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Novels that have influenced me

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One of the many memes going around Facebook these days is a reinvigorated “Top Ten Novels” list.  Several people have challenged me to list ten novels which have impacted my life in some way.  Obviously Lazarus, Covenant, Epiphany, and Birth of a Dark Nation impacted my life the most! However, here are ten other novels which also influenced me or changed my life in some way:

cover-WBS

The White Boy Shuffle by Paul Beatty. This is one of the most brilliant books I have ever read. Paul Beatty truly inspired me to take my writing seriously at a young age. He was a poet-turned-novelist, something like me, and his lyricism and vocabulary came together in ways I had never seen before.

[Read more…] about Novels that have influenced me

A Skee-Phi Wedding: Brother Ryan and Soror Allison

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Brother Ryan Gilbreath is a Spring 2009 initiate of the Beta Gamma Chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity at Virginia State University and a current member of Nu Lambda, the alumni chapter of Petersburg, Virginia.  His bride, Allison, came to Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority via the Sigma Omicron Chapter at Virginia Wesleyan University.  Their wedding took place on May 25, 2014 at the Founders Inn and Spa in Virginia Beach.  Below the jump, Brother Gilbreath talks about Alpha’s role in his wedding, his family, and in his life.

The brotherhood that I have with my frat brothers is amazing. All of my groomsmen were Alphas and I regard them as actual “brothers” and not just members.

I am [the only Alpha in my family]. My dad is a Sigma from Alabama A&M who pledged back in the 80s.  Me and my dad joke around about that all the time.  But I told him that when I was looking at fraternities, Alpha really connected with me.  I want to pass down my legacy to my son one day, but I will always respect his choices because at the end of the day, it’s his choice.

I loved my college experience after crossing; nothing like it!   There is such a legacy that you have to uphold and you learn that it’s not about you but more about the fraternity. People look at you as a leader when you cross Alpha.

Alpha for me has always and will always be a pivotal area in my life.  Alpha has taught me resilience and perseverance when it comes to life’s ups and downs. To always do what is right and to never give up; be a servant to all and to teach and uplift our communities.

Transferring to Nu Lambda [the alumni chapter in Petersburg, Virginia] for me was like coming home in a sense.  The chapter has a mix of older and younger brothers and I gained great wisdom from both sides.  I learned how to be an Alpha man even more, if you know what I mean.

For a wedding reception, Beta Gamma is known to put on a show! We performed a step from our 2009 neophyte show show and a party hop we learned from our big brothers.  Five years later and we still had the show down pat.  It’s still ingrained in me to this day.

I really wanted to incorporate the hymn with me and my wife in the middle. It was a very touching moment for us both and my wife teared up while I joined my bros. There is nothing like it.  Our Greek roots (for me and my wife, who is an AKA) are part of our story.  Also, if you did not notice from the video [below], our wedding colors were salmon pink and old gold!

My brothers have been there for me and I have been there for them. It’s deeper than the letters and the parties.  I regard them as family.

I will never forget that wedding experience for the rest of my life!

Ryan + Allison | Founder’s Inn, VA Wedding Videographer | Delta Studio Productions | Virginia Wedding & Corporate Videographers from Delta Studio Productions on Vimeo.

Cool video post

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One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. “What’s happened to me?” he thought. It wasn’t a dream. His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls.

A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table – Samsa was a travelling salesman – and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer. Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather.

A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table – Samsa was a travelling salesman and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame.By Some Thinker

One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. “What’s happened to me?” he thought. It wasn’t a dream. His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls.

Ultra Amazing One

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No Fancy Content

The bedding was hardly able to cover it and seemed ready to slide off any moment. His many legs, pitifully thin compared with the size of the rest of him, waved about helplessly as he looked. “What’s happened to me?” he thought. It wasn’t a dream. His room, a proper human room although a little too small, lay peacefully between its four familiar walls. A collection of textile samples lay spread out on the table – Samsa was a travelling salesman – and above it there hung a picture that he had recently cut out of an illustrated magazine and housed in a nice, gilded frame. It showed a lady fitted out with a fur hat and fur boa who sat upright, raising a heavy fur muff that covered the whole of her lower arm towards the viewer. Gregor then turned to look out the window at the dull weather.

