Filmmaking and producing duo Deondray and Quincy Gossfield have been back at their East Point home for over a week since their successful debut at The Tribeca Film Festival, but the energy of New York City and the industry buzz generated from their short film FLAMES is showing no sign of being extinguished anytime soon. Emmy-Award-winning lesbian filmmaker Lena Waithe is responsible for the Gossfield’s return to the director’s chair after spending the last 11 years as reality television producers.

According to the New York Times, I Was Born This Way, released in 1975, is “the first record to feature lyrics about being an out-and-proud gay man.” At face value that statement is significant, but when you look further, it has a much deeper meaning. Here’s the truth: Charles Valentino (then known by the mononym “Valentino”), a Black gay man, sang the first record to feature lyrics about being out and proud. The lyrics were written by Bunny Jones in 1971, a Black woman. CNP plans to honor the legacy of this groundbreaking song in LIBERATION: Remembering I Was Born This Way—a two-part event kicking off in July.

What do Black gay men want when it comes to finding relationships? It’s the central question Atlanta gay dating coach and matchmaker Lamont White will work to answer in his new video series “The Gay Man’s Guide To Dating.” The five-part series will launch in July on CNPTVs YouTube channel.

If the app on Lonnell Williams’ phone that tracks his travel is accurate, he has been around the earth 103 times, accumulated over 2.5 million miles, and has traveled enough to go to the moon 11 times, and that’s just in the last ten years. Standing still has never been an option for the digital content creator who navigated the streets of his native San Francisco and Oakland before jet-setting across the globe, and ultimately landing in Atlanta.

“My dad lived in San Francisco, so I was back and forth across the Bay. I would travel on the Bart and the bus,” says Williams. “I had my little bag. I'd go and visit my grandma. So I was always used to being on the move.”

On television, the journey to fatherhood is blissfully straightforward: A few rough and tumble single years before finding ‘the one,’ welcoming a child or two, and settling down into cozy family life.

For Britt Chambliss, 33, the journey was similar up to a point. The Navy vet had restless years of self-discovery, found a wife, and even welcomed a daughter. Then he took a step toward an identity most fathers take for granted, shedding the female gender he was assigned at birth before stepping into his identity as a transgender man.

On June 25, 1996, Meshell Ndegeocello released her sophomore album Peace Beyond Passion, and “Leviticus: Faggot”, released the day after my 19th birthday on May 21, 1996, was one of the lead singles. The sky opened and the way I listened to music shifted.

Xavier Logan, 18, wasn’t even an idea in his parent's mind when the legendary Debbie Allen as Lydia Grant said the famous line to a studio of hungry dancers in the beloved 80s dance series “FAME.” But for nearly a decade, Logan, an Atlanta native and recent North Springs Charter High School of the Arts & Sciences graduate has arrived at this moment through nothing less than sweat and determination, and it all appears to be paying off.

If Kipper Jones, 59, could go back in time to give himself advice, the celebrated songwriter and vocalist says he would simply say, “don’t be afraid.” For the man who famously penned hits for Vanessa Williams (“The Right Stuff,” “Comfort Zone'') and Brandy (“I Wanna Be Down,” “Brokenhearted”) that catapulted their careers and made them superstars, Jones has spent most his life running towards success and running away from himself. As a self-identified same-gender-loving man, Jones often wrote about love in songs that shot up the Billboard Hot 100 chart, while denying himself the experiences in his lyrics.

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.

We met at a friend's Super Bowl party over 10 years ago. I’m no real fan of the sport although I will check out the phyne players on either team. When it comes to the Super Bowl, I am only really down for a fabulous halftime show. In 2007, Prince did the honors and his royal badness did not let us down. I noticed this brother a few minutes before my friend introduced us. Within minutes, we found ourselves a little corner off the kitchen where we could focus without interruption. He was playful and blunt about his desires, and that turned me on. “I don’t like no bread,” he told me. “Just give me the meat.”

