As a writer my thought process for writing is mostly stimulated by what catches my eyes and ears and holds my attention for long enough to develop into strong feelings. Love seems to be the dominating theme in my life this year. The love for my family,I've spent every weekend in the past two months at with my father, the love for my friends, I'm hosting a dinner party where every one from Australia to Boston comes to my place for a bi-anual dinner party, and love for self, I'm drug free and committed to doing what I was born to do write.
We live in a world where I've found in my thirty-two years that love does conquer all. But this is only true when we love ourselves. I've spent years trying to love myself when for most of my life I was told I was not good enough by my parents who used God as their excuse to not give me the love I was worth. I searched for this love through sex, through work, and through very unhealthy behaviors like drugs. Today I am grateful that the God of my understanding has given me the sight to see my worth and the courage to actively show it. Not everyone is this lucky.
With the death of Michael Jackson I ask myself why is it to this day that the black community is so un-excepting of homosexuals to the point of death to the point of after death. Growing up gay in the time that Michael did with a father who beats all of those feminine qualities out of you, I can understand how you could loose your sexual identity in the harsh realities of the world you were brought up in. But when is enough enough?
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