Happy New Year

Happy New Year

Saturday 9:30 pm

Location: Kramer’s Books

I never understood why bougie queens always wanted to prove how smart they were by wanting to go to a coffee house, art house, bookstore, or some shit like that. Somehow being surrounded by books gives the illusion of being well read. This is quickly shattered when the question “what was the last book you read” is uttered. Like a deer in headlights said queen freezes because they haven’t read a book voluntarily since the grade school. Worse are those who pick up every self-help, keys to unlocking your greatness, and you are your own worst enemy self-help crap that is available. Somehow they think someone out their in the world has found the secret, the secret to unlocking what has been dormant in us since we lost our innocence, hope and the ability to dream, but are willing to share how we too can be like them in less than 200 pages, and for a meager 29.95, plus tax.

So here I am, aimlessly walking down isle upon isle of books that once been arranged in some discernible fashion, now haphazardly placed wherever by those, like me wanting to waste time, until a greater distraction comes around. Somehow I wander over and find a book chronicling what someone now considers the quarter life crisis. Since it borders on self-help I’m apprehensive but at the same time, interested to see what the authors have decided to say about life to make people feel better about their lives. Is life hard, looking at my mother who continuously struggles to make ends meet and my brother who has struggled to live and thrive since birth, it seems life is hard no matter what age or stage you are in your life. Are they going to talk about finding yourself, but how can you find yourself if you’re constantly changing, reacting to the various situations that occur, you are only an amalgamation of the reactions that you have had in all of the situations of your life, as your life changes so do you. Finding yourself is a futile exercise that promises only one thing, to leave the seeker frustrated, angry, and ultimately questioning who they are. Instead of these over used, under analyzed colloquiums, the book if you can call it that, instead offers up anecdotes and excuses for actions. Being under-utilized at work, it’s not your fault- your supervisor refuses to see the true ability in you. Constant fights with your parents; it’s their fault for not respecting you. Your new found sexual freedom, now have people calling you a whore, you have a healthy libido and are just sowing your wild oats.

Smirking I repeated, sowing your wild oats. Admittedly I have and continue to sow oats, wild oats, mundane oats, cautious oats, adventurous oats, and on occasion have had to reap what I sowed. One thing about being gay in DC, whores abound. Only a select few have the forthrightness, and are honest with them to know that they are whores. While the majority act as if they are the singular vestal virgin in a harem, looking down upon everyone else as they fornicate. But when the lights are dim, and the unspoken promise that this will never be mentioned outside of this one encounter, the virgin charade is dropped replaced with a sexual appetite that no one man could satisfy. So instead of just one on one encounters, or trying to line a few, they know where to go. Where anonymity, discretion, are pledged sex is done with reckless abandonment, Rock Creek Park near P ST NW, Union Station lower level bathroom, Malcolm X Park, any gym, and the mother of all loads, Glorious Health and Amusement also known as the follies. More than a few I have been to, every time I went to one it was under the same bullshit lie, I was there to watch to be a voyeur but more times that I cared to imagine I became part of the spectacle, a freak show among freaks.

The Follies was the place, for between 15-20 dollars you could do, and see anything. The rare times it was empty or hardly anyone there you could feel the generations of men who had walked the same path, crouched down upon a wooden orifice, to receive or to send over the only thing they could. Walls etched with names, numbers, and drawings looked like cave drawings of a lost people begging for the world to remember who they are and not to turn out like them. Empty shells that had once be regarded for their beauty but now what once gave them great joy caused illness, alienation, and death. The movie theater that consisted of a large screen that played black, interracial, and more recently ethnic porn gleamed against the warm tones of the cherry wood, mahogany, and Minwax stained church pews arranged in bent angles. When full of men, the church pews would be covered with flesh, hands moving against each other, in the eerily silence, eyes straight ahead but never looking at anyone never real intimacy just touching, tasting, and smelling what the others had inviting them to do the same. At times there was dark room that was open, on special occasions which was realistically any big conventions of gays congregating in DC, fraternal conferences, rallies, prides, or political fundraisers. That dark dank room scared the living shit out of me, upon walking in you felt half a dozen hands doing the work that their master’s eyes could not due to the depth of the darkness there. Hands would test your muscularity, crotch size, thickness of your ass and thighs, and patience. As would the oppressive heat, since this blackened room was the darkest place in the club it had the most people hiding from the light, themselves, and ready to do anything and anyone. It did not matter how much you swatted, scratched, or protested, in the darkness the hands were embolden by a mixture of tester one, immunity in the form of anonymity, and the need for sexual gratification. Some hands would stop for a few seconds after protesting only to come back with a stronger grip to assert their presence upon your person.

