Occasionally, he dons a tunic-and-leggings combo, too. Kyle Michael Upchurch wears skinny jeans, slim T's, cropped jackets, and shiny, wedged sneaks. Michael Arceneaux hails from Houston, lives in Harlem, and praises Beyoncé’s name wherever he goes. And if watching a teenager rock a skirt helps others slowly but surely see that, the more the merrier. It’s a strength more of us need to access. It is a strength that goes beyond grabbing your dick, wearing certain fits of denim, or shouting your masculinity to the world. There’s strength in being who you are and owning whatever imagery you choose to present to the world. That is why I am thankful for every Black male celebrity-notably the straight ones-who audaciously challenges what’s perceived as “feminine” from their place of heterosexuality. I may no longer feel personally bound by this thinking, but part of that is spurred by the realization that as a gay man, I will never fit certain people’s archetypes for what a Black man should be. If I dress in some other fashion, some Black men might immediately think of me as a sissy, faggot, or some other like-minded slur.
How can some complain about how White people judge other Black men for how they dress and then proceed to be just as big as nincompoop with other Black men? If I dress one way, I am a “thug” or better yet a scary ni**er to some White people. What grates me most about this limiting perception of manhood is that those who champion it fail to concede how much of a chokehold it places on other Black men. The same goes for any Black man in the not too distant future who elects not to dress himself in ways deemed heterosexual and heteronormative. The same goes for Kanye West wearing a kilt. Around the same period, some publicly groaned in disgust over Kid Cudi daring to don a crop top. In 2014, former Brand Nubian rapper Lord Jamar criticized Young Thug-whose gender-bending style has also included wearing dresses-for wearing feminine attire. It is not a ploy to make Black men “weak” (i.e., “feminine”-which never equaled weak, if we’re keeping score.)Īnd yet, this is the lie that’s constantly repeated. He’s merely a man-a straight one at that-wearing a skirt, without a care in the world. Nor is it intended to convey the notion that Smith is a man in transition. It’s not about the hairy-legs-in-a-skirt bro cliché.” And while he doesn’t look like a girl in them, he actually looks pretty good. As Vanessa Friedman writes in the New York Times, “He is a man who happens to be wearing obviously female clothes. To people like me, it’s a matter of Smith not allowing a rigid gender binary dictate how he expresses himself as a man. In select circles, this is perceived as the “feminization” or “emasculation” of the Black man. The problem for them is that Smith is in an ad that is purposely called a “womenswear” ad. Which is why Jaden Smith’s otherwise progressive new campaign for Louis Vuitton has drawn the ire of certain types of Black men and like-minded Black woman fans of the same patriarchy they ardently stump for. Unfortunately, not enough of us are there yet. Knowing that not only can lower one’s blood pressure, but can help lead to a more fruitful climate for actual, credible conversations about the ways in which Black manhood is characterized in mass media. Similarly, there is something to be said of fully embracing the notion that there’s more than one way to be a Black man. However, there’s a fine line between awareness and hypersensitivity. Without question, there are plenty o’ reasons to worry about the lens in which Black men are often depicted and subsequently treated. Share on Twitter Share on Facebook Share on Pinterest Share on LinkedIn Share on Email