Wednesday, May 30, 2012


Gentleman. Young lady. Handsome man. Beautiful woman. Sexy guy. Nice lady.

I get called these things on an almost daily basis, usually dependent on what the speaker is doing. If they look at my face or hear my voice then they get the pronoun correct, but a few inches down from my face and...

WARNING! This dude has breasts!

Even with a binder...a tight binder that almost cuts off my circulation, they still attract attention. Big t-shirts, jackets, and still it happens.

When I was trying to live as a woman, I was happy the day my boobs grew in, though privately I bound them with ACE bandages, because it made my biological mother happy. "You finally look like a woman!"

Yeah. Thanks Mom.

So now the fact that the thing I'd prayed for in order to make the biologicals happy is now hindering me from making myself happy seems very...ironic.

It's also very frustrating. So much so that I have started having dreams of giving myself a mastectomy. Especially on days like today when I have guys licking their lips as they look at them and then jumping in shock when they hear my deep voice or see LBV tenting the front of my jeans.

Why yes, that is my cock. It's 12inches long and 2.5 inches wide, wanna sit on it?

So what's my plan of action? Do I grab Cherie's large knife and cut off the fun bags that fill the front of my shirts, even with the binder on, myself? Do I tell Brandi that having them there is seriously wreaking havoc with my mental state? Or do I do like I did today and look the guy or gal in the eye and using my "Barry-White-In-Training" voice say, "Don't let the boobs fool you, I'm all man"?

Either way something needs to change and soon.

Monday, May 28, 2012

Memorial Day: Thank You

As a Veteran of the United States Army, the biological child of two Veterans of the United States Navy and the former fiance of a deceased Veteran of the United States Marine Corps, Memorial Day is special to me.

I could tell you about my enlistment. I could tell you about being the child of a Naval officer and how many times we moved when I was growing up, the places I've lived and seen.

But I won't.

Because sometimes all you can say is thank you. And that's what today is about. Just saying thank you. To the veterans that I see every time I go to the VA hospital here in Buffalo. To the soldiers and sailors and airmen who gave their lives for my freedom. To the servicemen and servicewomen who enlisted even during a time of war, thinking it not void to do so. To those who sacrificed. To the family members of those who served who lost fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, partners, cousins, friends, sons, daughters, grandchildren...thank you.

Thank you for your service to this country. Thank you for your sacrifice. Thank you for your commitment to freedom, democracy and human rights.

Thank you to those who survived.

Thank you to those who fought to survive and lost the battle.

Thank you to those who served.

From a fellow serviceman,

-Vicktor Aleksandr B

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Dear Angel

Dear Angel,

I am angry with you.

I am livid.

I wish you were in front of me so I could kick your ass.

What the fuck were you thinking?

You weren't thinking.

You cheated on your husband.

You put him in danger with your actions.

Worse than that you put yourself in danger.

I just went through this with Justin.

Every day I worry about Richard.

And now I get to add you to the list.

I'm not trying to make this about me.

Lord knows, I've already been told once before that I make everything about me and that is not something that I ever want to hear again, but I am furious.

Because you did this.

You cheated, you lied, you did the very thing that you always cautioned all of us to never do and now, now, a year and a half after I lost one best friend to AIDS, I have to face the possibility that I just might lose another one because he has HIV.

I don't blame James for just looking at you. I know that if you were here that's all I would do as well.

What am I supposed to say to you?

How do you want me to react?

I hate this disease. I hate that it keeps taking people from me. I hate that it seems to be around me, choking off my air supply, cutting off my legs from underneath me.

You were supposed to be there when I finally got my Happily Ever After.

You were supposed to be there when I got my surgeries, got married, had kids and started my group home.

We were supposed to grow old together.

And now I have to look into treatments again. Now I have to face the mortality of a friend again.

Now I have to remind myself that you're human and you make mistakes and you won't live forever.

I am furious with you.

I still love you, but I could kick your ass right now.


Friday, May 25, 2012

My Time At Seminary Part II

I wish I could tell you that every day at Seminary was like the one I talked about yesterday (Part One) but it just wouldn't be true. For the most part, most of my time at seminary was spent studying.

Studying Scripture.

Studying church procedures.

Studying about how to properly pray for someone so that they fall into the arms of my prayer assistants and it looks like they've been touched by the Holy Spirit.

Yeah. I'm serious. They taught me that.

I spent a lot of time during class taking notes, answering questions and asking my own.

I wasn't the one that all of the guys were after. I was the "buddy." The one that most of them came to for advice.

Or at least that's what we told everyone.

I can admit now that I did a fair amount of corrupting of innocent future pastors and ministers. I should probably feel bad about that. And to a certain degree there's is a bit of...apology when I think of the different guys who got a taste of "The Vic", but I'm not sure if that apology is due to the fact that they all invited me to their weddings and their poor new wives thought that they were all virgins.

Or that they thought they were all 100% straight.

Because of all of the guys I slept with at seminary, not one of them didn't want a piece of LBV. And I didn't wear LBV all of the time, but there were times when I did because I was going to go and see Timothy or hang out with Bruce and I'd have one of the guys from the school ask me if they could "get some advice" about their girlfriend or their classes and sure enough we ended up back at their dorm room, their apartment, my apartment or in their car somewhere far away from campus, and LBV was down their throat or in their ass. And don't worry, my ass got a lot of lovely pounding as well.

The reason is, that wasn't real sex to them.

I'm serious.

Oral sex=not real sex

Anal sex=not real sex

Vaginal sex=real sex

And real sex is saved for marriage.

So when they got married to them they technically were still virgins.

I call bullshit on that, but I never said anything.

