A Faggot Nigga Like Me

I felt bad watching Yusaf Mack’s tearful confession of his own homosexuality, especially after the way I fucked with him (no pause). I turned the whole thing into a joke and in doing so, became the worst kind of bully; the one that tries to force another to choose sides, just so he’ll – the bully – be comfortable.

So what does that say about me, the alleged heterosexual? If I need Mr. Mack to say he’s gay or straight just so I’ll have a label for him, doesn’t that make my own label questionable? I mean really; aren’t the only types of people that go around flipping the collars of others to check the tags, the only ones that really need tags?

And why do we need tags anyway? Who benefits from them, aside from the designers? When did fashion become not how one looked but what one wore and why on earth does the latter affect the former?

Quick, and be honest: if you knew look shitty in something by Gucci, would you still wear it as opposed to, say, a US Polo Association outfit that you knew you looked sensational in? While some of y’all spend the rest of your lives intellectually reconciling the mathematical possibility of such an occurrence, I’ll move on.

So-called straight people console themselves as if protected from their crimes by the single fact that they are not, by practice at least, homosexual. Meanwhile gay people, even in this day and age, strive to prove their worth despite – as if it’s some possible impediment – their sexuality.

And I’ve never been part of the “cheer on the faggot crowd”. I’ve always seen that as just another form of bullying. Just because you’re a cocksucker and you’ve decided to either come out of or refused to ever be inside the closet doesn’t make you some sort of a hero.

In a perfect world, sexually is pure neutrality, as is gender, as is skin color.

Still, the rank examples of intolerance that continue to exist are terrifying. Mr. Mack, the former champion boxer from Philly that first alleged that his participation in a gay porn video was due to being drugged, next copped to bisexuality, then, finally, confessed to being gay, explained that when his 23 year-old daughter – he’s 35, that’s another issue – found out that he was gay, her advice to him was “kill yourself.”

It’s then that people like me begin to understand that it is an issue of bravery. How some people feel they simply can’t come out.

So maybe the only answer becomes to do away with labels by either embracing them all or tearing them all out. I could be a faggot Spic, Jew, or I could be a Nigger cocksucker bastard. I could be a lesbian, queer, dyke, Kraut, or I could be a Polack, Guinea Goombah, Mick Fudgepacker. I could be a Redskin Wetback carpet munching Chink or I could be a versatile bottom-loving ass-eating Slope.

The answer, I think, is that I’d have to be all those things because I’ve certainly, in anger at least, projected them all onto others and if what James Baldwin said is true about projection in that video that Shaun King posted on the NY Daily News website – although Baldwin was speaking in a different context – then I’d be a fool in this day and age to walk around looking for labels, let alone actually wearing any.

About the Author

dickiebhee
Dickie Bhee is a self-styled lunatic, a Renaissance showman, a Class A, Grade A buffoon, a nigga that believes in the greatness of Niggerhood a social gadfly and a genuine Man About Town. Also: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01E7NYMP4

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