1981 was a magical year for me. Alexander Godunov and Judith Jamison performed “Spell” as guest performers at Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater’s opening night gala, Dream Girls was on Broadway, Diana Ross had a hit called I’m Coming Out, and Tom Browne had an R&B hit called “Thigh High” (Grip Your Hips and Move). I cheered as a University of Oklahoma Cheerleader in the Sun Bowl as Oklahoma beat the University of Houston 40–14. Life was good. I still believed in a world with endless possibilities. However, by the summer of 1981, I’d heard about an illness that was primarily affecting white and Black gay men in L.A., New York City, and San Francisco. The sickness, then called GRID (Gay-Related Immunity Deficiency Syndrome) was infecting and killing gay people. Many Black gay friends believed we had no worries if we did not sleep with white men. They were wrong.

A decade ago lesbian moms Juana Mendenhall, 44, and Angel Mendenhall, 41, were just writing their love story. They’d both ended long-term relationships, and Angel, a flight attendant based in Ft. Lauderdale was living her best life on the beach and getting paid to travel—motherhood and a life in Atlanta with Juana, a scientist and college professor was not on her to-do list. In fact, on their first date, Angel says she wasted no time making one thing clear to the beautiful stranger sitting across from her at a Midtown Thai restaurant: “I hope you know, I will never move to Atlanta because I will never commute again.”

It’s among the most iconic ‘80s film scenes and one that introduced many Black Americans to a long-taboo element of their history: After decades of torment, The Color Purple’s Celie (played by Whoopi Goldberg) blocks her abusive husband mid-blow with three outstretched fingers and the ominous, karma-filled phrase, “Everything you done to me, already done to you.”

Horrified, he stops cold, and Celie rides off into the sunset.

Last week a friend texted me to say that he’d just learned that Jimmie Scott passed away three years ago. Because this friend and I are collaborating on two community memory projects, news of Jimmie’s passing forged both an urgency and clarity around the significance of the work we are doing together, the work of Black queer remembrance.

During a time when social media and digital apps have made it easier for people to connect, many of its users report never feeling more alone. It’s a complicated dichotomy that has forced many Black gay men to make tough decisions about their future and whether it will include a romantic life partner.

Last week, Atlanta City Council member Antonio Brown announced he would enter the Mayoral race. With Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms no longer seeking re-election, the Atlanta political landscape has exploded. Council member Brown made history in 2019 by becoming the first Black LGBTQ person elected to Atlanta City Council representing District 3. Many of us wonder, will Brown make history yet again?

Mayor Keisha Lance Bottoms announced last week that she would not run for reelection. As the Bottoms era comes to a close, we now grapple with its meaning. I think her legacy will be shaped in part by her willingness to grapple with and commemorate a part of our city’s past that so many of us still struggle with—the history of the Atlanta child murders.

If you spend any amount of time on social media throughout the day, your timeline has most likely been inundated with photos of smiling first-time home buyers, many of whom identify as LGBTQ+. Whether single or partnered, homeownership has become a top priority for African American millennials across the country, and Atlanta is no exception. An increase in sales fueled by the global pandemic has made the once elusive goal of owning a home a reality for many who had previously given up on this aspect of The American Dream.

It’s been 14 years since Bishop Dennis Meredith, 68, stood in the pulpit of Tabernacle Baptist Church (TBC), which he has led since 1994, and publicly disclosed that he was bisexual. On any given Sunday, the pews in this 100-year-old church formerly located on Boulevard in Atlanta’s Old Fourth Ward would be filled, and this Sunday in 2007 was no different. There had been rumblings among members of Meredith’s congregation that the charismatic pastor who was married to former First Lady Lydia Meredith for 27 years and bore three sons, was gay, or at the very least bisexual. But until the words escaped his mouth, no one expected the revered spiritual leader with everything to lose to disclose the truth about his sexuality, including Meredith himself. This moment was the culmination of a progressive shift in membership and theological approach that would spur a mass exodus for some straight and Biblically conservative members while becoming a Genesis for those who identify as LGBTQ+.

The Atlanta Police Department is asking members of Atlanta’s LGBTQ+ community to remain vigilant when using the dating app Grindr after a string of robberies have occurred since February.