Maybe a part of me enjoyed knowing that I knew something about these future pastors that their spouses would never know or find out much later. Maybe it was the reassurance that everyone was screwed up. Whatever the reason I blazed a trail through many of the guys there.

While Bruce and Timothy blazed a trail through me.

Timothy was much more eager than Bruce was. He had no qualms about showing up to my classes to walk me to the next one. He would invite me out on a group date (because there's accountability in a group date) in front of everyone and our little seminary school was soon buzzing with the rumor that Timothy and I were courting and going to get married. We were the two who'd been told by multiple pastors that would come and guest speak at our school that we had a great calling on our lives and would do awesome things in the world. I was told repeatedly that I would change the world.

And I will. Just not in the way they were thinking.

So while Timothy was very open about his infatuation, Bruce and I maintained a secretive torrid affair. Which of course made things so much hotter. We shared a few classes and I would sit on one side with my friends and he sat on the other. Throughout class I would feel as if my skin were being caressed by his hot hand and I would look over and he would be staring at me. No expression on his face, just staring at me. When class was over he would get up and walk out without saying a word and I would be so turned on that when I would walk down the hallway and he would grab me and pull me into some empty classroom or supply closet, I would be all over him.

Making out? Child's play.

Oral sex? Most definitely.

Quickies? Every. Single. Day.

I don't think there's a room or a classroom that we didn't fuck in. He would fuck me, his hand wrapped tightly in my hair, my head pulled back and I would bite my arm so hard to stop myself from screaming that I started having to wear sweaters, long-sleeved shirts and jackets to school to cover the marks.

Up against the wall, in the president's office after hours, in the prayer's amazing we weren't struck by lightning.

And he would let me fuck him as well. He had no qualms about it. And it was Bruce who taught me the joys of rimming.

I thought that I was in love with Bruce and when I told him he just smiled at me and told me that what I was feeling was good sex and awesome orgasms and that those two things should never be confused with love.

Bruce and I were just sex. Hot, sweaty, spine-tingling, toe-curling, back breaking, brain melting sex.

Timothy and I were a relationship. Timothy got to know my friends. Came over to hang out with my roommates. Talked to my bio parents on the phone. Met my bio father in person (My bio dad was all about Timothy and I getting married and having a bunch of "sanctified babies"). Timothy helped me study. Made sure that I got to every class on time. Made sure that I ate, because he knew that I have a tendency to get so focused on work and school and activities that the normal, mundane, every day stuff escapes me.

And when the school started to ask for people to sign up for mission trips, Timothy made sure that I signed up. Because mission trips meant that we'd be travelling. Mission trips meant going out of town. Mission trips meant that we'd be staying overnight, some times for a week or two, in a hotel, with little to no supervision whatsoever.

You guessed it. There were a lot of people who went on these trips who lost their true virginity and couples who came back and had to get married quickly because someone had been blessed by God and was pregnant, but was unmarried (my second semester four girls who had gone on mission trips with me came back and got married. All four of them had "premature" babies).

Bruce never went on any of these mission trips. He said he was already getting what everyone else was going on the trips to get. I think he loved his rebel status too much or perhaps it was the fact that he hated travelling. Whatever the reason, Bruce never went on a trip, but Timothy and I went on every single one almost. Our first trip was to Atlanta. It was the major trip. The one that people are still talking about to this day (you know those that went to or are going to this seminary school). It was the trip that rocked the school when we all came back. Not because of the illicit activities that went on amongst the students, but because of the students who spoke and the fact that when the team came back "the Spirit fell" and there were no classes for a week (which just happened to be midterms) because everyone would walk into their classes and become slain in the Spirit.

I took Timothy's virginity on the mission trip to Georgia, and like most other students loved the fact that I got an extra week to study for my midterms. But that trip to Georgia changed my relationship with Timothy and Bruce, and it ultimately led to the end of my relationship with both of them and the end of my time at seminary.

But that's a story for another day.

-Vicktor Aleksandr B

Thursday, May 24, 2012

My Time in Seminary Part I

So, since today is Angel's birthday I was all geared up to write him a birthday post. Then he reminded me that it's the 9th year anniversary of when I got ordained as a pastor.

*waits patiently for the cries of shock and dismay to die down*

Yes, people. I am an ordained pastor. Geez. I attended seminary school back in Florida and it was unlike any other seminary that I've ever heard of. Not everything was Scripture, praying, ministry, condemning others and falling out "in the Spirit." We had classes like every other college, but it was the activities that went on when class was over that were by far the most interesting. And like most things in life, I didn't get slowly introduced to them, I was shoved into the smexy, "illicit" underground of my seminary college.

So I decided to share with you all about my first day in seminary.

*Cue projector*

The First Day of Seminary

Classes started with a big assembly. We were all in one big room, the biggest classroom/meeting room at seminary and it was there that we were welcomed to seminary. We were all told to go around and introduce ourselves to fifteen people that we didn't know. It was during this time that people were already making "special connections." It was also here that I met *"Timothy." Timothy was from Mississippi. Tall, muscled, strawberry blond hair, blue eyes with the most gorgeous smile that I've ever seen on a man before and since. I felt something in me react to that smile.

That smile got me into a lot of trouble.

Timothy introduced me to a lot of his friends, they were all second years and I was only a first year. They all invited me to hang out with them when classes were over. I agreed, glad to know that I was making friends already. They all lived in the dorms and I had my own apartment and had I known what was involved in "hanging out" I would have invited them back to my place.

