Karsh Writes

the next chapter

What do black gay 30-something men care about?


I didn’t expect to take that long of a blogging break. But shit happens, y’know? Business has been steady, I had some family deaths to deal with (one of which I did blog about), my mom retired, I took a couple of trips, started some new projects, dated a few boys…shit’s been busy. It’s not an excuse or an explanation — it just is what it is.

In time, I’ll write about how the last 9+ months have been. There’s no shortage of blog posts, that’s for damn sure.

And yet, when I pull up WordPress…

Fig, 1: Accurate.


There’s a conversation I had about a year ago with Will and Anthony with respect to keeping the blogging torch going. However, I’ve been somewhat reticent on writing with the same openness that I did in my 20s.

Part of that is because the Web is such a different place now. Vine is making stars out of 6-second video snippets, Google+ is still trying to make a go of social, and podcasting is back in full force. (Didn’t see that last one coming.) Facebook’s floundering. Tumblr has tumbled. Even still, we have more platforms than ever to tell stories and share our experiences. Yet the signal to noise ratio is so out of balance that a lot of these stories are missed. You can blame the flood of “me first” journalism for that.

(This is probably why I spend most of my time on Twitter — it’s bite-sized, information moves fast, and you can get what you need and get out without any lingering FOMO. It’s like Matrix Lite.)

I’m getting off topic here, but part of that ratio I mentioned also means that our stories — Black gay men in their 30s — are getting lost in the shuffle. (If they’re told at all.) It didn’t really strike me until I watched Cucumber on Channel 4. There’s a scene in the first episode with a group of gay men — Black and white, probably in their 40s — out for a night at a bar just having a good time. Granted, there are a good number of movies and web series and films with Black gay men in their 20s in some coming-of-age tale set in a big city, but you rarely see or hear stories of what Black gay men in their 30s and above are doing, feeling, or seeing. (And the ones we do see are sanitized, problematic, or Don Lemon.)

Fig. 2: If the shoe fits...

Fig. 2: If the shoe fits…

I watched that brief scene from Cucumber and thought “I don’t think I’ve ever really seen that before.”

So what do Black gay 30-something men care about? Their career? Their health? Their finances? Finding love? Keeping love? Hot passionate sex? Refinishing their kitchens? Hitting the punk bar for the weekend? All of the above? None of the above?

When I was in my 20s, I saw a lot of Black gay men in their 30s (and up) blogging and sharing their thoughts on a number of topics — dating, work, current events, etc. But I wonder if the current Black gay guy in his 20s sees that same thing now. I don’t know if they do.

With that in mind, I am going to try and continue writing on here, at least once a week. (Maybe Fridays since those are the least busy days of the week, most times.) Because if someone doesn’t do it, then who will? I can’t have the kids thinking that gay life ends at 30.



New posts next week.

Master of the Fade Away

“And that’s how it goes, kids. The friends, neighbors, drinking buddies, and partners-in-crime you loved so much when you’re young — as the years go by, you just lose touch. You will be shocked, kids, when you discover how easy it is in life to part ways with people forever. That’s why when you find someone you want to keep around, you do something about it.”
— Ted Mosby, How I Met Your Mother 9×21 “Gary Blauman”

The last time I talked with The Sheep, he said something near the end of our conversation that has stuck with me.

“I’m still really looking forward to talking with you and hanging out, Karsh. Just don’t fade away on me.”

“Fade away? What do you mean?”

“You know…stop calling, stop texting…you just fade away.”

“I won’t fade away if you don’t.”


I called The Sheep two more times after that, and he never returned my messages. I texted him and he never replied.

But I was the one who wasn’t supposed to fade away, right?

Whitney Houston

Fig. 1: Whitney be knowin’.

Read the rest of this post »

Death and Decay

Death is a motherfucker.

It’s been about a month now since my grandfather passed away. We — the immediate family consisting of my mother, my grandmother, and yours truly — knew it was coming, but even as we saw him wither way, it was still a shock. A routine procedure followed by a month in the ICU, and now we’re planning a funeral.

Can we talk about how no one teaches you how to plan a funeral? Consulting the funeral home, buying a casket, setting up the service, coordinating the program…it’s a good thing my grandfather was the head deacon at his church, because they basically took the reins and we just wrote the check.

Fig. 1: Accurate.

Fig. 1: Accurate.

On top of this, I’ve had to deal with the rest of the family. I couldn’t have planned for their reactions, most of which ranged from sheer hysteria to shoulder-shrugging indifference. My cousins just lost a grandfather they never saw, and having them suddenly throw themselves into the pain of losing a family member felt odd. But people process grief differently, so you know…different strokes for different folks.

I tried not to judge, until… Read the rest of this post »

Where is Karsh?

New posts a’comin’.