yes or no? on or off?

When thinking about what thoughts I would get out of my mind and into words many things came to mind. Would i write on gay-marriage, equality, health care, possibly love being predestined or by chance? But I'll save those for another time, here goes.

I chose this topic by the picture above, i really wanted to write a piece on the black gay males desire to create an image of themselves as over the top flashy beings and came across this image and my mind went crazy. Homosexuality. A choice? Genetics? Life experiences?

Of course most wont agree with one another on this topic but my thoughts on it are quite simple, who would choose to be gay? I didn't prior to my birth go to God and ask, "Father can i please be gay?! I would love to be stereotyped, treated with open and hidden hatred from family and enemies alike. Oh and if you can add in there unequal rights I would very happy! I mean who wouldn't want to a nice fight to have basic rights?" The thought sounds a bit absurd right? I mean you don't pick out your sexuality like you pick out a shirt from your closet.

Don't get me wrong I love who I am and by no means am I ashamed of who I am, but to think that I made some kind of choice in this ordeal is crazy. Now I understand that some may not understand even still so let me put this light on it, put yourself in the position of your ancestors, Do you think that when our people were considered less than human and unworthy of equal rights(go figure)were walking around thinking, "Hmm I don't have equal rights and I'm treated like an animal, I'm so happy I chose to be black." LOL FUNNY I KNOW! There is no internal switch that I have to change my sexuality, trust me if there were I would have done some type of surgery years ago.

Now whether its came from genetics or life experiences I cant say, I personally have never been raped or touched inappropriately and also I'm not sure of any traits in my family that would have lead me to be gay but either way all that we are both by genetics and experiences was,in my beliefs, organized in a master plan to get us where we're supposed to be in life. After all genetics made u black, the experience of slavery and the civil-rights movement made our people strong, but just imagine what life would have been if our ancestors were truly given the choice of being black, yes or no?

We don't choose the things that make us up, we don't know where we're supposed to be in life and takes most of us a lifetime to figure out how to get there. When looking a person don't make assumptions about them or judge them based on things that the can't control. How easy life would be if we had simple decisions to control everything, on or off?

Bleeding Love

A boy sits in the face of a familiar stranger,

Enduring verbal punches placing his mental and emotional state in danger.

Confused by the source of this hate as if the sun had somehow generated rain,

His mother spits out daggers of hate causing him great pain, she screams with great veracity,

“There will be no faggots in here,

And I knew you needed a man in your life but your sorry ass dad refused to be there.

And I told you not to play with dolls,

And I made you play football,

And I always wondered if those where really your ‘homies’ when those boys used to call.

See son I don’t think you understand,

There is no way I will ever accept my son sleeping with another man!

And if at birth I knew this is who you were adoption would have been my choice,

And now that I think about it you always did have a twang in your voice.

And you didn’t walk you pranced,

And there were no girlfriends no teenage romance.

I just can’t figure out where I went wrong,

But I should have assumed as much, the way you stood in the choir stand singing those songs.

But an end will be put to your disgusting disgrace,

But until we meet with the pastor tomorrow my suggestion is for you to get out my face.”

So the son sits alone in his room,

Seeming to be a dungeon holding sorrow and gloom.

Thinking to himself wondering if he’ll ever wake from this night mare,

As wild thoughts fill his mind the young man just blankly stares.

He pulls out a pad and he begins to write out the sentiments of his mind,

And once he has written out he thoughts he hopes it is peace that he finds.

He reaches in between his mattresses and he grabs the blade he had placed there long before

One of those times like this when he felt life wasn’t worth living anymore.

His hands tremble and shake because he’s scared,

But he musters the strength this time he will say goodbye he is prepared.

He slices into his flesh with each rip he feels more free,

Free from the pain and tears caused by the hated of humanity.

And just as life leaves his body,

He whispers, “Mother I’m sorry I’m not the man you would have had me be.”

The next morning the mother wakes to a strangely quiet house,

A house that is normally amplified with the sound of her son’s mouth.

She just assumes that he is upset about yesterday's talk,

Plans to apologize cook him breakfast and suggest a walk.

As she opens her son’s door she lets out a shriek,

There in blood drenched carpet lays her son’s body on the floor.

Next to his body lays a pad with a letter addressed to her,

“Dear mother,

I’m sorry that I couldn’t be a better source of pride in your life,

But asking me to be straight is as absurd as me asking you to take a wife.

I would hate for you at my expense to look at me with hatred in your eyes,

And if only to relieve you of that pain I’d rather a morgue be where my body will lie.

So with this I bid you my final goodbye.

Love your
son,
Today Tomorrow and Forever