The gentleness, strength, and vulnerability with which you wrote this tribute did more than move my spirit as I read. It gave me hope that in a world where it is increasingly difficult to hold on to the light, that love will prevail. Thank you for putting your love into the world.
This essay is deeply moving. I was particularly drawn to the character Silas because that is also my father’s name. His story reminded me of my father's nephew, my first cousin Anthony, also known as Mona Lisa. Anthony was originally from Georgia and lived with us briefly in New York City until he got settled. The Georgia of the 1970s and 80s wasn’t ready for his truth. He was tall, dark, and beautiful, exuding style, elegance, and charisma. He always dressed impeccably in pants or skirts. What I remember most is what my cousin Tony, the Mona Lisa, taught me: always be true to yourself. 💞✨
What a wonderful, vivid portrait of a beautiful man. Got me crying on the metro on the way to work. I've seen so much rippling harm done because of the silly yet pernicious belief that gay or trans or bi people are lesser than other people. Thank you for sharing this and more importantly thank you for being someone who could write this.
Every night I write in a gratitude journal. I had to make an entry this morning because I am so grateful to have started my day with this exquisite piece.
Frederick, your piece was so beautiful it brought me to tears. I so understand. I, too, grew up with gay friends of my parents and I didn't know they were. I loved them and they were a part of my life, my childhood, my understanding of the many layers of people. I ache for them, too. Thank you.
P.S. I am loving your book This Thing of Ours, and I love all your essays.
Thank you for the beautiful ancestral veneration of Mr. Silas. I imagine that his spirit is feeling the celebration and societal rebuke you've echoed here. I pray we all follow the example you've set here.
I decided to start writing again, inspired by you - writing was my life when I was younger. I do think that is why I needed bilateral carpal tunnel surgery at such a young age, because I would write and write with my hands covered in ink, driven by the demons and the stars and the euphoria that was my insides. I lost almost all of my writings in a horribly stressful situation - I am not going to elaborate.
Anyway. I wrote a small little poem a little while ago, today, and posted it on Substack. My first “dipping a toe” back into the water. I thought, maybe I could share it here, since you inspired me to start writing again.
The thing is that I very soon started weeping for Silas as I read. And I knew I could not post my beginnings here.
You have great skill. I’m glad that you share your gift. I hope that someday I can pay to subscribe. With cuts to Medicaid and all of this other stuff, it may not happen anytime soon.
This was a beautiful, heart-wrenching, pure, heart-filled and heart-felt tribute to a gorgeous being that, while I didn’t know them, feel like I do - in myself and in many who I know.
Thank you for this, Frederick. And thank you, Silas. You are loved and forever etched on hearts known and unknown.
Always when I read your writing I feel something. I don't always like what I feel tbh. Tonight it was regret for not being there for people who needed a safe harbor. For not being a more compassionate friend. For not doing the work to understand the people I claim to love. For being so damn shallow and thoughtless and dismissive of people who just needed someone to see them and listen to them and _be there_ for them.
All the times I was not there. Afraid of what others might think. Afraid of taking chances. Afraid of honesty with my feelings and clarity with my words. Afraid of saying that something popular was wrong, that something unpopular was the way forward.
I wish I had been better to the Silases in my life. Was I afraid to be noticed being there? Was I just unable to handle the discomfort of living outside my "normal" world? Maybe.
All I know right now is that I deeply regret not being someone who was kinder and more compassionate and less self-interested.
I guess we can't go back to our Silases and try to make things different because the past is fixed & regrets & promises don't do anything.
All I know is that I can do better. Maybe I will be able to.
Thank you for telling us of Silas. I'm so sorry for the pain and rejection in his life. No one deserves to be hated for their existence, and no one deserves the absence of love that is considered the measure of response to those who don't willingly put themselves into the boxes we are assigned and birth and in which we will be buried at death. I hope that I can remember Silas and see him in the people around me who just want to be loved for exactly who they are.
May he rest in perpetual light and be gathered to the ancestors, and may his memory be for a blessing.
Thank you for shating you(in plural) story, i got me in deep tears as i read the end of the essay, thank you for moving our hearts in a profound ways which gives birth to change for us who read and listen, i send you tenderness in this, thank you, love you
Dear Frederick, Thank you, for bringing your full self to the world and me through these words, for the tears I am still shedding for all the other gendered friends I have lost, and all those who I am so blessed to still have in my life.
The gentleness, strength, and vulnerability with which you wrote this tribute did more than move my spirit as I read. It gave me hope that in a world where it is increasingly difficult to hold on to the light, that love will prevail. Thank you for putting your love into the world.