My first class was Survey of the Old Testament and having attended Hebrew school as a kid there wasn't much that I expected to learn from that class. I mean...that was what I'd studied. It was only because of that reason I was able to let my eyes wander around the Orange (yes, the place that the classes met were all named after colors. How did they come up with those colors? You guessed it, whatever color the carpets and the fabric on the chairs were. Inventive right?) and see what I saw.

While my professor droned on about the Torah, the Pentateuch, the Prophets, etc. I watched two of the males in my class passing notes, their fingers lingering over each other's hands as they did so. I knew what was going on there. Hell, my best friends were gay, and by this point I'd had LBV (Lil' Big Vic) for a number of years and had fucked many a guy with it. I knew that those guys were gay, but what were they doing in seminary? Especially in the seminary where we were, a church and a school that were not shy about telling homosexuals that they were going to hell (I'm not proud that this was the seminary that I went to, but this was my attempt to make my bio father proud of me). So I let my eyes wander away from them, determined not to give them away, and not to be too obvious, when I saw another girl, one whom I knew was engaged, sitting next to her fiance's best friend. Wait...she wasn't sitting, she was moving and sort of bouncing...why was she bounc-oh! I couldn't see the friend's other hand, but I was pretty sure that he was fingering her, right there in the middle of class.

I turned my attention back to my professor. Where the hell was I? I felt like I was back at WHHS where students were hooking up behind the backs of the teachers. But, this was a seminary school. A "Christian" college. Already, in my first class my view of seminary was being rocked and completely torn apart. I was no longer scared of not fitting in. Hell, I could be undercover with the best of them. I knew how to play this game. The perfect "religious" person in public, sneaking around to do my dirty stuff behind the backs of my elders.

I was a pro at being in the closet.

I got through my classes with a smirk on my face. Taking notes, not only on the lesson plans but on who was passing notes to who, who sat in the back of the classrooms, who got up to go to the bathroom around the same time and who sat next to whom. When classes ended for the day, I was already on my large Nokia cell phone calling Angel and Justin to tell them that they'd fit in at seminary and there was no cause for them to be concerned about my personality dying away being filled with Scripture. Now don't get me wrong. Not everyone was making assignations for a later time. There were some who were actually there to become non -hypocritical pastors, ministers and missionaries. But I didn't hang around them. I watched them from afar as they watched me.

When my last class ended I walked over to the recreational building and stepped inside to see a pool table and a small coffee/library area. Smiling, I headed over to the pool table. It was there that I met *Bruce. Bruce was from Wales. He had a gorgeous accent, was taller than me, had gorgeous, thick, wavy brown hair and green eyes. When he looked up at me, I felt my heart stutter in my chest. Bruce was playing pool and he slammed the tip of his cue stick into the cue ball causing it to hit the eight ball, making that black ball slide straight into the corner pocket, right in front of where I was standing. When that ball sank into the bottom of the pocket I felt it resonate through my entire body. My hands started sweating, my nipples got hard, my heart started pounding and I wanted to bend over the pool table and ask Bruce to sink his stick into my hole. Collecting the money that he'd won, without ever taking his eyes off of me, Bruce pulled apart his custom made cue stick and placed it back into its case before sauntering over to me.

"Hey. My name's Bruce," he said.
"V-V-Vee. My friends call me Vee or Vic or Vee-Vee," I stammered out.
"So which do you prefer?" he asked stepping closer.
I lifted my head so that my eyes could stay connected to his. "Ummm...I don't care."
"What if I called you something totally different from everyone else. What's your whole name?"
"Veronica Victorian."
"How about Roni or Tory?"
"I-I-I like Roni."
"Okay Roni. That's what I'm going to call you."
"Oh okay."
"Do you stay here in the dorms Roni?"
"N-no. I have an apartment off campus."
"Maybe I'll come by and visit you one day?"
I nod vigorously. "I'd like that."

Our conversation was cut short by the appearance of Timothy. He reminded me that I'd promised to hang out with him and his friends. With a wave to Bruce, and a promise to let him teach me how to play pool one evening, I went off with Timothy to his room.

When I stepped into Timothy's dorm room, I was shocked at what I saw. There were five couples. One of which was the two guys from my first class, all kissing and drinking. When I turned to look at Timothy he merely grinned at me.

"As long as we don't have sex with each other we're okay. It's the penetration that's sinful, not the stuff leading up to it," he explained to me.

While I knew that his reasoning was flawed, I shrugged and accepted the beer that was pressed into my hand. Sitting on the floor I asked Timothy if this was what he meant by "hanging out." He nodded. I asked him if he were a virgin and he blushed and nodded again. Raising my voice I asked how many virgins were in the room. Everyone except for me and the two other gay boys in the room raised their hands. I nodded my head again and told them to carry on.

After ten minutes of drinking and unabashed voyeurism, I turned to Timothy and asked him if this was how they studied too. He shook his head.

"Studying is one couple alone. Hanging out is everyone, so that we can keep each other accountable. The only people who study together are the ones who are courting or already engaged."

I nodded before turning to him and throwing a leg over lap and straddling him. I knew that was why I'd been invited to hang out with them. For him. For Timothy and while Timothy was no Bruce, he was still hot. So I smiled at him and said, "Let's hang out then," before kissing him deeply with tongue.

I know that Timothy wasn't expecting me to be so forward, to take charge, but he didn't really know me.

By the time he graduated and became ordained he knew me a whole lot better (Bruce did as well), by the time I became ordained, Timothy was almost an expert on me.

But that's a story for another day.

*End of projection*

-Vicktor Aleksandr B

Wednesday, May 23, 2012

Conversations With Angel

I thought I'd share some hilarious (and smexy) conversations with my friend Angel since tomorrow is his birthday! (Woohoo! He's turning the Big 3-0! Getting old man...getting so. OLD. LOL. Just kidding. I'm a year behind the crazy Puerto Rican, so you know.)

