For nearly 15 years, Olu Brown, Lead Pastor of Impact Church, located in what was once an abandoned warehouse in East Point after small beginnings in the auditorium of Brown Middle School, has quickly become one of the fastest-growing United Methodist Churches in the country by “doing church differently.”

A native Texan, LGBTQ+ ally, and divorced father of two, Brown leads a 21st-century congregation that is diverse and inclusive—two buzzwords that often serve as signals to LGBTQ+ Christians that a house of worship is safe and welcoming. But unlike many African-American ministers who embrace Black liberation theology concerning the oppression of Black people—but take a literal approach to the Biblical condemnation of queer people—Brown is explicit about the evolution of his theological position and why his support for the LGBTQ+ community, along with conversations with conservative clergy about LGBTQ+ issues is not only the right thing to do but is also a social justice issue.

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.

Since 2013, the Georgia HIV Justice Coalition, a conglomerate of up to 10 active social justice and HIV-centered organizations, has been at the forefront of reforming Georgia’s draconian HIV criminalization laws. Eric Paulk and Malcolm Reid, newly elected co-chairs of the Georgia HIV Justice Coalition, and proponents of HIV criminalization law reform, say they would like to see the law updated to reflect scientific advancements such as “U=U,” undetectable equals untransmittable, which has not only extended the lifespan of people living with HIV but has reduced the risk of transmission to zero for those individuals on antiretroviral therapy.

Keisha Waites wants to make one thing clear. “I am not a politician,” she told The Reckoning. “I am a problem solver and a public servant.”

A native of Atlanta and a former state legislator, Waites is vying to replace Andre Dickens, one of nearly a dozen candidates in Atlanta’s mayoral race, on the Atlanta City Council. She is one of five candidates running for the council’s post-3 at-large seat. It is a crowded, and in some respects, an impressive field of candidates that include familiar names like Jacki Labat, as well as Ralph Long, Sherry B. Williams, and Jodi Merriday. But of all the candidates in her race, Waites believes she is the one with the best chance of helping to move the city forward.

After a successful world premiere at Outfest in Los Angeles, the cast and creative team behind the new short film “Smoke, Lilies, and Jade” are preparing to screen their lush queer Harlem Renaissance drama for Atlanta audiences during the annual Out On Film Festival on September 26, at Landmark Midtown Arts Cinema. Directed and produced by married filmmaking duo Quincy LeNear Gossfield and Deondray Gossfield (The DL Chronicles, FLAMES), and adapted for the screen by writer Robert Philipson from Richard Bruce Nugent's short story by the same name. The film also includes voice narration by Emmy award winner Billy Porter (POSE, Cinderella).

A lot has changed since Deontez Wimbley first walked into the Chilli’s restaurant in the Lindbergh section of Buckhead in April 2016. Today, the restaurant is permanently closed, but nearly six years later, the connection he made with Jerald Nuness, then a server, and now his husband, proved to be worth the risk of being rejected. Like customers who frequently tipped less than the standard 20% or not at all, Nuness says he was accustomed to being hit on at work, and Wimbley, who also worked in the restaurant industry for a period, knew the odds of the conversation moving beyond a two for $20 were slim to none, or so he thought.

Lil Nas X is a self-affirming Black gay millennial, a megastar still rising, and an impresario of social media. His releases shatter sales and streaming records. His videos and live performances display unambiguously queer Black sexiness before mainstream audiences.

In case you haven’t noticed, fat bodies are having a moment.

It’s apparent in marketing strategies like Victoria’s Secret’s recent 180-degree turn toward size inclusivity; in the abundance of plus-sized TV and book characters reaching beyond stereotypical “fat friend” roles, and every time pop phenom Lizzo proudly struts her extra-large frame across the stage to wild applause.

The new era message is fat positivity, and to the casual observer at least, it appears there’s never been a more affirming time to be a big person.

Da'Shaun L. Harrison knows better. Large, Black, and queer, they exist at a precarious nexus of historically undervalued identities with complex social stigmas that reach far beyond what a few size-inclusive ad campaigns can address.

Often already experienced with outright discrimination or bigoted slights because of their skin color, for a number of Black gay men, the biggest concern when coming out of the closet is not whether they’ll be able to withstand homophobia in the workplace or on the streets. Instead, many worry about the family cookout: Will they be invited? Will they be treated differently? Will their spirits be fed?

This year marks the 25th anniversary of Atlanta Black Pride, one of the largest Black Pride celebrations in the United States. And unlike previous years, In The Life Atlanta (ITLA), the non-profit organization responsible for Black Pride programming is no longer at the helm. Instead, Atlanta Black Pride, a separate entity led by former ITLA representatives, Terence Stewart (President, Atlanta Black Pride) and Amber Moore (Vice President and Chief Operating Officer, Atlanta Black Pride), are now leading organizational efforts for all official Atlanta Black Pride events. It’s an important distinction, among others, that Stewart and Moore are being more vocal about in the days leading up to this year’s Black Pride celebration and since departing ITLA.

“For the longest, you would hear that nobody was in control of Atlanta Black Pride, especially from people that are new to Atlanta,” says Stewart. “Who is in charge? There is no cohesion,” he recalls hearing from members of the community. “But when you look at Atlanta Pride, you know who's in charge.”