While others would try to hit you if you hit their hand off of your body. But as soon as someone else new came along the hands would shift onto the latest person to indoctrinate them in this molestation. Only the light of flickering cell phones could be momentary guide as not to disrupt the ambiance this darkened cave encouraged. At times, the lights would flicker and you would see body spread eagle hands holding their own ankles surrounded by men taking turns in him. Some would be holding him down while others would be ramming their partially erect dicks into his worn anus. Sometimes he would moan or yell but they were quickly gone as not draw too many men onto the prize that someone or a few had captured and wanted to keep a secret. So the bottom knew that if too many had come over then the fucking would stop, and he would no longer be prized by the half dozen men who were taking turns pouring themselves into him, so he kept his mouth shut as part of the deal. Which wasn’t hard to do, his anus had long become numb to the forceful, slow, antagonizing pushes of men into him. The body heat would be unbearable for me, and the stench of bile, semen, and body odor had become too much, so I left the inferno for the sedate by comparison, rest of the follies. I needed to see the person who I was engaging with, or else I could not enjoy myself. I may not need to always look at them, but that first glance was crucial, it was the only way I knew that this was a real person, or a semblance of someone real. Otherwise, it was just a body, a body with flaws and perfections which would now be used as tool of pleasure to the best of its ability. When I saw that person there was a life there, there was person still there, something within them had breathed and yearned for the same things that I did at that moment, to be touched.

When the follies was packed it was packed, some nights there was a line outside the building to gain entrance, and in that line you could see it all. The old men who would lurk in the darkness hoping to be feed unknowingly by someone who rebuff their advances in any other circumstance, and how that old man had now taken the place of the old queens of his youth coming full circle in a way, the younger fairies who traveled in packs, arms crossed, eyebrows plucked and arched to the heavens eager to find that ever illusive “thug” that would treat them, fuck them, and abuse them like the bitch they portrayed themselves to be, the married men with their hats pulled down low and wedding bands in the glove compartment., the muscle men, the pretty boys, the men who seemingly had everything would be in the line too, ready to let go of their inhibitions and leave their actions there in the darkness. The assortment of men from various walks of life was an interesting site to see, all united for one night for one purpose sex.

When you gain admittance to the follies when it was packed, it took on a sexual circus in which we all played a major or minor part. There were the men who filled the air with the scent of poppers from the various inhalants that were used to create a sense of euphoria. Some men would walk miles in the follies looking for something they would never find, love. Then there were those who had stopped lying to themselves a long time ago, and embraced the role of sexual objectification with open arms, ass, mouth, and hard dick. You could tell who they were when they would enter the building they walked with an authority and determination as if they were running late for any important meeting. After finding their reserved gloryhole, corner, or other safe space, they proceed to strip and commence with whomever was around and willing. Often times if you looked up you would see a pile of clothes hanging from the chicken wire netting which covered all the booths, serving its purpose as makeshift clothes holder.

I never went that far, but none of the men who did were around my age, they were in varying shapes of health some thin and sick, others fat both which you could rationalize that they were doing this because they had no choice. But they were in the minority many of whom had become bold enough to strip and fully accept their man-made destiny were in shape, and attractive. Many seemed to be in their late 30’s early 40’s but it seemed that every other Black Queen in DC fit that description. A few times I had talked to them to find out how they had gotten to their current state, partly trying not to judge, for judging them would be a sense judging me, for I was there too and only a few actions, and a two decades removed from taking their place. Some had said they had given up on love or finding love, others had lovers and wives at home who knew what they were doing, while others rationalized their actions on an insatiable lust for sex. Some had even tattooed their desire on themselves, MANHOLE had come in with two of his white masters who would point to people and MANHOLE would take them in any orifice they wanted. I called him MANHOLE because he was barely dressed, a black leather jockstrap with the 8 inch capitalized MANHOLE on the small of his back, above his ass. The masters got off watching the power they had to make their nigger whore do whomever they wanted to no matter how he looked, smelled, or even if MANHOLE wanted. MANHOLE got off, by acknowledging the power that he had by manipulating these men into believing they had any real control and that it would all end whenever MANHOLE wanted. What united them all was a steel coldness in their eyes, the light of passion and joy, had been extinguished long ago. Maybe they had blown out that flame in order to keep someone else from stealing that light, or it had flickered and burned itself out for there was no more paraffin to keep it burning. I hated that look in their eyes for it seemed like I was looking into a mirror of myself in the future. Was I destined to become like them, fucking instead of love for everyone to see, giving up on someone loving me and in turn giving up on me loving me.

