Gay blowjob black
Many of my friends still live in Virginia and some were UVA alums. Last year, Charlottesville gained national attention when white supremacists swarmed UVA’s campus in a violent rally that ended with the death of an anti-racist protester. Even though I attended a fairly left-leaning liberal arts school in Williamsburg, Virginia, our campus is less than an hour away from the University of Virginia (UVA) in Charlottesville - which coincidentally was my safety school when I applied to college. I never saw anyone dressed in blackface (though there were black-themed parties and other social events that bordered on cultural appropriation). It certainly was not a post-racial utopia, but my school wasn’t set in a such a hotbed of prejudice or discrimination.
Unlike Lionel, I went to college during the Obama years. His growth in confidence and self-awareness is aspirational, but for me it required some suspension of disbelief since his character is portrayed as more insecure in the first season. He instinctively owns both parts of his identity and asserts them when he feels one is being marginalized over the other. Lionel’s character doesn’t seem to have that same challenge. The lack of visibility both IRL and on-screen made it hard for me to reconcile my blackness and my queerness while I was developing my identity as a queer person of color.
#GAY BLOWJOB BLACK SERIES#
One of the few programs that seemed meant for me was the short-lived series on Logo, Noah’s Arc.
The media I was consuming at the time didn’t help either, shows like Queer as Folk and Glee had majority-white casts that made identifying with the characters challenging. But the number of out gay black male students that I knew of was even smaller. I could count the number of out gay students on campus using one hand - maybe two if I speculate. The dating pool at my school was limited because not everyone felt as safe being out on campus. I had expected the other brothers to disown me, but they were surprisingly understanding and encouraged me to be myself. I got caught kissing a guy at one of my fraternity’s rush parties by a pledge. When it came to telling my classmates I was gay, I never did. There was no grandiose over the top speech delivered to friends, I didn’t write a lengthy emotional status on Facebook, nor did I come out via a heartwarming YouTube video (which is in vogue at the moment). Watching Dear White People, I was reminded of my own experience of coming out at a predominantly white institution (PWI). Sometimes sex is unsexy, especially if you're doing anal for the first time, which is fine - as long as there's consent. When Lionel finally does have a sexual encounter it’s not a steamy softcore porn scene, but instead a series of bumbling mishaps, several apologies, and an unintentionally toothy blowjob. The character has to deal with the harsh reality of modern dating, which is hard for everyone, but especially difficult for marginalized groups such as queer people of color who have to deal with being fetishized or ignored. Oftentimes gay characters in mostly straight ensemble casts don’t get to experience romance on screen, but Dear White People chooses to break that mold. In the second season, Lionel now has to navigate queer spaces while being black, which is a whole new can of worms. It’s not until he writes about the racial unrest on campus that the other black students take him into their fold, not merely tolerating his sexuality but actively celebrating it. He struggles to find acceptance from other people of color - mainly straight, cisgender black men - in environments with anti-LGBTQ attitudes. In the first season, much of Lionel’s journey is navigating black spaces while being queer. Lionel, played by DeRon Horton, is a journalism nerd who dreams of winning a Pulitzer and has a crush on the editor of the school paper.