In 2000, I wrote an introduction for a new edition of Essex Hemphill’s magnificent collection "Ceremonies." I pointed out what I believed to be that work’s purpose: remembrance as the only way to begin the process of healing the wound that white supremacy, poverty, homophobia, heterosexism, and most recently HIV/AIDS had inflicted upon us as Black Gay Men. (Cover image of Essex Hemphill by Barbara N. Kigozi, June 1994)

Do fat people exist in the future?

That's likely a question that many have never thought to ask. It has been argued that people of size are some of the most openly discriminated against and marginalized. So, for some, thinking about fatness and fat people existing in the future may be hard to imagine.

But not for writer Alex Smith, a 46-year-old, Philadelphia-based artist, with roots in the Punk music scene. Smith is not afraid of anarchy. In some ways, he thrives on it, and people are taking notice. His newest work, "Black Vans," takes his ambitions to uncharted territory and places Black, queer, fatness center stage.

"If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this," Smith tells The Reckoning. "It was a no-brainer that the main character was going to be a fat, Black bear, period," when discussing his comic book series and its lead character, "Bo," who is of Afro-Latin descent.

In his debut novel, “Desire Lines,” author Cary Alan Johnson births a story about Black queer friendship, desire, and addiction during the onset of the HIV epidemic in New York City in the 1980s. Desire Lines marks Johnson’s first foray into long-form fiction after spending much of the last decade breathing life into characters aimed at centering the experiences of Black queer men in an HIV narrative where they have historically been forgotten.

“Of all the really great books, movies, and shows produced about gay men’s experience with AIDS in the 1980s, none have focused on Black gay men,” said Johnson. “Of all the great work about cocaine and crack addiction, none focused on the experience of Black gay men. The 1980s was a period of hysteria and pain, but it was also a moment of intense introspection and spiritual alignment. You either sank or you swam. Many of us swam and continue to swim, and I want to tell this story.”

In Desire Lines, readers follow an unnamed Black gay narrator as he grows up in Brooklyn captivated by a vision of life on the other side of the river, where the sparkle and glitter of Manhattan beckon. Coming into adulthood, he finds himself living in a five-floor walk-up in Hell's Kitchen just as the AIDS epidemic is hitting the city. We follow him and his group of friends as they experience the first wave of illness and death and then accompany him on a two-year journey to Zaire, Central Africa, where he must confront corruption and homophobia in new and unexpected ways.

A week after his appearance on the popular pop culture podcast, For Colored Nerds, author Aaron Foley hadn’t listened to the episode.

“I trust that it is good,” he told The Reckoning. “I am not a big fan of hearing my voice recorded, so I haven’t listened to it and probably won’t.”

Just being on the show was a career highlight for Foley, who works full-time as a senior editor for PBS NewsHour’s Communities Initiative. To be there talking about his debut novel, Boys Come First made it all sweeter.

“It’s all been unreal, to be honest,” he said. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all.”

As a journalist, Foley seeks to tell authentic, informative, and educational stories about real people and real life. Boys Come First is no different. As a Black, gay, millennial from Detroit, he wanted to tell a truthful story about his beloved city and Black gay men. It is something, he said, he does not always get to do in journalism.

Sandwiched in an alleyway on the northeast side of Washington D.C., Black queer, gay, and lesbian artists like Wayson Jones cultivated fertile ground in a coffeehouse. What they did in the cramped space is the stuff of legends, yet the coffeehouse is long gone—much like the city of old. A documentary recently released online captures what the coffeehouse meant—and continues to mean—to Washington, D.C. as well as to Black and queer histories.

"Fierceness Served! The ENIKAlley Coffeehouse" has been making its rounds at select screenings. The ENIKAlley Coffeehouse was a performance and rehearsal space for a cohort of artists, a gathering spot; plus a meeting place for political organizations. This was almost hallowed ground for Black artists to share and workshop their craft. Jones, Essex Hemphill, Cheryl Clarke, Audre Lorde, Blackberry, Casselberry-Dupree, and Pomo Afro Homos all stepped foot into the former carriage house-turned-coffeehouse between 8th, 9th, I, and K Streets, NE. The space at 816 Eye Street, NE was brick, the size of a large walk-in closet, but had great acoustics.

"The intimacy lent itself to that feeling of being part of the family," Jones said.

The film "Fierceness Served! The ENIKAlley Coffeehouse," celebrates this time.

A decade ago, Gerrick Kennedy was unexpectedly thrust into the spotlight.

He was in Los Angeles covering the annual Clive Davis Pre-Grammy Party. He had worked feverishly to convince his editors that it was worth covering the reunion of Brandy and Monica. They were set to perform their newest duet, “It All Belongs to Me.” It was their first performance together since the release of their Grammy award-winning hit, “The Boy is Mine.”