No, that’s why I’m on this date, I told me myself. The only way to find someone is to put you out there, get some skin in on the game. So I’m here and it’s now 9:40 pm. Drew said he’d be here by 9:30, I’ll give him 5 more minutes then I’m going back home.

All of a sudden I hear someone hastily walking up directly behind me, I turn around to hear. “I’m sorry I’m late, traffic was horrible, and I had to find parking too. Wow, you’re pictures don’t do you justice” I try to crack a smile and think of something nice to say, all I can think of is you are abundantly obese, where the fuck is the man in the pictures what did you do with him you fat bastard, did you digest him, this fat bitch is a liar and he’s late.
Instead I just do my best white people grin without showing teeth and say “Thank you, glad you made it”

Drew described himself as tall, dark brown, and with a football players build. He was right he was dark, and his football players build was that of an ex high school football just flabby. So as he talks about himself, and asks me what do I want to drink, and continuously talks about himself. I can’t help but think “Who does this fat fuck think I am? Does he realize that he’s not what he told he was?” Its not that he’s fat or rather not in shape, I’ve dated on the big side a few times, but it’s the fact that he lied, and so boldly I mean what the fuck will he do if I call his fat ass out and be like excuse me um, where is the nigga in the three photos, and you said your waist was 34, when was that?. If he’s lying about this then what else is he lying about-being single, hiv status, his name, what the hell else?

So as Drew, if that’s his real name excuses himself to go to the bathroom, I motion to the waiter that the fat fuck in the bathroom will be dining alone to night. I get my hoodie, zipper it up, and leave Kramer’s Books, straight home to Hyattsville via the Dupont Circle Metro station. All the time thinking, what till I tell Bookie about this one.

Me, Myself, and I

I’m not pressed.

After a few years of searching, too many dates, and even more well let’s say discretions, I’m done with looking for a relationship. In fact I don’t care anymore if I’m in one or not. In my early twenties I used to see gay and straight people coupled, break up, and repeat this never ending cycle. It seemed that everyone had been in a relationship; even the biggest whores I knew tried it, all except for yours truly. I started to think well is something wrong with me, why haven’t I been in a relationship yet. Was I too shy, thought of purely as a jump off, inhabit the permanent wrong place at the wrong time, looking too hard for love and not letting love find me. All these thoughts and many more culminated in strengthening my determination to be in a relationship, if nothing else than to experience the trials and tribulations necessary for human progression, or so I thought.

I started to change myself, and help “cure” certain things about me that I thought were hindering me from being in a relationship. I went out and bought books that taught you how to speak to anyone about anything, how to open up lines of communications, and how to attract people to you by the use of your personality. Then I went to functions, gay functions to meet use the skills I learned to see how well I had done in the application of such tactics. Book clubs, volunteering for DC’s White Party, gay volleyball games, house parties, birthday parties, networking events, church functions, and just out and about. After every such event I would replay the events in my mind while driving, or taking the metro, giving myself a mental grade, which usually was in direct correlation with the amount of conversations I started or participated in. I usually scored low.

Then I started to set my sights first a little lower, then a lot lower. In the beginning I wanted someone who was emotionally, mentally, and physically together, or in the process of working towards it. Someone who out, preferably a man of color, and someone who I was attracted to, and who was attracted to me, was my “type”. Soon after my only litmus test was attracted to me, which was very dangerous. I met a coke head African, a Cancer survivor who had kicked out his lover of 15 years 3 DAYS before I even knew him, a Marine with Iraqi War syndrome, and guys at Bally’s who suffered from one mental ailment to another.

Concurrently I began to think well maybe I have a reputation of being easy, (in retrospect me having a reputation in DC would be hard to fathom considering how the kids act) or I’m sowing my wild oats with people who would be interested in me but I am “too easy”. On some level I rationalized that I had said I wanted to be with one person, but my actions spoke differently. So I became celibate, for 8 months, never having sex and I felt that I was sexually “pure”, and that maybe this was just what I needed to do, open up my heart not pull down my pants. During this time, I went out with guys, we had dates, we had fun, but just as if I had sex with them, they fell by the way side sooner than I expected. So my celibacy ended, not with the person who I was engaging into a LTR with, but rather at a sex party. I called up two of my friends, and I cried.

To some degree I even think that my wanting to be in a relationship was a driving factor in me wanting to move. At the time, I felt as though I had exhausted the amount of datable men and that Baltimore, and with grand illusions of me traveling to Philly and NYC, had much better prospects. I will say this, the men in Baltimore, and the men in Philly tend to be nicer, down to earth, and generally easier to get along with. But, well beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and for the most part this beholder don’t see it. I mean, jagged teeth, finger waves, knock off Fubu, it’s a bit too much for me. So yes I moved, but to a city where I know no one, and actually have no real motivation to go out and meet new people, explore my surroundings, at all.

