Dying in Silence
An ode to black gay men
by Keith R. Green
Vincent died in silence.
Always the life of the party, when he had life, his final departure was ironically absent of any form of the high-fashioned faggot frolicking or fanfare that is his legacy. In that moment, Vincent’s final moment, there was only silence.
No Chicago-style house music that he so adored. No smoke-filled rooms overflowing with down-low b-boys searching for their rhythm while ditching their blues.
No Phyllis. No Patti. No Aretha. No Sylvester. No Janet. No Destiny’s Child. No high-fashioned faggot frolicking or fanfare. In that moment, Vincent’s final moment, there was only silence.
And the lifelong weight of loneliness.
Drowning in the dingy blue sea of hospital walls. Surrounded by marvels of medical technology that, when it really mattered the most, were of no value to him. Loved ones grieving at his bedside, yet far enough away that in his mind they might as well have been some place else, doing some other thing besides watching him lay there dying. In silence. And with the lifelong weight of loneliness.
From renal failure, they believed. Or congestive heart disease, possibly. But more from a fragile heart shattered by decades of rejection from even some of them beside him in that moment, who had claimed to really love him.
But if the truth be told, they never even knew him. And they most certainly did not know the real reason he lay there dying. In silence. With a lifelong sense of loneliness.
But just as he did, they also knew. Maybe not as concretely, but innately, they knew. Choosing to remain comfortable in their respective worlds of denial. Allowing him to be silently swept away to a cross not necessary for him or anyone else like him to bear in this day and age, alone or otherwise. Paying the price for already forgiven sin. Or sin discovered perhaps to not be sin after all.
I write for every Vincent
whom I have
ever encountered |
A lie perpetuated by high-minded persons of significant influence, their personal way of grappling with their own homoerotic impulses. Hypocrites.
I digress, however, for I write not to give energy to their madness or to waste time convincing those who could care less about Vincent or the thousands, perhaps millions, of other men who walk in his shoes.
I write for every Vincent whom I have ever encountered. And for those who have yet to cross my path. For the Vincent’s whom I will never know, but who are at risk of suffering the same unfortunate fate that he did, the same fate that I miraculously escaped.
I write so that others may understand the reason why some of us choose that road, rather than to walk with the mark of the beast. The “big disease with the little name” that curses men into corners of silence.
Silence of our pain. Silence of our struggle. Silence of our feelings for one another. And silence of our disease.
But just as a man who conceals his disease cannot expect to be cured, a man who hides himself behind fear cannot expect to be affirmed for who he is. For he will always be perceived as weak. And the weak in our profit-driven society are considered of no value and, therefore, disposable.
So, my brothers, to whom I am writing, never seek to be validated in this world. For I am inclined to believe that the day in which that happens may never, ever come. At least not in this lifetime.
Instead, be fierce enough to validate the world by your existence. Understand that there exists no other creature like you. And that in the absence of all of the fabulousness that you are, the rest of this measly old universe would simply be just a bland old ball of confusion. Because that’s all it’s been made out to be.
You, however, are the spice of this life, challenging the status quo to the extent that it makes others uncomfortable. That’s okay. They should be uncomfortable.
Be who you are and be it well.
Respect yourself and others will have no choice but to respect you. Love who you are and others will do the same. And even if the ones who you most desperately want to love you do not, your light will shine so bright that others who don’t even know you will want to love you. Allow them to. Allow yourself to experience love and all of the joy it can bring to your life. Trust that if you are honest about who you are and what you feel, you will attract the same thing.
Understand that there is no other creature in the world like you. And never allow yourself to be convinced of the notion that you are disposable.
Death is inevitable. So choose to live your life out loud and, when it’s time, to die in that very same spirit, free of that lifelong weight of loneliness.
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