Constructing Our Present For Our Future Selves As Black Gay Men
A few days ago, I emailed some trusted colleagues concerning a documentary project idea. It’s part of how I process. I’m really lucky to have a fairly extensive network of individuals in various sectors that I can reach out to from time to time. Most of my ideas never make it to the manifestation stage because of this incredible vetting process.
I find it useful, even necessary, to think through projects and get feedback before I launch them. If there are red flags or warning signs, potential kinks, or concerns, it’s always good to get solid advice from trusted people. I hope that they will tell me the truth, and they always do. It’s also good in the early stages to register any critical feedback and develop responses, which helps me determine my level of excitement for a project.
Well this particular email, probably the third or fourth in a series of emails I’ve sent out over the past year, was an attempt to crowdsource feedback on the question: how do we tell the story of CNP?
“So the fun part is also the hard part, creating the tools while doing the work. This reminds me so much of how CNP started in the first place, out of a desire to create and express.”
Initially, I thought about writing a movement memoir. I corresponded with a few potential literary agents and publishers. I even started working on a book proposal. I went back through my personal archives and pored through some of my old emails, going as far back as 2012, trying to remember the steps we took to build the organization; trying to reconstruct my memory and also grieving. Some people that were with me at the beginning, and one person, in particular, are no longer with me now, but more on that another time.
I was surprised at how much I had forgotten, particularly just how far back the idea for CNP lived in my consciousness before I took the leap. The various people I corresponded with. The documents compiled. Lists I created of tasks to complete. But my personal voice, I’m not yet satisfied with. I may need more distance before I could really offer a compelling narrative in a memoir. It’s also hard for me to write about myself. As someone that has studied biographies nearly my entire reading life, I appreciate the importance of voice and perspective. This still may happen at some point, just not in the immediate future. However, the desire to set the record straight about a few things is strong, so who knows?
Turning The Camera On Ourselves
Then I thought about a play. However, some wise individuals told me all the ways this probably would not work, or what I would have to do to make it work, and it just no longer seemed to be the best path forward. Unless, of course, I created a work that was truly experimental and avant-garde like Equus or something. But I don’t think I have those skills.
Finally, a documentary seemed to fit, after I grumbled a bit because when it was first suggested it was the furthest thing from what I thought we should do. However, upon closer reflection, I, both as Executive Director of CNP, and just as an independent producer, have supported several film projects, and well, maybe I thought, it’s time to turn the camera on ourselves. At CNP, we have often said we are in conversation with the film Tongues Untied, and that we see our work, in part, as a tribute to Marlon Riggs’ legacy. Perhaps part of that conversation could be held in the language of film.
“My deepest desire is to leave evidence of our existence, so that those following us, much like we learned from Joseph Beam, and Essex Hemphill, and Marlon Riggs, will hopefully learn from us, and know that they are not alone, and we have always existed.”
The challenge is that there are largely no films that I’m aware of that reflect my sensibilities around storytelling, identity, history, and lore about an organization. A way to combine realism with magic while talking about an organization. Of course, such films may exist, and I welcome suggestions. Once I became comfortable with the idea of telling our story while seeking to push the boundaries of storytelling, I warmed up to nonfiction film as the most appropriate way to advance.
So the fun part is also the hard part, creating the tools while doing the work. This reminds me so much of how CNP started in the first place, out of a desire to create and express. The challenge of telling our story is not one that can not be overcome. It’s more an opportunity to put into practice what we have long believed, that narratives don’t just reflect, or depict, they also shape consciousness. The consequence of being reduced and objectified by statistics for years and years is that we are discouraged from imagining a future. We are barely granted a past. To tell our story is to not only insist upon our visibility in the present, but dare to imagine ourselves in the future. My deepest desire is to leave evidence of our existence, so that those following us, much like we learned from Joseph Beam, and Essex Hemphill, and Marlon Riggs, will hopefully learn from us, and know that they are not alone, and we have always existed.
