From the title, those that
know me personally or otherwise- via fb or twitter- or have been in proximity
to me while a Beyonce song was playing know that I am huge
fan. Many will probably roll their eyes and think “not this again,” while
others will say “of course! He is a faggot; we never
expect anything other.” But I would like to make a suggestion, read the
title once more and try to imagine me not being the typical homosexual male,
biased, and gyrating to everything “Beyonce”, while at the same time believing that
I am her, as I sing in front of the mirror, mimicking her every move and vocal
technique. This is not about Beyonce, well ...to a degree (lol). It is about
manhood and boyhood and why the latter is just a waste of time in cultivating a
long lasting relationship aimed at commitment and all that comes with it.
Having failed once more, and
quite recently, at an attempt to foster a relationship with a man, I found
myself like any other person would,
listening to the songs that seem to heighten the sensation of pain just so I
could deal with it and move on. Normally I would deny that I am hurting and
just pretend while carrying a smile on my face during the day, and at night have
the rivers visit me as I wet the pillow while suffering perpetual episodes of
anxiety attacks. So in essence, I would and have before, pretended that all is
ok in front of others when my insides are turned out, exposed to an
environment they are not used to and cannot thrive in. This time around I lost
it, I was angry and ready to explode and I understood why and accepted it
(post-Beyonce’s If I were a boy).
I did not cry as much as I thought I would but
the anger was there; a throbbing, burning sensation that filled me every time I
heard of, saw a picture, sms, or some stupid memory collected from the past six
months. The anger arrived and the first thing I did, well after accepting the
feelings, was to put on a Beyonce cd. I expected myself to dance around and
sing while cleaning my room (homo much???) but then what happened is that I
listened and it made sense. Resentment
was the first song, followed by If I were
a boy. The latter had me sitting reflexively on my bed and feeling. I
felt what I imagine Bey went through when she wrote the song- each and every
line spoke to me and I understood. And miraculously the anger disappeared.
Some might call this rationalisation of the situation, but seeing that I’m more
inclined to use my emotions to deal with things I refer to what happened as
emotional re-awakening or intelligence. Yes! I used the term intelligence while speaking of
something related to the queen Bey (yol haters out there are continuously
saying how unintelligent she is) smh! Wrong!
Anyway, when she sadly sang
“but you’re just a boy,” I got it. I was in love with a boy instead of a man.
He listened but could not hear me, he used strong words such as I love you but
could not follow through on them, he tried hle, but when maturity has not
pushed one to the level where they need to be, or when one has their priorities
set out up-side-down in a relationship, there is no way that ship is going to
sail through the storm and arrive safely and in-tact to the shore. This is of
course a one sided analysis of the “ship”, but that’s all I can give seeing
that when I took the boat and decided to sail the other way there were a few,
shallow, and useless utterances between us. I wanted more, sought an explanation, some-sort
of line that would make me believe that he understood what I meant, but I got
no such. But when “you’re just a boy,” hit me I understood . I accepted
it and slowly I am moving on. I’m not a black man-super-bottom that just walks
out of things and have all feelings relating to the other just vanish; I think
of him, miss him, sometimes I do things (gestures, say things) that remind me
of him. WheN my mind recalls how he would have reacted in a given situation. But
then I put myself first, prioritise things according to what I want instead of
empathising, overly at times, with the other when they don’t give a damn.
This is not an entry from the
diary of a mad, black homo. And I am not lambasting my ex-lover (somewhat); I
am just being real to myself and for myself. Maybe he feels that I too was a
boy, I mean I am aware that I can’t communicate properly and that is something
I’m working on. Most times I expect the other person to understand how I feel
without saying a word, lol, and of-course that is childish behaviour because I
am such an astute communicator. Maybe I wanted and expected too much, maybe
maybe maybe… meh!
But it is what it is, I want
what I want and I deserve it. And unfortunately it took me a while to realise
that I was on a ship that could only give me 50% when I gave 80% and was
willing to even go to a 100%. I sailed back to the island of “me” and it was hard;
the boat would sometimes get filled with water from the sea, I would get tired of
rowing, was freezing and just wanted to give in at times… just let the ocean
swallow me whole. But then hope never left, I knew I would heal and begin to
feel something other than anger and frustration, I knew that I would reach the
island and would have learned something from being on the “ship” with my dark chocolate. It is true that sometimes life lets us be
with people only a while to teach us more about ourselves, the world, and things
beyond the world. I continue to listen to and watch Beyonce’s performances of Resentment, If I were a boy + Oughtta
know (Alanis Morisette) and nuances I missed from the songs now stand out
to me.
TBC…
