Meet the Author
Inasmuch as F.A.G. is about me and I am its recorder, it is about us: the men and women respectfully known as lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender. It is our collective story as we are the authors of this life.
I represent as…
A son, a brother, an uncle. A writer, a journalist, a HS and college instructor. I volunteer for the American Red Cross, FEMA, Community Center for the Blind, and in my communities.
I am an emotional activist—I try not to sit on feelings, but explore them.
Friends call me Zoe. I was born on January 26.
I am gay.
I wish, oh, how I wish: I could dance.
I try and fail miserably: when I cook.
I find the greatest form of entertainment to be a dream or a nightmare.
I have night terrors, had them since I was a child.
I have a mild case of vertigo.
I hate posing for pictures, selfies included.
My favorite word is joy.
Courage is sexy.
My heroes: Military service personnel, out gay men and women. Neither had to do it.
I regret never seeing Nina Simone in concert.
I’m honored to share space on the planet with people like Angelina Jolie and Oprah.
I would pay top dollar to see Kanye West in the studio. Dude is genius.
I am my mother’s son. She is the apple of my eye, love her!
I never met my father. Never laid eyes on him. He didn’t want to meet me. The son-of-a-bitch.
I was arrested. Once. For disobeying a police officer. In Florida. The first week of my Ph.D. program. As I was leaving campus, a cop pulled me over. I was driving a rental car. As ordered, I gave the officer my DL and registration. When I asked him why he pulled me over, he walked away. He returned and asked me to drive into an adjacent vacant mall parking lot. It was night. I asked why. He said, “Do as I tell you to or else.” I started honking my damn horn, just laid on it. He and his fellow officers roughed me up. I thought it par for the course in Florida. Found out in court the officer pulled me over because the license plate on the Dollar rental car didn’t match the make of the vehicle. The cop thought I was a car thief. The judge asked the cop why he would ask a car thief to drive off if he had apprehended him. The judge ruled not guilty.
My greatest fear: rats.
Too, I’m afraid of cats. However, I bought one. Guess why?
Named him Ijohn. Guess what? Ijohn the cat is afraid of rats! He does, however, fetch paper balls. I learned that while writing this book. Frustrated, I would ball up paper. Toss it. Ijohn would hop off and then back onto the bed with the paper ball in his mouth. Many nights my fetching cat and I fell asleep on a bed full of paper balls.
I write from these perspectives as well as my perspective as a gay American male with an American Baptist upbringing.
I write to try to make sense of the hate, the hurt, and the rejection gay men and women face from society at large. I write to prevent gay men from suicide…or homicide or becoming victims of it…to remind and/or make gays and others aware that beyond being gay we are human—men—with flesh and feeling and not castoffs or mistakes…I write to challenge archaic thought, promote critical thinking, foster deep understanding about the varied nature of mankind and fortify belief that gay life does not equal sin…so gay men who feel isolated can have a story that mirrors their existence…to help men find words to tell their mothers and fathers, family and friends they are gay and to do so with dignity.
In the words of the writer James Baldwin, “I speak what is my truth and one that will hopefully contain the experiences of others and help them to deal with themselves.”
Ready or not, here we grow!