joined forces to celebrate the contributions of three generations of GLBT Storytellers.

The two organizations will host a series of conversations, entitled “Passing On The Pen,” designed to pair some of the pioneers of GLBT literature with today’s emerging GLBT storytellers. “This is the first time anyone has ever done anything like this” says Michael Nava, author and winner of five Lambda Literary Awards. “It's a powerhouse lineup, bringing together some astonishing talent and people who I have read and respected for many years as well as some wonderful new writers.”

From March through December, the two organizations will present monthly events pairing authors from the early days of the GLBT movement with current day storytellers. Each event will be held in the gallery of the GLBT Historical society from 6:30 to 8:30, and will be free of charge and open to the public.

On July 8th, celebrated African-American queer storytellers Jewelle Gomez, the author of seven books including the double Lambda Literary Award-winning novel, The Gilda Stories; and Frederick Smith, the author of Down for Whatever and Right Side of the Wrong Bed will be the featured authors in the series.

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Angelou turned 80 last month, unabashedly enjoying center stage at parties in four states, from an everybody-is-invited fete in Winston-Salem to an A-list gala in Palm Beach, Fla., hosted by surrogate daughter Oprah Winfrey. The decades have burnished Angelou's unique place on the American scene, cemented partly in Bill Clinton's decision to ask her to read an original poem for his 1993 inauguration.

Scholars describe Angelou as a Mother Figure and a Living Ancestor, while everyday readers still memorize and recite her words. She is reported to earn $43,000 each time she speaks.

In poems, film, plays and, most centrally, her six autobiographical books, Angelou's voice continues to casts its spell. "Caged Bird" has sold about 4 million copies and is third on the American Library Association's list of the 100 most challenged titles.

It has been parodied on "The Simpsons" ("I Don't Wanna Know Why the Caged Bird Sings") and lionized in book clubs. It tells of the author's rape at age 7 by her mother's boyfriend, of his subsequent slaying and her decision to stop speaking for some five years.

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That was the question of the evening last Friday when two dozen playwrights, activists and scholars attended a discussion to address the black LGBT protagonist's place on the American stage at the Graduate Center for CUNY in Midtown. The discussion was cosponsored by Freedom Train Productions, an organization that promotes political theater written by up-and-coming black playwrights, and CUNY's Center for Lesbian and Gay Studies. The evening was moderated by Andre Lancaster, the artistic and managing director of FTP.

Playwright Aurin Squire said that the presence of black LGBT protagonists in his work was no coincidence.

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"Black Male" by S. Buck

Since the beginning, scientists have speculated on causes and orgins of human sexuality and desire. What is it, exactly, which makes A want to be with C and not B? Environment, nature, nuture. Maybe his mother was domineering and overbearing and his father was weak and distant. Perhaps as the second child and oldest boy he was coddled. Or maybe the mother was weak and overbearing and the father was distant and domineering. Or maybe it's all genetics. The debate is endless. Is the left side of the lesbian brain larger and more developed than the right?

When I was in high school I was very comfortable being a sexual non-entity. I was never teased, never called 'f****t', never nothing. A bookish, nerdy, skinny black boy is not viewed as a sexual threat. I saw how cruelly the 'exuberant' boys were treated and I wanted no part of it or of them. Truthfully, I wanted to be 'exuberant' as well but the price of admission to that club was way too high. A shame stemmed from my denial of them, and my denial of me seeing myself in them.

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Tennessee State University's Forensics Program is honored to host the 2008 National Forensics Association Championship Tournament, held April 18-21, 2008. We need your help judging a few rounds of this prestigious event. There will be prepared speeches, dramatic performance pieces and Lincoln Douglas Debate. If you are available, please contact Kimberley LaMarque for More Information, Tournament Schedule, and Judges Registration Form. 615-963-7491 · klamarque@tnstate.edu

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Hurston/Wright Writers' Week is the nation's only multi-genre summer writer's workshop for writers of African descent with a tuition-free component for high school students. Since the first workshop in the summer of 1996, over 850 writers have attended the weeklong program of classes and presentations by publishers, agents, and writers.

The Week brings together Black writers from around the United States, as well as Black writers from the Caribbean, Africa, and Europe, who create a nurturing, safe space to discuss their work, its meaning, and unique aesthetics. Hurston/Wright Writers' Week is distinguished by the diversity of the writers it attracts: published, unpublished, college students, high school students, seniors, retirees, professionals - all chosen to participate in the Week on the strength of their writing.

Perhaps the highest accolade given to the workshop is the number of participants who have returned to their communities, and inspired by Hurston/Wright Writers' Week, have formed community workshops and support groups for Black writers.

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Soul of a Woman by Albert Fennell

She didn't think that there was anything overly extraordinary about herself. As a matter of fact, she describes herself as being just another working mother that was out there trying to do the best she could. But as I listened to her recite the high and low points of her life, it became crystal clear that she wasn't the average black woman

She survived a physically abuse marriage. She told me that after the birth of her third child, she realized that things weren't going to get any better for herself and her children, and it was in that realization that she summoned the courage to pack their bags, hop on a Greyhound bus and leave the man that she loved…the man that had become everything except the man that she thought he would be. She went on to say that she willingly put her life on the backburner, opting instead to raise her sons the only way that she knew how.

When she left, she didn't have much money, but she had family, and it was in the love of her family that she took solace. She strove to make sure that her sons never knew that they didn't have a lot. Never a day went by where they didn't have lunch money. They went on class trips, proms, dates - and she filled their lives with many happy Christmas's and memorable birthdays. Throughout all that, she admitted to me that there were many nights that she cried herself to sleep because of her loneliness, but she hid her pain from her sons. She said that it was her love that she wanted to share, not her pain or disappointment.

She told me that she wanted to instill in each one of her son's a strong sense of pride, placing particular emphasis on family. She said that she wanted them to remember family because in this day in age, she believed family was all you had.

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