This essay is deeply moving. I was particularly drawn to the character Silas because that is also my father’s name. His story reminded me of my father's nephew, my first cousin Anthony, also known as Mona Lisa. Anthony was originally from Georgia and lived with us briefly in New York City until he got settled. The Georgia of the 1970s and 80s wasn’t ready for his truth. He was tall, dark, and beautiful, exuding style, elegance, and charisma. He always dressed impeccably in pants or skirts. What I remember most is what my cousin Tony, the Mona Lisa, taught me: always be true to yourself. 💞✨
What a wonderful, vivid portrait of a beautiful man. Got me crying on the metro on the way to work. I've seen so much rippling harm done because of the silly yet pernicious belief that gay or trans or bi people are lesser than other people. Thank you for sharing this and more importantly thank you for being someone who could write this.
Your story brought me to tears pumped hard from my heart. Thank you for sharing it.
A beautiful tribute to Silas and many others. “love is always simpler, always clearer than anything else”
Every night I write in a gratitude journal. I had to make an entry this morning because I am so grateful to have started my day with this exquisite piece.
Frederick, your piece was so beautiful it brought me to tears. I so understand. I, too, grew up with gay friends of my parents and I didn't know they were. I loved them and they were a part of my life, my childhood, my understanding of the many layers of people. I ache for them, too. Thank you.
P.S. I am loving your book This Thing of Ours, and I love all your essays.
Wept my way through this piece. Glad for Silas, grateful for you.
Thank you for the beautiful ancestral veneration of Mr. Silas. I imagine that his spirit is feeling the celebration and societal rebuke you've echoed here. I pray we all follow the example you've set here.
I decided to start writing again, inspired by you - writing was my life when I was younger. I do think that is why I needed bilateral carpal tunnel surgery at such a young age, because I would write and write with my hands covered in ink, driven by the demons and the stars and the euphoria that was my insides. I lost almost all of my writings in a horribly stressful situation - I am not going to elaborate.
Anyway. I wrote a small little poem a little while ago, today, and posted it on Substack. My first “dipping a toe” back into the water. I thought, maybe I could share it here, since you inspired me to start writing again.
The thing is that I very soon started weeping for Silas as I read. And I knew I could not post my beginnings here.
You have great skill. I’m glad that you share your gift. I hope that someday I can pay to subscribe. With cuts to Medicaid and all of this other stuff, it may not happen anytime soon.
My heart. 💔💔💔
This was a beautiful, heart-wrenching, pure, heart-filled and heart-felt tribute to a gorgeous being that, while I didn’t know them, feel like I do - in myself and in many who I know.
Thank you for this, Frederick. And thank you, Silas. You are loved and forever etched on hearts known and unknown.
Always when I read your writing I feel something. I don't always like what I feel tbh. Tonight it was regret for not being there for people who needed a safe harbor. For not being a more compassionate friend. For not doing the work to understand the people I claim to love. For being so damn shallow and thoughtless and dismissive of people who just needed someone to see them and listen to them and _be there_ for them.
All the times I was not there. Afraid of what others might think. Afraid of taking chances. Afraid of honesty with my feelings and clarity with my words. Afraid of saying that something popular was wrong, that something unpopular was the way forward.
I wish I had been better to the Silases in my life. Was I afraid to be noticed being there? Was I just unable to handle the discomfort of living outside my "normal" world? Maybe.
All I know right now is that I deeply regret not being someone who was kinder and more compassionate and less self-interested.
I guess we can't go back to our Silases and try to make things different because the past is fixed & regrets & promises don't do anything.
All I know is that I can do better. Maybe I will be able to.
Thank you for telling us of Silas. I'm so sorry for the pain and rejection in his life. No one deserves to be hated for their existence, and no one deserves the absence of love that is considered the measure of response to those who don't willingly put themselves into the boxes we are assigned and birth and in which we will be buried at death. I hope that I can remember Silas and see him in the people around me who just want to be loved for exactly who they are.
May he rest in perpetual light and be gathered to the ancestors, and may his memory be for a blessing.
Thank you for shating you(in plural) story, i got me in deep tears as i read the end of the essay, thank you for moving our hearts in a profound ways which gives birth to change for us who read and listen, i send you tenderness in this, thank you, love you
Thank you for sharing your(in plurral)**
Thank you for this. It shines a light in the world.
Dear Frederick, Thank you, for bringing your full self to the world and me through these words, for the tears I am still shedding for all the other gendered friends I have lost, and all those who I am so blessed to still have in my life.
This touched me deep in my spirit. Thank you for sharing this with the world. I felt like I was there with you.