So where does this leave me? Here, right here, typing on a laptop on my way to work realizing that I’m happiest being alone. I’m rarely lonely, and when I am, its not really for a bed warmer but the company of my family and friends. I’m happy being alone, I like who I am, and I have more fun dancing around my house, enjoying the music blarred up, cooking up a storm like its Thanksgiving dinner, and more just because, well I can. If someone comes along, sure why the hell not, but if Mr. Right never does, I never will worry. I’m no longer pressed.

Baby Drama

Here is something simple: I am going to have three children. I have always known I’m going to have three children, 2 girls and one boy. As life has a tendency to do, there have been some twists in turns. Namely, my realization that I am gay, but that does not mean I don’t or won’t have kids. Just a mere hurdle I have to overcome. Another hurdle is the HIV infection rate in the DC metro area for my demographic is high as hell. Yes I know if you use a condom that dramatically cuts down the chances, but it only takes one time. But the odds are not stacked in my favor when it comes to that realistically. Which means, if I become HIV infected I know I could pass that onto my children, I would not do that to them. I will not let a mistake I made impact that lives of the innocent. Plus what happens if I die before I have a child that means my lineage ends with me. A sad thought but one I have to think about, but there is one way for me to mitigate these risks. Two words: Sperm Bank, yes banking my sperm for future use, I know it sounds weird but I’ve been researching banking sperm at Cryobanks. For me it seems as if it’s the best option. It allows me to bank my sperm for future use, the way they bank sperm there is no “shelf life” as to when the sperm has to be used by, so in theory I can bank the sperm today and 20 years from now I can have kids.

But the cost to do this is EXPENSIVE 35 dollars a month for a storage fee, isn’t bad but the cost for everything else is HIGH.

Initial consultation $150- WTF is this for, I know what I want, can’t you tell me this over the phone for free?

Analysis & Collection $275- Okay, I agree with this I mean this is how they make their coins.

Blood work $120- To make sure everything is copasetic; they said I can get this done elsewhere, as long as they get the results. Can’t I go to a general doctor and get them to do that when they do my general health exam, and doesn’t health insurance pay for this?

Analysis & Collection $275- See why I have to make two deposits?

I guess this is like insurance, just in case something goes wrong. Now, after I do this, I just have to find a baby’s mother. Below are photos of physical type of baby mothers I will be on the look out.

Now as far as traits, must be afro-centric meaning that they know about their culture. Preferably both parents of African-American descent, someone who is professionally motivated, but gives back to the community in some way shape or form. No artists, singers, actors, or entertainers. Basically someone who if I died I would feel completely comfortable knowing that my children were going to be raised in a manner that I would raise them as well.

Just my thoughts

Ballroom Interview: Winston Prodigy

The first time I saw Winston Prodigy, it was at a barbershop across the street from Howard University on Georgia Ave, the Saturday before the Evisu Ball. I was there getting ready to go to my first ball, and of course going to any gay event one must have the cleanest cut, and freshest line up. Winston didn’t really stand out to me, the only reason I remembered him was that he was in front of me for the barber I was waiting on. Then while standing in line to get into the Evisu Ball, as my female cousin Bookie, was over there trying to flirt with whom we would find out was Icon Dray Ebony, I saw the same guy from the barbershop. Thinking to myself what a coincidence, then after the ball was underway I remember his performance for the All-American Runway category, he possessed a poise and a stature that seemed oddly out of place for one who appeared so young.

To describe Winston Prodigy is to describe a generation of young African-American gay and bisexual men, he accepts his sexuality but his acceptance does not compromise his masculinity, not out of fear of appearing effeminate but so that he may accept all parts of who he is. One only needs to look at his choice of category. All-American Runway, is one of few performance categories in the ballroom scene that celebrates masculinity. Winston’s ballroom career started in 2004 after being introduced to the scene via a friend who would, watch DVD’s and attend balls. From there Winston became Winston Balenciaga, who was urged to walk Schoolboy Realness. “Being new you don’t know everything…Gray Aga, talked to me about the All American Runway category… Kai Aga, was the first person for him to see walk the category, from there I fell in love with the category, and everything else is history.” History is right, in his short tenure Winston has made a name for himself as becoming a formidable competitor for heavyweights in the category, like newly dubbed Legend Derrick Allure. When speaking about Derrick, Winston answers “honestly I look towards Derrick for inspiration, when thinking about an effect I think what would Derrick do to make it creative and stand out.” But at the same time Winston uses his own aesthetic when making an effect “how can I make this stand out, how can I make it be different, how can I make it be me, how can I make it be Winston.” Most notably would be Winston’s 2006 Latex Ball, “[for the] first time I put my own effect together without anyone's help. People were shocked, and proud of me…. that in turn made me proud of myself. I got a lot of attention.”

