Been thinking a lot about what representation looked like for Black queer kids growing up in the nineties. (THREAD)

I'm so glad that we live in a world post-Noah's Arc, post-Moonlight and post-Frank Ocean, where Black male queerness is more than a punchline or a sole defining character trait. We still have a long way to go, but I'm glad we're not where we were.

The first culturally impactful queer characters I remember were Celie and Shug in The Color Purple (1985), though their romantic and sexual relationship was downplayed to an impolitely chaste kiss scene. But Black culture embraced the film, giving this love an enduring platform.

Two years later, Meshach Taylor portrayed Hollywood Montrose in Mannequin. I've talked about him before #onhere, but I remember being struck at how flamboyant he was - and how the movie let that be okay. And how my dad begrudgingly let me watch.

On the Pretty Dudes Twitter, I've detailed the lesbian relationship in The Women of Brewster Place (1989), though I did not see the unedited version - containing the impactful queer scenes between to lesbian Black women - until the onset of YouTube. https://twitter.com/PrettyDudesWeb/status/1078499822083002369

Six Degrees of Separation (1993) is the movie that changed my life. Will Smith's Paul was a Black gay character who was allowed to be sexual (even if Will wasn't willing to kiss another man onscreen). I have never forgotten this scene and what it did to me. Still does, tbh.

I was so moved by the fact that Stockard Channing's Ouisa wasn't (overtly) repelled by Paul's homosexuality and that she found space to love him. It was a fairy tale, for sure, but for an hour and 52 minutes, it was one I believed.

There were pop culture moments that passed me by for obvious reasons. When I was six, Jaye Davidson received an Oscar nomination for The Crying Game. Cree Summer and Jenifer Lewis starred as a lesbian couple in the series Courthouse (1995). Also, Six Feet Under happened.

Mathew St. Patrick played Keith Charles opposite Michael C. Hall's David Fisher. They're openly gay, the adopt children, they get married! It's very progressive, but rooted into a show that wasn't talked about in many Black spaces around me.

That's perhaps the tricky part with representation. I'm glad Michael Boatman's gay character Carter Heywood locked lips with a straight Michael J. Fox on Spin City (1997), but that show was not on my radar as a young Black viewer.

There are white shows that Black audiences embrace seem to embrace as a group, sometimes for imperceptible reasons, and Spin City, Six Feet Under... they were not those shows.

The question becomes this: If a Black gay character exists on a "white show," and you're not around to see it, is it actual representation? And that ? becomes, who is the representation for? (Pictured: straight actors Eric McCormack and Taye Diggs lock lips on Will and Grace)

Is it about seeing your own life and experiences reflected back to you? Or is it normalizing said life and experiences for others who maybe are unfamiliar or biased against the realities you live every day? (Pictured: straight actors Stephen Poletti and Richard Roundtree on Roc)

Let's talk about Roc's 1991 gay wedding episode for a second. Interracial relationships seem to be the television trend here if they are male, but, remarkably, this was a prominent storyline on what could safely be considered a "Black show." This does not happen often. Still.

The majority of prominent Black gay male characters of the era existed solely on white-targeted entertainment. One of the gold standards of Black-centered representation, A Different World, did a powerful episode on AIDS, but never homosexuality.

Interestingly, it was a common issue with shows at the time starring Black actors. Their experiences were typically heightened, outside the realm of reality for so many. It's an oft-repeated critique of The Cosby Show, but it applies for many sitcoms of the 80s and early 90s.

(This isn't a fault. Sitcoms need a *hook.* Fish out of Philly water. Fawlty Towers, but Black. Homeboys in Outer Space. Etc. Sometimes reality just isn't unique enough.)

Even when shows aimed to represent a more "realistic" world for their sitcoms, little room was made to include queer storylines and characters. (I want to stress that Black experiences are not monolithic, but there is a distinct not-the-Huxtables feel to many post-Cosby sitcoms.)

Interestingly, this is where Fox comes in. They were progressive at launch with their Black-focused shows. The Sinbad Show. Living Single and In Living Color. Martin.

I don't have many memories of In Living Color, but I know the "Men On..." sketches were popular. Watching them now, I don't see them as offensive (they're hilarious), and I also don't see them as representing anything, let alone my identity. Which is fine!

Keeping it in the (Wayans) family, A Low Down Dirty Shame (1994) is another example of a non-offensive gay portrayal used more for laughs than authentic characterization. CW: violence, played for laughs. RIP Miss Gay Texas Corwin Hawkins. (My dad did NOT like this.)

Going back to Fox, Living Single had the ladies hit a gay club in season four (1993) - Club Nexus. Some of the episode's jokes hold up (the drag queen who's a killer basketball player) and some do not (the whole Max trumpeting her cisgender womanhood is just not funny).

One season earlier, Erika Alexander (Max) reunited with her Cosby Show costar Karen Malina White (Shayla) in a storyline about a lesbian bridal shower and wedding. Max's distress wasn't about Shayla being gay, it was about Shayla keeping a secret despite their close friendship.

