Author Doug Cooper Spencer, 67, almost let the opportunity to fall in love again pass him by. In 1998, sitting in Fountain Square, a busy plaza in downtown Cincinnati, as he continued to work on his first novel, he noticed someone walking by.

“I saw these nice legs walk past, and I glanced at them, like, ‘Oh, he’s got nice legs.’ That's it—because I'm an introvert,” he said.

Doug had dissolved a relationship a year and a half prior and wanted to focus on writing. While glancing up from the legs that caused his temporary distraction, he caught the eye of the person to whom those legs were attached.

“He catches me [looking up] and he stops and I'm like, oh God, here we go. No, I do not want to be bothered,” Doug recalls thinking to himself.

I knew I was not alone. I had spoken to other Black gay men who were caregiving, but it was not something that was often discussed openly. Caregiving can be a very solitary role, where you end up isolated, and unable to find an outlet for all the emotions that you’re experiencing. Because, for some, you are caregiving 24 hours, and unable to leave your care recipient.

I was taught growing up that men were the providers, and as a Black man, I was supposed to leave the home to earn a living to take care of my family. The emotional and physical care wasn’t something I was taught would be my burden to carry. The truth is, there was never going to be any other way this would go. My parents have two sons. We were going to have to shoulder this burden or consider a home for our parents.