Ask the Thomas husbands, Reginald, 27, and Kelvin, 47, about when the idea for Gay Couples Collective was born, and you might get the same story but told quite differently.

Together for six years and married for two, the pair has created a group specifically for gay male couples who are intentionally building lasting connections, cultivating experiences, and empowering other married or engaged same-sex male couples.

When Ariel Fristoe and her family moved into the Historic King District in downtown Atlanta, she had no idea how segregated her world was.

The Agnostic child of theater parents, she grew up around and regularly interacted with people from different backgrounds. However, her engagement in investigating and identifying systemic racism and inequality was few and far between. She never had to think much about what was happening with her neighbors.

"My home base has been Charis my entire life."

That is not hyperbole. Since he was 15, ER Anderson has taken up space at the beloved bookstore.

His mother introduced him to Charis. A licensed therapist, she was acutely aware that her child was struggling. He had not yet identified as transgender, but his mother discerned her child needed an outlet.

Growing up in Rome, Georgia, and raised by a United Methodist Church minister, Lama Rod Owens always understood the importance of service and community.

The potential for violence during police encounters with Black Americans is all too common, but when the person in custody is living with HIV, their health status in proximity to law enforcement can often result in prosecution.

World AIDS Day occurs annually on December 1. It is a worldwide opportunity to unite all of us in the fight to eliminate HIV, honor those we've lost, and show support for people living with HIV. For me, this day represents a time for reflection and action. This year I'm reflecting on how much the music of my childhood continues to impact me.

Josh Penny has always been more motivated when seeing how something impacts another person versus how it affects him.

"It's something my therapist has been trying to get me to work on," he said.

In his role as director of social impact for Hinge, he is responsible for figuring out how to help users connect with others. His role is to help users form healthy relationships by providing them with the habits and skills needed to do so.

The more Sophia Hussen, MD, MPH learned about HIV, the more she felt compelled to provide care, support, and understanding about those living with the disease.

An associate professor in the Rollins School of Public Health at Emory University, she doesn't just spin her wheels in the academy's ivory tower. She mixes advocacy with activism, pairing her commitment to research with her practice as a physician in the HIV Clinic at Grady Memorial Hospital.

DeMicha Luster's community organizing work began unexpectedly.

"I was doing some work for a local non-profit when someone asked me why they hadn't seen me at any of the NPU [Neighborhood Planning Unit] or civic association meetings," she said. "I took the hint and started attending."

Eventually, people noticed she was the only person under 30 attending the meetings. That made her the ideal candidate to organize a potential field trip.

"Someone donated passes to Six Flags, and so, it was suggested that I take 35 kids from the community," she added.

All she had to do was figure out how to get the kids there. And, of course, get their parents' permission.

Anyone raised in Atlanta understands, to some extent, the magnitude of such a task. First, she had to find the kids willing to go. That's not too hard. For many kids, taking a trip to Six Flags is a treat. But funding and transportation for kids of a certain age and socio-economic background can be challenging. Then there is another issue altogether – trust. Many of the kids didn't know her or their parents. Even though it's been years since the Atlanta Childhood Murders, the scars are still visible for some. She was a stranger and had some convincing to do.

A new report from The Williams Institute examining the beginning and ending stages of the HIV criminalization cycle in Louisiana paints an even clearer picture of the demographic most impacted by discriminatory and outdated laws criminalizing people with HIV in the state.

Black people—and especially Black men—were the majority of people identified as suspects and arrested for HIV-related crimes, according to research by The Williams Institute.

Louisiana enacted its law in 1987, becoming one of the first states to criminalize HIV—nine years before the release of lifesaving antiretroviral drugs that allowed people living with HIV to achieve viral suppression and before FDA approval of PrEP, a game-changer in HIV prevention.

Louisiana has one primary HIV criminal law, intentional exposure to HIV. Intentional exposure is a felony; the maximum sentence is ten years imprisonment and a $5,000 fine. The law provides a heightened sentence for deliberate exposure to a first responder performing their official duties. In this case, the maximum penalty increases to 11 years and a fine of up to $6,000. Additionally, a conviction for intentional exposure to HIV requires the person convicted to register as a sex offender under Louisiana law for 15 years.

As a gay Black man who one day wants a biological family, TreVaughn Roach-Carter long ago reconciled that his path to parenthood wouldn't be a typical one.

He's embraced it—so much that he wanted to help other queer families with their journey.

In 2019, the San Francisco resident began the journey to become a sperm donor, making it through the first of two initial appointments with The Sperm Bank of California before he hit a roadblock.

"They had invited me back for a second test just to make sure that everything is viable," Roach-Carter told The Reckoning in early November. "Before I could even make my appointment for the final test, I got the email that the FDA doesn't want gay sperm."

The incident, first highlighted in a Washington Post article that's gained national attention, has spotlighted what critics call an outdated, discriminatory policy that potentially impacts Black men – and would-be Black families – most of all.

That US Food & Drug Administration policy, enacted in 2005, restricts donations from men who have had sex with other men within the previous five years, citing HIV transmission risk. The ban drew widespread criticism as a misguided directive aimed at "stigmatizing all gay men rather than adopting a screening process that focuses on high-risk sexual behavior by any would-be donor, gay or straight."

