Dreams

Introduction

When do we realize our purpose in life and the reason as to why we were sent here?

I think there are times in our lives where we will know a thing but won't completely realize and understand that thing until later on in our lives.

I was four when I had a complete understanding that I was created as a male. I didn't understand why though. All I knew was that I had a penis instead of whatever girls had and I peed standing up instead of sitting down. I knew I that would be referred to as he, him, boy. Rather than her, she, girl.

It was around that age that I began to understand that it was my determined destiny defined by my parents that I play with action figures and toy monster trucks. But interestingly enough even at such a young age, I knew that I wasn't quite interested in that but I'd much rather play with barbie dolls and kitchen sets.

Of course, I was scolded for that minor decision but I didn't understand why. I wouldn't understand why my choice to play with the barbie dolls over the toy trucks affected my parents so greatly, especially my dad,  until later on in life. Until then my only priority was figuring out what skirt I wanted my barbie to wear next. And what dish I'd serve for my little imaginary family.

I was maybe about thirteen years old when I understood what it meant to be black. This, depending on what part of town you grew up on and greatly affect how a boy sees the world around him. But one thing that seemed consistent no matter where you were, was the fact in the eyes of a typical white supremacist my blackness was a threat. A threat to their peace, a threat to their livelihood, a threat to their sanity, and a threat to their safety. This is probably one concept I will never live to understand. The color of someone's skin is so troublesome that the only other place that they deserve to be that isn't inside of a Maximum Security Prison is a six-foot wooden coffin.

It was also around this age that I found out what it meant to have same-sex attractions. To be a black male that also found the male genitalia to be arousing seemed to be a very dangerous and disturbing thing, for others at least. Its something I found out rather quickly not to bring up in casual conversation, especially not to my southern and Christian raised parents.

In a household like mine black boys were taught not to get girls pregnant at a young age, bring good grades home always, get a job and work hard at it, and in the words of my daddy. "You better not ever try to become no faggot, I will beat the black off of you".

So as you can see I don't have many options left. My life was pretty much planned out for me, and it was an order that I follow the map drawn out for me. Or face consequences for my alternative choices.

As tough as it was I went along with it for a while. Eventually learning how to cope. Learning to cope with the pain of being the targeted black man in a white America, learning to cope with not being allowed to have the same freedom as many of my other classmates to go to parties and have sleep overs, and learning to cope with the inability to walk down the halls holding the hand of my Lover or allowing my parents the opportunity to meet my boyfriend.

I learned to cope with my dreams. I learned to run away in my dreams, run away to a world created by me, a world that understood and welcomed the one and only, Nathan Vintecent.