Los Angeles-based gay filmmaker Michael Donte hasn’t been called to preach, but he has been called through his art and his latest short film “The Spirit God Gave Us,” to create a world that reimagines what is possible for Black queer people outside of the confines of the Black church.

A multi-hyphenate talent, in addition to directing, Donte also pens the screenplay and is a producer of Spirit. Full disclosure: Counter Narrative Project, which powers The Reckoning, is also an executive producer. The 20-minute short film, which stars Nic Ashe (“Queen Sugar,” “Choir Boy'”) and Elijah Boothe (“Luke Cage,” “Coin Heist”), had its world premiere in May at the Inside Out LGBTQ Film Festival in Toronto.

“The Spirit God Gave Us” is an intersectional story of faith and queer love through the lens of Malcolm (Ashe), and Shamont (Boothe), two young Black men who volunteer as ushers for their Baptist church and are faced with reconciling societal and religious expectations with an intense longing for connection and intimacy.

While the history of homophobia in the Black church is well documented, Donte tells The Reckoning that he decided to take a different approach in his screenplay for Spirit.

“Writing the script was a kind of therapy for me,” Donte said. “Challenging the narratives that we often see in media—that was the hardest part about writing the script. I wanted to acknowledge the conflict without making it the centerpiece. And I think we did that,” he said.

“Challenging the narratives that we often see in media—that was the hardest part about writing the script. I wanted to acknowledge the conflict without making it the centerpiece.”

- Michael Donte

For Boothe, who embodies Shamont, a New York transplant to the unidentified town and church where he meets Malcolm, much of what happens on screen for him is art imitating life.

“I grew up in a very strict Pentecostal church. I was in church Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays,” Boothe said. “You hear so much over the pulpit, and I definitely think those sermons, those messages, can hinder you from even thinking certain things are even possible.”

Donte says his choice to not give the town in his film a name was intentional.

“I wanted it to feel like this could take place anywhere for anyone because it does take place everywhere,” he said. “I grew up in Charlotte, North Carolina, and so the river [a recurring and private meeting place for Malcolm and Shamont in the film] and the Southern Baptist feel are pulled a lot from there.”

“I hadn’t seen a lot of Black queer love in film and television that I saw myself in until Moonlight. Moonlight was a representation of what could be.”

— Michael Donte

In Spirit, Donte seizes on the opportunity to present the type of representation he’s always wanted to see on-screen.

“I hadn’t seen a lot of Black queer love in film and television that I saw myself in until Moonlight,” he said, referencing the 2017 Academy-Award-winning film from queer writer Tarell Alvin McCraney and director Barry Jenkins. “Moonlight was a representation of what could be,” Donte said.

Now his film has the opportunity to inspire and create visibility in the tradition of the limited canon of Black queer films that precede Spirit. It’s a responsibility that everyone involved in the film is aware of, especially Ashe.

“This felt like legacy work. This felt purposeful. This felt bigger than me starring in this thing,” Ashe said. “It felt like a love letter to people who look and love like me.”

“I just felt as an artist, as an African American, and also, of course, as a gay Black man, that it was my responsibility to tell this story.”

- Elijah Boothe

Which explains why Donte is protective of his work and strategic about who has access to it.

“It's why I'm choosy about who I'm sharing space with, who reads the script, who is watching the film. It’s why I'm intentional about who I'm filling in as the actors,” Donte said. “I feel the responsibility, but this is what I am called to do,” he added.

“I just felt as an artist, as an African American, and also, of course, as a gay Black man, that it was my responsibility to tell this story,” Boothe said, who also reveals that his casting in Spirit marks a series of firsts in his career.

“It added a beautiful layer of liberation for me because this was my first gay role in my 15-year career,” Boothe said, as he spoke about being “intentional and purposeful” in accepting the offer to play Shamont. “So that in itself was life-changing.”

A Paradigm Shift In Hollywood?

In recent years, white straight actors have been lauded as “courageous” and “bold,” and in some cases, received major awards for playing LGBTQ roles. Yet, the stigma persists for Black queer actors, in or out of the closet, as well as for Black straight actors who choose to play gay characters on-screen.

“I’ve certainly had agents very early on in my career that kind of shied me away from specific roles,” Boothe said.

Speaking to a similar industry experience, Ashe tells The Reckoning how the stigma attached to being a Black openly gay actor impacted his self-esteem and the decision-making process for the roles he and other actors in his immediate circle chose at the start of their careers.