It's just after 11 am on a Friday when Gregory "Gee" Smalls walks into Virgil's Gullah Kitchen & Bar – West Midtown.

As members of the staff mull around prepping for the day, he stops at a table to talk to a familiar face. They strike up a quick conversation.

Eventually, he stands and greets us – me and Johnnie "Jay Ray" Kornegay III, creative director of the Counter Narrative Project. We are there to capture a few images of Smalls and his husband of 13 years, Juan. It's 12 days after their anniversary.

Smalls hugs us and says, "Juan is up the street. He's on his way." But actually, Juan is already here. He appears at the top of the establishment's stairs. As we take notice, he slowly saunters down the stairs – making an entrance – and pulls his shades from his face.

They are dressed in seemingly coordinated outfits—Gee in a long sleeve, black sweatshirt, camouflage pants, yellow, high-top sneakers, and a Black beanie. Juan is wearing blue jeans, sneakers, and a black asymmetrical button-down, long-sleeved shirt. If their wardrobe choices indicate their relationship dynamic, it shows how their unique personalities and styles complement each other.

On November 18, writer and director Elegance Bratton's "The Inspection," starring Jeremy Pope, Raúl Castillo, and Aaron Dominguez, with Gabrielle Union and Bokeem Woodbine, will hit theaters across the country in limited release. Bratton ("Pier Kids," "Buck"), who is openly gay and a former U.S. Marine, has written and directed an epic American drama that is unapologetically Black and queer. These two ingredients would have almost ensured a mainstream film to be dead on arrival before the 2017 Best Picture Oscar win for "Moonlight."

Inspired by actual events, "The Inspection" tells the story of Ellis French (Pope), a young Black gay man rejected by his mother, Inez French (Union), because of his sexual orientation. After being kicked out of the family home, French is thrust into homelessness in New York City. With few options for his future, he joins the Marines to win his mother's love. In the era of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell," the former discriminatory policy prohibiting out LGBTQ service members, French faces the grueling requirements of boot camp, blatant homophobia, and an unrelenting determination to succeed.

Six years in the making, Bratton tells The Reckoning, "The Inspection" began as part of the narrative of a planned autobiography that he ultimately decided to shelve. He credits his husband and producing partner, Chester Algernal-Gordon, for encouraging him to bring his life story to the big screen.

"You need to tell a story that brings audiences to a place they could never go unless you take them there. It has to be really personal," Bratton recalls Algernal-Gordon saying to him at the time. "He insisted that The Inspection would be the one that would change our lives."

Ian L. Haddock, 35, Executive Director of The Normal Anamoly Initiative, vividly recalls the strange dichotomy of his late mother, Valerie Walker, hurling anti-gay slurs at him. But as hurtful as her colorful language could be, she was steadfast in her determination to keep him away from the illegal drug activities and prison sentences that consumed the lives of his two older brothers in Texas City, TX.

An effeminate Black queer child raised in a trap house with his mother and brothers, Haddock says he played football for a while to prove his masculinity. But he ultimately immersed himself in the Black church experience as one of two options given to Black boys in the football-centered Texas town as alternatives to the less desirable and dangerous elements chosen by many Black men in his orbit for survival.

"I knew I was different," Haddock says. "Showing up as any part of myself as a young kid was very difficult because I was really smart. But I was bullied for being a geek. I was bullied for being poor and dirty, and I was bullied for being feminine."

The bullying wasn't isolated to Haddock's experience with other students at LaMarque High School, where he attended. It was also a constant presence inside his home.

"My brothers tried to beat it out of me," he says. "My mother tried to ridicule it out of me. When I was younger, I was very much in fear of my brothers. My brothers would fight my mama. They didn't care. It was a very abusive situation."

Since 2019, Larry Aldrige, a senior at Morehouse College, along with his best friend, have used the family-oriented nature of Thanksgiving to create something to quell the loneliness of the holiday for their fellow college students at Clark Atlanta University, Spelman College, and Morehouse College, three schools under the Atlanta University Center (AUC) umbrella.

Aldrige wasn't planning to attend Morehouse. His first choice was Clark Atlanta University. It was at the urging of someone he'd grown up with that suggested he attend Morehouse. He applied and got in but was still determining if he wanted to leap. A product of the Black Pentecostal church, Aldridge did what he learned to do when faced with a major life choice, he prayed.

"I said [to God], send me where you want me. Tell me what you need me to do," he says. "My apostle was preaching, but after a while, I got in prayer, and I couldn't even hear him anymore. All I heard was Morehouse. And I was like, okay."

Aldridge, who identifies as queer, hadn't told anyone yet, because he didn't even realize it himself.

Why are Black queer men still deeply invested in casual sex and hooking up?

Black queer sex may be more accessible, but it doesn't absolve us of hang-ups and preferences resulting in internal conflicts similar to other groups. It can be easier to go for what we desire in sexual situations involving two men, knowing how we are sexually wired. As a Black queer person, I've easily cultivated a consensual and fulfilling sex life. I started dating men at age eighteen and came out of my glass closet a year later.

