Back in 2008, I wrote an essay/review—I called it a review at the time, but it was as much an essay as a review—of the book Gay Artists in Modern American Culture: An Imagined Conspiracy by Michael S. Sherry (The University of North Carolina Press, 2007). The book was informative and personally helpful. It got me clearer about myself and what I’m up to in my life.
I approached the writing from a white racial angle, so I ran it by the editor of a print journal that dealt with racial matters from a white perspective. He gave it a cool reception. The gist of his response was the review was too gay-friendly and wouldn’t play well with his readers. Perhaps if I were to mute my congeniality toward homosexuals so it wouldn’t be such a turn-off . . .
No thanks. I wasn’t up to changing the piece at all, even if doing that would have gotten it into print. It was my truth—reality as I perceived it, in the world and inside me—and anyway, I felt done with the writing and had no more energy to give to it and wanted to move on. Read more