For decades, the Rev. Duncan Teague has been one of Atlanta’s most charismatic, high-profile public-health warriors, a fierce advocate for the city’s Black and gay communities.

This April will mark the 26th anniversary of the death of R. Leigh Johnson, or Tré, as he was affectionately called by his family and those in Atlanta’s burgeoning Black gay community of the early ‘90s. A talented poet, singer, and activist, Tré (as I will refer to him going forward) was a creative force whose light was dimmed entirely too soon. Having moved to Atlanta in 2006, a decade after his passing, I’d never heard his name mentioned in activist circles, or read any of his poetry. I didn’t know that he’d once walked the same streets as I did and made it possible for me to experience the liberation and freedom that I now enjoy as an out Black gay man.

As we approach the beginning of the holiday season and the last weeks before the start of a new year, it’s imperative that we begin to give thanks, not just on the official holiday but every day throughout the year. If you’re reading this, congratulations, you’re still surviving a pandemic that has taken over 5 million lives globally nearly two years after its emergence. That alone is a reason to give thanks. But let’s be clear, Black gay men were navigating an epidemic and a host of other challenges before COVID-19 arrived, which can often make it difficult to exist in a continuous space of gratitude. But it is not impossible. It is an intentional act to choose joy and gratitude, especially in the midst of life’s challenges. “If you can change your mind, you can change your life,” wrote philosopher William James.

Tucked away in several boxes inside a Midtown Atlanta condo are photographs filled with stories of Black queer Atlanta in the early 2000s. It’s a makeshift time capsule of a vibrant, organized, and politically engaged community from an era that continues to hold significance for those who experienced it, but runs the risk of being forgotten by future generations. Long time Atlanta LGBTQ+ activist and recording artist Anthony Antoine is partnering with CNP to ensure the events and images that helped shape the Black LGBTQ+ equality movement in Atlanta are never erased—specifically, Antoine’s 2001 inaugural Stand Up & Represent March, which saw hundreds of Black LGBTQ+ people and their allies march through historically Black neighborhoods in Southwest Atlanta for three years consecutively.

The March, which initially began at the State Capitol and ended at The King Center—and eventually transitioned to Atlanta’s West End—is a move that Antoine says was intentional.

CNP mourns the recent and sudden passing of pioneering researcher Dr. John L. Peterson, a leading figure in early HIV research, and mentor too many in Atlanta’s Black gay and healthcare communities. CNP Executive Director Charles Stephens cites Peterson as an early influence on his decades-long career in advocacy and organizing on behalf of Black gay men dating back to his time as an undergraduate student at Georgia State University, where Peterson was a member of the Psychology department faculty.

Rev. Duncan Teague’s visit to Atlanta in 1984 was supposed to be a short-lived two-week vacation to celebrate his college graduation. Now nearly 40 years later, Teague is among thousands, if not millions of Black gay men who have migrated to Atlanta in search of liberation, freedom, community, and themselves. It’s a common thread that connects those who have taken the bus ride of faith from their relatively small southern or midwestern towns, often with no concrete plan and very little money, but with an overwhelming desire to become fully realized human beings in a city that is often both romanticized and demonized, yet affords Black gay men space to simply be.