Anyway. These conversations span the 14 years that we've known each other (it will be 15 years come August 18th) and cover a variety of topics. Some of them include other people. So enjoy! (I can't remember all of them exactly word-for-word and some I took from IM chats that I saved)

About Vic Being President (May 23, 2012)
Angel: You know, Vic, you should really run for President. Stop joking about it and do it.
Me: I can't do that.
Angel: Why?
Me: They might find the bodies.
Angel: (silence)
Me: Angel? (chuckles)
Angel: I'm just trying to remind myself that you wouldn't really do something like that because sometimes.....well, I just don't know. 

When Vic Came Out (Summer 2011)

Angel: Duh!
Me: What do you mean duh?
Angel: Why the HELL do you think Justin and I started calling you Vic and Shaq back in high school?
Me: Because I liked playing basketball, I'm tall, and as a nickname from my middle name?
Angel: Hell no bitch! Because it was obvious way back then that you were more guy than girl. Actually you weren't girl at all. The only thing girl about you was your private parts and we swore that was an illusion.
Me: Well damn, why the fuck didn't you guys tell me?
Angel: We did! You obviously don't speak COMMON SENSE!

About Angel and James Getting Married

Me: Well praise the Lord and pass the lube!
Justin: I know right? I thought that the two of you were going straight to hell.
Angel: (laughs) What? Why?
Me: Um...hello?! That whole sex before marriage thing? Sends you straight to hell.
Angel: What about the whole us being two men thing? You know, the fact that we're gay. Won't that send us to hell?
Me: Nope. Not that I know.
Justin: (gasps and screams) WAIT!!! YOU'RE GAY??? WHEN THE FUCK DID THAT HAPPEN??

At A Coffee Shop In NYC After Justin Starts To Sing "Summer Loving"
Me: Why the hell do we hang out with him again?
Angel: Because he's cute.
Me: Okay, I'll give him that, but why are we still sitting here while he tries to embarrass us?
Angel: (pushes away Justin as he leans over to sing with his lips pressed against Angel's throat) Because he's hot.
Me: (sighs) Fine. But seriously, why do we still think he's hot after all this time?
Angel: (grins) Because I've already slept with him and you want to.

Me: Oh yeah.

At Lunch. McDonald's, NYC. Justin Starts Singing "You're The One That I Want"

Angel: Oh hell. Not this shit again.
Me: You're the one that won't kick him off the island (shakes head at Justin, refuses to sing along)
Angel: I think I keep getting hypnotized by his muscles.
Me: They are pretty.
Angel: Not as pretty as his dick.
Me: No fair, I want to see how pretty it is.
Angel: You want to see how pretty it tastes.
Me: That too.
Angel: I guess we know why I won't kick him off the island.
Me: Yup. Damn him and his gorgeousness.

Angel: I know right? Bastard.

Senior Year. Drama Rehearsal for "Calamity Jane"
(passing notes)
Justin: What about Mr. Fritz?
Angel: Pass
Me: I'd do him. I like the goatee.
Ryan: Eeww. No.
Justin: I'd let him do me. As long as he kept shouting out "Move It Thomison!" "Start Over!" and "One More Time!"
Ryan: Gross.
Me: You're such a slut Justin.
Angel: Since you put it like that, I totally wouldn't mind a little extra rehearsal time with the director. I need to make sure that I'm projecting well.
Me: You're a slut too Angel.

Angel: No bitch, I'm not a slut, I'm sexy.

Talking About GRL 2012
Angel: So, wait, all you all are going to do is sit around and talk about books?
Me: No! We go on events and have activities and shit.
Angel: But it's all centered around books.
Me: Well...yeah.
Angel:'s like a convention for gay nerds and the women who support them.
Me: No! Besides, you say nerd like it's a bad thing.
Angel: No I didn't. Nerds are hot. Nerds fuck better than anyone, because they study so hard and want to make sure that everything is perfect.
Me: You are such a bastard.
Angel: And you are such a nerd.
Me: Does that mean that you want me to fuck you?
Angel: Yep, me and everyone else that's going to be at your little Gay Nerd Convention.
Me: It's Gay Rom Lit!
Angel: Okay, okay. Gay Rom Lit.
Me: Thank you.
Angel: You're welcome...but you should really see about them changing the name to GNDIB.
Me: GNDIB? What the hell is that?
Angel: Gay Nerds Do It Better (laughs)

After Hearing Vic's Deeper Voice Mother's Day 2012
Angel: Holy fuck! You sound sexier than hell.
Me: (laughs) Thank you.
Angel: No, like seriously. Little Angel just woke up.
Me: Eeww! Gross.
Angel: You know the more you talk, the harder he gets.
Me: Seriously? But we're like family. Brothers.
Angel: Hey, you're the one that sent me those books about the twins and the brothers getting it on. That could totally be us.
Me: Okay, this conversation is a little squicky.
Angel: My pants are a little squicky.
Me: Angel!
Angel: That's right, scream my name Chocolate Thunder! Make me cum!
Me: Chocolate Thunder? Seriously Angel?
Angel: If you say my name one more time, you're totally going to hear me have an orgasm right here on Skype.
Me: You are a dork.
Angel: C'mon, you know you want to say it. I'm right there.
Me: What the hell are you talking about?
Angel: You know what I mean Vic. C'mon. Please Vic? Please?
Me: Angel, you know how I feel about guys saying please to me-
Angel: (groans loudly)
Me: (silence)
Angel: (grins)
Me: (stares with wide eyes) Did you seriously just.......
Angel: Your voice is hot. (shrugs)

LOL. I love Angel. Never a dull moment with that guy.

