I remember reading Invisible Life. I believe it was sometime around the spring of 1998. I was a junior in college, and there was a mega-Border's Books and Music store near campus. I used to stop in and peruse what seamed like stacks upon stacks of, well, books and music. I was amazed by the fact I could find a book on just about any topic there. Though, there was one section I shied away from, "gay studies." I was always curious about what reading materials I might find in that narrow corner near the back of the store. But I was paranoid that if I went over there someone I knew would see me and discover my little secret. I wasn't a good enough liar to pull off the "this is for research" line.So I only allowed myself to get close enough to "those" books to make pandering glances that never really satisfied my curiosity.
However, on one particular day I somehow got up the courage to go over to the forbidden corner and dive into the titles. It was then that Invisible Life jumped out at me. Of course, the book cover's artwork was very intriguing (which is a main strategy behind selling a book). But it struck me because, unlike all the other gay literature on the shelf, the it featured people of color. And I didn't really know what being a black gay man was about, nor at that time did I identify much with black men period (given my upbringing). But I knew this book was a must read. It was the first gay-themed novel I ever purchased, but certainly not the last.
I read the book in like two days. That's how captivated I was with the story and the the main character Raymond. I wanted so much for him to be honest with himself, just as I wanted to be myself. He wasn't a sissy, or weird, or sick, or anything that I had previously understood "gay" to mean. He was a normal well-adjusted guy just like me.
The day I finished the book I was sitting in the student center grabbing a bite to eat in between classes. When I got to the very last sentence I was blown away by what I had read. This story had helped me in a way I never thought possible. 1998 was the year I started coming out to friends (family was later). It was a slow, cautious process, but this book encouraged me to be the best me that I can be. It taught me that being gay was not synonymous with being effeminate or second class. I could be attracted to other men, and still be a man. Until then the only depiction of black gay men I had ever seen was the outrageously flamboyant duo Blaine and Antoine from the In Living Color t v skit "Men on Film." E. Lynn's words painted a very different picture for me.
When I finished the book that day, I knew I had read something powerful. I set it down on the table and walked away. I left it sitting there in the student center in the hopes that it would be a gift for some other gay student who was afraid to peruse the LGBT section of the bookstore. It was something I wanted to pass along.... To this day I wonder who happened across my abandoned copy of Invisible Life... did it end up helping anyone else?
Thank you E. Lynn....









