For many Black gay men, there are certain films in the Black theatrical cannon that continue to resonate decades after their release—” Waiting To Exhale,” the 1995 blockbuster based on the best-selling novel by author Terry McMillan and directed by Forest Whitaker, is one of those films. The impact of the original goes far beyond the popular gif of Bernadine (Angela Bassett) flicking a cigarette as she walks away from her husband’s torched luxury car. Now, writer and director Anthony Green (Cagebird Productions) is taking the commercial and cultural success of the film and adapting it for the stage in “When Boys Exhale,” an original reimagining centering the experiences of Black gay men inspired by the classic film.

After a sold-out premiere run in 2019 at Anacostia Arts Center in Washington, D.C, Green, in partnership with Tre Productions, is bringing “Exhale” to the Atlanta area on April 22. It’s an exciting time for the D.C.-based artist and his cast, who says he never imagined his play would mount a full production, only to have the pandemic completely halt all plans for the show’s immediate future.

“After we had those sold-out shows, we were going to do some more in DC because the demand was high, but then COVID hit and we had to cancel that, and I had to put When Boys Exhale on the shelf. I wasn't going to even touch it again,” Green says.

Upon learning the play’s origin, it’s plausible that Green’s “Exhale” would have been placed on the shelf following its initial success and not given a second thought by the man who penned the script.

“Black Is The Color of the Cosmos," was the theme for the 2022 CNP Summit, held virtually on Saturday and Sunday, March 19 and 20. In framing this year’s Summit, CNP offered the following quote to describe the work at hand; “So often, we’ve looked to the past, but where our liberation lies is in our future. This summit is for us to prepare for the movement of tomorrow.” While there is much within this quote to unpack, what resonates most with me is the pointed emphasis on the importance of preparation for [the movement of] tomorrow. In the simplest of ways, it all boils down to one significant point we’ve all seen and heard demonstrated time and time again; representation matters.

However, when it comes to the lives of Black queer people (and Black gay men in particular), there’s far more nuance and context to consider, simply because of how our existence has always been toyed with. Our Black gay lives have almost always had an ongoing (and extremely toxic) relationship with silence, shame, secrecy, and fear. Thankfully, that is why organizations like CNP and so many others exist; to combat such pointed attempts at erasure and humiliation, while ensuring that none of those attempts are successful in trying to dim our light or silence us, as they are structurally intended to do.

Spring is known as the season for love for good reason. Everything around us is thawing out and firing up, including our moods thanks to a springtime burst of dopamine scientists say often sets the stage for romance. But for every couple that begins a five-alarm love affair in the spring, experts say there are many more that find themselves in dry dock.

Call it libido gap, a dead bedroom, or the more clinical term “sexual desire discrepancy.” By any name, the shortfall between how much physical intimacy two partners want is one of the biggest sources of tension in relationships.

“It’s a lot more common than most people will discuss,” says Machel Hunt, an Atlanta psychosexual therapist and one of two experts who spoke to The Reckoning about getting back that lovin’ feelin’.

The cause of a libido gap can be physical, such as hormone imbalances or other conditions that lower desire. Other times the cause is mental, including stress and a history of subtle sexual trauma experts say can be particularly common among gay men.

For Black gay filmmaker Micheal Rice, 2020 was a tipping point.

Like the rest of the world, the Brooklyn-based documentarian (“party boi,” “black diamonds in ice castles”) began the first quarter of 2020 avoiding transmission of the coronavirus by isolating himself under strict quarantine guidelines by state and federal officials as COVID-19 cases and deaths in New York City soared. It was a safety precaution implemented to curb the spread of one deadly virus while another continued to rage, leaving Rice and other Black and queer people susceptible to state-sanctioned violence and a never-ending loop of Black trauma on the evening news. Although Rice says he felt powerless at the time, he knew he had to use his artistry to respond. “Black AS U R,” Rice’s new documentary film premiering at Outfest Fusion QTBIPOC Film Festival in April, is his response.