“I am in divine Black love. I love Black men. I love us for real. So much of what I do is for us.”

— Nic Ashe

“I have queer friends who don't put that on the forefront due to fear of perception or how it may affect the roles that they'll get in the future,” Ashe said. “I think that we're seeing a paradigm shift, but that stigma still exists.”

Today, Ashe says he refuses to subscribe to industry demands fueled by the stigma that requires actors to present as anything other than their authentic selves.

“I don't give a fuck anymore about that perception,” he said. “I used to be so burdened by it and, and wishing I was straight. I remember I was working on a show and they had these PR sorts of strategy talks, and we were literally taught to pivot any conversation about our orientation or who we were dating,” Ashe said.

“I have queer friends who don't put that on the forefront due to fear of perception or how it may affect the roles that they'll get in the future. I think that we're seeing a paradigm shift, but that stigma still exists.”

- Nic Ashe

“The shaming of stepping into those roles could change your career trajectory if you aren’t intentional about how you are taking those roles,” Donte said. “It’s unfortunate, but I think this is a beautiful opportunity for Black queer filmmakers and writers to write more nuanced roles for Black queer people that make people want to step into those roles.”

For years, Ashe says the incident introduced confusion and self-doubt about whether he could continue to work in an industry that he loved if he couldn’t show up authentically at work. Ashe says being on the set of Spirit with Donte in the director’s chair was a game-changer.

“I feel like both Elijah and I were handled with such care,” Ashe said. “There were moments where Michael's playing music on set—playing Little Richard and Solange—to just support the delicacy of these moments. I told my manager very recently that I only want to make work that I'm proud of with people I'm proud to know. I just feel like accepting The Spirit God Gave Us was the beginning of me setting new intentions for my career and ultimately my life,” he said.

More Than Art

It is rare to see a gay Hollywood couple where both partners are Black. Ashe, who is in a relationship with actor Justice Smith, reflects on “sneak-watching” the groundbreaking Black gay TV series “Noah’s Arc” as a teenager with The Reckoning as he begins to process how he is providing two-fold representation as an openly gay Black man who loves another Black man, and as an actor for a new generation of queer youth who will see his work in Spirit.

“While I still can, while I'm still young, I wanna lend myself to expanding the zeitgeist of what it is to be young and queer because that's such a pivotal moment in your life,” Ashe said. “I think we all start experimenting with sex. If we can expand what that looks like, we can minimize the number of traumatic experiences that come from being 14 to 17 and grappling with something bigger than you,” he said.

Like his relationship with Smith, Ashe is clear about who he creates art for and the necessary melanin a man must have to keep his attention and capture his heart.

“I am in divine Black love. I love Black men. I love us for real. So much of what I do is for us,” Ashe said. “I mean, all power to you if you love the white boys and the little coquitos and all of that, y’all do your thing,” he says through laughter. “But for me, it's gonna be Black men every time,” he said.

“We aren't the first to do this. There were people in 1862 who had a crush on a little boy and couldn’t express it. How dare I some centuries later show up in this body with this much freedom and not utilize it?”

- Nic Ashe

Just as Black queer love is centered in Spirit, Ashe describes a scene that didn’t make the final cut of the film where viewers would have seen he and Boothe’s characters Malcolm and Shamont by the river 50 years later.

“That to me was just striking,” he said. “The final cut didn't need it because we know what the promise is. But that was just such a gorgeous thing. It was simple, and it had no language to it.”

“I’ve never seen that,” Boothe said. “I've never envisioned myself being that or having that experience at a young age.”

It’s the power of art and Donte’s vision of Black gay men thriving, falling in love, and growing old together. It’s a simple premise that has historically been unimaginable and presumably unattainable for many.

“We aren't the first to do this," Ashe said. “There were people in 1862 who had a crush on a little boy and couldn’t express it. How dare I some centuries later show up in this body with this much freedom and not utilize it? How dare I say I'm gonna tuck these things away when it won't cost me a lynching or a lashing? So I feel like with [the ancestors] looking over me, they're like, ‘Boy, be free.’”

Editor’s Note: “The Spirit God Gave Us” will be presented during a private screening by Black, Gay, stuck at home virtually on August 25, 2022. Atlanta audiences will have two opportunities to view the film in-person at the Bronze Film Festival, and the Out on Film Festival beginning in August through October.