Happy Early Birthday Angel! I love you. Thanks for friending me all those many years ago and for sticking around. I would never trade you and can never repay you. Te amo mucho mi amigo.

-Vicktor Aleksandr B

Monday, May 21, 2012



I have my three winners from the Hop Against Homophobia giveaway  and also three honorable mention/special winners. I chose my winners through so there you have it.

Here are the winners:

  1. 3rd place: Tj (2 books of mine from my first release to anything I release up to October 18th)
  2. 2nd place: Crissy (3 books of mine from my first release to anything I release up to October 18th)
  3. 1st place: Wulf (4 books of mine from my first release to anything I release up to October 18th plus $20 ARe gift card)

And I changed the gifts a bit due to the honorable mentions/special winners.

The three honorable mention/special winners are:

  1. Jayanx
  2. Andy (AM Burns)
  3. Andi (Andi Anderson)

The three of you will receive a free copy of one of the Tate Pack books or the next release (A Tate Pack Anthology) that will be released at the end of the month.

Chipmunk also chose for Katey Hawthorne, Judi, and PaParanormal to take home some Tate Pack swag and I am a father who has a hard time telling my daughter no (she actually thought that you should all win something, everyone who commented or even everyone who read any of the posts, so we compromised. I'm going to post a free short on my website and blogs. Not a Tate Pack short, just a free short story. So she's happy)

Congratz to the nine of you!!! I will be contacting you via-email shortly to let you know more information and get more information from you.

Now I'm exhausted. Whew! It's time for me to go and eat breakfast and get back to writing.

Have a great day everyone!!!

-Vicktor Alexander

Sunday, May 20, 2012

Hop Against Homophobia: The Finale: Going Forward

There have been a lot of AMAZING posts during this HAH/T (I'm #10 on the list of like 260). Many people, bloggers and those who commented on the blogs, shared stories of homophobia/transphobia, bullying. We shared our disappointment in the past, the change we see in our present, and our hope for our futures.

So what now?

The hop is ending, how do we go forward from here?

What's our next step?

Well, we never stop talking about it. We never stop blogging about it. Oh, we'll resume our regularly scheduled programming. Authors bringing you books and teasers, interviews with their characters, updates on their WIPs. Reviewers bringing you reviews for said books. Bloggers blogging about their life, their love, their struggles and pain. Life will continue and the world will keep spinning.

But maybe, just maybe, one person was affected. Maybe one person was so touched by a post that it brought a change to their life, to their household, their job. Maybe someone read a post who never took a stand against homophobia/transphobia who will do so now. Maybe someone read a post who was afraid to come out because they were uncertain that they would have true support and now they see just how many people are in their corner.

Maybe this hop saved a life.

We'll never know unless you tell us. Unless you share it with us. And no, I'm not delusional in thinking that this hop could have saved a life (I'm delusional about marrying John Barrowman AND Shemar Moore one day, but not about this), I'm hopeful. Optimistic.


Because I know that one person can save a life.

One blog.

One post.

One survivor telling another victim that they can survive.

Last night I found out that the NAACP has decided to endorse same sex marriage (you can read the article here: The NAACP Endorses Same Sex Marriage). I was shocked. I was excited. I virtually collapsed onto the floor (which means I told the person who told me that I'd collapsed onto the floor but didn't literally do so). Being transgender and/or gay in the black (African/American) community is not only taboo, it's dangerous and taboo and dangerous and condemned. Black comedians condemn gay men on an almost daily basis (Warning: Some of these links may trigger some readers, read articles and watch videos cautiously) (Tracy Morgan's Homophobic RantJamie Foxx Jokes About Meeting Prince and being a F**) whereas other black stars and pastors react negatively to being gay or having a gay child (NFL player David Tyree on Gay MarriageThe Root Magazine Discusses Black HomophobiaBlack Pastors Oppose Same Sex MarriageT.I. Supports Tracy Morgan's Homophobic Jokes).

Yes, Tracy Morgan, Jamie Foxx and T.I. apologized and now say that they support gay marriage and they have no problem with gays but in the black community homophobia is alive and well.

Gay marriageHowever, with this latest development, with the NAACP supporting same-sex marriage, a tide is turning in the black community. Maybe, just maybe, change is actually coming. Maybe our dream of one day having a hop for the day homophobia/transphobia ended is not that far fetched.

Maybe one day, and one day soon, same-sex marriage will be passed on a federal level as well as rights for transgenders.

We can hope.

We can keep talking about it.

We can keep fighting against homophobia and transphobia.

So going forward, our eyes are open, we are more aware, more educated and we see the large group of people supporting us and we know that we are not in this fight alone.

By jove, it really does get better!

-Vicktor Alexander

*It's the last day for you to leave comments on the blogs to be entered for the contests. Tonight names and email addresses will be pulled. Have you gone to the Official Hop Against Homophobia blog page and visited all of the blogs to leave a message? Over 250 blog posts have gone up over this past weekend. Did you read them? Did you comment? Did you get involved? Did you stand up for something?*

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Hop Against Homophobia: Day Three: Stand For Something

If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything-Malcolm X

Welcome to Day Three of the Hop Against Homophobia! I know that there are a lot of posts for you all to get through (I'm trying to make my way through and whew! It is a lot), so I really appreciate you coming by and reading my blog posts and leaving comments. I'm so glad that we can all stand together in this. This HAH has introduced me to some really awesome people and I'm really happy about all of that.

