Amar’e, Richard Wright & Moonlight

Of course, the central flaw in Amar’e Stoudemire’s, er, “joke” that if he had a gay basketball teammate he’d “shower across the street” is the notion that he’d have to.

For his position to make sense, he’d really have to take the perspective that all gays are like prison rapists while also believing that he, of course, had the hottest cock outside of one of those blackamoor slaves from Arabian Nights, and it would be in his absolute best interest to keep his schlong away from them faggots for, as it is well known, they can’t control themselves.

Now, the problem I’ve always had with Richard Wright’s Native Son, despite it being perhaps the most popular book by a Black author ever, is that I always thought that it was a tremendously dangerous and irresponsible book to write, especially considering the times and circumstances in Black America.

Here we are in the 1940s, still in the era of lynching, and Wright gives us Bigger Thomas?

Bigger Thomas, a klutz so fundamentally oafish and pathologically stupid that he not only kills a white girl, but a “good” white girl, one that was trying to help him?

This, of course, could make it seem – for white people that needed and excuse to generalize – like behind every seemingly impassive Black face was a potentially lurid and psychotic killer so more than why to try help any of them, why even feel concerned when any get arguably justifiably killed by the Klan?

For my money, Best Picture winner Moonlight undoes a lot of Wright’s damage.

Finally, in the character “Black”, Barry Jenkins shows that the big scary Black guy you thought had no emotion other than the desire to fuck your wife is probably full of emotions; and might even be gay.

It’s blasphemy that the movie made “only” 25 million – which, realistically, isn’t bad when you consider that it only cost 1.5 million to make – and I’m personally exhausted from arguing with friends who either thought “the shit sucked” because it was “on some gay shit” or refused to even watch it for the same reason.

The idea of homosexuality prompts a lot of things not the least of which is the juxtaposition of desire.

I mean, unless you genuinely thought that one could rape you, it would be pointless to be afraid of a faggot if you yourself weren’t gay.

No, what the overwhelming majority of dudes that readily claim to be homophobic are really afraid of is a reciprocation of interest from a man they found attractive.

That’s what checks a lot of them.

It’s cool to be “straight” and dig another “straight” dude because nothing could possibly come out of it.

Even if your feelings are a little fuzzy, why worry?

His aren’t.

But what if his are?

Then what?

I mean, if there was no chance that you could like a gay dude at all, you could stand before one naked and recite the Constitution with soapy water glistening and dripping from your naked body and rippling muscles.

But if there was even the slightest chance that after seeing a gay dude naked that you’d have some interest of your own, you’d better shower across the street.

About the Author


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.

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