I can’t remember now, but I wrote this one piece and it was suppose to be the last piece about me being a woman
who loves a woman of the same sex. But now at this moment I have to say something else. I was cleaning my room and pulled the dresser away from the wall and an empty bottle of Hubert Homemade
Lemonade rolled across the floor. My breath got taken away. I had to sit down. One thousand thoughts ran through my mind but the first one was Hubert is not here anymore. Hubert was my brother’s
name and he “passed over” on July 24th 2012, I found out about his pass on the wonderful social network of FaceBook in my message box at 8:22 a.m. on July 25th. The one who informed me of this , is
I’m sure sorry they did it that way, but this way, is still the way I will always remember learning the fact that my brother died. I see those words too many times in a day. I pray so they will go
away, so you will never see me on Facebook at 8:22 in the a.m. If I ever thought I was busy before, I am busy today. I know my brother’s spirit is well, but it still has taken the breath out of me.
I feel alone.
I wanted to say something at the service, but I couldn’t get the words out without crying. I didn’t want to cry
that day. I have already cried many times alone before. My wife works graveyard shift so when I read the news that morning, I couldn’t soak my tears in her bosom. She gave me space when she heard
about the news, but she gave me too much space and that’s okay. She remembers her last loved one’s passing and that is what she wanted so she thought I wanted that same space. I remember that
same wanting of space when my mother died in 1985. It’s like if you hear one more time, “Are you okay?” the person asking, will be joining your loved one. No one knows how to deal with death so
it’s really good to do what you feel and not what you feel you should do.
She was there along with my best friend and my son and his wife to support me. They know I didn’t want to be
there around the siblings who were on this side of this dirt. The tears I did share were for my brother Johnny. I could feel his pain, our pain. Hubert was his little brother as Marilyn was my
little sister. It’s something when you lose the one you grew up with. It seems all you can remember, is the childhood. When Johnny cried, I cried. I left that small group that was there to
support me and I went to my brother who needed me or maybe I needed him. He wasn’t like the rest, his face still lights up when he sees me. I love my brother Johnny.
On the day of the service, I wanted to say, “The last time I saw my
brother was at Cedar Sinai Hospital. I heard he had a stroke but I did not associate his condition of Cancer to take over his body until I saw him. He looked fine. He looked like the last time I
saw him, he looked my brother Hubert. When I walked into the room, the Spirit of Yah whispered to me and tells me,'This will be the
last time you will see your brother. He is not going to leave this place. Spend the time you need with him. You know the relationship you had.’ And that’s what I did. He knew I was there. I watched the nurse take care of him. She
asked him basic questions of which he could not answer, but the one question, what is your name? After the nurse left, he told me that he was freezing. I went and got him heated blankets. I was
the little sister, but I was tucking him in for the night. I told him what Yah told me that he would be fine. My brother knew he wasn’t going to get better but he knew he was going to be fine. I
told him that I loved him and he told me that he loved me and that was the last time I saw my brother Hubert.
My brother was much like my mother. They had that loving and caring spirit. This is the reason for the
loneliness. He was like all of us, not perfect, but his character was above board. He was a protector and accepted people as they were. My brother Hubert never made a difference concerning his
feelings for me when I came out. He was never in my face telling me that I am still his sister. He didn’t change the way he felt about me because I had a union with a female. He loved me and that
was just it. He didn’t stare upon me as if I was a foreign alien being. Marilyn was the same way. She had that sweet spirit like mom as well. She came into this world nine years after Hubert and
Hubert left this world nine years after her. I am stifled being in this world without one of my mother’s children who will just love me.
I don’t think I would have straight told my mother that wife was my wife but she would have known we were
together just the same. She would have been my “friend” who comes to family functions and just showing up at every event I’m involved. This little practice follows the protocol of many so-called
African Americans who are taught to keep things secret. But the funny thing is everyone knows anyway. They have been or are talking about you. Hell, they gossiped about my sister Marilyn when she
was hanging around her best friend, see they were just best friends. If you are not married by a certain age and they don’t see you with a steady from the opposite sex, yeah, they are talking. I
know because I have heard them many many times and that’s why I don’t like gossip. I heard enough for the first eighteen years of my life to last me a lifetime. Even gossipy people like their
secret things. I have found that people who do the most gossiping are the ones who have the most they want to hide.