Even with all of the support, the encouragement, all of the voices being raised against homophobia and transphobia, one of the things that has been glaring me in the face are the people who haven't said anything. The ones who don't take a stand, the ones who keep silent for whatever reason.

My voice doesn't make a difference.

One person can't bring change.

I'm not an activist.

I'm just a regular person, not an advocate.

People will always be ignorant and stupid, so talking about homophobia and transphobia isn't going to change anything.

I don't like to stir up trouble.

I don't like to think about bad stuff.

I read the posts, but I didn't comment, one more comment isn't going to make a difference.

I haven't experienced homophobia or transphobia so I don't have anything to add.

I don't know if it's because of how I grew up or if maybe there's some gene in me that makes me speak out, always makes me stand up against injustice, regardless of the consequences to myself, but I've never understood those who don't speak up. When in school, I was always the student that told the teachers when I saw something wrong happening to another student. I quickly gained the reputation of being a snitch, but the greatest thing about my parents being in the military is that every year I was moving to another school in another state or country and for that reason my reputation didn't exactly follow me as much as restart.

By the time I hit the sixth grade I realized that I couldn't just spend my time telling the teacher about everything. There was a lot of reasons behind that. One was the fact that by this point we were living in Polk County, Florida, with no plans to move soon, so I would have to live with whatever reputation I got. Another was that the teachers that I had didn't always step up to fix the situation. That was when I learned how to stand up for the ones being bullied and oppressed myself.

That was when I learned to fight. Not just physically, but verbally as well.

I learned then that I may not be able to change the mind of every bully, which is really just a shame, but that I could change the mind of some of them. I'd rather go to my grave knowing that I took a stand and affected change, even if it's on a small scale, than to go to my grave with regrets.

 I don't want to get to the end of my life and see the faces of the people that I didn't take a stand for. I don't want to get to the end of my life and have my room be filled with books I've written, movies/tv shows that I've written, albums I recorded but no people in the room to see me off into eternity. I don't want to be laying on my death bed and know that there were people out there who I never stood up for, people who I never stood behind or beside and told them "I've got your back. We're in this fight together." Because at the end of the day I would rather people know me as "Vicktor: The World Changer & History Maker" than "Vicktor: The Best-Selling Author."

Maybe it's because I'm aware that money is not the cure to everything. Maybe it's because I've been surrounded by people who were focused on beating the shit out of me and no one jumped in to help me. Maybe it's because I've gotten letters from those who I did stand up for or those that I stood with, thanking me for standing with them.

Maybe it's because of Susan.

Susan was my friend from sophomore year of high school. I'd moved from Winter Haven, Florida to Pensacola, Florida to live with my biological father because I was in danger of losing my life to the lifestyle that I was living. I was doing drugs, drinking all of the time, sleeping around, angry, in an extremely abusive relationship and none of my friends and none of my family members could reach me. Looking back I know that some part of me was trying to escape the pain and the horror of my past. I was trying to kill myself.

When I moved to Pensacola I began hanging out with a group of teenagers who were completely different from the bad crowd I'd taken up with in Winter Haven. This was a group of teenagers who were all Christians, but not like Westboro Baptist Church Christians, but open-minded, arms open to everyone Christians (that would unfortunately change as they got older, but that's neither here nor there). I began hanging with them and my grades improved, I got involved in after school activities, joined school clubs, began helping around the community. My life did a complete 180. Then I met Susan. Susan was an exact replica of me from when I first moved to Pensacola.

Susan and I began hanging out and I tried to be for her, what my other friends had been for me. We called and hung out together all of the time. Susan was bisexual and in the closet and I was transgender and gay and in the closet and while we both could see what the other was desperately trying to hide, neither of us said anything to the other. That is something that I wish I could have changed.

When I moved back to Winter Haven my junior year, Susan and I promised to keep in touch and we did for the first few months, but when Susan began telling me about being bullied at school, I felt helpless. I wasn't there to protect her, and I was dealing with stuff at my own high school so how could I help her? I suggested that she ignore the other teens and maybe she could "try to fit in more." *Grimace* I know. Remembering that now, I want to smack 16 year old me in the back of the head.

Susan took my advice and sent me letter after letter telling me how miserable she was, asking for help, for guidance.

Asking for a friend.

But I was too busy, and I didn't want to make waves, and I had my own stuff to deal with. I was only one person. One student. One teenager. What could I do?

Over the next two years when Susan's letters turned dark, I didn't speak up. When I got letters from other friends from Pensacola, telling me about how they were trying to "help" Susan turn away from her destructive lifestyle, sleeping with both boys and girls, I didn't stand up for her. When Susan stopped calling me, I didn't start calling her. I knew how she felt. I had experienced, was experiencing and would experience the oppression, the bullying, the self-disgust, the self-hatred, the darkness that she was living with. But I didn't call her because I didn't think that my voice would make a difference.

When I found out that Susan had committed suicide just days after I'd moved back to Pensacola to attend seminary school (two days after I promised to call her and never did), I was wracked with guilt.

Was this my fault?

What could I have done differently?

Why didn't I stand up for her?

Why didn't I stand up with her?

Why didn't I speak up for her?

When did I become so mealy-mouthed? So neutral? So...cowardly?

Susan's suicide sparked a flame back inside of me that had burned out of me at the end of my freshman year (I had a friend who was murdered and something in me died and I stop fighting). That urge, that need, that desire to fight. To speak up. To stand for what was right, to stand for justice.

To change the world.