“BLACK AS U R” weaves through the complexities of Black queerness by taking audiences on a journey through the homophobia that penetrates many Black spaces. The film examines the impact of HIV stigma, sex work, suicide, bullying, and acts of violence against Black trans people, including the vicious mob attack of Iyanna Dior at a convenience store in St. Paul, MN only days after the fatal killing of George Floyd in neighboring Minneapolis. The film also features the first time a documentary has highlighted the story of Dominque Rem’mie Fells, a young Black trans woman whose murder reignited the “Black Trans Lives Matter” movement of 2020.

A decade ago, Gerrick Kennedy was unexpectedly thrust into the spotlight.

He was in Los Angeles covering the annual Clive Davis Pre-Grammy Party. He had worked feverishly to convince his editors that it was worth covering the reunion of Brandy and Monica. They were set to perform their newest duet, “It All Belongs to Me.” It was their first performance together since the release of their Grammy award-winning hit, “The Boy is Mine.”

He was sitting with the ladies and Davis when out of the corner of his eye he saw her; one of his biggest idols, Whitney Houston. She had appeared from out of nowhere. The next day, news broke that she had died in the bathtub of her hotel room.

“I was thrust into the spotlight because I was on the scene that weekend,” Kennedy told The Reckoning. “To get a story like that! That was a breakout year for me.”

When LGBT Detroit kicks off their “Sex, Hooking Up, and The Apps” four-day college bus tour on March 29, they will do so in the tradition of famous Black Detroiters who boarded buses and traveled across the country decades earlier to spread a sound that defined a generation. And while this new tour may be less flashy than a Motown revue, it is no less vital to the culture.

Originally launched in 2019, this year's bus tour is the second outing for LGBT Detroit and their ongoing effort to educate Michigan’s Black LGBTQ+ population on the facts about HIV prevention, transmission, and the state’s newly reformed HIV criminalization law.

The updated Michigan law, signed by former Gov. Rick Snyder, requires the person living with HIV to tell their sexual partner their status before having vaginal or anal sex unless they are undetectable and have no intent to spread the virus. Unlike the previous law, which charged the person living with HIV with up to a 4-year felony sentence for not disclosing their status before penetration — no matter their detection.

Does it surprise you that the concept of digital currency dates back to the early 1980s and the first digital currency emerged in 1995? I’ve always had a passing knowledge of emerging technologies, but I felt like cryptocurrency snuck up on me. DigiCash, founded in 1994, “set out to create a mechanism for consumers to make ‘micropayments’ for online transactions—such as purchases of individual articles or music singles. Unlike credit cards, which reveal a buyer's identity to vendors, DigiCash's encryption would have made its electronic money as anonymous as cash.” This information blew me away.

Like for many, Bitcoin seemed to come out of nowhere. For me, it was a confusing concept. The idea of a form of digital currency operating outside of a traditional banking system was a lot to wrap my head around. It was something I tried to look away from, but as Bitcoin began to make way for cryptocurrency millionaires, it became harder to ignore.

At 52 years old, Jay Torrence, better known to most as Jay King Holliday, considers himself an orphan.

In the last 10 years, the co-creator and co-founder of the annual spring break gathering, Big Boy Pride, has had to bury both his mother and father. His father, whom he admits he hadn’t always had the closest relationship with, died from cancer in October 2012. His mother, and the person he still considers his best friend, died suddenly in December 2019.

“There is something really confusing about it—being without both of my parents at 52. I am a 52-year-old orphan,” he proclaimed to The Reckoning. “It doesn’t seem that it should be as impactful as it is, but it is—coming to terms with the reality that I’ve lost a lot of my legacy. The people who connect me to my history are no longer present.”

Most of those who have experienced the loss of a parent admit that it changes them. The pain never goes away, and the loss creates an unfillable void. For Holliday, a New York native now residing in Atlanta, the losses have had a unique effect on him. Prior to his father’s passing, they had time to heal.