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The Plot

One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.

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The Jungle

One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin. He lay on his armour-like back, and if he lifted his head a little he could see his brown belly, slightly domed and divided by arches into stiff sections. One morning, when Gregor Samsa woke from troubled dreams, he found himself transformed in his bed into a horrible vermin.

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Man listen….these AKAs rightchea!

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Post by Veda Jairrels.

Winding Down to Wind Up

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Thanks to the generosity of a dear friend, I am heading out of town this week for a short urban retreat.  I will be heading to a city in the northeastern US to just kick back, relax, eat well, and spend hours and hours writing Blood of a Dark Nation, the next installment of the Dark Nation series.

I have had a lot on my plate recently.  Gamma Xi Phi, the professional fraternity for artists, is still a very important volunteer experience for me and I recently joined the Georgetown University African American Advisory Board.  Though I’ve still been writing, it hasn’t been with the intensity that I usually do.  However, I think this trip will be an excellent way to kick-start the next portion of developing this book.

Just time…in a different environment…with no interruptions.  Exactly what Justin and Dante need to get the rest of their story told.

I’ve written about 50 pages of the novel and I’m guessing it will be about 200 pages total.  Covenant was also a short novel, but it gets to the point.

Blood of a Dark Nation will have a lot of action.   I’m excited to introduce several new characters, including Annette Mitchell, Dr. Leung, The Butcher, and of course, The Jackal.

Spoiler alert:  There will be blood.

That said, I will be scaling back my blogging and social media updates unless it has to do with the writing of this book, from next week through the end of August.  Since Blood of a Dark Nation is totally outlined and 50 pages are already written, I don’t think it will take longer than nine weeks to finish the rest.

I would *like* to publish the novel by the end of the year, retaining my annual publishing streak.  But I can’t promise that because the editor and cover designer still need to be paid as well as the company which formats my work for e-books.  (I could do that myself, but I really am not that good at it.)

I might pull a Beyonce and just surprise y’all when it drops.  That does take a LOT of pressure off me when it comes to the promotion leading up to a launch.  Like, dropping a book is much like planning any other special event.  But really… like really really…. I don’t make a lot of money off my books in the first place, so why not take the risk of a “surprise” publish date?  My super readers follow me on this blog and social media so there’s little risk that anyone would miss the announcement.

Just rambling at this point.  Haven’t made any decisions yet.

Y’all take care!

Fraternal Friday: Maybe the inactive members have it right

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On Facebook over the holiday weekend, a Facebook friend posted the following:

it absolutely burns me up to see a “brother” buy a new vehicle and the first thing put on it is a fraternity tag. Mind you, these same brothers won’t come to meetings, pay dues, or support any cause of the fraternity. If you’re not about what you’re advertising, don’t advertise. I’m tired of these letter wearers.

First, a fact:  A majority of initiates into my fraternity are currently inactive.  That is probably the case for every fraternity. Let me underscore the fact that the judgment of inactive members is a huge pet peeve of mine.  I have been inactive and I have been active.  I went from neophyte of the year to inactive member the very next year.  And when I came back to activity, I became a national committee chair.  And I am currently inactive again. This does not stop me from wearing paraphernalia.  My ‘nalia reminds me of good things and of friends I made.  It allows me to connect with people I wouldn’t ordinarily connect with, even if only fleetingly.  And I look rather good in black and gold. For me, my current reason for being inactive is financial.  I just don’t have the $150 to pay the fraternity for the benefit of a magazine that is consistently late, if it comes out at all.  That’s pretty much all I would get. I haven’t been a member of a chapter for many years.  I wasn’t a member of a chapter when I was a national committee chair, either.  Rather than go into those reasons, I want to share with you a list why people might be happy to represent their membership but loathe to become an active member of a local chapter:

