Good thing he likes boys–he may be surrounded by a whole lot of ’em soon.

Deep down, shamefully, I wanted it to be true.  I needed it to be another useless example of just how ugly and vulgar Trump and his followers could be.  Then when I saw his face—Jussie Smollett’s face—saw that the distinctive black and blue hues of hate had left no stain and in their place were surface scrapes as from paper cuts or the nails of newborns, that sinking feeling came over me.

Especially when no evidence materialized.  Especially, since, like hoes, there’s a camera on every pole.

To be Black means to be “loud,” “deviant,” “unruly,” “uncivilized,” “criminal,” shifty,” “shady.”  Chile, the list wraps around the globe, on and on….  There are few positive stereotypes that swirl around the Afro like halos.  No, those with ‘fros never had that luxury.  So when a gay or AA shines beneath that rarified and hallowed light—attributed to celebrity or athleticism—we are bewildered by how such a rare beast, a unicorn, can forfeit his “halo”—his “rainbow”—so causally, so recklessly, like thowing a handful of stale skittles to the ground.

Aside from being African American, Jussie Smollett is also gay.  Last time anyone checked, the vulnerable gay community needed the compassion of others to be Niagra-Falls-ever-flowing like bums need a steady flow of quarters; for, in my estimation and experience, only the hate for African Americans could rival the hate the world boils over with for “queers.”

If you’ve seen images of Matthew Wayne Shepard, the gay boy who was brutalized, tortured, and tied to a fence in a bitter winter for a cyclist to mistake for a scarecrow or a beaten-beyond-recognition and bloated Emmett Till, you know hate (gay or black) packs a heavier, more lasting blue-black punch.  Nosy police officers hungry for titillation or an adrenaline rush or another 15 near the white-hot light of celebrity-dom, in all likelihood, hoped the myriad reels of boring-ass video they watched from the surrounding area would be positive for hate, too.  Imagine their disappointment when there were no raging rednecks—rednecks who turned out to be just as non-existent as a speck of red from a MAGA hat or the hat itself.

Come to find out those rough and ready rednecks were full-blooded Africa-born Africans.  WTF?

3500 bones rattling out of the closet later…brothers…from da Mother Land??!!!

The supporting performances leading up to The Big Black Reveal were Oscar-worthy.  Remarks from Empire Executive Producer Lee Daniels, who is also gay; fellow thespians; and the Twittersphere exploded with indignation.  The gay-on-gay tête á tête with Robin Roberts for Good Morning or Afternoon America on Valentine’s Day was, like a gay pride rainbow, spell-binding (because (LOL) it looked like a normal chat between normal people).  Jussie Smollett’s “little, black, gay boys fighting back” soliloquy fluttered like helpless little fists in our already open hearts.

3500 bones rattling out of the closet later, we discover the hate was very likely a hoax, very likely a mere transaction…between brothers from different mothers…but all descendants of The Mother Land.  Damn.  But that’s hardly the worst part.

The worst part is this:  In a society where even when African Americans are believed, when video captures the brutality and the murder, and there are few consequences for the maiming of the soul or the body, the last nightmare anyone expected to wake up soaking wet from (or needed) was for one of us (black or gay) to cry wolf about a violent act only to “Make America Great Again” by returning us to a time when Black cries would fall on deaf ears…to be wholly and utterly disregarded.  Yet again.

Jussie Smollett, now a suspect in his own personal “gay-hate crime,” may have emboldened the MAGA country he hoped to destroy.