“All American Runway is three categories in one. Realness you have to masculine, two is Best Dressed. You have to best dressed be nice and clean cut, and last of course runway, which must be crisp have a masculine stride.” After attending a few balls there was a noticeable trend that, when All-American Runway and European Runway battle for the grand prize, often times it seems that not only the judges but the crowd were far more interested in European Runway. A noticeable exception is when Derrick Allure battled for Grand Prize at the Inauguration Ball, but his win could also be attributed to the fact that in the final battle, he went from All-American to European back to All-American. I posed this question to Winston asking him does All-American Runway gets shaded, “I don't think it gets shaded, but more looked over, if its an American vs. a European, just pumping with a feminine walk, I think the judges forget what is American really is, the European runway is more exciting.” When asked what was the draw for him to do All-American Runway Winston responds with “I like the masculinity of the category, I enjoy watching European, and like the creativity of all American, I admire to keep some masculinity into the ballroom.” The ballroom scene is one of the few avenues that celebrate both the masculine and the feminine aesthetic inherent in every person. But one only needs to look at the ball’s category list, most categories have a feminine ethos. Part of this may be attributed to in the gay community, and the larger Western Culture’s pre-occupation with celebrating the masculine ideal, and the ballroom is reacting against that providing men with a “cunty” outlet to express and celebrate the inherent feminine nature that resides in everyone to varying degrees.

Going to balls, turning your category, and achieving goals outside of the ballroom seems that it would be a hard balancing act, one that many people would find themselves having to make pivotal decisions as to where to devote their attention to fully. Do they devote it to a scene or the real world, and which one in the end will have the greatest reward for the amount of effort put in. Winston admits that its very hard, at times and they at times conflict, "the best way is I try to create ballroom time, and real life time, real life come first always.” To further re-iterate this point, when asked what are his plans for himself in the next five years “Ballroom I want to be one top runners for American Runway, possibly a statement on the road to legendary status. [Having] acquired BS from College Park at least in my field, working in HR, being successful making my family proud.” When, not if, Winston achieves these goals not only will he be breaking various stereotypes of young African-American men, and those of ballroom participants, as well. Too often the stereotypes of both are the same, pre-occupation with consumer goods, too focused on short term gratification and not the long term. Turning it in the ballroom scene is one thing, but turning it in life is another matter entirely, and Winston is set to do both.

Word Association

Derrick Allure................My Hero for American Runway

Preparation...................Time consuming

Passion..........................Love

Excellence.....................Prodigy

True Icon.......................Eric Christian Bizarre

Knot...............................someone DESPERATELY Wanting to fit in

Is it Shade?

Is it shade:

Like I have stated earlier in postings DC is what I like to call, Dirty City. Not for the people being dirty, but their actions. For young gay black men the rate of HIV infection is greater in DC than it is in various parts of sub-Saharan Africa. But another way the Dirty City nickname applies is how the nation’s capital politics, instead of doing the bidding of the people. The DC government does the bidding of some of the newer residents in DC. DC for the past decade has been undergoing a gentrification renaissance of sorts, whereby more yuppies move into the district for its cosmopolitan feel, great public transportation, and for many the housing market is cheaper than in the DC metropolitan area. But yuppies seem to forget that they live in an urban city with many of the issues and amusements of an urban area. It’s ironic that many of the reasons that yuppies move to DC or any urban city are the very things that they try to get rid of once they become residents. Perfect example is DC’s lack of gay night life, in the past DC was known for its gay nightclubs, bars, and adult amusements. But when the yuppies started clamoring for a fucking baseball team, yes a damn baseball team, seemingly oblivious to the fact that DC a football, basketball, soccer, hockey, and women’s basketball league. In order to accommodate the yuppies, DC politicos basically bullied many of the gay venues, located in SW to make room for a baseball stadium, and a parking lot.