I've marched for Darfur. I've spoken up for Invisible Children. I've marched for the Jenna Six. I've signed petitions, donated money, marched, attended rallies and sit-ins for Equality. I've written letters, blog posts, papers, newspaper articles, I've called Senators, Congresspeople, written Presidents (Bush Senior, Clinton, George Dubya, Obama), I've written to celebrities urging them to join the fight. I've Tweeted, Facebooked, Myspaced...I've marched in parades and marched in protests for rights, for equality, against injustice, against bullying, against homophobia and transphobia, against racism, against discrimination.

For justice.

I stand for what I believe in. I stand for something so that I don't fall for anything. I do my research. I talk to people, I talk to people affected. I talk to those who need to be heard. I talk to those who need advocates.

I am someone who needs advocates.

Because I haven't forgotten that I'm still Black and that racism exists. I haven't forgotten that I still get discriminated against, regardless of who loves me online.

Because I haven't forgotten that I'm still a Veteran of the United States Army. Someone who went into the service, ready to risk his life for justice, democracy and freedom.

Because I haven't forgotten that I'm still a Gay man and homophobia is alive and well. Whether I live in New York or not, if every gay person's rights aren't protected then none of our rights are protected.

Because I haven't forgotten that I'm still a Transgender man and transphobia...yeah, transphobia is a snarling, fire-breathing, livid, clawing, growling monster, still waiting to tear me apart and others just like me.

Because this isn't Utopia.

I'm standing against homophobia. Against transphobia. I'm fighting. I will be an advocate. An ambassador. An activist. Every day until I take my final breath, because at the end of the day, at the end of my days, I want my obituary to be filled with the causes I fought for, the charities I supported, the change that I helped bring to the world.

I want my funeral to be filled with people whose lives I've touched and helped change for the better, more than I want the funeral to be filled with people who liked the fact that I wrote about men falling in love with men so well. 

Because I want someone to remember me fondly, the same way that I remember William Neale and Pastor Randall and my Granny Mary and Christopher and Justin. These weren't just people who were nice to me. These were people who, one way or another, and in ways unique to them, touched my life, changed my world and made me a better man.

They all stood up for something at some point in their lives.

I can do no less.

Will you stand with me against homophobia and transphobia? Will you make your life count?

Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.-Martin Luther King, Jr.

Change does not roll in on the wheels of inevitability, but comes through continuous struggle. And so we must straighten our backs and work for our freedom. A man can't ride you unless your back is bent.-Martin Luther King, Jr.

An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.-
Martin Luther King, Jr.

Almost always, the creative dedicated minority has made the world better.-
Martin Luther King, Jr.

A right delayed is a right denied.-

Martin Luther King, Jr.

If a man hasn't discovered something that he will die for, he isn't fit to live.-

Martin Luther King, Jr.

He who passively accepts evil is as much involved in it as he who helps to perpetrate it. He who accepts evil without protesting against it is really cooperating with it.-

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.-

Martin Luther King, Jr.

-Vicktor Alexander

*Don't forget about the other blogs/contests taking place this weekend. You have until 12am midnight tomorrow night PST (4am EST) to leave comments, your name and email addy to be entered to win. You have until 8pm PST/12am EST to leave comments on any of my blogs or my website to be one of three winners that I will choose. The contests are just the icing on the cake, the message we're sending out about ending homophobia/transphobia is the reason for the hop.*

Friday, May 18, 2012

Hop Against Homophobia/Transphobia: Day Two: What's The Point?

What's the point?
So, you're straight....
Wouldn't it be safer if you just lived as a female?
Aren't you really lying to people?
I know you consider yourself to be a man...
Not like you, but you know, real men...
No offense but I don't think transgenders really exist, you know, like I think they're just a bunch of lesbians and gays who can't handle being lesbian or gay and still want to be considered straight...
I'm an advocate for gay and lesbian rights, but I don't really consider transgenders to be in the same category....
But you could pass. Why would you choose to make things more difficult for yourself?
What's the point?

What's the point?

What's the point?

Yesterday I spoke about homophobia and transphobia in a broad sense, but I started off the post with some of the statements that my friends and I had made over the years. Yesterday was really about homophobia and transphobia from the outside of the community. Today I'm talking about homophobia and transphobia (most specifically transphobia and some bisexualphobia) when it comes from inside of the GLBTQ community. The thing is we can't hope to educate those on the outside when we're still bickering, fighting and tearing each other apart on the inside.

All of the statements above were made by people within the GLBTQ me, all except one. "What's the point?" Was a question asked about me to someone else, but it's the one that keeps rattling around inside of my head without fail.

What's. The. Point?

I think the reason that question sticks out so much is because this person is speaking as if being transgender is a choice and isn't that just completely backwards? If we can acknowledge that being gay and lesbian is something that people are born being, then how is being transgender any different? For that matter, how is being bisexual different?

Growing up as a kid I always hung around the boys. I wore hats and shorts (I lived in the South-it gets hot down there), sat with my legs open, watched sports and had absolutely no interest in girlie things like nails, hair, Barbie, pink or planning my own wedding. Guy friends always called me one of the guys and more than once I was told that I was more guy than girl. However, no one ever told me that I was transgender. I got called a tomboy, got told it was a phase (that still hasn't ended apparently), or got called a slut.

That's right. Because apparently I only did those things to get boys interested in me.

Living in the South and always feeling like something was just off and wrong about myself, I didn't have a lot of options to try to explore what the issue was. I knew that I felt much more comfortable when I dressed like one of the guys, when I wasn't referred to by feminine pronouns and when people would call me V or Vic. I was butch. I was a beer drinking, sports watching, home renovating, cooking, vehicle enthusiast, strap-on wearing....something. Because I cringed when people called me female, Miss, Ms, she, or her. I'd smile and nod, but on the inside I died a little each time.

