The Musings of a Latte Queen: Narratives of Everyday Life

The other day a good friend of mine told me I was attacking Bishop Eddie Long. I countered that my previous blog post and even Facebook status updates about the situation were not an attack, but a wake up call for the rest of us, the black church. For far too long, black gays and lesbians, have suffered in our community.  They have had to hide under a shroud of piety while struggling with their natural, born sexual inclinations in a society that trumpets masculinity.  All while loving Christ and having a strong desire to serve HIM. The church is supposed to be a refuge, a safe place to come and worship, receive grace and mercy, and figure out this thing called life and our walk. Too often, the church, particularly the black church, becomes a judgment seat. I have personally experienced the one-sided, heavy handedness of pastors and churches who abuse their position.  Not to the extent of the pain these four young men are dealing with, but to the extent of trust ...

My spirit is on high alert and I am deeply disturbed. The events of this past week have been enough to rock many Christians, particularly those of New Birth, to the core.  What are they to believe if their very own Bishop Eddie Long has been accused of sexual indiscretion to the extent that has been reported in the news all week? I say, is their faith in God or in this man whom my brother called an ostentatious fool for his parade of jewelry, private jets, bentleys, and a lavish lifestyle earned on the backs of his 25,000 member congregation who faithfully tithed their goods?  Is this the image of a man of God?  Is this truly a shepherd after God's own heart? My sons are 16, 22, and 23 !/2.  There was a time in my life, as a divorced mother, that I wanted them to have a positive male role model.  Would I have enrolled them in the LongFellows Academy had I lived in Atlanta 15 years ago, before I met my now husband?  Would I have been persuaded by the t...

I hereby give you and me permission to change the story.  Tear up the first draft.  Rewrite.  Start over.  Live your story.  You are the keeper of your script. This morning while I was driving my youngest two children to school, something struck me...I have many more years of parenting ahead.  I love them dearly.  The baby girl makes me laugh until my side hurts and the older girl is like looking in a mirror.  Yet, I wonder, at the prime age of 46, what my life would be like had I not changed course 20 years ago that completely altered every decision from then on out. I realized that if I had given myself permission to read the lines of my own story instead of the book of obligations, that I would be traveling the world, would have published those books, certainly wouldn't have degrees in business - I would be a Ph.D. in English, history, or sociology.  I would be in a different space, certainly not this divided city in the heart of the m...

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