  • The members of the chapter aren’t nice.
  • The grad chapter/grad members had an adversarial relationship with the undergrad chapter.
  • They are tired of being hit on at fraternity functions.
  • The local chapter is just wack/socially awkward/inept.
  • Tired of the scandals at the national level.
  • Don’t want to be begged for money at every chapter meeting.
  • Extremely difficult to be a leader in the chapter due to cliques or generational differences.
  • The chapter treated them poorly when they were a member – before you even joined the chapter yourself.
  • Don’t agree with the direction of Greek life as a whole anymore.
  • The local chapter is homophobic.
  • The local chapter is full of closet queens who won’t change the status quo.
  • The member is an introvert.

But none of those reasons impact the fact that said member’s life was changed when they became a member of the organization.  Becoming a member is a rite of passage to be proud of and a symbol of prestige in the community.  It’s possible to be proud of what you are and hesitant to be engaged at the same time. Nobody wants to be around smug people who think they’re better because they have the money and the time to be engaged.  And perhaps that’s what some of our organizations have become.   There are some people that I look at and praise their activity because they really do enjoy it.  Quietly, I am placing bets on when they, too, will be burned out from the drama and foolishness and become engaged in something else. A radical change in the culture of Greek life has to occur before the majority of the inactive members come back.  So long as the leadership and the rank-and-file alike are harping on this sense of “obligation” to be active, we will stay away, our time will go to other endeavors, and our money will go to other causes. Having been both engaged and disengaged, I can’t say that the inactive brothers have it wrong.  I’m proud to BE… and I’m happy to stay away from the mess I have encountered inside chapter walls.

Harpo, who dese women?

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http://vimeo.com/68784626

It’s funny how the above video has apparently been on Vimeo for 11 months but only just went viral (in my world) this morning.  In the space of an hour, three different friends told me about this video and asked for my comments.

After watching it yourself, I think you can understand that I am not necessarily a fan.  It definitely seemed like an interesting concept, but you can tell there are already some “characters” in the bunch who just want to be famous for the wrong reasons.

If I was going to be Executive Producer for an unscripted show about sorority life, here’s how it would go:

First, I’d call it “Joiners” and I wouldn’t limit it to sororities.

I’d cast an AKA, a Delta, a Link, a Jack and Jill mom, and an OES member.  My hope is that all five women know each other from their community work.  I’d want them to be in their late 30s at least so the world can see that membership really is for life.  And I want different types of orgs so the women can discuss why one might be in more than one.

I’d follow them from September through May as each woman plans their chapter’s major social/philanthropic event for the year.  I’d love some sort of friendly competition among the five, like who can raise the most money with their events.

Of course I’d want to follow them on service projects, conventions, parties, church, etc.

Joiners should be more documentary and less ratchet.  Which means it would only last a season, but at least it could be a season we’d be proud of.

I’d choose DC over Atlanta, but Baltimore or Philadelphia would be just as good.

Anyway, as far as the above project, I can see why it didn’t go anywhere.  The women involved are too young to be interesting, if you ask me, and too old and educated to be ratchet.

What do you think?

Fraternal Friday: You want to put that hot sauce where?

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Tabasco

Last week, the Alphas at University of Tennessee were kicked off campus until 2016 for some pretty ill allegations.  Here are the receipts for those of you (like me) who need the salacious details like to understand how disciplinary investigations work.

To be honest, I don’t want to talk about what my brothers are accused of specifically.  When these stories get out, it becomes all-too-easy to play pile-on with not only the undergrads, but the entire generation.

