 This is a manifesto to end all manifestos This is a manifesto about my father These were the words spoken by Zimbabwe borns dancer and Choreographer Nora Chippermere at the end of her performance portraits of myself as my father a Persuasive and deeply personal narrative after losing her father at a young age This was her cogent revelation her proclamation Chippermere asked How do you become a man a black man and In an exploration of identity and black masculinity. She magnified stereotypical male gestures Choreographing them as she brought them into the bodies on stage From knuckle walking to a more natural looking swag Chippermere asked Her castmate to demonstrate the physical evolution of a black man Resulting in his final noble presence yet The cultural awareness remained there are those who continue to fear him Yes, her dance partner embodied every black man the burden and the bliss Watching Chippermere's tribute revived memories of my own father the man who had no permanence in my life as I grew I wore his features reminding my mother of her disdain for him whenever she looked at me. I Bore resemblance so striking it forced her to call me black and ugly Hurtting me in a way he had hurt her In a way Chippermere gave me permission to create my own manifesto of my father and along the way To fill in the blanks so his absence became its own story. I Imagined he was gregarious and over-enthusiastic Charming to strangers and generous to friends. Maybe he was kind and thoughtful funny and candid Had he been present he might have taught me how to shave or throw a ball tie a bow tie Maybe effectively use the F word. I want to think I would be more freely recount childhood memories to friends And in those stories I would be smiling My friends would listen as I justified my lack of detail Attributing them to my to me being too young to remember. I want to think his voice was heard in political demonstrations Marching for justice alongside public figures chanting no justice no peace I envision us having long conversations about manhood as he helped me cultivate self-pride and individuality in These imaginings I find myself proud to carry his name bask in his legacy and I relish these memories especially the ones I fabricated I Suppose he could have been any combination of these things, but I don't really know He was scarcely in my presence and when he was he reeked of to make Jamaican masculinity a term used in an article by Key on West for the Jamaican Gleaner Where he explained that many Jamaicans defined their masculinity primarily through dangerousness and anti-femininity Particularly in the areas of sexuality. He continues in contemporary Jamaica Masculinity has become little more than violence and the total rejection of anything perceived as feminine or homosexual. I Know two things about my father He was a cop and he loved women. I Can't remember ever seeing him without his gun My father the enforcer My father the womanizer my father It was only a matter of time before I came into direct conflict with him because unlike him I was soft-spoken and my demeanor was not his type of masculine That father-son encounter did eventually come It came in the form of a threat and later it's in something that was not quite a conversation. I Remember the first part of that encounter. I consider it my right of passage I was 12 I'd gone to a bar he owned and my mother occasionally insisted that I go there to seek monetary assistance from him to lessen her financial burden As I walked up the stairs to enter I how I heard shouts off where I say and chop all these are Jamaican equivalents of fears and yes a Group of teenagers were gathered outside the bar voicing friendly and obligatory praise to each other The only teen in the bar I was actively distracting myself from my father small vulgar group of colleagues who I'm sure were permanent fixtures in the bar Without warning My father pulled his gun from its holster and held it to my head he said If I ever find out you're gay, I will shoot you a Hush fell over the bar and I remember the sunken feeling of fear Inadequacy and shame as I covered beneath my father's intimidation His menace was palpable in that moment I Publicly became the emphasis of what I'd learned was the Jamaican male After the incident I intentionally fought against doing anything that made me seem feminine to myself and to others I Gave weight to my strides I wore clothes that did not cling to my unmuscled frame and I forced myself to deepen the timber in my voice I Performed masculinity the way Jamaicans would accept it for me those ways of moving through the world We're not natural acts so I would rehearse them perfect in my role as man hoping to stay alive Eventually I left Jamaica and I began to do more than stay alive. I began to live I Accepted my queerness I Needed to own my truth to take one step closer to redefining my masculinity I want to say I was unbothered by my past, but the irony is my transformation Was all spearheaded by the threats of the toxic Jamaican male when I was 30. I Made a phone call to my father. I Recalled to him the scene in the bar that stayed with me for so long. I Told him that his threat forced me to dislike him and that even though I wanted nothing more than his affection The reward of becoming the man that I am Outweighed my need for his acceptance. I Told him that I was gay and that he couldn't shoot me Maybe my my courage was enhanced by our distance. See I called while I was living in New York Or maybe it was that third glass of wine Either way But as I'm owning my own truth. I came to this realization Sometimes the hardest conversations are easier when talking to strangers He was my father and I was a son and in spite of our connection through DNA. We were estranged by hate But I don't really believe he hates me How do you hate someone you don't know? throughout Chippermere's performance She cried if you want to fight if you don't want to fight then you need to learn how to run If you don't want to run You need to learn how to fuck Yes Because black men continue to exist in a landscape of stereotypes being forced into categories like super sexual Mendingos or the animalistic stud Stereotype that emerged from cultural legacy of slavery and the transmission of colonial fantasy As she reinvented her father by constructing variations on the black masculine theme I saw my own story played out as she questioned her pride her power her Vulnerability and her truth. I started coming to terms with my own I've often wondered what makes me my father's son as I get older I see more of him when I look in the mirror I can even imagine now that my father thought it was a joke when he casually told me he'd shoot me But unbeknownst to him that night he did pull the trigger In my rebirth I now live Unapologetically I may not be the same as my father, but his blood and his actions live in me Chippermere's portrait opened the door to an armory housing tools for the black man's survival. I Survived my father But as I was watching the performance I Silently wished that he could have seen me stride through life as his queer son