They were Gods.

I’m from Texas, some say the south, others it’s more southwestern, but it always felt southern to me. Wasn’t too far from Louisiana or  Alabama. Most of our family reunions took place in Mississippi or  Georgia. So I like to think of myself as a southern boy.

As the end of my twenties approaches, I like to revisit my youth in my mind. Sometimes I feel stuck there. When I came out, I was living in San Antonio, Texas, such a small city compared to where I’m living now, not so fast, it was slow as molasses. There weren’t many gay clubs, actually there was just one or two, the second one was not really gay but straight and gay. The gay club was called Papermoon, they since changed the name to what I can’t remember. I started going to Papermoon around age 15 and 16, I had a fake i.d. that said I was twenty two. Gay life sorta became my recluse. I was still in high school, I was still playing the role, I had the girlfriend, was on the soccer team, trying to pretend that I was perfect, that I was normal, like them. But on the weekend, I suddenly disappear from my friends, I had a new group of friends, and we would go to the gay club or the gay spots, and I would just feel at home. It wasn’t about sex, but a world I could control. I felt I had power in the gay life.

I eventually left San Antonio when I graduated high school. I thought I was heading to New York but the lack of a scholarship sent me to the University of Texasmy freshman year then on to University of Houston. I immediately loved Houston, mostly because there were more black people. And there was a black gay club. It was fascinating. I had never been to a black gay club.

I was in college, supposedly becoming my potential, supposedly studying to get a good job in corporate America and accumulate materialism, but none of that appealed to me. I never cared about the title or the degree. I wanted attention. That’s why I fell in love with the club. I think the club means something more down south than it does up north. Down south there aint much for a black gay boy too look up to, not good jobs, no room to exist. The club was identity. Who you were at the club, was how you defined your entire life. It didn’t matter what you did during the day, the night was the only thing that mattered. It was about your body, your face, your wardrobe. It didn’t matter if you charged, stole, robbed for it, prostituted for it. It only mattered if you served that night. It you served in that moment. Because the right outfit and attitude could make you a God.

I was just a simple southern boy growing up in Texas, and every Thursday, they would have the talent show and drag queen show at this bar called Rascals. I didn’t care how I came up with the five dollars to get in the club, but I knew I had to be there on Thursdays. It was more important than my mid-terms. Thursdays were like magic. I loved seeing the drag queens performed. They were like Gods. They got so much attention. I love tipping the drag queen, because for a couple of seconds I got to bask in her spotlight. It was what I craved. I wanted to be legendary, that’s what it was called in Texas, a person who will not be forgotten. Tommie Ross was legendary, Peaches was legendary, a hustler named David was legendary. People talked about him long after he died. They were gods. Everyone at the club knew them. It was our own world. The other world we just pretended. The other world we were just asleep. But when I was at the club, I could wake up. I could live.

I had decided around 25 or 26 that I wanted to be legendary. I was working some lame corporate job in Chicago and hated it. I only felt alive when I was at the club, so I decided that I was going to start my own magazine. So when I got laid off, finally, I embarked on the adventure. I didn’t know it was going to be so much work. I only got to the first issues and decided I didn’t want to do that. But I still wanted to be legendary. I wanted to do something the kids would remember. I just didn’t want to be another black fag in the club. I just didn’t want to die another black fag in the club. I guess the illusion had unraveled. The gods, they were just tragic fags. Without the lights and make-up and theatrics, they were sad. They were on drugs. They were often homeless. Even that hustler David, died alone from aids. I didn’t want to die another black fag who once danced on the floor of another closed black gay club.

I felt I was stuck in that world, maybe because I didn’t think I was good enough. I had been pretending, I had been lying for so long. It’s hard when the illusion unravels. It hard when you get to the club before it opens, and you see it just a rundown box, but the minutes the lights go down, and the music start pumping and the drinks start flowing, everyone becomes a star.

I wanted to be a god. Maybe because the night life was something I thought I control. I was young, attractive, had a great body, so many men wanted me, I could smile and get in the club free, I could dance until my shirt was soaked in sweat and they would watch me. I liked the attention. I craved the attention. I felt like a god. But in that other world, I was just a weak mortal. I had issues with my family. I hated my job. I was in a loveless relationship. I was constantly confused. So I kept rushing back to the club. they I kept rushing back to the alchohol. Reality is a bitch. I hated reality. We weren’t friends.

But gods are quickly forgotten when the religion changes, when the wind blows in the new seeds, because we all die.

yes I must go on, the rest of my life is waiting, and I will write books and some will be successful, I will buy a house and a nice car, I will get a pet, probably maintain a successful relationship, that’s because life changes. But it will not be like my youth, not the same passion, not that intensity, when life was fucking selfish before I knew the world didn’t revolve around me.

maybe that’s why we protect the young, because we are really protecting the memory of our own youth.

when I die, hopefully too many years from now, I want my last thought be of me dancing on the floor, when I was young, and they watched, and I was god.

Comments

[Omar Miguel]

WOW!! I stumbled across your blog from someone's page (can't remember who). Your most recent post really hit home for me. For the last year or so I've been having trouble letting go of my younger years. I turned 31 last Saturday, but when I was turning 30 last year it was an emotional event for me. I remember living in Houston when I was 20-24. Living there in my younger years I was heavy into the club scene...Rascals, Incognito and even worked a PT cashier job at Midtowne Spa. Man, I was in the club with the patent-leather pants on, dancing until I was coming out of most of my clothes so that everyone could see me and my body (even did a few porn tapes, some internet porn when it was a fairly new). Everyone wanted me and like you I loved the attention, even from those who hated me cause I had it going on (in college, a good job, nice apt in West University, tons of friends). My best friend was a drag queen, so like you I shared in her/his spot light. We had the latest fashions on our back (we'd buy them in the store on Saturday, wore them that night, aired them out and returned them a few days later after the cigarette smoke aired out). Let me not mention, the petty theft I did (thank God I was never caught) for jewelry and shit. Wow, I had so much fun. But something clicked in me around 23. It dawned on me that I had fun and needed to do something meaningful with my life instead of living for the club life and the gay scene. I left Houston in 2000 for DC to boost my career and work on my Master's degree. Unlike you, I felt I needed to make it in corporate America and obtain those mateial things. I came from a poor family. To prove to myself that I made it, I strived for those material things and so I can help out my family downsotuh (I am from ATL, I live din Houston during my college years). I've got a luxury car, a house, and stable job, a family that loves me and a spiritual relationship with my God. Now I look back at all those people who I left behind in Houston, the club heads, drag queens, etc. I speak to my old friends in Houston every now and then to get the dish on people and places in Houston. Some of my friends in Htown are dead from drugs, HIV, etc. Some are still stuck in the club scene (old club heads) and living off of others or homeless. As I surf the net and see the younger gay kids, growing up and doing the things I did at their age...I just hope and pray that they have their fun now, but are responsible about their lives and plan for their future and not end up like so many others I've seen fall by the wayside through the years. So as you leave your twenties, don't think of the times that have past. But, keep thinking of the times that are yet to come in your life as you mentioned in your post. God bless you and your future man. I wish you happiness and success in whatever you do.

[Steven]

I like your point of view. Very much so.