OMG THEY NEED TO STOP ALL THIS HAZING

OMG THIS WHOLE GENERATION IS KILLING THE FRAT

OMG THEY MAKIN UP NEW SHIT NOW!  WE NEEEEEVER DID THAT

OMGWTFBBQ

So here’s the thing…. I will be 35 years old on June 25.  I am not a young man.  The practice of putting hot sauce on your privates as a stage in the pledge process is not new.  I first heard about it as an undergraduate which was over 15 years ago now.  There is a name for the practice and there is a reason for the practice.  It’s not a mindless thing that somebody made up out of the blue.

It is, however, very reckless and unnecessary for the training of potential members into a fraternity.  So if you’re reading this and you’re doing this to your pledges, please stop.  And if you’re not, don’t start.

But again, this practice existed fifteen years ago.  It bothers me when older fraternity members don’t think critically about how culture works.  Just because you didn’t do it doesn’t mean it wasn’t going on.  “The Process” has never been one monolithic experience.  When it comes to unofficial, underground pledge processes, they vary from totally hands-off pledging experiences which are uplifting and educational, to cruel and meaningless hazing practices and probate show practice.

Most fall somewhere in the middle.

I believe that most undergraduates who participate in underground processes are well-meaning young men and women who yearn for a deep connection to…something.  Maybe it’s to the ancestors, or to ideals, or just to a legacy they can be part of.  We (collectively) hype fraternity and sorority membership to be a transformative experience.   And for decades, “The Process” was the catalyst for the transformation.

But as “The Process” changed and laws against hazing changed, the official intake processes had to change as well, forcing deeper underground the already illegal practices that chapters were engaging in.

Let’s be clear:  there has always been an “underground” even when pledging was “above-ground.”  Every chapter had its own traditions and practices.  Everyone wasn’t putting hot sauce on genitals, but some people were getting peanut butter perms while others were getting shot in the face with water guns.

And men and women endured because the benefits to joining a BGLO are real and tangible, and for many, it was worthwhile socially and professionally.

But that’s really outside my overall point, which is that undergrads are being vilified nationally because they are being caught engaging in practices which are often as old as the chapters themselves.  Something about that doesn’t sit right with me.

Maybe it’s because my brothers and sisters haven’t accepted that there is no singular underground process with a syllabus, objectives, standards, and reading list.

When you go underground, that is a local decision.  You do it because you want to be transformed.  When the mask comes off at the probate show, you want to have earned that new name.  I get that.

But I wish they didn’t feel that way.  And I wish the chapter members (and alumni) giving them the underground process didn’t feel as though they had to.  This is a generational curse that perhaps no amount of revamping of the official process can solve.

I do know that vilifying an entire generation of those who have chosen to be hazed won’t solve anything and won’t mend any rifts between the young and old.  It’s going to take a lot of compassion and listening to solve this complex problem.

 

The Resurgence of DC Black Pride

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Last weekend, as is every Memorial Day Weekend, was DC Black Pride, sometimes referred to as DC Gay Black Pride by those of us who aren’t ashamed of the word “gay.”

I went to my first Pride in the year 2000.  It was epic.  I think everyone’s first Pride is epic, no matter how small it becomes.  I didn’t attend my next Pride until the year 2004.  That year I sat in the lobby at the feet of author Brent Dorian Carpenter as he held court, selling his book and making new friends.  It’s because of Brent that I knew I could publish without the aid of an agent or traditional publishing house.  The following year, 2005, I participated in Pride as an author and vendor for the first time.  Since then, I have attended Pride each year, if even only for a few minutes.

A few years ago, DC Black Pride “fell off.”  Not only were the crowds dwindling due to competition from circuit parties and for-profit LGBT-related vacations, it could also be said that Pride itself had not trained the next generation of leaders to take it over from the elders.  For me, the last straw was last year, when I was told rather flippantly that there would be no authors forum.

bishwhet

You have to understand, in addition to all the parties that Pride is known for are the more important workshops and “daytime” events, such as the Poetry Slam, the Film Festival, the Author’s Forum.  It’s not just vendors… this is an opportunity for authors to directly connect with their readers, get new readers, and inspire other writers – just as I was inspired by Brent.

