The change from winter to spring, in Boston, symbolizes much in my life and always coincides with epic change. This time last year I was emerging from a breakup that caught me off guard–almost four years deep–and in that rapture I set out on an epic journey of self love and loving, ethical acts that were aspirational in their critiques of my self and the worlds I exist in. Now, I stand noting and accepting the end of a friendship that has rooted, inspired and compelled me to loving heights of mind, body and spirit for the last five years. I expect that this rupture will create another movement to healing, hearing and holding myself deeper in the bowels of love. As pops once said “if ain’t truth, it doesn’t hurt.” Pain is only an acute demand for love and healing. Time to love harder.
I don’t know how that moment occurred. I do know that the rage, the gutting, the filleting of my spirit is still present. I sensed no warning. No lingering dismay or chill in our connection. We were as one..two sides of the same coin. For all of college we were inseparable despite the obvious rupture betwixt our histories, our rearing, our identities. But we were both young black men from the midwest, attempting to find our way at a “little ivy.” We longed for loving, affirming relationships and found our hearts broken repeatedly–yours by white supremacist women, mine by their homeboys. No, I never saw it coming. It wasn’t a punch to the gut–the pain would’ve been gone and the bruise too shallow. It was as if you took a 1,000 needs and inserted them at once to spaces to between my throat and thighs. You turned my trauma–my survival of rape and HIV–into a joke to situate and satisfy your desire to be desired and seen as a male. You had not the decency–the midwest courtesy–to keep such violent, vain fuckery to yourself. No, you intimated to a shady someone who has long desired my affection–amplifying your alpha-male status. You turned that moment of weakness, victimhood that I had long discarded, shelved or at least hidden into a monstrosity, into me desiring and longing for you…in this most depraved of ways. When hearing this venomous tea drip from the lips of our “frenemy”, i could only hang up the phone and weep.
I knew our friendship was over, not because I couldn’t forgive you, but because I now knew I never knew you at all. Your response..that this was some overreaction or random escalation…only made our realities more clear. Though our friendship had long been a sense of mutual strength and love…it was never as sacred or walled off from the fuckery of the systems we’d both dedicated ourselves to destroying. Patriarchy and masculine anxiety had poisoned the well, the will and the power of love. That said, i will always cheer for you and wish you love, joy, success and happiness. Because you have often been a healing space and with time, may grow to heal many spaces.