Monroe Howard-Shackelford, a D.C.-based licensed psychotherapist, is reframing the way Black queer men view their sexuality through a series of “Sacred Sexuality” virtual workshops and a recent in-person presentation at the 2022 NAESM Conference.

Howard-Shackelford says he never heard anti-gay sermons in the church he grew up in, but the message was clear about how society and the traditional Black church felt about LGBTQ+ people. Any romantic relationship or sexual desire that dared to exist outside of the heterosexual binary of traditional marriage was to be demonized. For many Black queer men, the messages received from the pulpit are often in direct conflict with their truth, making it nearly impossible to experience organized religion without harm being inflicted.

For some LGBTQ+ people who are deeply entrenched in the Black church experience, the concept of queer sexuality being sacred can be jarring, if not completely foreign. Sexuality is sacred on its own, and that includes Black queer sexuality, says Howard-Shackelford.

When most people envision a tattoo artist, the image of a white male—probably young, possibly a metal fan, and unquestionably heterosexual—comes to mind.

And then there’s Oba Jackson, a tattoo artist flying in the face of expectations both inside and outside the industry.

He’s big—6’3” to be exact—with a penchant for unique fashion a la Grace Jones. He’s unapologetically Black, his social media peppered with “power to the people” fists and exclamations against racist stereotypes in tattooing. He’s gay, looking forward to his 15th anniversary with his hairstylist husband, this spring.

Perhaps most importantly, he’s the owner of Push Tattoo Studio, a Wilmington, Del. shop working to create more inclusion in an industry that’s long been considered a white boy’s club.

In the first national tour of “Ain’t Too Proud: The Life and Times of The Temptations,” Broadway actor James T. Lane, 44, transforms into Paul Williams, the embattled original lead singer, and choreographer of the legendary Motown singing group. The tour will begin a six-day residency at Atlanta’s Fox Theatre on March 8. Nominated for 12 Tony Awards, and winner for Best Choreography, “Ain't Too Proud” tells the thrilling story of brotherhood, family, loyalty, and betrayal, as the group's personal and political conflicts threatened to tear them apart during a decade of civil unrest in America.

For eight shows a week, the openly gay actor embodies the highs and lows of a tortured artist incapable of escaping his own demons. It’s a story that parallels a period in Lane’s life that makes his casting feel more like a divine assignment than an additional credit on an already impressive resume. From the moment he showed up to audition for the role, to belting out Williams’ signature song, “For Once In My Life,” Lane has been appointed for such a time as this.

“The final audition was an in-person audition in New York City at Pearl Studios and there was no one there for the role,” Lane says. “I don't know what was happening, but I was the only one there. I couldn't get through the song [“For Once In My Life”] in the audition without bursting out into tears because it just meant so much,” he said.

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.

Actor Brandon Black (“Dear White People,” “Insecure”) is aware that his performance in Tyler Perry’s new film “A Madea Homecoming” as the first openly gay character in the history of the 23-year-old franchise is bigger than entertainment.

In June, Alphonso Mills, 30, and his fiance Ja’Mel Ware, 33, will become fathers. They shared the news of their expanding family in a short video posted on their respective social media accounts on Feb 22, marking the 22nd week of their baby’s development. While Black queer couples are frequently raising children that are both biological and adoptive, especially in the South, Ware, who identifies as a queer transmasculine man and was assigned female at birth is carrying the couple’s first child. On testosterone for over a decade, Ware says he never imagined that he’d one day have to decide to stop receiving gender-reinforcing hormones in order to conceive, but that was before he met Mills.

Ware proposed in October 2020, during a trip to Walt Disney World after dating Mills for two years. It was a surprise affirmation of their commitment to each other that Mills later reciprocated with a proposal of his own.

“There was just something about our connection that made me realize as long as I could do this, I would do it,” Ware says.