Perhaps even more importantly is that the people who attend Pride are those who want to be on the forefront of new movements in the black gay community, politically and artistically.  If I hadn’t been an avid Pride attendee, I would have never known about black gay films like The Ski Trip and black gay shows like Noah’s Arc.

So it was a heartbreaker that they eliminated the Writer’s Forum.

But this year they brought it back and I was invited!  As usual, I had a ball.  Wyatt O’Brian Evans did a more than capable job as the moderator.  I was joined on the panel by old friends BuddahDesmond and LaToya Hankins and new friends J. Omarr and Tiana Meek (T’Ego). I think it was the right size, diverse mix of opinions, and a good vibe overall.  The audience had great questions, too.   I was lucky to reconnect with other old friends from my Georgetown days.

I would say that DC Black Pride is definitely alive and well.  The audiences, though smaller than they were in the mid-00’s, are growing again.  The spirit was back.  Nobody seemed defeated or tired or unhappy.  The name finally matched the feeling – PRIDE.

I hope this message encourages all of you who had written Pride off to make it your Memorial Day Weekend destination once more.  The writers are still writing and we are again being included.   Let’s make it even bigger next year, okay?

Fraternal Friday: Will a Transgender aspirant ever be initiated?

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yes-word

And you will deal.

When I first thought about this topic for Fraternal Fridays, I thought it was going to be a long, eloquent, passionate defense of the transgender community.  I thought I’d be citing all types of articles and real life people who should be members of a fraternity or sorority, but seemingly cannot because they are trans.

But why make a fetishistic statement of this blog entry by peppering it with pictures of trans folks who are hot right now?  That’s not the point.

My point is that I am a cisgender fraternity man who will judge a transgender applicant on the same merits as any other applicant.  A man is a man and I don’t care to check for the receipts.

Yes, it’s going to be a very hard road for transgender applicants.  Transphobia is real out here and there will be many denials before the first yes.  But I have faith in the undergraduates of today and tomorrow.  It has always been the undergraduate chapters who have been on the leading edge of social justice issues in the Greek community.  I don’t expect some old fogey alumni chapter to do the right thing.  The undergrads can and the undergrads will.

To my trans folks… it might take a while, and it might not be you, but it will happen.  Your bystanders are becoming your allies.  We will get there.

Throwback Thursday: Social Probation

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Que3
Lampados Pledge Club (Omega Psi Phi) at Wilberforce

 

In this excerpt from Lazarus, I write about one of the occasions the Beta pledges were on line and had to navigate the campus while on strict social probation.  Enjoy.

After having purchased extra white shirts and black slacks for our line brothers, Ed and I stepped off of the bus and paused at the front gates. We were both dressed identically, from shoes to shirts, and even our thick winter coats happened to be black.

“How are you feeling?” Ed whispered.

“Fine,” I said. “Let’s do this.”

Our book bags on our backs, and shopping bags in our hands, we walked side by side through the campus. Our goal was to meet our line brothers in the smaller of our two cafeterias and have lunch together before we split up for class.

As we walked through the diagonal red brick path toward the heart of campus, my heartbeat sped up. Dozens of white kids passed us by, without so much as a second look. It could have been that our stoic faces disturbed them, but it was also highly likely that they did not notice us. We willed ourselves to be invisible so that we would not be forced to ignore our friends.

I noticed that our pace was quicker than it would have been had we not been pledges. Only about a minute had passed, and we were already walking through The Square, the symbolic center of campus as well as the busiest place at midday. We were nearly through The Square when someone called out for Ed.

“Ayo, Ed!” the male voice called. I resisted the urge to turn to Ed, and we walked on.

“Ed!” the man called again. We continued to walk, not daring to break social probation. The sharp voice cut through the winter air like a blade, for as busy as it was, The Square was still relatively quiet. I could sense Ed tensing up, but we walked on.