Recently one of the more infamous venues that was shut down to make way for the yuppie interest, the Glorious Health and Amusement Club (read adult bookstore), re-opened in May of 2007 in NE under the name 2120. But as of Tuesday the 28^th of June, club 2120 is being shut down. Why, you guessed it yuppie interests. Well, at first that’s what I thought, but to be more specific its not just yuppies in general, most are too squeamish to really deal with gay sex and adult venues. It has more so to do with gay yuppies, the DuPont, Logan Circle type. Now you’re probably saying to yourself it would seem that gay yuppies would be for a gay adult themed anything. Well easy, see the Glorious Health Club, aka the follies, was predominately a spot where the black gays would go. Yes there would be a few non blacks in the crowd but it was pretty much unspoken that black gays and those who had a fetish for them would go to follies, while white gays and their admirers would go to Crew Club, and Men’s Parties. It would stand to reason that club 2120 would attract the same crowd. Now, some are probably thinking that I’m some gay black militant out to think that white gays in DC are hell bent on riding the city of black gays.

Think about this, DC is very much a southern city; many whites and black regardless of orientation do not intermix outside of work and work related activities. Also, I have frequented white gay clubs in various cities, and I have never gotten the distinct impression that I am out of place and my presence is not welcomed as when I have been to the white gay clubs in DC. My friends who have been to the Crew Club have even felt the twinge of racism there as well. Couple this with the fact that many of the arguments that are now being used to shut down club 2120, i.e. it possess a health risk, the owner misrepresented what type of establishment it is, and pretty much the good old “not in my backyard” arguments, are all arguments that would be even more applicable to the Crew Club and to Men’s Parties. While the Crew Club has a tasteful website, ads in the local gay newspapers, and bills itself as a gym, it is located within three blocks of the Whitman Walker Clinic and Headquarters, an organization helping those living with HIV/AIDS. It also is in the heart of one of the most sought after communities in DC, Logan Circle, a short walk to Downtown, and DuPont Circle as well.

Ironically Men’s Parties is located even closer to Whiteman Walker and it’s in the same highly prized neighborhood. So why are these places that peddle smut, and sex, not undergoing the same scrutiny or push to get them out of such neighborhoods, easy their clientele is white.

White gays are quickly becoming the new minorities in power in DC, many of the neighborhoods in DC such as U Street Cardoza, Capitol Hill, Deanwood, Trinidad, and of course DuPont have benefited from the white gay yuppie influx. Accordingly, DC responds and keeps venues that cater to them open regardless of the type of venue.

DC used to be called Chocolate City, and coincidentally also known as the Black Gay Mecca. Now things are changing, with the high tide of gentrification, its now threatening to push out gay blacks from the city and the region by its decrease in affordable housing opportunities, lack of recreational activities that cater to the Black gay culture, and the lack of inclusion into the larger gay dialogue as well. Hopefully I’m being overly dramatic and completely off the mark here, but the closing of club 2120 is merely a sign of the times, next thing you know they will be trying to close the Delta Elite as well.

Just my thoughts

Ballroom Interview: Dre Aga

Columbus Day, the Evisu ball, I went with my best friend, we were there soaking up all that we could. Balls, being such a new and different world. But after the first three hours the novelty wore off, and the fact that neither one of us really took a decent nap set in. Then I remembered this category called “Realness with Twist”, on the flyer it had part one and part two. When the first part came about all I could see where a gaggle of short boys running up in line, I thought it was schoolboy realness redux. But part two I saw all these boys dressed up in pink, baby blue, yellow, and red. The most effeminate outfits from Forever 21, BeBe, and any other slutty girl store. So while I’m taking this all in, trying to fight the onslaught of fatigue, I see this guy who at first was wearing blue and then I see him again in a pink tutu. Then I see both images together and think to myself, “Shit, I’m seeing double, but why are they in two different outfits?”. Sad to say it wasn’t until the next day that I realized that they were twins. I recently got the opportunity to talk to one of the twins Dre Aga.

Below is the conversation that ensued.

When did you first become aware of the ballroom scene?

Dre: I first became aware of the ballroom scene through my gay father. He took me to my first ball in Philly back in 2003.

How did you get a gay father?

Dre: He actually asked me to be his gay son. He was a close

Why realness with a twist?

Dre: LOL...... actually it grew on me..... I use 2 hate watching vogue fem or realness with a twist.... and after hanging with people who vogued all the time, I started 2 become interested. So I use to play around with it and started to get better and better at it.

Okay what did you hate to watch it at first?

Dre: Because it seemed like everybody was just slamming their backs on the floor, and I didn't understand what they were doing.....

Cool, why realness with a twist as opposed to Vogue Fem?

Dre: I was already walking a realness category and I was doing it just for fun...... Vogue fem is a lot more experienced and precise and I felt like I wasn't that good, for vf [vogue femme].

Do you see yourself transitioning into vf anytime soon?

