an unofficial entry in the now-defunct “butch please" column
every year, we dance this dance. we say these lines, and i try to get my timing right, my nods and my apologies, but she has the monologue down, she doesn’t want this to be a two-man show anymore. she’s been reciting her part for so long now that i know half the words, too. there are moments when the sentences don’t even need to be finished for how familiar they are, how they fit into my memories like little white scars.
i buy you these beautiful clothes, and you don’t wear them. we save all year so you can have nice clothes, so you can have a nice christmas, and you never wear them. i never see them on you. what happened to the sweater i bought you last year? the one with the beads on it? why do i buy you these beautiful clothes if you don’t care? i would have loved to have beautiful clothes when i was your age, beautiful clothes like these. why do i bother? it hurts.
Head Of The Charles Sunday, featuring the soft roll of the Mercer & Sons polo collar.
he takes dudes like these guys and lets them pick out/chooses an older picture to emulate and it’s a really interesting dichotomy between the hypermasculine way we’re supposed to think of black men and the way masculinity was thought of back in the day!
Why did mens fashion have to become less homoerotic
we wear clothes, and speak, and create civilizations, and believe we are more than wolves. but inside us there is a word we cannot pronounce and that is who we are.
— Anthony Marra, A Constellation of Vital Phenomena (via preciousandfregilethings)