The Black Flamingo

Don’t. Don’t come out unless you want to. Don’t come out for anyone else’s sake. Don’t come out because you think society expects you to. Come out for yourself. Come out to yourself. Shout, sing it. Softly stutter. Correct those who say they knew before you did. That’s not how sexuality works, it’s yours to define.

You are a full human being. It's never as simple as being half and half.

Remember, you have the right to be proud; remember, you have the right to be you.

Your ignorance may be innocent but the racism is real. I want both of you to think about how what you said might make me feel.

Men are sandcastles made out of pebbles and the bucket is patriarchy: if you remove it, we fear we won’t be able to hold ourselves together, we pour in cement to fill the gaps to make ourselves concrete constructions.

This book is a fairy tale  in which I am the prince  and the princess. I am  the king and the queen.  I am my own wicked  witch and fairy godmother.  This book is a fairy tale  in which I’m cursed  and blessed by others.  But, finally, I am the fair y  finding my own magic.

I’ve been friendly. I’ve been frightened. I’ve been fake. But I’ve never been fierce. I’ve been frustrated. I’ve been forgotten. I’ve been forgiving. But I’ve never been fierce. I wanna be fabulous. I wanna be flamboyant. I wanna flaunt what I’ve got. I want to be fierce.

To have a loving family is to feel afraid and yet believe you are going to be all right.

Granddad asks, “Why does it matter if he’s black? The other flamingos don’t care.” And I’m certain what he’s saying is “I love you.

Be a bit gay, be very gay. Be the glitter that shows up in unexpected places.

I come from stories, myths, legends and folk tales

— I don’t want to pretend to be anyone, not any more." "— So who is The Black Flamingo?" "— He is me, who I have been, who I am, who I hope to become. Someone fabulous, wild and strong. With or without a costume on.

Mum is a costume she squeezed herself into, for you.

I am here and I have been here long before this moment, the first people were black and queerness predates its modern meaning. Queerness predates its derogatory meaning. Queerness predates colonialism and Christianity. Queerness predates any hate attached to it.

This isn’t what I wanted for your moving daybut this is what it’s like to be black in this country or anywhere in the world. They interrupt our joy. Our history. Our progress. They know they can’t stop us unless they kill us but they can’t kill us all,so you’re living your life and suddenly interrupted by white fear or suspicion. They fear sharing anything. Our success is a threat.

I know that’s wrong, my thinking was wrong, the different ones are often the most strong

I imagine us in Eden— two black boys in Paradise, naked, no fig leaves. Adam and Eve are long gone, so Kieran and Michael inherit the garden and the serpent is forgotten and the fruit on the tree of knowledge has gone rotten

Don’t let anyone tell you that you are half anything. You and Anna are simply brother and sister. Don’t let anyone tell you that she’s your half sister. Don’t let anyone tell you that you are half black and half white. Half Cypriot and half Jamaican. You are a full human being. It’s never as simple as being half and half.

When it's time to go onstage, know that you're not ready but this is not about being ready, it's not even about being fierce or fearless, it's about being free. I don't have a clue what I'm doing but that's not going to stop me.

Remember you have the right to be proud. Remember you have the right to be you.

Don’t let anyone tell you that you are half anything.

Your best friend is a mirror. Other friends ask after you when you are standing right there. “Where are you?” They ask, “Why are you without your other self?” You two are the ingredients to make something brand new. You cannot unbake a cake. You can only slice. A knife is a mirror. A best friend can be a knife.

I call myself black. I call myself queer. I call myself beautiful. I call myself eternal. I call myself iconic. I call myself futuristic.

I wish we had more classes together. Maybe we would know each other better. In drama we're always pretending to be someone else, maybe that's school in general?

How to Come Out as Gay Don’t. Don’t come out unless you want to. Don’t come out for anyone else’s sake. Don’t come out because you think society expects you to. Come out for yourself. Come out to yourself. Shout, sing it. Softly stutter. Correct those who say they knew before you did. That’s not how sexuality works, it’s yours to define. Being effeminate doesn’t make you gay. Being sensitive doesn’t make you gay. Being gay makes you gay. Be a bit gay, be very gay. Be the glitter that shows up in unexpected places. Be Typing . . . on WhatsApp but leave them waiting. Throw a party for yourself but don’t invite anyone else. Invite everyone to your party but show up late or not at all. If you’re unhappy in the closet but afraid of what’s outside, leave the door ajar and call out. If you’re happy in the closet for the time being, play dress-up until you find the right outfit. Don’t worry, it’s okay to say you’re gay and later exchange it for something else that suits you, fits, feels better. Watch movies that make it seem a little less scary: Beautiful Thing, Moonlight. Be southeast London, a daytime dance floor, his head resting on your shoulder. Be South Beach, Miami, night of water and fire, your head resting on his shoulder. Be the fabric of his shirt the muscles in his shoulder, your shoulder. Be the bricks, be the sand. Be the river, be the ocean. Remember your life is not a movie. Accept you will be coming out for your whole life. Accept advice from people and sources you trust. If your mother warns you about STDs within minutes of you coming out, try to understand that she loves you and is afraid. If you come out at fifteen, this is not a badge of honor, it doesn’t matter what age you come out. Be a beautiful thing. Be the moonlight, too. Remember you have the right to be proud. Remember you have the right to be you.

Some Men Have Vaginas He said he was a gay man with a vagina and I, penis heavy and light of foot, wondered if gay meant the same to him as it did to me, wondered if man was in mind or body. Because I wear my man, strip down bare to my man. In the mirror, there, I am. For me, man has merely been a matter of circumstance, not a journey or discovery. I rarely had to fight for it, rarely want to fight against it, never wanted to shed skin to reveal somebody else. I never questioned it until he said, "Some men have vaginas." I understood it to be true but it left me feeling nothing more than a tool, who knew nothing about being a man outside his own body.

They interrupt our joy. Our history. Our progress. They know they can’t stop us unless they kill us but they can’t kill us all, so you’re living your life and suddenly interrupted by white fear or suspicion. They fear sharing anything. Our success is a threat.

There’s always something. No matter how hard you work, no matter how well you do, how successful or respectable, there’s always something that will remind you: you shouldn’t get too comfortable. I always thought education and money was going to earn me respect. But a successful black man is a threat. Pulling me over for driving a nice car? This isn’t what I wanted for your moving day. But this is what it’s like to be black in this country or anywhere in the world. They interrupt our joy, our history, our progress. They know they can’t stop us unless they kill us they can’t kill us all. So you’re living your life and suddenly you’re interrupted by white fear or suspicion. They fear sharing anything. Our success is a threat.

Talking to Daisy is like walking on eggshells. I’m curious what might have broken her. She doesn’t seem mean, she seems...hurt.