He was sitting with the ladies and Davis when out of the corner of his eye he saw her; one of his biggest idols, Whitney Houston. She had appeared from out of nowhere. The next day, news broke that she had died in the bathtub of her hotel room.

“I was thrust into the spotlight because I was on the scene that weekend,” Kennedy told The Reckoning. “To get a story like that! That was a breakout year for me.”

Are you looking forward to spring as much as we are? Besides the anticipation of warmer temperatures, there are quite a few exciting projects on our radar from Black queer creatives that we believe should be on yours too. From new book releases to theatrical productions, and even an LGBTQ+ bus tour. There’s something for every Black LGBTQ+ person and our allies to enjoy as queer content creators continue to elevate the stories and experiences of our community from the page to the screen. This is not a comprehensive list. And while we’re excited to share our picks with you, we’d love to hear about the Black queer projects that have you excited about their spring arrival. Dive into our selections below.

Before the digital explosion of Black gay blogs and social media in the mid-2000s, “CLIK,” a glossy full-color monthly magazine created specifically for the Black gay community dominated as the publication of choice for a decade. Co-founded by Lewis Nicholson, who served as the first editor-in-chief, and Dwight Powell, initially a publisher and graphic designer who assumed the role as editor-in-chief after Nicholson’s departure; ultimately becoming the magazine’s longest-running editor and the personality most widely associated with the magazine, which quickly became a Black LGBTQ+ staple.

In case you haven’t noticed, fat bodies are having a moment.

It’s apparent in marketing strategies like Victoria’s Secret’s recent 180-degree turn toward size inclusivity; in the abundance of plus-sized TV and book characters reaching beyond stereotypical “fat friend” roles, and every time pop phenom Lizzo proudly struts her extra-large frame across the stage to wild applause.

The new era message is fat positivity, and to the casual observer at least, it appears there’s never been a more affirming time to be a big person.

Da'Shaun L. Harrison knows better. Large, Black, and queer, they exist at a precarious nexus of historically undervalued identities with complex social stigmas that reach far beyond what a few size-inclusive ad campaigns can address.

“How can you believe in something you’ve never seen?”

It’s a question that plagued a young Jamal Jordan during his formative years in Mobile, Alabama as he acknowledged his same-sex attraction as the thing that made him different from some of the other boys in the Gulf Coast community that he called home. The something that he’d never seen was queer couples of color. It would be decades after a young Jordan’s initial realization of the erasure of Black LGBTQ+ couples in mainstream media that the adult journalist would take control of the narrative in a viral story for The New York Times, and the subsequent book by the same title.

At 45-years-old, Darnell Moore is coasting on blessings. For much of the last decade, Moore has been a formidable force in the movement for Black equality and LGBTQ+ liberation, while meticulously providing a blueprint for Black queer men to claim our freedom. With every media appearance, speaking engagement, article, or book, Moore continues to lay the foundation for a legacy that will be remembered and studied long after his work is completed in the physical. He is our ancestor’s wildest dream—living, breathing, teaching, learning, and thriving in the fullness of his badass Black, queer self.

These days, Jericho Brown is planning his laughter. Despite living through a pandemic, the last five months in the life of this Louisiana-bred, Atlanta-based poet certainly isn’t lacking for reasons to evoke joy, after all, he is the author of “The Tradition,” which earned him the 2020 Pulitizer Prize for Poetry—a historic moment in which Brown became one of two openly queer Black men to be awarded the prestigious honor in the same year. Much like his poetry, Brown’s laughter is infectious and unrestrained, soothing and measured, jarring and familiar; delivered with the intonation and cadence of a Kat Williams stand-up routine that leaves you bellowing over in laughter only to realize that he’s delivered a gut-punch that is simultaneously reflective and unrelenting. Jericho Brown is poetry in motion. He’s also in demand. One glimpse at the 326 text messages on his phone, many of which are congratulatory messages sent after his win, speaks to his impact on the world and the literary community. But despite the Pulitzer Prize elevating his career to unimaginable heights, Brown is embracing the journey and prioritizing laughter.

We all remember where we were when we heard that song for the first time, or when we saw that music video or read that book that changed our lives. For many Black gay and same gender loving men, coming across a piece of literature that centered our stories honestly and authentically was the equivalent of finding a needle in a haystack, and when we found it, we often had to steal away in the dark of night to not risk outing ourselves. In a fictitious world created by authors who saw our queerness as an asset and not a liability, James Earl Hardy and his magnum opus “B-Boy Blues,” which is celebrating its 25th anniversary this year is one of those authors.