But I didn't hear about transgenders growing up. I heard about butch lesbians. Women who dressed and acted like men, even had male names, but who dated females. Hhhhmmm....well that was sort of me, but not really. I mean, I wasn't attracted to females. I was attracted to men...very attracted to men, but the men I was attracted to were usually bisexual men or gay men or straight men who liked to be fucked and liked to fuck me in the ass.

Which was totally fine because when I thought about having sex that's how it worked for me. So I wasn't a butch lesbian. I like women just fine, but I didn't want to date them and I didn't want to have sex with them.

My coming out and realization of my truth was slow coming. I had friends who called me Vic for years and it never dawned on me what they were trying to tell me.

When I finally came out, I expected my birth family to react badly, so I wasn't surprised by it. However, last November when the emails started coming through, the DMs on Twitter, the messages on FB and on Goodreads, when I started to get hate mail and experiencing transphobia from people whose profiles read like they were the biggest supporters of GLBTQ rights and as if they were advocates for the rainbow group/the alphabet soup, I was floored.


Aren't they supposed to be on my side? I mean, I'm not just transgender. I'm gay too. But even if I was only transgender and identified as straight, they do remember that there's a T in GLBTQ right?

I didn't know how to respond at first, but I figured that they just needed to be educated. Because there's a difference between being uninformed and being phobic. So I answered the emails.

No, I don't consider myself to be a man. I AM a man. Biology messed up, not God. I was born to be a boy, born to be a man. It's what makes me a happy. It's what makes sense to me. Much like when conjoined twins are born with a mistake biologically, that's what happened to me.

I am a real man, I'm just a man with removable genitalia.

No, I'm not straight. I'm a man who is attracted to men. I'm gay.

I'm not some secret lesbian. If I were a lesbian, then I'd be a lesbian, without having to go through the effort of becoming a man. I'm a man.

Yes, it would be easier if I stayed a woman, because I am aware that if I did so it wouldn't be too long before I'd end up making a huge mistake and committing suicide because I'm not a woman, I'm a man and if I tried to go back to living a lie again, I'd give up. I can admit that weakness in myself.

I'm not lying to anyone. I tell people that I'm transgender and explain what that means. It's up to them to listen and understand.

How can you be an advocate for gay rights but not transgenders? How are we not in the same category? When Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. marched for equality he didn't march towards Washington and say "We march for blacks only, not for women and not for gays." He said that he marched for equality for all. Gays are discriminated against because of who they love, transgenders are discriminated against because of who they ARE...why do you think that means that transgenders aren't in the same category to be advocated?

Nobody chooses to make things more difficult for themselves. I didn't wake up one morning and decide to be transgender, black and gay for shits and giggles. Being in the South, being Caribbean, those things are a death warrant. I could have been, would have been killed for identifying the way that I do. Who would choose that? That's like saying that I chose to be black. I had no choice in the matter. Why would I choose to be a part of a culture that gets discriminated against daily? Why would I choose to have a skin color, to come from a heritage where certain people look at me and automatically think the worst of me? Think I'm a criminal or on welfare or that I'm ignorant, uneducated. That I'm loud and rude and have major attitude. Why would I choose to come from a heritage and a culture of slavery? Choose to be of a race of people who have to work twice as hard to be seen as equal? So if I couldn't and didn't choose to be black, why would I choose to be transgender and gay?

With those emails I thought that it would end, but it didn't. When I started to get emails telling me to "go away," and telling me that I "don't exist," well, it got a little more difficult to breathe. How was I supposed to hold my head up out in front of the transphobes and homophobes in society, out in the world, when I couldn't even retreat into the community for support and shelter, when I was being attacked on all sides?

So what's the point? Why am I transgender? Why do I identify as gay when I could tell people that I'm female and be straight?

Because it's my truth.

Because I am not a mistake.

Because I was born this way.

Because there's absolutely nothing wrong with being transgender.

So on day two of the Hop Against Homophobia I want all of you to think about that question. What's the point? Why are we blogging? Why are we taking a stand against homophobia and transphobia? Why should you take a stand? Why should we make sure that we support each other, everyone in the community: Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, if we ever hope to be able to truly see change out in the world?

"A house divided cannot stand."

We can't be divided. We have to support all sides of this rainbow/alphabet house if we want it to stand. We have to water all sides of the tree if we want it to grow and truly flourish.

We have to support everyone if we want to show the world that we're deserving of support.

That's the point. I'm a black, transgender, gay man, because I was born a black gay man even if biology put me in the wrong body.

That's the point. I'm attracted to men. I want to have sex with men, I want men to have sex with me. Gay sex (and I could be really graphic here and describe all the things that I want to do to and with said gay men...but I won't).

That's the point. Because not living my truth is living a lie and I don't want to live a lie. I lived a lie for years.

That's the point. That's why I'm taking a stand. That's why I'm hopping. And that's why I hope you'll join with me and the other authors, reviewers, publishers, and people who are hopping against homophobia and transphobia and take that stand with us.

Because it's time for homophobia and transphobia to end. Now.


*Don't forget. If you leave a comment on either of my blogs or on my website (and I'm not just talking about your email) along with your name and email address, you're entered into the contest. At 8pm PST (which is 12am May 21st EST) on the 20th three people will be chosen from those who commented and left their email (see? This is why you must leave your email) to win. The third place winner will get one of my books, either one from my backlist or any new release that comes out before GRL. The second place winner will get two of my books. And the first place winner will get three of my books as well as a $20 gift card to All Romance ebooks. And don't forget to check out the other hoppers and leave comments there as well. There are a lot of goodies out there and it's all for a good cause. Happy Hopping and commenting!*