I came out when I was thirty two after many prayers going up in tears. It was not the gossiping talk that held
me in the closet; it was the fear of not being in Yah’s will. He created us all and I couldn’t understand why our Creator allowed me to be this way. People who don’t know any better are always
spitting ignorance out of their stupid mouth about people who are gay, saying we chose it. I don’t know anyone who chose to be gay. I know many people who are bi-sexual and many people who choose
to have sex, the act, the behavior of homosexuality, but no, no one chooses to be. My delay came by way of my personal self becoming comfortable with myself.
My personal self would never have discussed it with my mom. As nasty as my siblings have treated anyone I was
with, my mom would NEVER have treated her with such disrespect. My mother would not want to hear it out loud. She wouldn’t want that all up on the table. Like I said, so-called African Americas
don’t want to hear it out loud; you just don’t talk about it. But you see, that’s what I did. I did talk about it. I did say it out loud and if I was bringing my wife to any event, yes it was
open for discussion. It would never be open to my mother but even she will just love me and never bring it up.
Either my wife was coming to a family holiday or I wasn’t coming at all. That’s how it went for the last twenty
years of my life. My “Helpmate “whom I am with and their children who are my family weren’t allowed to come, so it ended up neither shall I. They don’t acknowledge my gayness, they just do what
they do and I’m supposed to keep them in prayer because that’s the way they are. I’m sure if my mom was alive, they would gossip in her presence about middle aged single ministers who travel
everywhere with their long time companion. They would not validate it and respond to that person as their covenant spouse. I didn’t want flags and horns. I just wanted to sit down and have dinner
and feel comfortable.
I know my mother wouldn’t want to hear it because fifteen years ago, I tried to tell my mother’s sister. My
aunt made it hard for me because she would go one by one down the list asking how my siblings are doing. I didn’t know and they didn’t and don’t know anything about me. She knew I was going
through something’s because she would ask me about my siblings. When I tried to tell her the why my brothers and sisters don’t talk, she stopped me. She already knew. She knew all the way in
Cleveland Ohio, she knew. She loves me but like my mother, she didn’t want to hear it out loud coming from me. All they know is a fact that I am gay and in their mind, they have chosen that place
they call hell for me.
What they don’t know is that my hell consists on their ability to make me invisible as a so-called family
member like leaving my father’s name off my brother’s obituary. Hubert wasn’t the biological son of Virece Emile, but that was my father’s son. My hell, they so wait for me to go to, is lived
every day. This hell I allowed them to make for me here before I even get to the hell they say I am going to because I am gay, I have rising up from it. I have lived it for the past twenty years
of my life and their attitude over my gayness or the jealousy some of them have towards me because I am happy, well that’s their hell. Yes, I am happy, free and I’m bowing out of wanting them to
stop focusing on my gayness and just get to know me. But this was my personal hell I put myself in, so today, I am finally free.
The only thing I choose, is the unconditional love I have for them and the ability to know to step the hell
away from them. I realize now they follow tradition and that’s all they know. They choose church and religion over compassion and understanding. The good family Christians should place more focus
on people who commit crimes, keeping the commander-in-chief in check, along with their senators, anyone else put into a governing sit and behind the government sit, or having the police force
protecting and not harming the innocent rather than what’s going on in my gay life. I think their Christian armor would serve better in that way because I don’t think they have noticed that this
world is pass gone. I think if the good Christians were not so much focused on gayness, they would put Satan back to work making people’s lives miserable
july 25th is the day
I heard the news
my brother passed
people keep asking
how I feel
about my brother dying
ain’t gonna be lying
just feel numb.
not because he’s sleeping now
receiving his ultimate healing,
is not appealing
to have no communication
with my family
We can’t share this pain
in the rain
it’s cold here
on 1109 S Amanatha
because my brother died on July 24th
© Copyright 2016 Ghetto Gospel. All rights reserved.