Dre: No...... I feel like I have a long way to go, I'm still learning new and different things.

What’s your ballroom high? What was your ballroom low?

Dre: Winning otys [Of the Year] every year since I began walking in the ballroom scene is my ballroom high.

What are the otys that you've won?

Dre: The otys I won...... schoolboy oty in Philly and New York and Virginia in 2004; Schoolboy oty in va and twist oty in va for 2005; Schoolboy oty in VA and Baltimore in 2006

My ballroom low...... hmmmmmmm..... the 2 times I was chopped when I began twist[ing]

Did you get chopped for the realness part or the twist part?

Dre: I got chopped for the twist part

Why the House of Balenciaga?

Dre: I chose Aga because I was attracted to how much of a family they was, before I was even part of the ballroom scene, they always treated me like I was part of the family. They made me feel welcomed even tho I wasn't a part of them.

Do you feel that, it still holds true?

Yes I think it stills hold true to this day.... we are all pretty close and have our ups and down like a real family.

Do you ever get frustrated when being referred to as the “twisting twin” or one of the two Aga twins?

Dre: LOL..... no, I'm use to it by now, I had to deal with being called twins for my whole life. Yeah.... it did use to bother me a lot..... because we did use to be compared all the time.... and that can b frustrating...... But now, a lot of people do know us apart from each other...... and its not as bad as it use to be......

For those outside of the scene how would you describe the scene?

Dre: I would say its our way to come together and enjoy ourselves in a recreational way. Its a way to express our own individuality and to show a creative side that we may or may not can show in real life....

Speaking of real life, outside of the ballroom scene, what are you trying to do?

Dre: I'm trying 2 be a successful person in life. To buy a home within a couple of years and 2 live comfortably..... Trying to travel to different places outside of the US, and to just enjoy life to the fullest.

Word Association Game

Ricky Allure

One of my favorite vogue fems, a great character to be around...

Balenciaga

My family.......

Passion

Is something you have to have to continue through out this scene for many years

Ambition

To always try 2 best that I can no matter what.....In whateva I do

Shade

When a person win over someone unwillingly or an attitude a person give, a "can't take" type of an attitude.....

DC scene

A developing scene with a lot of talent..... that is growing more and more..... may be the one of the next hottest areas for a ball......

Dre Aga in Action

Follow Through

After I first crossed, and was close to a few gay Greeks, one day we were just talked about dating, and it got to me & someone asked me to describe my love life. After taking a deep sigh, and thinking for a second, trying to put it into words a part of my life that often leaves me speechless I came up with the perfect analogy. “My love life is like the pledge process” I said. I went further and explained that every season it seems that a new crop of prospects pop up from out of no place and I go from not having one single prospect but to having on average five to six. This I deem the interest meeting phase, all of sudden a lot of people have interest and seemingly look like viable candidates.

From there to get on line, you have to have certain requirements, in the NPHC orgs you need the right GPA, recommendation letters, money, etc, etc. But with me you need to be HIV negative, got things going for yourself, and not surrounded by drama. Using this criterion about 2 people drop or stop calling, which to me is no loss because hey those are attributes that I am not willing to compromise on. After that everyone is put on pre-pledging, a time where you learn about the organization, the chapter, and it is highly suggested that you know prepare yourself for the upcoming activities. Applying that to me, it’s called the pre-dating, getting to know people talk to folks on the phone, seeing if they follow through with things that they said they were going to do. Therein lies the problems, with me I never get past this phase, guys just lose interest or have no real concept of follow through with me. This is where the line drops, and this is were the dating process ends.

A perfect example of this is what is currently happening now, four guys and out of the four, ATL, NJ, NY, SC are all fucking up, well all except for NY. NY is cool, and hopefully out schedules will permit so that we can actually visit each other. I called ATL three times and left two messages, no response, so I know what that means. NJ promised to call me back, that bama never did, and hit me via yahoo a few hours before he left to go for the French Open, SC, I’m on the fence about, and I met him a few days prior to his best friend from SC coming to town. I called him twice and he both times we talked, he made noise about how we should go out for drinks, but I called him this weekend to no avail, maybe he was busy with best friend which I know I don’t call people until a day or two after I hang out with my best friend.

For a long time I thought it was something I did that would just make people not care to follow though, but then I realized that even with networking, African-Americans are not really taught the art of follow through, when it comes to interactions with people. My theory is that most African-Americans were raised in a manner and in an environment that you were always in contact with the same people, members of your church, neighbors, and people in school, so the need to follow through was taken care of itself because you had constant interaction with those individuals. But when someone is not constantly in your face you tend to forget, not really lose interest but forget or are not really cognizant of how to build relationships without seeing them on daily basis.