“Hey Ed, I know you hear me!”

I prayed that whoever was calling Ed would not try to confront him right there in front of everyone. It just would not do to have an argument in the middle of campus on our first real day of pledging.

We stepped up our pace and finally were clear from the center of campus. We only had two more buildings to pass before we reached the cafeteria. There were more people of color walking on this side of campus, but fortunately, we did not know most of them. Several smiled or nodded, which we could handle with a small smirk or nod back.

Every now and then, I touched my collar to make sure my pledge pin was still there. The golden disc with the burgundy letter P was smaller than a dime, and we all were paranoid about losing them since we had to wear them at all times.

We reached the cafeteria and got in the longish line to have our identification cards swiped through the card reader so that we could eat. Ed and I surveyed the dining area and saw Calen and Micah already seated at a square table near the rear of the room. We made eye contact with each other, and they rose to begin getting their food.

Kathy, the middle-aged lady who swiped the cards took one look at me and Ed and knew our story.

“Oh my God!” She quietly exclaimed as she held my card in her hand. “Y’all are pledging, too?”

She smiled as we looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

“Well, babies,” she began. “I know y’all can’t talk to me, but don’t worry about it. You just do your thing. It’ll all be over soon enough.”

We couldn’t help but to smile at Kathy, as she was the first person to really wish us good luck in the process.

“Yeah, babies,” she said as she swiped Ed’s card through the reader. “I seen a lot of young men – and ladies – be on line throughout the years. Y’all will be just fine.”

 

***

If you liked what you read and want to know what happens next, please purchase Lazarus today!

Support Sand Dunes – a short film about Alaska’s youth of color

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SandDunes

Many lifetimes ago, I was a site director for an after school program here in DC.  While in that role, I met many talented college students who served as my staff.  They were after school and summer teachers for urban elementary school youth.

You know, even though I went to Georgetown and fully embrace the snobbery therewith, I think all of the colleges in DC have great students.  If you were a student of color in DC you quickly learned that you were part of a a talented coterie of people who were destined to do great things.  And when I worked for that program, I felt like an honorary big brother to the next generation of that group.

Tiana

Tiana Marenah was one of those people.  In the years since her graduation from George Washington University, she has received a Master of Fine Arts degree from New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, specifically Tisch Asia in Singapore!  She’s a filmmaker, y’all!

Although she was born in the Gambia, Alaska is her home.  Yes, that Alaska, home of snow, moose, Sarah Palin, and Ameriie.  (Did you know Ameriie lived in Alaska?  I did because that’s the homie.)

meandamerie
Receipts. Me and Ameriie in college.

 

But Tiana’s mission is to make you understand that snow, moose, and Sarah Palin are not her reality when it comes to Alaska.  In the center of it all, Alaska is its people and their stories.  Her film Sand Dunes will tell part of that story.  I am very proud of Tiana’s successes so far and I am anxious to see the fruits of her labor.

Please visit the Indiegogo campaign page for Sand Dunes.  This is going to be a multicultural story which juxtaposes Alaska’s beauty against the realities of its youth.  Check it out and please donate!  You could be funding a future Academy Award winner!

 

 

Only 54 Black-Owned Bookstores left in America and I ran out of ****s to give

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That title was pretty harsh, right?  I’m sorry.

I just read a blog entry from Troy, the founder and webmaster of AALBC.  He reports that there are only 54 black-owned bookstores left in America, about half of the amount existing in 2012.  There are many reasons cited and I suppose they are fair.

I really should be quite sad that the number of black-owned bookstores in this country is dwindling.  But I am not.  I am an indie author who knows how to reach my market.  I have opted out of the system which requires agents, major publishing houses, and major distributors.  In fact, the disappearing black bookstore just might be a symptom of success for the indie black authors who have discovered the companies who do right by us.

