I just don't get most contemporary Black gay literature. Seriously. I can understand when an author wishes to write an evocative work which delves into the sociopolitical and emotional issues in the Black gay community, but...well it's like this.

I made a concerted effort about a year ago to start reading more Black gay novels. So I perused the local library and picked up some E. Lynn Harris, James Earl Hardy, and some other two- and three-named-authored books. And I sat down and read. And read. And read some more. And for the life of me I just couldn't get into these stories (which is a rarity for me, since I've been able to get into Tolstoy like a well-fitted glove). I looked at other works by less well-known authors, and just recently I discovered Michael-Christopher and Ian Patrick Polk.

Allow me to pull an Anitra here - "there were parts of stories that were great, but not a whole one...intrigued me."

This should be a problem, right? I mean, I'm Black and gay, the characters are Black and gay...it should go together like macaroni and cheese. But nope, it just didn't resonate. Not even a tiny little ping.

I want diversity. I don't want all the characters to have these perfect bodies and faces and jobs and lives with just a scoche of a character flaw thrown in for good measure. I don't want to keep reading the same man-done-me-wrong, husband-stepping-out-on-wife, bisexual-or-gay, hot-butt-nekkid-monkey-love type stories. I'm looking for that real-life experience to set the bar higher and not give the girls in the beauty parlor more fodder to kee-kee about (not to mention base accusations upon).

And instead of talking the talk, it's high time I walked the walk.

Believe it.