Some may argue that this is across the board with any and every group of people. I would agree with that as well, but in my interactions with other groups of people, they tend to have a much better follow through rate, regardless of how it is.

Just my thoughts

My Memorial Weekend

Okay so I had a fun time at pride, I met people, got life, and more importantly just had a good time. Friday was the start of it, and it started off really sorry. I went to this speed dating, and I was number 2 in joint, I’m a punctual person, then I saw this group of six fine men. I mean the type of fine that makes your back straight, and you try not to make eye contact for fear of being caught staring at them. For a minute there I got real excited because I ordinarily would not talk to any men who looked that good. Why, because I don’t know what to say, and I’m intimated. But they left, then I had the urge to leave as well, especially once I saw the cast of characters that entered the venue. Before I go any further, I must say that looks are not everything to me, seriously they are not. But you MUST take care of yourself, and have something to say.

The speed dating gets started I have an okay conversation with the guy in front of me, we talk about books, and I recommend a few for him to read. Then the next turn, I have no one in front of me, okay I think well maybe everyone will have any empty turn. But then the same thing happens the next turn so I take it from a sign from God and leave.

After leaving I head over to the fireplace. Curiously, I saw a lot of older men, I mean not the “30’s are they new 20’s” type but the Geratol crew the type of guys that the fireplace was the beginning and end of their night. Being that I took the MARC train and was not in the mood to drive back to DC that night for pride. The rest of the night I spent in Baltimore.

The next day I called Rashid and we set up a time to meet in the lobby of the host hotel and take the day as it came. Prior to leaving, I took care of home first, washing clothes, cleaning the house, and gardening.

After getting my Victory garden together I drive to DC, find the BEST parking spot, and make my way in my fashionable hood boy outfit, see the photo below. As I make my way to the hotel, a group of young homosexuals try to get my attention by using saying the title of the latest southern anthem “Ay Bay Bay”. Doing my best to ignore their cat calls I go into the host hotel and find Rashid sitting in a talk about Young Gays. It was interesting; I was cutting up in the meeting, because the idea of masculine gay men trying to justify their reluctance to help younger gays before the young ones seem too “cunty” is funny to me. I mean the idea that people are shunning effeminate gay men, and those young kids who do drag and are in groups like SMYAL for fear of being labeled. Don’t realize if it was not for Gays of years ago, many of whom could not “hide” their sexuality due to their naturally effeminate nature, many of the things like prides, clubs not getting raided, able to carve out safe spaces like Dupont Circle, the Village, San Francisco, et al. But it was cool.

Then Rashid and I start talking about people in the hotel, or the lack of eye candy thereof. Well not Rashid so much, mainly me, and frequently, I get very uncomfortable when I’m one of the better pieces of eye candy when I go someplace. But other than that, the time in the hotel flew by until it was time for the American Idol DC Pride version (read glorified Karaoke).

So this is when I learn that American Idol reject turned Broadway Actress Frenchie Davis is a big bitch. Big not in size but in grandiose mannerisms, she acted like every other bitter butch queen. She was not just chopping people because they could not sing, but she would go off on these tirades as to why she is frustrated with the current music industry. I mean damn, chick save all that for when your record comes out, which is when? Exactly, someone needed to give that chick a reality check that her attitude was not becoming of someone on the come up, which she still is regardless of what her friends may say.

While in the lobby I met three guys, one from South Carolina, thick and handsome, another one from Niger living in NYC, short dark and exotically good-looking, and a Nigerian living in ATL, thick bald, with a face like a model. Before I start to blog about them let’s see if they last more than 3 weeks.

Sunday was pretty quiet I stayed in my house and enjoyed the Lords Day. Monday I went to the Fort Dupont Park and realized two things. Gays travel in packs and Lesbians roll DEEP. Maybe due to the fact that many of the men were in San Juan, and in Miami, but the lesbians were almost outnumbering the gays, I thought I was back in Baltimore for a while. Unlike many people I roll solo most of the time I roll to any club, event, mainly due to the fact that I don’t have too many, hell any gay friends in area anymore, my only two have left, and Rashid was not really wanting to go to the park on Monday.. So instead of sucking my thumb and crawling in the fetal position, I go out by myself. It always was funny to me that so many people travel in packs nand stay in packs and stare, hard like a hungry man seeing his first porterhouse steak.

All in all I enjoyed myself, do I have a desire to go to San Juan or Miami next year, no. I like DC’s pride and prides that actually have events that you can learn and commune with others who are of your same sexuality without it revolving around the art, act, and modes of sex.