Oh, James

I first read James Baldwin when I ran across Giovanni's Room in a tiny bookstore in Morgantown, West Virginia. I used to hang out with a band of cool misfits who introduced me to all things boho: vintage clothes, mid-century furniture and thrift-store hunting. We used to rummage the Goodwill and the Salvation Army (before I learned they were hateful bigots) and all kinds of thrift and second hand stores in an obsessive search of overlooked treasures. We did find some. Our apartments were full of things that made us happy without breaking the bank. Not that we had any money, mind  you.

We also basically lived in bookstores. But we did not like to go to Barnes and Noble or Borders (remember Borders? Amazon killed it) we almost always bought second hand books. We liked the tiny, cozy and wonderful mom-and-pop bookstores who had the best curated collections we had ever seen. Of course, we knew nothing about literature and were just taking classes on American and World Lit at that point. But you know when you're young you think you know everything.

In one of those tiny bookstores I found Giovanni's Room. I had taken a Women's Studies class the previous semester (of course I did) and we read some excerpts from the book and I has in awe because of the context the professor had given to the book and because it talked about homosexuality, my favorite topic. It had not yet hit me full force the realization that racism was an American institution and I was more focused on the adventures of an American abroad with a brooding foreigner. It was fascinating to me, looking through the glass at something that seemed exotic and erotic.

Years later I read Baldwin for his absolutely on point critique of American society and his never ending fight for equality. Baldwin, as a black, queer writer was ideal in this endeavor. Very few people has had a more lasting effect in the reading of both racism, religion and homophobia in America, without having to be totally confrontational about it. It may have been his style, but we also have to take into account the time when he came of age. There were no queer classes offered in college at that point and people had to create their own blueprint in order to anticipate their future.

James Baldwin was born on August 2nd, 1924 and he would have been 96 yesterday, so this post is dedicated to him. He opened my eyes to seeing my sexuality not as a defining point in my life, but as a vehicle through which I could see life. I use my being a homosexual to look at the world around me, darling. It is much more entertaining and it helps me keep on focus. I don't let being 'gay' define me (yes, I love cock, alas) but instead I make it work for me in the sense that it makes me  analyze the world and its effects on me through the lens of my loving men. I really don't understand the need to be a member of anything that does not take into account humanity as a whole.

That's why I criticize racism and homophobia (internalized and overt) and xenophobia and bigotry. Because if Baldwin taught me anything is that we have to see things through different prisms in order to understand how they affect us and others. Kind of intersectionality before there was intersectionality. Because we are not alone. Human affection and integrity are undeniably linked and they both have to do with my sexuality. I'm an ethical slut.

So, happy birthday Mr. Baldwin. Your voice still resonates. And it will resonate for generations to come, because there'll always be a gay boy who finds your writings and realizes that there's more to life than a set of well-defined abs and ten thousand followers on IG in his quest for being a good homosexual.

XOXO

On what would have been James Baldwin's 96th birthday, we honor his legacy and work on race in this country — which rings just as powerful today as it did when first published.

Thank you for reminding us that a better America is worth fighting for. pic.twitter.com/li9LPkN9vz

— ACLU (@ACLU) August 2, 2020

“The Southern oligarchy, which has so much power in Washington ... was created by my labor and my sweat, and the violation of my women and the murder of my children. This, in the land of the free and the home of the brave.“

Happy birthday, James Baldwin pic.twitter.com/vYWNyVMgYm

— philip lewis (@Phil_Lewis_) August 2, 2020

In an essay that would make up the bulk of his book “The Fire Next Time,” James Baldwin, who was born on this day in 1924, mines the relationship between religion and race in America. https://t.co/ItRqMDFA0L

— The New Yorker (@NewYorker) August 2, 2020

“Everybody’s journey is individual. If you fall in love with a boy, you fall in love with a boy. The fact that many Americans consider it a disease says more about them than it does about homosexuality.” — James Baldwin #Pride pic.twitter.com/RAXgCId6Tb

— Tribeca (@Tribeca) June 2, 2018

And if you have Hulu/Amazon or just YouTube, make sure you stream I Am Not Your Negro. It's illuminating.