Are you looking forward to spring as much as we are? Besides the anticipation of warmer temperatures, there are quite a few exciting projects on our radar from Black queer creatives that we believe should be on yours too. From new book releases to theatrical productions, and even an LGBTQ+ bus tour. There’s something for every Black LGBTQ+ person and our allies to enjoy as queer content creators continue to elevate the stories and experiences of our community from the page to the screen. This is not a comprehensive list. And while we’re excited to share our picks with you, we’d love to hear about the Black queer projects that have you excited about their spring arrival. Dive into our selections below.

Any attempt to make it through a conversation with comedian Sampson McCormick without laughter will fail. The trailblazing gay comedian has delighted and challenged audiences with his spirited brand of Black queer comedy for over two decades. McCormick’s Atlanta fans will have the chance to experience him live during a special Black History Month appearance: “Black Joy: A Night of Laughter with Sampson,” on February 23 at MIXX Atlanta. This time around, McCormick says he’s being intentional about centering Black joy.

“As a community, we need to place an emphasis on our joy, on our ability to embrace the experiences that we have and celebrate those with reflection through laughter,” he said.

Until recently, McCormick has been the only openly, gay Black male comedian, touring the country, performing at major comedy clubs, and headlining shows.

“There’s still not a lot of us. And I’m talking about headliners that can go to the comedy clubs and carry a show all weekend. I'm still one of the only ones who can do that,” he said.

These men are taking their pleasure into their own hands.

While this reality may not be revolutionary, especially considering the data from one study that suggests 92% of American men masturbate, these three Black gay men are doing two things the majority of the population refuse to do—they’re talking openly about their masturbatory practices, with two of the three men exclusively identifying as solosexual—individuals who prefer masturbation (or “bating” as it’s commonly called) over other forms of sexual activity. For these men, and perhaps, many more like them, getting off solo is not a substitution for “the real thing,” their sex lives are real and so are the mind-blowing orgasms they experience multiple times a day.

Valentine’s Day is upon us, and by now, you should have already purchased that special gift for your partner. But if you’re experiencing panic because you’ve waited until the last minute, take a deep breath and relax—we’ve got you covered. The Reckoning has compiled a list of great gift ideas that can be delivered directly to your doorstep or serve as an inspiration for similar gifts that can be found at shops in your local area. And if you’re in Atlanta, we’ve also listed a few Black LGBTQ+-owned businesses that you can support. After all, the love expressed between you and your partner should never be confined to a commercial holiday. Many of the gifts and dining choices on our list can be shared every day of the year. Check out the items that are making our hearts flutter inside.

Cycling is quickly becoming the newest phenomenon of transportation in Atlanta. However, almost explicitly missing from the conversation is the presence of Black queer voices and how popular cycling is to this group, whether native or transplant.

Octavia “Tay” Roberts, better known as Big Oreo, and Lauren Fareira, known best as Senorita Awesome, are two Black queer cyclists leading the way for more to join the experience.

Eight or so years ago, Big Oreo became interested in cycling. But it wasn’t until 2015 before she purchased her first bike. And as soon as she did, she got busy immersing herself in the culture.

“I got the bike and then went and got a job at [the popular sandwich shop] Jimmy John’s—because I wanted to,” the Atlanta native told The Reckoning. “The type of cycling Jimmy John’s cyclists do is unorthodox. It’s not like how you would see a group of cyclists or even racers.”

Co-founder of the cycling group Rolling Peach Bandits, Big Oreo considers herself an urban street cyclist. When on her own, or with a group of her buddies, she can be seen dipping and dodging traffic on her fixed-gear bike. It’s an exhilarating thrill for her.

For decades, Black queer creatives have used the art of storytelling to empower themselves and others by telling boldly unique stories created specifically for the Black LBGTQ+ community. However, not very long ago, there was a dire need for Black queer representation, even more so than it is today. In response to that void, pioneering San Francisco based Black gay theater troupe the Postmodern African American Homosexuals (affectionately referred to as Pomo Afro Homos) dominated stages during the early 1990s with their mix of humor, heart, and transparency in the wake of the burgeoning HIV epidemic and ongoing racial disparities.