I fear the years without the right to marry or love publicly and safely have indirectly caused some Black queer men to be blind to the value of commitment. How we navigated sex before the dawn of the internet, in dimly lit public spaces, backrooms, and parks, has permeated queer culture, often at the expense of our physical safety and freedom. This reality, compounded with the HIV epidemic and the loss of thousands of lives, has changed how we view sex. The degrees of compartmentalization we navigate still haunt us to this day.

The cannon of Black horror films is limited. The cannon of horror films featuring Black queer characters, even more so. It's a sobering reality that Black fans of the genre have endured for decades until the mainstream explosion of Academy-Award-winning writer/director Jordan Peele's cinematic success. In the spirit of Peele, Atlanta-based actor, writer, and filmmaker Isaiah Rice is on a mission to change the face of horror again.

An openly gay man and lifelong horror fan, Rice is turning the 1980s-inspired grindhouse horror aesthetic on its head in his latest short film, "He's Watching You." The film follows Sidney(Rice) and Ryan(Schyler Tillett), a young millennial 20-something Black queer couple visiting a cabin in the woods for a romantic getaway to rekindle their broken relationship. Sidney is a recovering drug addict fighting to stay clean after rehab. Ryan is a recent law school graduate with hopes that the cabin trip will bring them closer together now that Sidney has reached a level of sobriety. While their backgrounds differ, one key thing remains true– their love for one another. However, as romance unfurls at the beginning of the night, it ends in horror with a fight for survival.

"While the core leads are two Black queer men in a relationship, the focus of the story is not centered around their sexuality," Rice says. "This is an issue that most films focus on when it comes to having queer characters. The general queer storylines seem to focus on the trauma of coming out of the closet, hiding your sexuality from society, or at times being oversexualized. "He's Watching You" is a grindhouse horror film, but it has nothing to do with the character's sexualities. They happen to be a queer couple in the wrong place at the wrong time," he says.

A dance and political science alum of Bates College, Rice tells The Reckoning the seed for "He's Watching You" was first planted after expressing his frustration to a film professor about the lack of representation of Black queer couples in horror.

A conversation with the legendary actor Andre De Shields is a master class.

The Tony-award-winning actor is currently receiving rave reviews as Ben Loman in the Broadway revival of Arthur Miller's "Death of A Salesman." De Shields plays the successful and wealthy older brother of Willy Loman (Wendell Pierce), a salesman grappling with a fruitless life in a burgeoning America. The latest production of "Salesman" makes history as the first Broadway revival of the dramatic masterpiece to feature African American actors in the leading roles.

A celebrated Black queer artist, De Shields began his professional career in a 1969 Chicago production of "Hair." His star turn in the title role of the 1978 Broadway hit, "The Wiz," opposite Stephanie Mills, has endeared him to audiences across the globe.

De Shields insists that his most challenging role is always the one directly in front of him. Whether performing for an entire house or in scenes with Neil Patrick Harris in the hit Netflix comedy “Uncoupled,” or standing before a classroom filled with fresh-faced students. Each time he steps on stage, he does so as an advocate. Over the last five decades, he's prioritized helping audiences understand and accept what it means to be human.

"As an actor-activist, I want to fill intimate spaces with enormous beauty," De Shields proclaimed.

The Atlanta Journal Constitution and Atlanta Civic Circle, have partnered to publish a nonpartisan guide that allows voters to compare political candidates and learn more about their views on important issues. The Reckoning, in partnership with AJC, has been given permission to republish the guide.

Election Day is Nov. 8.

The guide provides voters with a side-by-side look at the candidates for office, their views on issues voters care about most, their party affiliation and their history in elective politics.

Georgia Decides provides information on candidates for statewide office and those for elected office in Clayton, Cobb, DeKalb, Fulton, and Gwinnett counties. It includes candidate responses to a 12-question survey designed to help voters better understand how the candidates might approach their elected position.

“The Atlanta Journal-Constitution is proud to partner with the Atlanta Civic Circle in this important public service,” said Leroy Chapman, Managing Editor at the AJC. “Our goal is to make the Georgia electorate the most educated in the country, if we can.”

For years, Atlanta has claimed the official/unofficial moniker of the “Black Gay Mecca.” The city has been considered a top destination for countless queer-identifying people of color seeking refuge and acceptance. But is that still true today?

While Atlanta continues to be attractive to most, its official/unofficial Black Gay Mecca designation isn't all that continues to draw many to live here. Two recent transplants suggest the city's Black gay population is a bonus, but was an afterthought when considering making Atlanta their current home.

"I never really saw myself living in Atlanta," LaDettria Miller, 35, told The Reckoning. "I just never had a desire to live here."

A native of Weir, Mississippi, Miller spent three weeks working in Atlanta on a temporary assignment as a certified nursing assistant.

"For whatever reason, I wasn't feeling it," he said. "In my adult life, I had only been to Atlanta twice before that. They were day trips, not really enough time to really get the feel of the city. But during those three weeks of being here, it didn't stick."