For every Boy who ever cringed when he heard 'Faggot'

(My review of The Affectation: Overcoming Shame and Removing the Mask, by Chuma Whahid Rasul.) For every Boy who ever cringed when he heard ‘Faggot’. By Taylor Siluwé An affectation can be a mannerism, a ruse, or a grander more destructive deception. When a same-gender-lover pretends to be otherwise, for family, for friends, for church—whether for a lifetime or a single tour of duty—something unseen shivers unloved and alone. There are moments though, rare moments, when we encounter things that tap into the unseen. It can be a movie, a book, or even a soul which arrives with a cold and knowing tingle down the spine. In her best-selling memoir, Find Me, Rosie O’Donnell called it a ‘spingle’ – when your deeper consciousness knows something profound just happened. Something spiritual. I was on the PATH train reading a book ... sorta. I’d just started and I wasn’t into it yet. My mind wandered. My eyes followed. A young Latino kat got on, catching my eye, confused if he should take the one remaining seat which happened to be next to me. His eyes were warm and feminine and relinquished things he tried to keep hidden beneath a façade of thuggish masculinity. I nodded almost imperceptibly and moved my bag off the seat. I wanted him to sit. I wanted him to stay where he was. I wanted him. But he averted his gaze, leaned against the door and remained standing. I was happy and pissed and returned to my reading ... sorta. The experience was hardly unusual and not at all profound. I got no spingles. Days later I finished reading that book – The Affectation: Overcoming Shame and Removing the Mask, by Chuma Whahid Rasul. Once I’d set aside my desire to capture that beauty on the train, to fulfill a need almost as old as my birthday—to be loved by those who won’t truly love me back—I spread my mind and let Chuma have his way with it. Yeah. He fucked my head. Not in a ‘wham bam’ internet hook-up kinda way between strangers afraid to look at each other ... no, this was a slow, sweet coupling of souls who shared similar scars, similar persuasions maligned and marginalized through time. Ancient lost loves sweating in the dark and gasping for air. The Affectation is a salve for the soul of every boy who ever cringed when he heard the word faggot. It’s a book, a memoir, a fantasy, a theatrical ride conspired by Gods long forgotten. Yeah—Gods who knew me even before I did, one’s who still snuggle up to me at night, whisper in my ear and expect great things from me. It’s a seduction which aroused ideas, stroked emotions and exploded possibilities about my past and future that, let’s just say, left me panting and glowing like no hot boy on a train ever has. Well, a few, but that’s another tale. Do yourself a favor though, pour a glass of something special, set the mood and curl up with The Affectation. Let Chuma lubricate your mind with forgotten Gods and lost loves ... but prepare to gasp for air. mySpace.com/ChumaSpirit ChumaSpirit.com