For Black LGBTQ+ Atlantans, Sundays in Piedmont Park have long been an unofficial event, until 12 years ago when organizers of the first Pure Heat Community Festival turned the unofficial park gatherings into a massive cultural event. This year, the free festival is returning to Piedmont Park on Sunday, September 5, after organizers postponed it in 2020 out of safety concerns for attendees at the height of the global pandemic. A highlight among the extensive list of events offered over Labor Day Weekend during Atlanta Black Pride, the festival is a significant visual representation of the collective power and visibility of Black LGBTQ+ people, with organizers seizing the opportunity to honor and showcase the business acumen and artistic prowess of Black openly LGBTQ+ leaders and entertainers in the community.

Even in death, Commissioner Joan Garner continues to make history. On Monday afternoon, dozens of supporters, city officials, and friends gathered outside of Ponce De Leon Library in Midtown for a renaming ceremony in honor of the late Fulton County Commissioner who passed away in 2017 after battling breast cancer. In 2011, Garner became the first openly gay Fulton County Commissioner, representing District 4. Now, she becomes the first Black openly LGBTQ+ person to have a Fulton County public library renamed as the Joan P. Garner Library at Ponce De Leon, in her honor.

From his grandfather, Johnny Foreman, Larry Carter learned one important lesson—service first.

Foreman served as a former bishop in New York and Virginia for the United Methodist Church.

“He taught us that being of service is all about what is best for the community,” said Carter. “He used to always say, ‘You can't take things for granted. Life is fleeting, but it is also important to do what you can when you have the time’.”

Foreman’s guidance has been the driving force for Carter’s life and is at the root of his current endeavor—a campaign for Atlanta City Council.

The term “Black Hollywood'' gets tossed around often in Atlanta. With so many people acting, directing, and producing their own content, it becomes easy to get overwhelmed by the immense amount of talent Atlanta offers, especially within the Black and Brown LGBTQ+ community. Creatives are staking their claim on the vast abundance of representation and visibility. Though, sometimes the voices become oversaturated with one-dimensional characters and repetitive stories. This is where content creator W. Wesley Henderson enters the conversation.

With his own streaming network, WatchACTV (aka Aconnectiontv), the Atlanta-based writer, director, and producer has been engaging audiences with his specific brand of content for years. Henderson’s roots reach back to the infancy of YouTube before it became a powerhouse within the online content creation realm, but before then Henderson was a young Black gay kid trying to make sense of what set him apart from the other kids in his neighborhood.

Season—it’s a simple yet versatile word that can encompass everything from the month on the calendar to how many gray hairs are on your head. Yet for most ethnic foodies, one definition reigns supreme: It’s that mysterious yet irresistible touch of flavor that makes a dish mouthwatering.

Generations of Black cooks have perfected an almost preternatural talent for using a pinch of this and a dash of that to transform the simple into the sublime, earning a cultural badge of honor if you know how to make a roast sing, or a scarlet letter if your dish evokes the dubious cookout question, “Who made this potato salad?”

One of the goals in softball is to return to the same home plate you started from, but Jeremy Nobles’s journey through the sport led him to a new world.

“Growing up, being around the same people, doing the same thing every day and every weekend,” Nobles says, describing his life as a 20-year-old in Moundville, Ala., population less than 2,500. “And just knowing in the back of my head that I like guys and there’s no way the people I hang around with would acknowledge or understand that. It’s hard living with that kind of secret with nobody to talk to, and trying to find myself—I just didn’t know what to do.”

A few days ago, I emailed some trusted colleagues concerning a documentary project idea. It’s part of how I process. I’m really lucky to have a fairly extensive network of individuals in various sectors that I can reach out to from time to time. Most of my ideas never make it to the manifestation stage because of this incredible vetting process.

I find it useful, even necessary, to think through projects and get feedback before I launch them. If there are red flags or warning signs, potential kinks, or concerns, it’s always good to get solid advice from trusted people. I hope that they will tell me the truth, and they always do. It’s also good in the early stages to register any critical feedback and develop responses, which helps me determine my level of excitement for a project.

If you were unfamiliar with DaBaby (born Jonathan Kirk) before July 25, 2021, you’re likely all caught up on who the rapper is by now. Born in 1991 in Cleveland, OH, and hailing from Charlotte, NC, DaBaby rose to fame in 2018 and has since been a mainstay on mainstream urban radio.

Victor Jackson deserves your attention. Throughout much of the pandemic, the quadruple threat (singer, actor, choreographer, creative director) never stopped creating. Over the last year, Jackson has longed for the moment supporters of his latest EP, “Man. Muse. Magic.” could convene in the same space for a live performance absent the threat of COVID-19. On July 28, at Parlor, a Black-owned bar and performance space in downtown Atlanta, he partially got his wish. Jackson kicked off “Man. Muse. Magic. neat,” an intimate live performance residency scheduled to run once a month through November.

Every time abstract artist Emmy Marshall, 36, sells a new painting he places a red sticker on the back of his bedroom door. So far this year, there are 52 stickers and counting. It’s one way the Atlanta native and openly gay artist visually celebrates his success, which doesn’t appear to be slowing down anytime soon.

“This train is moving,” says Marshall during his interview with The Reckoning.

“I don't know how these things are happening, but people find me and they put my name in hats and in rooms and conversations and people are reaching out,” he says.

Besides producing quality work, one theory the self-taught artist has for his recent success is his ability as an abstract artist to tap into the imaginations of art consumers.