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Connections, Vol. 2, No. 1, December 1979-January 1980
File 013
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Connections, Vol. 2, No. 1, December 1979-January 1980 - File 013. 1979-12/1980-01. University of Houston Libraries. University of Houston Digital Library. Web. September 19, 2019. https://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/gcam/item/1526/show/1517.

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

(1979-12/1980-01). Connections, Vol. 2, No. 1, December 1979-January 1980 - File 013. Gulf Coast Archive and Museum (GCAM) Digital Archive. University of Houston Libraries. Retrieved from https://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/gcam/item/1526/show/1517

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

Connections, Vol. 2, No. 1, December 1979-January 1980 - File 013, 1979-12/1980-01, Gulf Coast Archive and Museum (GCAM) Digital Archive, University of Houston Libraries, accessed September 19, 2019, https://digital.lib.uh.edu/collection/gcam/item/1526/show/1517.

Disclaimer: This is a general citation for reference purposes. Please consult the most recent edition of your style manual for the proper formatting of the type of source you are citing. If the date given in the citation does not match the date on the digital item, use the more accurate date below the digital item.

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Title Connections, Vol. 2, No. 1, December 1979-January 1980
Contributor
  • Lind, Scott
Publisher Gay Community Services
Date December 1979-January 1980
Language English
Subject
  • LGBTQ community
  • LGBTQ people
Place
  • Austin, Texas
Genre
  • newspapers
Type
  • Text
Identifier OCLC: 5962584
Collection
  • University of Houston Libraries Special Collections
  • LGBT Research Collection
  • Gulf Coast Archive and Museum (GCAM) Digital Archive
Rights No Copyright - United States
Note This item was digitized from materials loaned by the Gulf Coast Archive and Museum (GCAM).
Item Description
Title File 013
Transcript TROS'E Dear Waytje and Jim, I am writing to you in- this manner because even though I am not an active participant in any of the gay functions or societies, etc., I am nevertheless gay. I first stumbled onto your information bureau while thumbing through the pages of a phone directory. I started out this letter with one goal in mind, to mix, to mingle, to meet. Right now, I have no outside contact with the gay community, events, gatherings,■whatever. However, I am particularly interested in a sort of Black writer's club based in New York City called Jemima since I am a writer by hobby and would enjoy receiving literature by others. This letter will be difficult for me since this is the first time I have attempted anything of this nature, The twenty-four years I have lived on this earth I have lived out my life in celibacy and at other times in sheer hypocrisy, knowing even in my childhood where my sexual preferences were concentrated. I was paralyzed between the two worlds of conformity and plain freedom, ridiculed as I knew it would be. Since, for me, there had remained for years only one person whom I truly cared about who also did not care for me, I saw no reason to make my life even more troubled by announcing to the world my differences. Thus I am a recluse, starved out by loneliness and yet fed up with it. Desperation beckons one to strange acts, wakening me at even stranger hours of the night to pace the floor, to drum my fingers upon the table. In that time, I am allowed other freedoms such as the one that had forced me to at last confront my situation or at least the reasons for my being alone. I knew all those reasons but none had merited investigating until I discovered a truth about myself as I worked on a book entitled, IF YOU TOOK A CHANCE WITH ME, to be hopefully completed by February. I believe that all truths are like that, faceless and retrievable only in times of our greatest needs for them. In relating this discovery to you, I must also tell you about Julie. Now I sometimes wonder why it is the nature of humans to cling so dearly to past pains, whether real or imagined, the years most certainly would have eroded them away. I think we hold on to them so that we can call ourselves the martyrs for ever having suffered them. And then there are the slaves to it that insist on carrying the weights over and over again so that future weights cannot be placed upon them. But quite selfishly, I've always felt that mine was a different case. True, it hurted as all injuries do, but because there were the ever increasing years separating me from the one I loved I held onto this particular pain, the true substance of my life and the most certain way I have of keeping my memories of Julie intact. I am now 2k years old but even while in school I never debated whether what I was feeling for her was real or merely something I had conjured up out of my wildest fantasies though I was aware that there were many other bigheaded people walking around that would have rather crudely explained them away for me. I simply loved her, however simple love may be. I simply cared about her, cried when she cried, laughed when she laughed no matter how bad things were going for me. It seemed as though everything she felt had been instantly transmitted to me, some sort of empathy, telepathy. Who can understand the mechanism of the mind that inspires one to love? I can say that she was attractive, impulsive, different, but none of these provides any clues, because there are negative sides to her nature as there are in all of us, the complete individual being the result of such a balance. At this point, I shall abandon my definition of love, knowing that for all of those that have truly loved no further explanation is necessary. And yet there are some people out there who will never comprehend, no matter how many foreign languages, hand symbols, or cue cards you may use in the vain attempt to convey your message. ". . .she talked about it with me for awhile, chanting philosophies she probably thought were very wise, but the only statement that stands out in my memory is her statement that no woman could do anything for her." My mother is one of those people. Some eight years ago she discovered an anonymous letter I had written to Julie, she talked about it with me for awhile, chanting philosophies she probably thought were very wise, but the only statement that stands out in my memory is her statement that no woman could do anything for her. I remained silent, knowing that the slightest sound would have touched off an already volatile subject. It is taboo for her to discuss anything that acknowledges her or myself as sexual beings, much less homosexual. I suppose her doctrine was of a sexual nature but at the age of 15 I knew precious little about sex per se and was much too concerned about the spiritual aspects of my feelings-to care less. I was mute and defenseless against her words but my mind cried out, "I don't love her because I thought that Julie could do something for me! Rather I wanted to be and do everything I could for her." Apparently, my mother thought little of my commitment to this attitude because she expected me to stop "looking" at her and all feelings would simply vanish. Later she had transformed into a different being, no longer my mother but an alien creature full of stares and doubt. I cannot speak of the thousands of sensations that raced through my body as I endured the underlying resentment. It was a very difficult period for me. Time passed and when my difference did not resurface, I guess she felt that it was safe for her to be my mother again and we got along fine. My only consolation in those times rested in an untarnished faith that someday Julie and I would be together. I believed this if ever I was to believe in nothing else! My letters to her continued, anonymously, of course. . . I have no remembrance of their contents, though I am quite sure of the topic. So now you may ask, if this woman meant so much to me wasn't she alone worthy of my coming forth to reveal myself. To answer this, I must review the relationship we shared. We were buddies, partners in mischief in school. She was always the more daring and I followed her around to keep her out of more trouble. With words I could detail her every facial, bodily feature but when I say her name, one which I have become addicted to, I can only think of the energy she emits whenever she enters a room. Everyone is affected by it. There is an odd chemistry to this woman. At times she could be wonderfully tender, a sort of childlike innocence envelops her and at other times she is earthy enough to be one of the boys. corri.ni/ecton peTjC IS 12 CONNECTIONS December 1979/January 1980
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