A Cowboy’s Tears: The Diary of a Queer Black Man
By James Jones
At 6pm I decided that I would hop on the train and dance the night away. By 3am I was walking 10 blocks in a crop top and cowboy boots, with no clue how I was getting home. It was the end of spring, so I had no real reason to wear more than that. I'm not a cowboy, but I like to store my essentials in my shoes. My phone, my keys, and my ID; everything else could be left at home.Paper money isn't a factor—I rely on free drinks or a seven dollar beer. That night I felt restless, in some ways anxious, desperately in need of a confidence boost. Don't get me wrong, I have a body that can make a car crash. Though, it wasn't confidence in my appearance that I was looking for. It was finding the confidence to be alone. I have friends and loved ones, but I had to make this journey on my own. I left my dorm knowing I wouldn’t be back until the next morning, and I didn’t care. Sometimes guys like me just want to have fun. We need a break and some would do anything for it. However, I wouldn’t label myself as risky; acting on all my impulses would be detrimental. I only desired to move my body. I needed to sweat in the middle of the dance floor.
I surrounded myself with music that would make my thoughts secondary. All I came to see were shirtless bodies. As I walked in, the room was already filled with men who had no place to be, hungry for affection, attention, or joy. The whole night I felt sick to my stomach, feeling like all eyes were on me. I felt pretty, but I felt alone even in my own body. I resented the feeling of being another man’s prey. All I could think about is the man I would love. Picturing the ideal person I wanted to marry, but tonight I wanted to be free from that. The men that surrounded me seemed lost. The club was their escape and I was an observer to their misery, as if I didn’t belong there myself. But I know the difference between us. Coming here because I am unloved wasn’t my story. I have felt love, I knew it well, but at that moment I didn’t have it. That night I didn’t know anything else but loneliness.
In my short life I’ve seen a lot of things. I’ve seen men do cocaine, I've seen public indecency, I've been a victim of sexual manipulation, and those things never made me cry. I am tough, but all I wanted to do was disappear. I closed my eyes and counted 10 beats. I moved my body to the vibrations of the music. I wished to feel nothing and I wanted for nothing. I became the moment, and let go of all my thoughts just for a few minutes. I make the same wish every time. I want to be a star, and loved by all. As the music stopped, I opened my eyes and I came back into reality. No one could save me and I knew it all too well. I became a product of my own choices and I had to deal with it. No matter who I've hurt and who has hurt me. Those choices are the ones I carry. That realization stopped me in my tracks. I sped off to the bathroom with my heart racing, wondering if coming out alone was a mistake. I thought to myself, why did I become the person I am, but deep down I was proud. I knew that all the people I once was would be proud of who I have become. Even with that being said, I needed my own approval. If I could speak to my 12- year-old self, he would have never thought marriage was possible. I don't know why he thought he didn’t deserve it. From a young age I didn't quite know who I was. All I knew is that I was different. I never thought one day I would be desirable or that I deserved children and a loving man. That seemed impossible. I believed that it wasn't for a person like me. As I looked in the bathroom mirror I saw his face. Only a little different, just 10 years older. In that moment I cried. As tough as I am, I cried in the club bathroom. Shirtless, pretty, and alone. I looked down at my feet, tears in my eyes, and realized that I was wearing the same boots my mother hates. The ones she would love to throw away. Thinking to myself, at least my essentials are secure. The only items I truly need to feel safe for the night. At that point I knew it was time to go, so I gathered myself, put back on my shirt, and started walking.
That night one thing became clear. I deserve affection, attention, and joy. I know what love looks like, as well as despair. I’ve managed to get this far and cried too many tears. As I walked to the train station, my mind raced. No amount of dancing or distraction could free me from my reality. My heels burned under the weight of my body. My eyes heavy from holding the weight of my tears. I couldn't help but think about what I could change. I contemplated what I loved about myself and what didn't fit the bill. There was something I was running from. Deep down I knew the answer, because it’s the same old story. I feared being alone; it's not that I didn't believe I deserve love. I was scared that I would never receive it in the way I imagined. I haven't worn those cowboy boots in a while. They sit in my room collecting dust in the corner. But I remember the security they gave me. I remember the tears that fell upon them. And I know one day they’ll be used again to hold what is essential.