Guy named ink from straightfraternity gay website
In the Existence Archive (ITLA) miscellaneous collections
1950s-2010 [bulk 1990s]Related Material
Each of the following collections, which plunge under the Individual collections group of ITLA, is found in the Manuscripts, Archives and Rare Books Division, Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture:
Assotto Saint papers, Sc MG 556
Black Men's Xchange records, Sc MG 800
Cheryl Clarke papers, Sc MG 642
Donna Allegra papers, Sc MG 792
Essex Hemphill/Wayson Jones collection, Sc MG 832
Gay Men of African Descent records, Sc MG 688
Glenn Carrington papers, Sc MG 89
Gregory Victorianne papers, Sc MG 793
House/Ballroom files, Sc MG 893
Ira Jeffries papers, Sc MG 794
Jamaica Gay Independence Movement records, Sc MG 902
James Witherspoon papers, Sc MG 791
Jewelle Gomez papers, Sc MG 790
Joan Jett Blakk/Lick Bush '92 archive, Sc MG 897
Joseph Beam papers, Sc MG 455
Kevin McGruder papers, Sc MG 368
Melvin Dixon papers, Sc MG 468
Other Countries records, Sc MG 627
R. Bryant Smith papers, Sc MG 789
Roy Gonzalves papers, Sc MG 753
StoryCorps Black LGBTQ archive, Sc MG 931
Thomas Glave papers, Sc MG 836
Wallace Bass Boyd journals, Sc MG 813
Hint: Skip forward in the above video to 3:10.
By Tavia Nyong’o
A closeted middle-aged man obsesses over good-looking college gay and launches campaign of pathetic vitriol against the object of his prohibited desire. He is interviewed on TV by a smirking good-looking anchor who is not himself entirely out. The mind reels. America: do we queers have to ALL the function of alchemizing your confused Ids into infotainment? Oh pleasant , here comes a tweet from 50 cent:
“If you a man and your over 25 and you don’t nibble pu**y just eliminate your self damn it. The planet will be a better place. Lol.”
Why 25 I immediately wondered? Was a pussy like a rental car, to be handled only by those who’ve reach a certain level of maturity? My mind leapt back to Worst as I Wanna Be, Dennis Rodman’s biography, where that particular above-25 year old bad teen notoriously refused to eat out Madonna. His loss. But maybe it was just punks appreciate Rodman at whose 50 Cent’s vitriol was directed? Probably, but that didn’t stop The Advocate from crying foul and linking him, with arch unfairness, to the recent rash of lgbtq+ teenage suicide.
No one can possibly be against the child
June 2018
Interview by Graham Skinner
This month’s Athenæum Author is local penner Robert Fieseler. In May, he and I sat down to talk about his life, the Athenæum, and his book Tinderbox: The Untold Story of the Up Stairs Lounge Fire and the Rise of Gay Liberation (Released: June 5, 2018).
Q: Where were you born? Raised?
ROBERT FIESELER: I was born in Chicago and raised in Naperville, IL, a middle-class suburb located about thirty miles southwest of the city. Throughout the ’80s and ’90s, aka my childhood, Naperville was basically the heart of conservative Christendom—ten minutes from Wheaton College, a social incubator that gave the nation Billy Graham, Dennis Hastert and Michael Gerson (the Bush II speechwriter who coined the term “Axis of Evil”). Demographically, the town was about 90 percent white and overwhelmingly Republican, although it was going through a long and somewhat fraught process of diversification and “purple-ization.” Naperville also boasted award-winning widespread libraries and enviable public schools, but I didn’t know enough at the time to be grateful them or take advantage.
I was a defiant sort of B st
Published in:November-December 2015 issue.
ONE OF MY ROLES as a senior features editor at Town & Land was that of men’s fashion editor, a subject and an arena that I didn’t understand at all adequately but was hired to cover, as the editor-in-chief wanted someone who simply knew the high-priced name brands. At my first interview, the editor said, “All I require is someone on staff who knows names like Zegna.” It happened to be the trademark of suit I was wearing, and when I unbuttoned my jacket and held it away from my chest for her to see the label, she hired me on the spot.
During my run at the magazine, apart from getting movie stories on a variety of cultural topics and acting as the “Social Manners” columnist, I previewed the next season’s new collections of men’s clothing from high-end designers. One of them was Ralph Lauren. On one occasion, as soon as I arrived at the showroom to see their descend line, I was told by the director of common relations, a late-twenties, ethereally smooth youthful man—in both behavior and skin—that all the models had finished for the day. It was six o’clock, and I had been the last scheduled appointment. Their workday was over.
This adolescent man, named