(It's interesting to note that the Black lesbian characters were allowed Black love interests and, whether intentional or not, all of the Black men are paired with white partners.)

Forcing cultural conversations anew (or just one on the couch with my parents and I) was 1996's Set It Off, where Living Single's Queen Latifah plays Cleo opposite a (Black!) completely mute Samantha MacLachlan. Another "Black classic" with a prominent lesbian relationship.

Instead of inspiring nuanced looks at queer culture in Black spaces (and instead of earning Latifah a well-deserved Oscar nomination), the film fueled rumors about Latifah's own sexuality. Why else would she be comfortable playing queer if she wasn't already queer in real life?

This provided another unintentional lesson. Your proximity to queerness was directly proportional to your own queerness. It implied that if you portrayed or identified with these stories, a spotlight would be shone on you, and you might find yourself center stage with homophobia.

So many classic Black films of the era exclude queer representation unless they're being jaw-droppingly homophobic (looking at you, House Party). It's interesting looking back at what I learned from entertainment about spaces I was allowed to occupy. (Read: white.)

Pre-Netflix, YouTube, and torrent life, films like Looking for Langston and Tongues Untied were too far from the Black American zeitgeist to be available, let alone make an impression. And you weren't about to walk out of Blockbuster with a gay movie, no matter how celebrated.

Even with cable, I was more likely to be exposed to Queer as Folk, Trick, or The Broken Hearts Club (Billy Porter!) if I was LOOKING for queer stories.

The implication always remained. Black stories are Black stories and queer stories are queer stories with )was little attempt to reconcile them. (I watched Broken Hearts Club, but I only remember Dean Cain making out with Andrew Keegan. I should give it another try. For Billy.)

I say all this to say, yeah, I understand now why catching the pilot of Noah's Arc on some corner of the web one day changed my fucking life. And I want that feeling for Black queer people everywhere.

Moonlight wrecked me, even in moments that weren't explicitly about sexuality or queerness. Because the representation is still there. We're here! We're queer! Sometimes we're just living, struggling, loving, like you! Revolutionary.

This will continue to be a revolutionary point of view for the foreseeable future, as long as representation continues to be rarefied. As long as our stories continue to be othered. But we're making progress.

Ava once said that we all deserve icons in our own image. I'd add that we all deserve to see our image in moments, stories, characters that are unremarkable and remarkable alike. There is true power in seeing reflections in the minutiae as well as the larger than life.

That's all I got. I'll continue doing my part as a creator and curator.
Watch a variety of intersectional and inclusive stories over at http://stoopidambitious.vhx.tv/browse . Stream my series @PrettyDudesWeb there or on Amazon https://www.amazon.com/Pretty-Dudes/dp/B07FQDT74N

My next novel (and first queer-centered one!) drops 6/9 here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B085PXN912/ref=cm_sw_r_tw_dp_U_x_RjKOEbWCXBA0H
I do thangs, y'all. Let me be great!

Wait, one more! I wanted to highlight Wesley Snipes as drag queen Noxeema Jackson in To Wong Fu, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar (1995).
Not a false note. No wink at the camera. No essence of no homo. Very homo. An authentically embodied queer Black man.

I just like unpacking why I am how I am in healthy ways. I want to make the world a better place for the queer BIPOC generations to come.

UPDATE: Apparently Moesha had a gay episode in their second season (1996)? I don't think I've ever seen this one. Shoutout to gay writer Demetrius Bady ( @dbady) for UPN representation!

You know, there is another UPN show that covered some amazing things in its PILOT, and in a way that should have kept it at the forefront of my mind. Good News (1997) handled some of the very things I mentioned earlier in this thread with humor and heart.

David Randolph (Green Arrow), Roz "In These Streets / Thalia the Muse of Comedy" Ryan (Amen), and Dwain A. Perry found all the levels of comedy in this situation, one completely surprising to see in a church set Black sitcom.

The best thing about this episode is how it doesn't sweep the homosexuality under the rug, or use gay storyline solely to strengthen the established heteronormative relationships. The primary focus here is Hattie's relationship with her gay son and his boyfriend.

It's beautiful, and the exact type of acceptance and love that few Black youth of my era yearned to receive from their churches, pastors, and parents. As a positive example (and being a PK myself), this was an impactful episode.

I wish this show had last longer, but I'm glad it existed in the first place. Notably, Hattie's son and his boyfriend did not show up again in the rest of the 21 episodes of the series. In fact, Hattie takes in a foster son two episodes later, who also never reappears.

"I love you like I love myself."
Let's carry that forward.
For real this time. /END THREAD

This is why you don't tweet while you sleep. An earlier tweet credited actor David Ramsey by his character name ("ACTING Pastor") David Randolph. My apologies to that beautiful, beautiful man. (Thanks to @nickythetee_ for catching it!)