I have two quick stories:

When I first published Lazarus (which you should buy there or on Amazon), I got linked up with an African American book distributor.  I can’t remember their names, but I remember they were the only black distributor listed in some book I read for aspiring authors.  Long story short, I sent them a box of my books and never saw a single dime.  That was over $300 dollars of merchandise they just… took.  Emails bounced, phone disconnected.  It was a classic con and I fell for it, much like many other authors, I’m sure.

So my book never made it to most book stores.  Which is fine because Lazarus did very well for a book in limited availability.  I knew how and where to market the book and I got a few paid speaking engagements based on its success as well.

All this without traditional bookstores and with Amazon and direct sales through my website.

But aside from the distribution scam, I want to talk about the few independent bookstores I did work with:  One gay bookstore and one black bookstore.

Lambda Rising Books in DC (which has since closed) was a great bookstore.  A young gay man like me would have never thought so many books had ever been written about the gay experience.  And they had a whole section for black gay books as well!  They kept Lazarus in stock.  They would call me personally when they ran out, to the point where I couldn’t keep up with the demand.  I loved them for that.  Honestly, I was afraid that the book would just collect dust on their shelves because I wasn’t convinced black gay people were patronizing gay bookstores in large numbers.  I was wrong.

There was another bookstore in DC, a chain store actually.  You know the name but I will not say it.  I wanted so badly to be included in this store.  If your book was in this black bookstore, you had really made it.  I followed all their procedures to be included to the letter.  Sent them a copy of the book.  Nothing.  No response.

And of course you think to yourself what the hell man, I am black and this is a book, why wouldn’t they carry my book?

I felt bad, but I moved on.

A year or so later, the Federal City Alumnae Chapter of Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc., invited me to participate in their emerging authors event.  Nikki Giovanni was the headliner that year and the black bookstore I mentioned was the official vendor.  They sold Nikki’s books upstairs, along with other products, and the indie authors were downstairs.

So I got my picture with Nikki and we chit-chatted about my book.  So she says “Why aren’t they carrying your book?” and I’m like “I don’t know, I submitted it for their review and didn’t hear back.”

So she basically beckons the owner over to us and says “Excuse me, I understand you’re not carrying this young man’s book?”

And he’s all incredulous like “What you you mean we’re not carrying it?”

And by this point I’m all smug because Nikki Giovanni is literally advocating for my inclusion in this bookstore right in front of me!

So, I guess to avoid a scene, the dude is like “Well all he has to do is send up a book and we will get that process going!”

I say “Yes, I did that, but I will do it again.”

So I thanked Nikki Giovanni and got on with life.  I sent the bookstore all the same materials and another book and patiently waited.

No response.  Again.  They played the hell out of me and lied to Nikki Giovanni.

If you’ve read this far, you might be wondering why I am still holding on to this.  It’s because black gay authors have, for years, been treated like shit by straight black bookstore owners, to the point where I don’t even attempt to work with them.

And when I heard that the bookstore in this story closed, I had but one response:

grumpycatgood

 

When Lambda Rising closed, of course I was in mourning for weeks, but I ultimately knew that whether one is a fan of black bookstores or gay bookstores, the same books on the shelves are available on Amazon and through the author’s websites.  And a very large number are available on e-readers.

Of course, there are some good black bookstores and I support them regularly, including (and especially) Children of the Sun and Sankofa Books, all within a stone’s throw of Howard University in DC, which itself has a very nice bookstore.  I will continue to support those places because I make pretty good discoveries there.  But I know that I need to remain personally vigilant when it comes to getting book recommendations, paying attention to my Amazon recommendations as well as my friends and family who know my tastes.

The way authors get our books to our readers has changed and is changing.  There will always be bookstores, though not in large numbers.  And there will always be libraries, where they are in the community, in our homes, or on our devices.

I just can’t get behind the closing of black-owned bookstores as a crisis when it’s not impacting my readers’ ability to find my books.