Beyond The Down Low

1.THE CYCLE Early last year, my photo appeared on the cover ofJetmagazine. I was wearing a slick black designer suit over an open-collared white shirtthe photo was serious, sexy, and undeniably masculine. As a black man who came of age in the 1960s and 70s, appearing on the cover of the legendaryJetmagazine was an important signifier that I'd made it. To me,Jetis still the final word on who's who in the black community. But it was even more important than that to me. You see, one of the great fears of every man or woman who hides the truth about their sexuality is that as soon as they're exposed, they'll be cast out of the community, exiled for breaking the rules. For me, that fear was multiplied many times over. When I published my first book, which revealed my own complicated sexual life in detail, I wasn't just exposing myself to my immediate friends and family, but I was bascially stripping myself naked in front of the entire community. If I was going to be rejected and cast out for what I revealed about myself, there was no place for me to turn. Which brings me back to thatJetmagazine cover. When I got that first copy of the magazine in my hands, my heart swellednot just with pride, but with relief. I saw in it an affirmation that peoplemy own peopleunderstood and respected what I was doing and still embraced me. I blew that photo up into a giant poster and hung it in my office. It's there now, the first thing any visitor sees. But the next day, I got a rude awakening when I turned on my radio to listen to theTom Joyner Morning Show. Tom Joyner's radio show is like the electronic equivalent ofJetmagazine; it's the most popular radio show among black people around the country, with a national audience in the millions. I tuned into the show to hear Joyner and his comedian sidekick, J. Anthony Brown, howling about theJetphotograph. They were straight clowning me, talking about how gay I looked and how only a dummy would ever believe that I could pass myself off as straight. I was deeply embarrassed. They went on and on to the point where I decided to go back and look at the magazine myself. By now, I was embarrassed to even pick up the magazine again. For the photo to become such a big joke, I figured it must be pretty bad. Eventually I picked up the magazine and checked out the photo again. Yep, there I was, just as I remembered, staring back at the camera, my features set, my posture rigid, my clothing perfectly stylish but by no means effeminate. I started wondering why Joyner and his morning show crew seemed to be pushing their joke so hard. But then it suddenly came to me. Let me explain: In traditional black male culture, we're taught from a young age to fear the sissy, the freak, the faggot. But we're also taught that it's easy to pick one out of a crowd, which is why as a man, you're taught to be very careful about the signals you give off. For instance, when I was a kid, if my father caught me crossing my legs a certain way when I sat down, he'd rush over and push my knees apart to make sure my feet were planted firmly on the ground. "Never cross your legs like thatthat's how women sit," he'd tell me. Really? I clearly wasn't a woman, I was a little boy, but the unspoken message in my father's words was that appearances countto appear less than manly was to be less than manly. But he also implied that the reverse was true: if you acted manly, it meant you were fully a mana heterosexual man. So, he seemed to say, if I only sat the right way, everything would be okay. But that's why the idea of the down low threw so many black men for a loop. Here I am, someone who spent time in the military, had a wife and kids, attended church every Sunday, sexed more women than a lot ofKing, James L. is the author of 'Beyond The Down Low', published 0000 under ISBN 9781400098460 and ISBN 1400098467.